Creative TMI

Twelve, Is It The Magic Number

2012-01-26T11:43:00.000-08:00

You are more likely to connect with an old friend later in life, than with an old flame. This is not a extraordinary thing I have figured out. Just my opinion. But it can be just as fun. Full of love. Something we all desire.

I have no desire to look up an old boy friend, although I have, my first love. A boy friend of four or more years. I was fourteen when he and I first saw each other on the street in front of my parents house. As usual we were playing soccer in the street when he came up and took our soccer ball just to be mean.

I was the oldest of the group, until he interrupted. He was two years older than I and one of the neighborhood boys older brother. We saw each other off and on for the next eight years. My younger sister had the pleasure of calling his house to say hello for 'us'. Hubby would love to have met him.

Okay back to my point. If you are in your forties or fifties you are less likely to look up an old flame. One reason could be you are already married, and hopefully happily. Another reason is you can't stand any of your old boy friends. It took you years to figure out why you kept picking losers and now you have the best gem available.

Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that and another twenty something or so years will pass. I am totally being sarcastic right? No. Relationships are what you put into them. People cheat because they get bored. They begin to search out what they think was a moment of complete happiness and they screwed it up. They want another chance. Maybe because they are not happy in the now.

Friendships work the same way. Eventually we realize those childhood relationships are not giving us what we might desire. Maybe the other person is not as positive in their lifestyles, you are tired of listening to their unhappiness and you move on. Sometimes you do more than grow apart. Tragedy can cause rifts, and you simply disappear. Similar to marriage deterioration. Family relationships work the same way. Anger can play a role.

Well I myself have slowly begun to evaluate my relationships within family, friends and my own marriage. You will be happy to know we are doing great. In love like the day we met. But I have had to do some soul searching in the family department. Counseling is helping with that. Family is unconditional, just like a marriage should be. I don't mean give give give and do not take. It is a fifty fifty thing. I firmly believe in that.

Friends, well I have slowly reconnected with friends from before my daughter passed away. Grief was like a fog for me, and I cannot believe it's been this long, but it has been twelve years. In counseling I have come to realize that no matter what family or friends have done or not done for me, I do love them all.

I even care about the old flame, but most likely he and I will never reconnect. Not if his wife has anything to do with it. I have reconnected with ~~two~~ four people this week. And I look forward to hearing about their life's joys and pain if that is what it takes to show them my heart is a big place. There is plenty of room for anyone who can handle me.

I have learned all too well something my grandmother would say when I would share my hurts with her, 'Love and forgiveness is something that grows with time'. We learn to put what is more important up front over what we once felt was more pressing. I wish my grandmother was alive to talk about it with me. I had no clue when I was twenty something. No clue at all. Until now. And it is only beginning.

Remember to say 'I love you' to your spouse, family, and friends. It might be something they need from others.

(photo above is property of my son, Aaron and his now ex, Andi- 2011)

This Again

2012-01-21T12:19:00.000-08:00

A little Haiku play...

My toes
must know there is
snow outside

My feet have never been so cold. Well, maybe ~~last~~ every winter. My friend Grace says it's time for double socks. I hate socks, and the cold feet, hands, warm hearth thingy pops into ~~your~~ my mind. It doesn't warm me up one bit.

Things are going well. My first 'short' book manuscript is done. Sent it out to beta readers, 'When Your Stomach Growls'. It is a humorous book indeed. A supplemental to the already growing survivalist books out there.

Working on new website. Barely breaking ground on design. Sigh. Lots of work will go into this one. We don't want a cartoon'ish title banner. Interviewing and getting bids on artwork. May end up doing it myself. Sigh. It means I have to learn Ai. Yet another program. Am I getting to old for all this classroom stuff. I feel like it at times, or more like a kid dragging her feet in through the front door.

Z-composition's submission deadline is midnight tonight. Editors and I are excited to get the first issue up February 1st!

And...don't forget Jessie Carty's 'Make Friday Write' posts. We share, and we care...

My son sent me a hungal writing book (Korean symbol journal) for mothers day, and then a I got a post card from Hong Kong. Little things mean so much.

Now a poem to be printed in the book for my son...

(Poem removed by author) Thanks and come back to view other works in progress...

A Must Laugh

2012-01-16T08:12:00.000-08:00

My neighbor Lisa posted this photo on Facebook, which probably was taken from another friend, so I apologize for stealing someones pic. But it was too cute, and relates to yesterday's re-post of 'On The Road Again'. Hopefully you read it, or if not click on link and please visit. Thank you.

A Re-post: On The Road Again

2012-01-15T07:59:00.000-08:00

I wrote 'smutty' bike piece a few years ago right after I got my bike. When what I really dreamed of, well, you go read.

I now have it hooked up to a stationary stand in my living room. I wanted to ride all year long. Thought it might not be safe in the snow, yeah what snow here! with my clumsy ways.

Many found it entertaining, so I thought I would do a re-post it so I can remain involved in my writing the next two weeks. Enjoy!

As of late I have been having hot and heavy dreams of gettin' down and dirty...well, we will just keep it at down and dirty...and then hot flashes come on as I see a hot leather wearin' husky biker dude whiz by me..."Its time to get down and dirty with my own bike" comes to this metal cowgirl's mind...

Yeah I know it is not the same, but here is my fast, fierce, furious, and very orange (favorite color) metal to the petal, with a touch of silver to give the cops a run for their money as I zoom by! The past few years have been my time for orgasmic orange colors, and when I walked into the bike shop last summer and saw this beauty. I said "Come home with momma you sweet looking young thing...". Being, this was the last one the shop had I just gulped as the salesman said "I will have to check if the frame can be fitted for you...and we do not have any more...

"Oh how I want you like I have never wan..." I thought holding back my cry of 'whoa not another disappointment'. He came out and started working with it, and to my joy he said to "go give it a try". Off I went out the door, down the street, arms in the air (hey ...I still can do that?), around the corner, down another street, around another corner, and then I remembered that we had not paid for it yet, so I returned.

Debra @ Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History was showing off her hot ride the other day, so I decided to pull mine out and take him out for a spin in the sunshine! Cloudy days of winter are just beginning so the sun will give us renewed energy... Yes, I love the way his saddle fits so nicely between my legs. Soft, cushy, with just enough bounce. My feet slip right into the stirrups (well pedals), and off I ride into the wind... If worse comes to worse by next fall and he has been a bad boy...on the back porch he will go. Do not feel sorry for him, we can always wrap lots of vines around him and a thief will think it is a pumpkin patch.

This is not quite the ride Debra has, but he is my training wheels to the big guy...Harley..."Oh baby I know you are calling my name...thoughts of your roar and hot motor between my legs still make my blood run so hot. "My darling you will have to be understanding and know I have another year to wait, and to talk the 'other' man in my life into letting me take you for my own. He is a little jealous that I might not ever come back once we have melded together...so, for now you are in my novella, Taking Cover and being taken care of by Casey Roberts. Sorry...mon amour, I have to share you for now...and its not with the buttocks and legs you prefer strapped around your rock solid torso"...

My friend Howie, who is a musician, heard I wanted a 'Harley' and gave me this pick. He said it will have to appease me for now as he sang...Strumming my pain with his engine, Singing my life with his wheels, Killing me softly with his song, killing me softly, With his song...telling my whole life with his roar...er...er...ers...

Until then my darling, my Harley...mon amour est à jamais

Balancing Everything Okay?

2012-01-10T08:54:00.000-08:00

Seems like you are all getting along well. I am over to your blogs reading the updates. As well, this side is fine too. Been busy getting things in order over at Z-composition. Getting submissions in on a daily basis. Editors are ready. Do need to get a few people to come over and help edit the site. Since Doggybloggy mentioned it the web designer nor I hadn't caught a few mistakes on all of our parts.

But otherwise it seems to be going in a natural positive manner. We will get 'Red Dashboard' Publishing up and running soon as well. The site will link up to Z-composition and will begin with our own yearly anthology in October or thereafter. It's our first one, so we shall see.

Lots of writing going on, on this end. How about you? Having some twitter fun as well. Silly stuff.

Thinking of doing a Necro-crawl (my own name for Zombie walk) in Princeton or thereabouts around October to launch the site. Kind of a grand opening of sorts. Zombie walks seem to be the big thing right now. How long can this all go on? I have read that there is such a love for this stuff, even years before it was the in thing, it could go on for many years to come. Romero is producing a new movie that is in the works 'The Zombie Autopsies' so this will give a resurgence to the movement.

My son is coming next month, and then we go to Texas. I will bring my sister back up and I have some fun things planned for her on the Open Mic circuit and even a camping trip to revive 'Big Foot' visitations. Spoke with his agent on the phone today, and he is looking forward to roaming the Pine Barrens again. Fun! Just lots of Fun! going on around here.

I wish for lots of Fun! things for you as well. Take care my friends. Smooches.

(Photo above from Jeju Island trip in Korea. Lots of pumpkin, and we know I love those!)

Just A Funny Memory

2012-01-05T13:41:00.000-08:00

Not only do I have the wildest Sci-Fi dreams, but I have some crazy experiences outside of the home too.

Yes, at least I think I do.

I may have to post some old funnies next week...

What is going on in your neck of the woods?

We Had A New Year Visitor

2012-01-01T09:33:00.000-08:00

Meet Nicky. He is a grayhound and beagle mix. I laugh when I think of how that one worked. He is a neighbors pet who is getting rather old. I have begun taking on an extra job here and there to keep myself busy...er.

His mom got sick over the Christmas break and had to be hospitalized and so their holiday celebration was put off another week. They ask if I could house sit and keep an eye out for Nicky. Sure.

So he came over last night to celebrate the New Year. He slept most of the evening after his dinner walk as we watched a movie and some midnight NYC celebrations on the teli.

At times I think maybe getting another pooch would be good for me, but they are a lot of work. Then Nicky here lays by my side with his head on my lap and I just feel so loved. Maybe a dog is in our future.

Hope you all had a wonderful and safe New Year's celebration...got your black eyed peas ready? I do!

I'll Keep Dreaming

2011-12-29T08:20:00.000-08:00

Unless a miracle happens I am not having surgery. We just found out hubby's insurance opted out of offering obesity medical coverage, meaning any form of medical help. No dietician, no nutritionist, and no bariatric surgery coverage of any kind. Sucks right?

Sigh.

He can go to Human Resources and try to convince them it would help or the bills will mount up on my visits for asthma, High Blood pressure, and diabetes. But...there is always a but...he is not an aggressive person. He will not go and try to talk them into anything. So I will have to walk this path in my own way.

Those signs I have again creeping in. A few times when people mentioned certain irreversible facts about the surgery, the words would linger in my mind like a sign. Fear or a sign to turn and do it on my own.

Sigh.

Now to move on.

Sigh.

This morning I am listening to music and writing. I had a wonderful dream that sparked an idea for a new short story, By Candlelight. Old friends who reignite an old relationship.

Sometimes it last in love, but sometimes it hurts instead. - Adelle

I miss ToonGuy. Where oh where is my ToonGuy? We love and miss you Russ.

Let Me Interupt This Programming...

2011-12-23T03:50:00.000-08:00

Some of you maybe tired of me moaning and groaning about life struggles lately, too bad. It's my life. My blog. Okay, I'm really being sarcastic. Like how I dressed up the front door? Made it myself! Not really, but I could have. Now for other updates.

I had my back doctor appointment last week. "Just a little arthritis in the lower back" he said, and I probably need to see a bariatric doctor, or my knees would go. Already taken care of. I got in a month and half early, which was a great thing for my body. Appointment taken care of yesterday.

What did they say? I am obviously a good candidate for any of the three surgeries. I chose gastric bypass. I know my cheating heart. I do well for six months and then go off the deep end on sweets the other six. I maintain my weight...back-up. I did when I was younger. I so sucked at it in my forties. I never completely ate right. I gave up things so the kids could. Working full-time, two businesses, two kids, a ridiculously busy house-hold and life kept the fat me at bay.

When Anelisa died my exercising and extra went...somewhere. It's floating around in outer space. Sorry, I will try and refrain from cliches. I had to admit this past few months I cannot do it on my own. I had a dietician, but she was not firm enough in having me send my eating journals. And she was around for the 'good' six months.

I eat crappy. There I said it. I can eat so healthy for a while, but then the bad carbs creep in by the pounds. My sister and I even half heartily laugh about it. She, as I have said before is worse than I am, but bad is bad. She doesn't eat green vegetables at all. Maybe a can of green beans now and then, but we know how healthy those are for high blood pressure. Our mom was obese and both parents ate horrible. Life training sucked. I'm not blaming them totally. At some point we have to be adult.

So now I have to set a timer, eat regular small meals, and eat a high protein diet. I can't lock carbs outside the front door like I have been. 'Healthy' carbs they call them. Ha! I have to redirect my whole thinking. But I know it's the only way out of this hell they call being FAT and unhealthy. How? With eating? No, with a coach. Yes, I now have a life and eating coach. I also admitted there was a need to go back to my councilor too, Bill. I know admitting support was needed would make me accountable was the right thing.

Donna, my coach... I like her, she is funny and took her time with me after the doctors appointment.

One of my good friends Randi had this surgery, and with the same doctor I chose. She has kept the weight off. It means I have another support. My sister is coming in March, whether she likes it or not we will be each others support, and she will stay with me for a few months. I told her, she is going to learn how to eat healthy with me. No choice, at least in my house.

I also have to attend a support group. Yep, I avoided those with Anelisa's illness. Sigh.I am sure I have not been easy to hang around or live with. With all the moody sadness and crap I let hang out.

My surgery? Late March. I am nervous and excited. It's only a jump start. But hey, I want to be able to hike through beautiful places without having to sit down every freakin few feet (my son and husband are nodding yes to this one!). Another thing I like about the coach...she had the surgery ten years ago and understands the fears and sadness I endure.

I wrote a few poem drafts in the doctors office. Funny thoughts I had on the company I have been keeping, food that is.

Peace to all of you out there. Mine has finally begun to expand in this place I dwell.

Now if I could just get a good support bra, I would be as perky as my wreath!

Happy Holiday Everyone!

2011-12-19T05:11:00.000-08:00

Last year my Christmas was a warm holiday, because I was in Texas with my sister and my son's family. As well as in St. Louis with my son where it had not snowed yet.

The year before and before that we have had snow up here in the north east. No sign of it as of yet this year. It was cold on Saturday, dreary too, but yesterday it was gorgeous. Looks cold outside this morning, but who knows.

This photo is of hubby's youngest brothers back yard before you hit the beach. Nice huh. Yes, a beautiful view from the back window.

I am not ready for Christmas, are you? I have some internet shopping to do, but other than that we do not make a big deal, just a big meal with his big family. I am just not ready like every year for all the fuss period. This holiday has become so commercial, even more so than when I was young.

Technically it's a religious celebration. Something I cannot get into anymore. I am spiritual and have my own beliefs, but I miss my daughter too much. I have had the hardest time dealing with her lately. I have been busy with work, but lots of things on my mind.

Mainly because my son broke it off with his girlfriend in Korea, two weeks before Christmas while they are still over there. There is a lot going on and I realized this weekend I do not handle loss very well. Even simple loss as this. I grew to ~~adore~~ love his girlfriend and felt they were a good match for each other.

Maybe he is more of a mess than I ever realized. He will be returning in February and we will see what happens. No job or place to live now. They were going to live together and already had a house.

I am a planner and hate not knowing what is around the corner. It drives me batty when people take too long to make up their mind. Like the weather, not knowing what tomorrow brings doesn't make me feel so easy. I like to think I am flexible, because raising a daughter with an illness makes you flexible. But too many changes have taken place in my life the past eleven years and I am ready for a steady stream of knowing.

I like my martini's stirred, not shaken...

However! Hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday season...Peace to you all.

Here You Go!

2011-12-14T07:34:00.000-08:00

I was in shock! Not in the picture, but when I found these photos on my cell.

Joyce, with me in the photo had found them and was scanning them. Back in the day, 1993 to be exact, she owned the camera. I was poor with two kids. What can I say!

This is a 'vain' attempt at reliving my past. Don't we all do it as we get older? Yeah keep telling yourself that!

It was pre-Ireland. We worked out at the gym at least four times or more a week. I know, I worked a full time job, took care of kids, one who was terminally ill. I needed that down time. My weight was under control, and I felt good. Joyce and I had so much fun together. I did with all my friends, but this was my favorite time in life.

Most people say they want to go back to their 20's, or even 18. Not me. Give me 30 something, but when I get to 39, send me right back to 31 again. A loop in the chain of life. Why hasn't someone else thought of it? Oh yeah, Logan's Run did. Read that book? Or seen the movie? An oldie but goodie.

I'm having a good time now. My body doesn't always want to keep up with the good times I am having, but it will in time. What do I miss most about those days? Dancing. You have heard that funny before. Below I am dancing the night away! It might be pre-Red Jacket. Meaning Joyce and I were about to go out and meet friends at the hottest club off Greenville Avenue. I loved both shirts I am wearing in the photos, so it makes sense I would have them on before a night out. I also loved Joyce's up-do back then! I began wearing the same poof on top before hubby and I got together, which is only a few years away! (before Snookie ever made it ghetto on the Jersey Shore)

Is there a lesson in this post?

Not sure, maybe. But it was fun seeing photos of myself away from the kids after all these years. Most of the pictures I own have a child in them. No make-up or hair fixed. The focus was usually on the kiddos back then. I do have one photo I am fond of with my make-up and hair done and with kids. But I gave it to my son. I was finding myself walking by it up the stairs and lingering too long on my fading looks and body.

So maybe the lesson is, or at least for me, is to remove those old photos and be happy with yourself as you get over the age of being accepted as 'young' in society. I am coming to grips with who I am now. I was a hot red head, and hubby says I still am.

Oh and I had forgotten my hair was curlier than it is now. Poofy!

The View Is So Delightful

2011-12-12T10:27:00.000-08:00

When the weather outside is cold! Not frightful to me, I like it cool.

Not quite the lyrics of a Christmas song, but the view from Alexander Hall on the Princeton Campus is nice. A bit of color hanging on to the warm of the stone and sun.

The makings of a poem right? I will be spending free time this week writing some.

I went on an interview with a new Princeton family to be their personal chef and help manage things. Ahhh to have money for extravagant extras.

We finally went OUT to a movie after watching the Princeton Brass Band perform on Sunday. It was nice walking the streets and the campus around Princeton. Did a little shopping in the local wine store, and window shopping along Nassau Street. Lots of families strolling around, the kids in cute outfits, and looking at Christmas decorations. Almost seemed normal. Yep.

Oh what movie did I see? Breaking Dawn. Was more like breaking a yawn. What a slow movie and friends on facebook talked about how the acting from the two lead characters has gotten better. The same to me it seems. Someone said the next one would be better, Part 2. Really? Because they would have a better budget? Okayyyyy.

I also caught a fast forward version of Bag of Bones on DVR last night before bedtime. Yawn. It must be time to cover the television with a black shroud, because I am bored. The only entertaining thing to me these days is reading and writing. I just finished The Vampire Shrink. Was interestingly funny. Now I would like to see that as a movie, if they do not over dramatize it. Now I am boring myself. I have to start something due last week. Have a nice week everyone!

PS- I also have to come over and see what some of you are up too!

A Mask of Lies

2011-12-10T10:17:00.000-08:00

I am upset. I cannot give the details but someone I know and love has not grown up the way I had thought. They have cheated. They are living a lie. Normally I can move on, but this is bugging me. I thought I had nipped this in the bud when I told them I wanted nothing to do with them calling me sharing their fantasies a while back.

How can we think we know someone but in actuality they are living a lie. Not the virtuous person we thought them to be? No integrity what so ever. Only a guilty conscious hiding behind a nice smile. And wanting to share their cloud like feelings with people knowing the other person involved will be let down so hard, hurting so deeply.

I am so disappointed. I'm crying for the other person in this situation. I cannot tell you how many times I have witnessed or myself been hurt by cheating. Things are never good in the end.

My hope is that they realize what they are doing is wrong and make it right. Right? By telling the other person involved what they are truly feeling and end it before things get really messy. Messy? Yes, in the worst way.

I am about to un-friend this person for life over this.

A Whirlwind Blew In

2011-12-06T10:12:00.000-08:00

Wow that was fast. What? Well I posted the other day about needing some submissions and editorial staffing for Z-composition and *BAM!!!* We got hits. Zombies arise! Well it's not totally a zombie world, there are other creatures roaming the earth.

I would now like to welcome Eileen, Elizabeth, Val, Athena, John, and a few silent Advisory Editors to the team! Whoo Hoo! Check them out: Z-Team. I had so many a few are in the wings for stints after some of these guys commitments are over. This will be a fun next six months as we progress.

Adobe Dreamweaver for Dummies is also in the mail. To my house. Why? Because the regular manual that comes with the program just doesn't make any sense to me. Learning by stumbling is how I have been rolling the past few years with my other sites, and some lessons from Brooke the designer. I took programing in college, but without the help of the girl and guy sitting next to me I would have failed. I barely got out with a 'C'. I need more skills to run my own designing projects. I will triumphantly succeed.

The website so far is a success. We have submissions and more time for more submission and will be live officially with 'Featured Works' February 1st. Dreamy steamy works of macabre love. That is the theme...Love. Well, I am waiting for the Z-Team to reply with ideas of exactness. Do you, the reader have any fun ideas for a quirky new literary site?

Z-composition Needs Brains!

2011-12-04T06:23:00.000-08:00

Do you have too much time on your hands because the kids all have left for college or moved out (maybe one still lives in the basement)?

Did you just graduate with an MFA and would like to begin building up your resume by joining a great literary website?

Are your brains rotting away in that full-time job that has nothing to do with your passion?

Or has the flesh begun to peel from your bones because the zombie virus has already taken over and the only chance you have to redeem yourself is to do the writing you always claim you do?

Then what are you waiting for?

We are looking for humble people with little or more experience in editing who have a spare few hours every two months to work on our team. You will be required to read a variety of work (as follows), and help choose new works of poetry, prose, artwork, and photography for our website Z-composition.

We are also looking for poets, writers, artist and photographers to submit for our February editions of Z-composition Magazine.

What do you get?

Editors- we will throw you a bone with a bio and a link to your hottest blog and or published works. Otherwise you will share in the brains of unsuspecting poets, writers, and artists bi-montly as we progress in the fabulous world of literary genius...uh yeah right...

Poets, writers, and artist- you get to be the first in our ongoing magazine!

Does this frighten you?

You do not have to like the genre we will house on Z-composition, just know a good piece when you read it. Critiquing is not an easy job. You have to be objective, but yet honest(criticism should set out to “serve the work of art, not usurp its place"- Susan Sontag). Being down right mean is easy, and not what we are looking for.

Interested?

Contact us at editors@zombiepoetry.com or elizabeth@cookappeal.com

Submissions go to the website for submission details.

Sincerely,

Senior Zombie Brain

Who Say's That!

2011-12-02T08:29:00.000-08:00

My husband grew up being the oldest of eight siblings, and this is his mom's grandchildren minus six others who were not able to attend the Thanksgiving celebration.

I have a brother. Actually, I grew up with six siblings: two brothers, one half, and four sisters, three half by my mom's first marriage. I don't see any of the older siblings. Two have passed away in the past year. I am the second to youngest of them all, and I all I have is my relationship with the youngest of us, my lil'sista. You all know her by now. Fun and exhausting, but I love her very much.

At some point, around 12 years old our family began to sever from emotional and alcohol problems on the adults part. I never understood how this could happen until my own siblings grew apart. I wish I knew my brother, the one just a year older than I. Wait I do know him. All too well in fact. He is a super duper Bible belt religious character. Right out of a movie. At times a little crazy. Hard core fire and brimstone damn right annoying crazy.

On many occasions he has sent letters and come into our homes telling us we are going to hell because we don't believe the way he does. How does he know this? Because Jesus came to him several times and told him his family had to be saved. People who believe in this manner really believe they have had this experience. And they have every right, but the problem is...they try and push it off on others in a very pushy way. Some believe it is a disease, related to narcissistic behavior. I was told my son's father was extremely narcissistic, his way or the highway, and he too was religious along with being abusive.

I am afraid he grew up in the same abuse and calamity as the rest of us siblings. But he is the only one that went the opposite direction of a life of crime as the first four. The last two, me and sister girl, well we have managed to strive for peace and stay out of legal trouble. We have figured out what makes us tick, the root of our difficulties so we can improve upon what we have. I believe in love unconditionally and helping each other out when we can.

My brother unfortunately has just chosen to remove himself from our lives and maybe it is for the better. I love him though. I wish he would figure out what he is doing alienates himself from others. I am sure there are plenty of people around him in the state of...okay I will not share that one, but you cannot tell me everyone loves him the way he is.

I am fully educated in why people like him cling to religion and God in this way. He is also self medicating himself from mental illness issues and what we went through. Why this post all of a sudden? Because I am friends with my nieces, his daughters on Facebook and the youngest just told me something very disturbing. She said her father, my brother told her she was spiritually dead to God because she is accident prone. She apparently tore a hole in one of her car tires and asked him for help.

Who says that to their child? First of all I know several people including myself who have torn or blew out a tire. I have done it twice, the first time was a faulty new tire and they replaced it. I am also accident prone at times. I call it clumsy. Does that make me spiritually dead? Not in the least. Some people can walk into a room and charm the pants off of everyone, have very successful lives (in worldly standards), and it's win win win all the way around. Some of us struggle all of our lives. Eventually I found peace in who I am.

My father told me that this brother was not his real son biologically. I believe my mom told him before she died. It did not bother me. I love him no matter. Our parents, like us make mistakes. We have to forgive them, as they do the best they can, like us. Apparently my brother has decided because of this lie he lived, it's him against the world. Transparently my father loved him like his own son, and married my mom in spite of things.

I have been able to open up to my nieces and enjoy their lives as wives and mothers this past year, when my brother kept them away from my parents and us all these years, because we were bad people in his mind. If there was any way to reach him so I can tell him how much I love him and our childhood was not a total waste, I would. But stop telling your daughter hurtful things.

Family. One of the hardest life lessons on earth.

Open Mics Abroad- Coffee Club R

2011-11-29T19:33:00.000-08:00

It's Open Mic night in my area and I am reminded of how I love Open Mic abroad experiences. Over the past five years as hubby and I have traveled around the country or abroad we seem to find these venues. He gets four weeks vacation in his job, and we use it.

When we make the choice for a destination there is no rhyme or reason we just go where we both have always wanted to go. Before we get in the car or board a plane I usually look to see if there are Open Mics in which I can perform. I have had some luck finding good venues. However when we planned our Korea trip, I had no idea we would stumble into an Open Mic venue.

Do Koreans know what Open Mic is? The certainly have coffee shops. All over the place. Often three or four on each corner. It's crazy! But they love their coffee as much as Americans do on this continent.

We were walking the palaces of Geonju, Korea, and strolling the burial mounds of 1,000 year old emperors and became hungry. I noticed on the map we were right across the street from an area called 'Drunken Alley'. Streets lined with restaurants and bars. They also happened to have coffee houses. The first door we came upon and looking for a light meal, was Coffee Club R. The young man inside said he had sandwiches and light drinks, even cocktails if we wanted.

Jung Youn Kim (pictured above) as it turns out is the owner. He barely looks twenty something, but is actually mid-thirties. We began talking about Open Mics, as I spied the stage and music set-up off to the side. He graciously served us our food and drinks and picked up his guitar. Jung sat down next to us and began to play some folk tunes.

He told us that not too long ago the streets were lined with coffee houses hosting open mics. Fortunately he has held on to a prospering business and ideal of offering a place for people like me to perform. I had not brought any work with me on this trip, or I would have shared. But, I remembered my work was saved on this blog! So, I began reading from a few poems and the 'Crush' series. It was well received (the younger generation speaks English very well).

This experience reminds me no matter what our skin color, culture upbringing, or many other things that separate us...we are the same, we see art forms as a way of expressing our inner selves. There is so much more deepness to this, I can barely let the emotion come through on this post. It's beautiful. I love meeting others who share like this.

I also have been to a few Open Mics in the Pacific Northeast, Canada, Southwest, and many other areas we have traveled. Just Google 'Open Mics' and you might be surprised at what comes up. Maybe a little digging will take place. Ask Facebook friends, I did and they gave me so much other information for future travels.

Traveling abroad, or even a road trip on your continent? I suggest writers, poets or musicians take advantage of situations, be prepared, and bring material. Jung also provides instruments for singer/songwriter or musicians to use. He even built his own stage for the very quaint establishment.

Check out this live performance at Coffee Club R in Geongju, Korea 'Hey Soul Sister'

Hampton Bays Sunset

2011-11-27T11:35:00.000-08:00

What a wonderful Thanksgiving Day and Black Friday. Of course from the photo there was no black involved. It was a glorious beautiful sunny Friday. We did do some brief shopping and took hubby's step mom Valerie out for a drive in my new car. See the great sunset we caught on the way back to her house. The inlet can be a fabulous stop for a maple walnut ice cream fix.

Mom Val and I bought Christmas decorations, and I helped her get a door wreath lit and up. I will post when ours go up. Been a long time I felt like celebrating, but after I planted more mums out front and added a few garden friends around the porch, I got caught up in the joy of it all.

Hubby and I had a fabulous time with the whole Stelling family and beyond Thursday. I am the luckiest girl to have married into such a wonderful family. I am blessed period. We hope you all had a great holiday weekend.

We are relaxing, some lamb and cabbage stew is on the stove, movies in the DVD player and a glass of wine is next to us. Maybe even some poetry lines are reeling around my head right now.

(Photo above is Hampton Bays Sunset taken and property of Robert J. Stelling with his new Nikon camera)

North Winds

Spirits of years gone by
stand together
there on the pier
see them, their love
set the sky ablaze

loss settles across her waters
still and cold, after September rolls through
cool sand is swept back out
footprints disappear from the beach
shadows wave good bye as they take flight

I stopped long enough
to make sense of pain
yearning burned into memory
we always had a good time, in those
long walks along these shores.

For Robert John Stelling, Sr. and the love of his life Valerie Bunda...

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

2011-11-23T15:26:00.000-08:00

Family can be a wonderful reason to be thankful.

I have all the pies baked, cranberry, pumpkin and banana breads baked, and more to load up in the car for our long drive tonight, and I wanted to throw a hello your way.

Hubby's mom had sever back problems now, so all the women in the family get assigned one cooking job to contribute for the large meal. He has seven other siblings that may or may not appear around a rather large table. We also stay over at his step mom's house the following day and I cook. She does not cook, so it is a treat for her when we come.

Hubby and I wish you the best of what you desire for the day!

OH BTW I got my re-do test results in...BETTER THAN MY NUMBERS HAVE EVER BEEN! Lower than last years or the years before that. Whoo Hooo for me! Not the meds either, because I have not taken them long enough. It's the fact I have been exercising and eating right the past year, with some eating back sliding along the way in moderation.

Why was my test off in September, and scaring the hell out of me? Because I confess I got hungry before my 2 PM fasting appointment, having maybe some cereal or soda thinking it would not affect the long term number, but it did. My lower numbers have even gone down since my last physical and blood work. I may not look so great in that photo and that shirt, what was I thinking? But I was tired, we had walked a long way off the subway to meet my son's friends for Shabu Shabu (boiled meat and vegetables, or known as Hot Pot here in our country) in Korea. I love my family.

Another reason to celebrate!

My New Baby

2011-11-21T06:23:00.000-08:00

Normally I would not be bragging, but this is the first car I have ever been in love with. I was sad to wake up today and see leaves all over it. I had a fit when hubby threw his empty water bottle into the back seat on the way home from the dealer Saturday night. How dare him! It is hard to see the color, but it is midnight blue. The interior is what caught my eye first. I will be driving the Lexus on a regular basis, I drove my van to death. the neighbor laughed and told hubby he was never getting a new car. Why? Because he bought a German car thought would outlive us all.

I actually thought about adopting a new puppy, but now I can see there is plenty taking up lots of my time. We also got a new 'used' van for cookAppeal, my catering business this weekend. Off it went to cater a birthday party in PA yesterday. Dry rubbed pork loin, asparagus risotto, chocolate cake and brownies. Plus a wine tasting. Things are busy. I like busy.

I had a good visit with the doctor last week and I am going to give the new diabetes medication a try. Even though I have not bloomed into full scale diabetes they say it will help with weight loss. It has been making me sick in various ways, but I will hold out. Bariatric surgery is in the picture now. After January. The weight has to go. I am also eating like a bird. Sad, but I am finding I cannot even taste alcohol without stomach issues. All for the best.

Aaron and I will take the new car on a road trip, to Texas in March. He returns from Korea and will stay with us for a few weeks, then on to pick up the truck and return to St. Louis. I will enjoy spending another month with him before he returns to his life again.

I hope you all had a great weekend.

On The Same Wave Length

2011-11-19T05:58:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure why, but I keep wanting to apologize...for long posts and no poetry. It's coming, soon. Not now because an amazing thing happened to me on the way to ~~grandma's house~~ the gym last Thursday. I left my red cape with powers of invisibility at home so I could hit the doctor's office, run errands and swim. Not sure you are aware that my van died two months ago. Hubby and I are sharing his, and let's just say the fight over the radio drives me bonkers, but when it's on NPR, National Public Radio (in case clueless secluded Appalachian peoples are reading this) I can deal with it.

After calling everyone to tell them about the diabetes consultation with my doctor I turned up the radio. I heard Brian Naylor guest host of Talk of the Nation begin to introduce a few people who would discuss and take phone calls for 'Channeling Dragons To Parent Terminally Ill Kids'. My ears went up like a German Shepard (go listen after you read my post). Oh how I wanted to call in, but I was on Route 1, and if you live in Jersey, driving in the madness of afternoon traffic is not safe, even with your headset on.

There is so much I want to say about this. I often want to talk more about being a mom to a child with a chronic or terminally ill disease. But to many it's too painful. Not me. There is a need to speak up about what I went through. It helps the healing process. I lost clients over this illness and her eventual death. Yes, many of my friends and clients dropped off the face of the earth after six months to a year. It's too close to home for them. So they avoid it.

How did my adventure begin with Anelisa in the first place? I like Emily Rapp on NPR found myself pregnant and making life plans. Being pregnant is a wonder in itself. You anticipate the future with much more emotion. I had the pregnancy and labor books memorized. I knew when I efaced, was nesting, although labor pains were like having cramps, a little too easy at the most, I had it all down. Her father and I blew off a pot luck dinner at church the night before and darted off to the emergency room. I was going to have a baby!

Thirty hours later, I was told the baby was in fetal distress, so a C-section was in order. Okay, knock that one off of my list- no natural birth, this time around. I unfortunately they put me to sleep, but awoke to the announcement of a girl. Not the boy the doctor told me. She was barely six pounds. We named her Anelisa Diane Dillion. I could deal with a girl. She was a clock work ~~baby~~ girl for the next fourteen years. Waking up for feedings every three or four hours, sleeping on my chest, no loud crying, just purring like a kitten, hardly any complaining, ahhh. Wait, I forgot something. Let's go back to the delivery.

My chosen pediatrician came on the second day and said the nurses heard a murmur. A what? A blast from the past. See I was born with a murmur. Actually a VSD, Ventricular Septical Defect, or a hole in the heart. They called us 'Blue Babies' back in the sixties. The minute you begin to breath on your own the heart begins to show stress and lack of oxygen. I was three months premature, and was in the hospital for three months. Growing up I heard how sickly I was, and my lungs were never really strong. Asthma and all that. I out grew mine, except for an irregular heart beat, but they watch me carefully.

The pediatrician told me they had to whisk her away to another hospital, Children's Medical Center Dallas, so they could do a catheter. You cannot really see inside the heart without this they told me. It tells them more details about the problem. Medicine had come a long way from my mother's agonies.

During this experience I remember feeling...but I was a new and confused mother. What had I done to deserve this. My whole dream of being a mom was kind of shattered. You feel so helpless at times. When they are suffering you want so badly to change places with them.

Fortunately I had a couple friend who were both in medicine. Matter of fact the wife worked with the heart surgeon, Dr. Nikado (since retired) who went on to do Ane's first and five altogether Blalock Shunt surgeries. They help explain things all along the way. See Anelisa had five defects, but she was too small to fix anything. Actually when she was one year old, they told me she could never be fixed. The bigger you grow and the problems aren't fixed, the body begins to deteriorate. I could see in the couples eyes they knew her fate.

Down the road her case was looked at by the father of heart surgery and a panel of the best in Chicago. They could do nothing, not even a transplant, because it would mean a heart-lung, and they are barely doing it on monkey's. I've learned more about medicine than I ever cared to know. I still can spout out that stuff to medical professions if it comes up. And it did a few years ago. Two pediatric cardiologists sitting next to hubby and I at a wine and food pairing said they still hadn't perfected surgeries to help children like my Ane (Ah-knee). Sigh.

We had no idea how long she would live. I walked out of that doctor's office in shock that first year. Hadn't medicine come far enough they could fix her? No they hadn't, but there was still hope. Hope. A pretty name for a girl don't you think, but not powerful enough to heal my baby. I fell to my knees that day in my own agony. My mother spiraled down into her mental illness abyss when she heard the news. Friends, they offered up "I will pray for you guys", "Surely they will find a cure", and as Emily says on the radio "I can't imagine the pain you are going through". Or can they?

It's something we all never want to feel. When I got pregnant, which was soon, after Anelisa, I was so scared. because I lost three pregnancies before my first live birth, what if I lose this one, or it might be sick too. Could I handle another? Life begun to suck, that is until I brought her home. Seeing her in that ICU unit day after day, hooked up to leads, wires, and tubes was awful. It sucked big time. My first photo to show friends and clients was me holding her hooked up like Frankenstein. What could people say? Do not be afraid. I swallowed the tears and gave her the best life she deserved. She was a princess to everyone who had the chance to meet her.

When the fog lifted it had been four years since she left us eleven years ago. I often think if I had not kept so much of my feelings pent up trying to be strong, I might have survived the grief period better. See I never went to support groups. I kept my composure when I spoke about her, my chin up. You have no choice since you can't spend your time crying in the open. On the outside she looked eighty percent normal so it did not come up with strangers. Blue lips, nails and pale skin. Oh and extremities that were long and lanky, like we were starving her, but she ate, She ate well. So most people, even friends and family thought she would survive.

Listening to Emily Rapp on NPR brought a thought to mind. I should encourage others like us to attend support groups. To find others like us, and not hold back the tears. We have every right to cry. I will never see my only daughter attend her first dance, graduate from school, or wear a wedding gown. Not hear about her first kiss, although we often giggled about boys. She could not understand how I like a boy with dark hair and she like blondes. I used to I told her, but you cannot predict who you fall in love with.

Her last trek outside was to hunt down the cute boys in our new neighborhood, but she was only gone for five minutes. I encouraged her to take her motor scooter so she wouldn't be so tired, but she cried and said she felt ugly, and wanted to know why she couldn't be like everyone else. You can't predict your fate in life I told her. Hers was a purpose beyond my motherly concepts. She lay against me and I soaked in every moment like that until she was gone.

I am glad NPR chose to host that radio program. You can go and listen to Emily Rapp on NPR. Educate yourself and imagine what it is like to be a mother of a terminally ill child. You are missing out on the most wonderful experience we have been given. Death wonderful? No, but it's an eye opener. My son Aaron has made up for many things I will never have with Anelisa, but he is a boy. They have other issues to hurdle. He hugs me and tells me he loves me, so I am glad I had another child so soon after her. One day when he becomes a father, we will be on the same wave length. His pain of loss is a whole other post, and maybe he will share here one day.

My client Puneeta and I still are close since her daughter Anjuli passed three years ago. I am still waiting for her to have another baby for me to help with (smile). She is afraid. We talked about the NPR show, and she is so fresh into the grieving period that she does not want to go listen to others talk about the pain and loss. She will one day. She will help another like I helped her. We also will be on the same wavelength. Till then I hope there will be another chance to meet or help another mom, and I can share in the love these children bring into our lives.

Emily Rapp has her own blog for which she said has saved her (I feel the same way Emily!) Little Seal, Ronan's Blog. It is a great insight into what others have to say. The comments are often as good or better than the posts. One of her friends Jennifer mentions watching him so Emily can do some things, and how she is watching 'a sweet dying baby'. Truth is can be such an eye opener.

On The Edge Connections

2011-11-18T05:12:00.000-08:00

As usual I woke up around 4:30 AM, and began reading with the television on in the back ground. I love documentaries! I am a people person, so any of them that focus on the human dynamic catches my attention. I often find connections which makes sense of my own past. Hmm, maybe there is a documentary on this. 'Picture This' follows fashion model Sara Ziff as she chronicles the life of a model. My opinion is she does it to prove that models are not just dumb stiff bodies.

In doing so models are interviewed on the issues of sex exploitation and being degraded by the industry. One model mentions a 'famous creepy photographer who makes the whole photography session sexual'. But if you want to get in or be noticed models have put up with his antics. Many have complained publicly. They don't mention names, but I Googled 'famous photographer who uses sex with models' and only one name popped up. He is all over the web. You know me, sexual predators get my goat. Bahhhhhh.

In reading many pieces about this man I stumbled upon something which sparked a memory. I cannot get right down to it without writing it out, so bare with me. I might make sense, and I might not.

“It was comedy,” said Mr. Richardson. “We’d be in Miami shooting beauty pictures for some magazine, and my dad would be yelling at the editor: ‘Terry’s going to do what he wants-and if you’re going to get in the way, we’re going to get on a plane and go home!’ And we were just so broke, I was like, ‘ Noooo , we’re in a hotel ! It’s free food and free drinks and I want to stay!’ Dad was really into tantrums and trying to emotionally devastate people. The 60′s was a different time. You could get away with these incredible scenes.”

For a spell, his dad was living in Terry’s studio apartment. “And I would just go to sleep on people’s couches every night, because I just couldn’t handle sleeping in a bed with my dad every night,” Mr. Richardson said. “I’d come home and he’d be wearing my clothes and hanging out with my friends.”

- 'Terry Richardson's Dark Room' New York Observer, Phoebe Eaton, 2004

After reading this article, especially this section I made a connection. A mom and my life connection. During my first marriage, we were renting a portion of a house in a prestigious part of town. Life was good for the early eighties. Of course now I see it was all a bad phase of the decent into abuse and a wild party life. An escape from my own family upheavals.

Back when my ex cheated on me one too many times. I know how can once not be enough? I just did not know about everything he was doing until I returned from a trip visiting friends at Baylor. It was finished, he was gone, his stuff was on the curb and then my mom calls. If I had access to a video camera I am sure the out takes would be pretty hysterical.

I invited her to come visit me. She was crying, like always, saying "this was it, she was leaving my dad for good." I knew she never would, but felt she needed a sort of vaca from the house. I hated that house, so if I could leave and feel better, than it would work for mom.

A week goes by, yeah a week, and I come home for lunch after complaining to my friends she was still there, to find the house full of firemen. She had my jewelry on, was dressed to the tee and had made lunch and coffee for them all. I was introduced as her 'single and available' daughter. I rolled my eyes. Inside I was screaming, but outside I let it go.

Is this the right time to begin screaming and throw her out I thought to myself. My roommate came home and was surprised by the scene as well. I had thought this girl was fantastic. She was hip and introduced me to all the right people. It was all part of the eighties scene really. Yes, really. I was going to the Stark Club, hanging with wealthy people who recognized my talent, had gotten me on stage, but my mom was a mess. My roommate proceeds to tell me my mom has told the world she has won the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes. Yeah.

But she also began telling everyone someone was watching her and the light bulbs had cameras in them. I never said this story had a good ending. I am not sure why I had not seen the signs. Growing up she suffered from horrible depression and checked out often. Was it the chaos of my upbringing that made me shut out the signs of craziness? I am sure it was now. I was running, she was slowly descending into madness. I might be making light of it now, but when I read about dysfunctional families like Terry Richardson, I can see why he is a mess.

My mother just wanted to be noticed. She spent her whole life in the shadow of others and I saw the web of lies and stories she created, not to mention the hypochondria, it was her way of trying to make a life she never got to have. I see how Mr. Richardson's father in a sense was doing the same thing. My mom just wanted to have what I had. Actually what I had at that time was only youth, and what a waste of youth it was. Thankfully I eventually recognized all the fuel being thrown into my fire of life needed to be extinguished. Before everything blew up in my face.

My mother sadly refused to get the help from medical professionals, until she fell, just after my daughter passed away. She remained locked up, I blame my father and his back woods ignorance for this one, in that dark house. It was too late by then, but I hoped for a few weeks she really enjoyed herself. At my rented house of course. As far as Mr. Richardson is concerned, and solely my opinion, he refers to himself as a caricature, and obviously feels his actions toward other human beings are perfectly normal.

Deeper connection made, at least in my mind. Some people just never see the chaos of their past, and how it trickles down into their own personal choices. They never wake up, or maybe they know what is going on, but make a choice to call it their own while eyes wide shut.

I read that creative people feel keeping themselves on some kind of edge keeps the juices flowing. Always looking for that next high. Are they just ringmasters looking for an audience. No connection in that for me. Well, maybe a tiny one.

Oh, why was the fire department called when my mom came for a visit? She was cooking me lunch and caught our high tech stove on fire. The smoke alarm went off and she called 911.

Wish Me Luck

2011-11-17T06:30:00.000-08:00

Actually it's my own fault. I had a physical before going to Korea and did not get my report in the mail like I usually do, so I figured it was because they screwed up my insurance information and needed more time. Which is a whole other story.

When I returned, I opened the report to see once again my blood sugar was 'elevated'. Something I have been seeing for the past four years. 99 is the normal high range, but they did lower it from 123 or so two years ago. They say because people are not taking diabetes seriously and more people have it nowadays.

Silly me, I went into the doctor's office and brought it up. I said "Well it's not like I have diabetes, just because my levels are a bit elevated". They have been 114, and consistent the past four years. I did not notice the number was 173 on this report. Ooops, my bad. He said "Yes, you have diabetes." His options were try once again eating a well balanced meal, see a dietician, exercise, and attend diabetes workshops. Or...all of this and take an insulin pill.

I opted for the pill and the rest, but made an appointment to be retested. Why? Because in the back of my mind I think I ate something due to my insomnia, after midnight (the fasting cut off time for testing). So I have eaten like a good egg since Friday (seeing the doctor) and have been taking my Metformin. I go today to get retested. No eating after midnight, I was a good patient. However...

I have spoken with two of my nurse friends in Dallas. I have been experiencing repeated hunger, sleepiness, and shaking throughout the day. I have been warned it could be low blood sugar, that I should not be taking this medication.

One of the nurse friends, Joyce said she was surprised he did not tell me to monitor my sugar levels. She is mailing me a sugar level tester. Her boss, a doctor gives them out for free. That will help me see what is going on after meals.

I will talk about it today with the doctor and report back. I am hoping I just majorly screwed myself by eating after midnight. I don't have diabetes and have another chance at changing my diet, meaning eating breakfast and not after seven in the evening. Also, I made the choice to give up alcohol altogether. Its been a long time coming. I am getting older and never really was a party animal. I did not drink until I was over thirty, as I have said before.

I have been saddened to tell hubby 'no more wine' with our meals. He loves his wine, but he also knows he has gained weight from the alcohol with meals. He lost weight from all of our walking and his food poisoning in Korea, we both have. I would rather be able to eat the foods I love than drink calorie laden and sugary alcohol that has no bearing on my happiness. I used it to numb the pain of Anelisa's death before moving to New Jersey, but now it is time to go back to the non-drinker I was before she got very ill sixteen years ago.

A chef who loves cooking and pairing wine with food giving up that passion? I had already begun a no-scotch regime for the past year, so what is a little wine. Scotch is the real culprit in my diet. Sugar filled foods too. My sweet tooth has to go.

Wish me luck on the testing...I have not wanted to ever hear the words "You are a diabetic" like my mom did all those years ago. Because I know how hard it will be to change on a dime, rather than given a chance to make changes at my own pace.

(Photo above- I found this pic in my files thanks to my friend Donna. Me and my son Aaron when I had my Dallas catering company, and working as a chef consultant for assisted living facilities, and was a size fourteen/sixteen. Sure I had a belly already, but I was more fit than I am now. My son had a chili bowl cut, and was around fourteen, he is adorable!)

What Do You See...

2011-11-15T03:58:00.000-08:00

...first thing in the morning?

Lately I am waking up around five o'clock in the morning. In the past I might lay there and eventually go back to sleep, but not since before Korea. The doctor told me to get up and not lay there. I simply would take a nap later in the day if time afforded the luxury.

I leave hubby to his dreams, but lately he is awake as well. My routine is to go downstairs, get on the internet; read, check Facebook, and do some writing. Then at some point hubby comes downstairs; we joke about being on Korea time, but really he has not felt well and we both know it will pan out for him. He cannot go on without sleep. If he does it will mean mountain dew's and falling asleep toward the end of work.

Not good either way. I on the other hand am making due with no caffeine, and am on my way to the gym again. Again? I have always enjoyed getting up before others and going for a swim. A routine I took on the past six years since we moved to New Jersey. I just back slide from time to time.

In this morning routine I am enjoying watching the sun come up. Out my dining room window is a burst of reds and gray, bouncing off cloudy skies this time of year. The trees have begun to lose all of their leaves, so it makes for a 'Headless Horseman' kind of scene. I love it. My own private creepy view in which I can add my own characters. Silly I know, but fun to use our imagination.

I also wake up to an email about my new website, Z-composition. Things have gotten behind, but Brooke is finally making progress. We are getting excited. I am aiming for the new launch date of January 1st. Full steam ahead.

What else is new? I have been thinking about an ex-husband lately. and wondering about his family. I kept up with them when the kids were young. I would stop in or call his grandmother in Texas. They have a ranch there and were always a joy to be around. He (the ex) had his problems, but the family made me feel loved.

I stumbled upon a website mentioning the family ranch. Their phone number was still the same (as the now deceased grandparents). Should I call? Me being me, I did. The father answered and we had pleasantries. Then I spoke with his mom, and it was as if we had never lost contact. She asked if I had heard the ex was deceased, I said yes, I had heard some small thing. I knew more than I let on, but felt it was rude to discuss him. There are still mixed feelings. But it was good to hear the ex's son was doing well. Unscathed from any abuse of his mom from the ex during his childhood.

Life goes own right? The sun comes up each day with brilliance. I wake up and get to witness the glory of it all. I miss Anelisa in all the autumn color, as this was her favorite time of year. The poetic side of it all just sits, waiting for me to put the words down onto paper...but I will not go there. Sometimes you just have to let sleeping dogs lie.

Peace to you all out there under the same sunrise. May you find the beauty of it all, even if it doesn't always make sense. Don't let things go unsaid. In your hearts at least. Do what you have to do to make peace with your world, and have no regrets. The higher power out there wants us to find peace. I know it.

(The author owned photo above was taken several years ago this time of the year. Pretty right? The Finger Lakes area to be exact- E. Stelling)

Preditors and Victims Are In The Open

2011-11-14T04:31:00.000-08:00

Where do I begin? A question I have been asking myself all weekend.

I am sure most of you know about the Penn State Scandal. So many emotions are stirring for people, especially victim's, like me. Our hearts go out to those who have suffered beyond belief. Reading or hearing about another predator running around living his life as he destroyed the innocent.

I know 'innocent until proven guilty', but you cannot help be outraged from details leaked into the press.

Which brings me to something I had written months ago. A rape piece which has been looming in the back of my mind. I often think about the purpose of this blog. Creative TMI. I began steering towards artistic endeavors over the past few years. But now and then I have to bring up something serious. Talk about something that changed my own life in many ways. Topics that have changed others as well.

Most people want negative news to fade away, because it can be hard to swallow. Knowing about horrific acts such as sexual abuse is hard to swallow. But speaking out about these topics help people like me, a victim of sexual abuse as a child and an adult.

Any act of sexual abuse is horrific, especially for the victim. We live our own experiences over and over when things like this come up in the news. I was channel surfing in between working on my book and poetry when I came upon a show 'The Downfall of Anand Jon', and I thought "Who is Anand Jon?", and where have I been?

I do not watch or read about the news very often, but do read hubby's newspapers left lying around the house when I can. But it is hard to keep up with everything. I was a week behind on the Penn State Scandal.

The show I stumbled upon began by describing Anand Jon's rise to fame in the fashion world as a up and coming designer by dressing Lawrence Fishburn, Paris Hilton, and many others. He had appeared on America's Top Model, which I definitely do not watch, and then jetted into the world of (and according to acquaintances, employees and a business partner) engaging in dangerously close relationships with very young woman who aspired to be models, or were his models.

Their ages ranged from fourteen to twenty one. He was eventually caught in the car with a fifteen year old aspiring model, and was seen making out with her by the police. During her police interview she admitted to giving him oral sex, and being with him on other occasions. But he did not go to jail at this point. The mother knew, why did she not proceed to have him charged. The mother should be charged with neglect, if she is found guilty.

Years later a twenty one year old model came forth and stated to the police he raped her. After that girls came out of the woodwork saying they also had been forced, or he forced himself upon them (video tapes were found) to have sex or perform sex with Anand Jon. Of course I decided to Google him and see what updated news I could find. He was arrested in 2007, found guilty, and has been serving time in jail. I believe he is also in NYC facing trial for more sexual crimes.

I am not an expert on the whole story from the brief news reports and one blog, but I can say I know rape. From my experience I can understand why someone would be afraid to come forth. Why would I share such a horrific story with you? Because I now feel it is important for people to understand what being a victim entails. Here is a piece from one of the on-line accounts of his ordeal.

Anand Jon's victims say they were assured reimbursed airfare, drivers, secure models-only living quarters if they were accepted for modeling, as well as fees for their time coming to LA. However there were a few warning signs, no one ever met them at JFK or LAX; a call to Jon would elicit instructions for the women to take cabs to his studio — which was actually Jon’s home. Jon’s digs have invariably been described as “filthy,” “disgusting” and “gross” — a disheveled crash pad that was really a clothes closet turned inside out.

The details of what went on in his apartment are almost unbelievable, and no one saw these signs? I am sure someone saw and knew something. But people are afraid to ruffle feathers.

Many people questioned why woman would wait so long to come forth. First of all the girls were under age. Can you imagine how scared they were. Immature and inexperienced with the modeling world. I am sure they might have been embarrassed. They had all told their family and friends a famous designer wanted them to come to LA and become one of his professional models. They believed he would help them break into a world which was hard to break into. I am not surprised he intimidated them once they arrived.

Okay, even I admit, who in their right mind would allow their daughters to go unescorted to his apartment like that. Well he did live with his assistant, another female, who now admits she was afraid and intimidated by Anand Jon. Where were the adults who were responsible for their well being?

And what parent or who let children go alone with an older man to a ball field, as in the Penn State Scandal? I am not saying that sexual abuse cannot happen close to home, because it happens under your own roof.

I was a similar victim so many years ago. Years before my siblings and I were victims of molestation. Where were my parents? Unfortunately alcohol was an influence in our situation. Why did we not tell our parents what was going on? Adult predators have their way of intimidating children. Just like men who rape have their ways of scaring the hell out of women who are passive. It does not matter how old you are, you can become a victim of a sexual crime.

I am not going into details of what happened to me or my family. It happened, and I survived. Nor is this written to get sympathy for myself. I am just outraged that the above two cases were not reported earlier, and it took so long for the predator to be apprehended.

Just remember when you hear about someone like Alexander Anand Jon or the coach who was seen with an under age boy in the showers of Penn State (he has not gone to trial yet, and maybe found innocent), we all have dark sides. A majority of us just do not act upon criminal impulses. We know right from wrong. There were warning signs to many who knew both of these men (I have read), or were close to them during that period the crimes were committed. If you see something going on that doesn't seem right, then you should speak up and help a victim. No if's and's or but's.

One of my predators in the early eighties was reported, and brought to justice shortly after the crime took place. Thankfully a much stronger woman he victimized came forth, and I felt such relief. I am a much different person now than I was back then, and would not hesitate to take a predator down. My heart goes out to the children this latest predator has victimized. Honestly I think they should take any staff who knew down.

Victims, I personally feel speaking out about these crimes is the first step to becoming a survivor.

Readers and all others, just listening can help.

Predators, I do believe you will get your punishment in due time.

Home Sweet Home

2011-11-09T13:52:00.000-08:00

Sweet in so many ways...

Have you ever traveled for 24 hours? We did. It took me longer to fly home than it did to fly to our destination. Yeah yeah yeah, I'm complaining again. Sure, did you expect me to go to a foreign country and not complain about something?

I'm just a wee bit grumpy arriving home at 2 something in the morning.

TMI details about my trip:

I was tired of Korean food by the eighth day, with nine left to go. There is not as much western food, or at least of what we are used to. There versions are off by a lot of ingredients, and I don't eat burgers, even here in the states.
Broke my right foot toes for the third time. Long, long, long story...
Hubby and my son walked my rear off (more than a few miles each day- try 20 per day with my asthma. Well it felt like it!)
Had to put up with a cranky and tired hubby due to opposite time change, but I was not allowed to complain when he woke me up three times during the night. We also slept on a hard double cot each night.
Hubby was sick the last three days, not a fun flight with our two connections (happened twice on trips before) from food poisoning.
My son also had it eight days before him, from another meal, and kept us up all night (bathroom next to our cot). Men. They eat anything! Do not eat unidentified mystery meats or raw fish late in the day, or before you travel.

Okay, back to the 'sweet' side of this post. Each year hubby gives into the commercialism side of Halloween. He buys two large bags of junk mixed candy and waits for the kiddos to show up. The past three years there has been less and less of the little goblins, or even over the age limit teenagers knocking on our door. Last year only two before we retired for bed. This year, we would be gone. I cannot tell you how happy I was not to see the candy in our basket.

I thought it was a given- no lights, no kids, and no candy... to tempt my sweet tooth. Uh huh, sure, that was until we arrived home last night at 2 AM. As I got my key out I thought "Is someone taunting me?" (photo above)

I scooted the contraband out with my foot from the under side of the storage closet to see if it was a mere and equally tease of an empty wrapper. Left by some sneaky kid who couldn't wait to get home, or out of sight of an unsuspecting parent's watchful eye, leaving trash on my door step. Hubby feels if it is not good chocolate, then it is trash. But yet he buys it for them each year, go figure, because he won't eat it otherwise!

It speaks to me, even now. Like a sugar zombies constant craving for "Eat more candy...", and yes, I have not picked it up. I am afraid to touch it, since there is no food in my house due to our long trip. What is a sweet-aholic to do?

Tonight, I am heading for the nearest Tex-Mex restaurant for nachos. Even if it means I have to run screaming like a child to the car, stepping over that evil candy, a mini at that. You would think On-The-Border in Korea would have had shipped real salsa in from the states right? Noooooo, theirs tasted like kimchi!

On one last note...I got calls from neighbors asking if we were alright. I had no phone service in Korea, so calling them back was not an option. Did they know that I was a sweet-aholic and might not leave a candy bar on the porch? Or did they put it there to lure me out? Someone has been up to no good. That pooper scooper we threw out after we lost our dog would come in handy about now...

Bow To A Gift

2011-11-05T23:07:00.000-07:00

I'm smiling right now. Imagine that. Yes, really imagine a happy face. We spent a week in Busan without my son so I am happy to be on the train. Heading for Seoul, and Aaron's arms. A mother's peace. Knowing she has a few more hours in the presence she gave life to.

There will also be better internet for pictures, and my lap top for retrieving my notes. Yes, another reason for smiles. I have done some writing since we left Seoul. Lots of it. We saw strange things on our journey. So strange, you can only read about them or hear of them through back alley gossip.

Russian Mafia and prostitution all rolled up into a perfectly congealed and packaged Mochi box. Japanese businessmen, fast cars, and dead bodies. Where did we hang out? When you barely understand a language and only have a few weeks to do so, well you can find yourself walking down lots of streets oblivious to surroundings. Good or bad. Very bad indeed.

Or was it all in my imagination?

Wait and you will read about everything.

I bow, "gam as ham nida" my friends...

No Photo Upload

2011-11-04T21:08:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately IPad does not support this application, so I will have to illustrate via words...

Dining Sanctuary

Laying down three prong utensils
picking up chop sticks as walking canes

Taking stomachs east into Asia
A pilgrimage past mountainous fantoms

chanting waters flowing down
Griping rocks and loose green moss

Moving over what the eye cannot see
Directing a suns reflection

Toward giant carvings of Budda's belly
A quick rub for prospierty and a giggle

From children when I pat my own
In hunger and ask why rice fields lay

Undisturbed, resting in November
On its side as women in large hats

Squat along road sides selling tea
Flowers and fermented soy products

Tangerines add color to shades of brown
And gray dirt blowing in the cold wind

Across 'The land of morning calm'
commanding oceans to the south

where seafood is abundant
Practically jumping into baskets

To be eaten raw with spicy sauces
But smelly and sweet on the tongue

As pickled radish and kimchi accompany
Washed down with crystal clear rice wines

Or yogurt colored mokgli which old men
Drink all day long as ajumma's push forward

Leaving foreigners back and puzzled for days
Royal courts ate abalone poRridge as commoners

Prepared seasonal squash with barbeque or fish
Over grains and rice, but where are the green veggies

Back home in a land of silverware that sits
Waiting lonely and cold in the drawer

Under the counter where a colander will help
Rinse a whole lots of my own garden picks

I am having problems with writing and editing on this device. Will come back and edit after I return...Needs more food visuals and leads, maybe even two poems here.

Another October Fly By

2011-10-31T22:13:00.000-07:00

Where is the time going? I am sort of glad we were not home for Halloween. The past two years only two or three kids even came around our neighborhood. Hubby buys bags of candy, and then we end up eating it for a few days, then I take it and give it away.

While we were on Jeju (known as the Honeymoon Island in Korea) we had the opportunity to visit a place I dare not post on facebook, because hubby's family might be offended. Since this is TMI, I get to post a few pics over here. The place is called Loveland. They are stuck in the 1950's era as far as relationship thinking over here, or so we have been told by local twenty something friends of my son and his girlfriend.

They meet the opposite sex by introduction, no public display of affection, they get engaged after a long courtship, unless they get pregnant, which we were told happens at least fifty percent of the time, rarely divorce, and visit a Love Motel for some privacy. Because many families all live together, due to affordable housing and lack of money. But....and there is always a but.

For some reason they have to parks where sex is openly displayed- Loveland and Penis Park. Go figure...

Okay, so far I have spared you the racy sculpture pictures. And hubby took lots and lots of them, why? Who knows. Well, here goes...I will share...just one racy picture...

Shocking right?

I RACED to get in this swing with hubby. The park was crowded.

This is one pose we have not been in for a long while.

We are not sure what the sign above us said in Korean, but I am almost certain it may say 'Suckers'...for love that is.

Here is a sneak peak at their idea of art...

A giant mechanical...something or another...

I am also pretty sure whatever it is does not lift off or take man to the moon...or could it?

Be Gone Evil Spirits

2011-10-28T01:56:00.000-07:00

Our trip is going well, and we just got back to Seoul from Jeju Island, off the coast of South Korea. We adjusted to the time change well. Food is so so, I am growing tired of Kimchi and Banchan for breakfast lunch and dinner.

We are walking walking walking every where, and surviving. My son has gained some weight, not wanting to admit it, he still continues to eat everything you put in front of him. Although he got food poisoning from our last Jeju meal of pork. Thankfully I only ate french fried in the airport, and Robert ate bibimbop vegetarian.

Now we are off to Samcheok and to experience Love Motels, a Penis Park, and caves. Sound homo-erotic? LOL We went to Love Land in Jeju, since it is known as the honeymoon capitol for Koreans. Funny eh?

I have written some, and got an invitation to do another contributor series on 'Finery'. It will go well with the photo graph of this elderly couple who came to the romantic falls in Jeju to renew their vows. So much love. The people are not easily swayed by our western swagger here. Its been hard to break the language barrier, and thankfully my son and his girlfriend speak their native tongue, enough.

Hope all is well with you, and I will catch up when we return.

Photos belong to moi, E Stelling- Above, the grandfather who guards all from evil spirits, and always made from the lava of Jeju Island. Four inactive volcanoes to visit and climb. Bottom- Korean couple in traditional ceremonial garb, worn for weddings and other celebration.

Me In My Eyes

2011-10-22T19:05:00.000-07:00

Did you know Picasso wrote poetry? Most people do not, unless they have studied him. My kids loved his work when we would visit museums during school field trips. I took them when I home schooled, art was a big part of their lessons.

I have abandoned sculpture engraving and painting to dedicate myself entirely to song.

— Picasso to Jaime Sabartés April 1936, he was fifty four years old.

Poetry became his alternative outlet after divorce, and a few other emotional trials.

My children took an art camp one summer and enjoyed learning about Picasso and three other well known artists. I still have those paintings in storage, if the NJ bugs haven't devoured them.

dogs

dogs eat at the night
buried in the yard
they chase the moon in a pack
the white of their teeth
compared to stars

the windows close against them
iron bars in transparency

life closes against them

the morning will crush them to dust
with only the wind left
to stir them up

So many of them inspire me to write and sketch...

Jessie Carty spoke in a post last week about how we can go periods without writing. Often our lights are turned off in one room so we can move into another area of creative endeavor. It's how I roll.

Sadly on my trip there was no cooking. I was invited to cook in a friends house when we return from Jeju this week. He is fond of certain things I can teach his new wife and has a much larger apartment with all the updates. My son's kitchen is an eight of a galley, smaller than a small yacht galley would be. My body is sore, and I posted some photos on Facebook.

(photo above belongs to moi- Seoul South Korea night life area, Gangnam-gu, where I was held captive until 3 AM. I was the only sober one in the group. We had dinner with my son and Andi's engaged friends, Jeff and Cindi, whom is Korean)

Be Happy With Who You Are

2011-10-17T00:03:00.000-07:00

If you think about it, being a zombie is in some ways is a lonely life. If you don't then you probably have a life and do not live in my fantasy world. Can they be lonely? Even though they run in packs. Because you know when one smells fresh meat, the others come limping. Maybe they do find a friend and hang out? Hmmm

Which brings me to the fact how do they have senses if they are the undead. Like smelling. Why is it they still have brain functions and heightened smelling and can eat if their bodies are decaying? Not sure, but in my stories they live the undead life. Pain is a normal part of there story...

Zombies Can’t Love

Light streams in from high-rise neon signs off side streets. Flashing on and off through window blinds. Red illuminating and mingles with the yellow blanket and dingy stripped walls. I can see a glimmer of the sign’s reflection off the bathroom mirror as I come in and out of consciousness. Dried blood mixed with my fresh wounds are on my hands and arm. Burning and pain come from my groin area. Where is she? I remember her lifting me from the floor, like a dream, and somehow we made our way to this place. You could hear noise coming from the streets, so the living must still dominate waking hours.

I lift myself up from the bed and stagger into the bathroom. The urge to throw up is strong, as my stomach begins to churn. Reaching to turn on the light my eyes cannot take the outside bright and burning illumination, so I change my mind. I can see as my clearly face as it rises up to the mirror. A change is taking place. My skin is beginning to turn pale. Gray skin matter mixed with streaks of blood, but yet I am still as human as I was waking up this morning. Was I hurt enough to seek help outside these walls? What had she done to me?

Stumbling back into the main room I began to think of things, taking my mind off of this pain. Funny how cheap hotel rooms can have a horror film feel about them. The wallpaper looks like werewolves have clawed their way out of cereal boxes and into a bowl of clotting milk. Paintings that look like Vegas boardwalk prizes after you shot over four or five moving targets. Targets. Yeah, I was a target and the star of a freak show alright. Targeted by a creature who walked right into my life and I couldn’t even lift my weapon. Was it so hard to take out a few others along the way, so I could go on with my life. No. I had to fall hard for the bad ass bitch of them all.

(photo- Zombies Can't Love, NYC Zombie Crawl 2011, I felt it made for a great micro-fiction. The sequel to 'Crush')

Come Alive

2011-10-15T02:02:00.000-07:00

After watching Oprah Winfrey's 'Lifeclass' show, which I admit years ago, maybe fifteen or more, I watched her show on a regular basis with friends in the salon (break room). Eventually I grew tired of being tied down to the television, like in the past. I was more of a get out of the house person. Walking or other things, just staying active. So why now? Because Rosie has a new show on the OWN, Oprah Winfrey Network and Oprah comes on afterwards.

When I write T.V. often is left on as background noise, like now. But her show today has brought tears to my eyes. She is so thoughtful, genuinely giving, and wants for everyone to discover her road to happiness. It has also reminded me of how I wrote Oprah a few emails back in the day. Being a mom of a terminally ill daughter and healthy son, and a husband who couldn't keep a job, I felt the urge to ask for help. What kind of help? I wasn't exactly sure. So I never wrote another email.

Most of you know my life went on. I raised my kids, lost one to heart disease and let the other go to the Gods of maturity. Thankfully he has begun his own altar, and hopefully leaving plenty of trinkets for them. I often find myself selfishly wanting my life to go back to the times when we were carefree (and young). Woke up to those two lovely faces of joy each day. Feel their hugs, even if it was chilly or overly hot in our meager rental property owned by their dad's parents.

I am not saying I didn't feel cheated somehow. There were lots of moments wishing I could give them (kids, family and friends) more, find a cure for what ailed us, literally. Along with thoughts of how could someone like Oprah have so much money, be so lucky, and yet she gave it away to so many, and I could not get some of the pie. A piece of the sweet life. Yes, don't we all. But I have been told and maybe guess, money can create other problems. It would be nice to go out and pay for things when one feels like it. Face it, and be honest we all feel this way.

The years go by and I am learning to enjoy the simple life. Cleaning the clutter out of the closets. Yes, I would give anything to have a moment of Anelisa in my arms, but I know it is just how life rolls. We are not here forever. This is only a small fragment of life as we know it. As Oprah continues to give what she has to others. Even if it is more advice now than cars, homes, and twenty minutes of running through toys-r-us when kids go without. She did give me something tonight. A moment to realize that I have 'Come Alive'.

Thanks Oprah. And thanks to all of you who share my most intimate thoughts week after week. I hope your life has those precious moments when you realize money has no value against the best gift of all...loving yourself. I am blessed.

I worked my rear end off and was provided for in so many ways.

Now, I have to pack for a wedding and Korea, planes wait for no one. Yikes, where do I even begin...

The Urge To Travel, Or-

2011-10-12T19:31:00.000-07:00

When things come your way...

We received a few packages last week, obsessively enough we get packages a few times a week from amazon.com, and often are hubby's. This time they were for hubby and he was out of town. Most of the time I leave them for him, since he seems to thrive on two activities after returning home from work each day. Well three, but we won't go into the kissy noises I hear as he comes through the door. They are going to the mail box and opening up his packages.

Overwhelmed with curiosity now and then I on occasion open a few of these boxes, after rattling them to see if I can guess, a book or a gadget. This was no different. He was not around, so why not? Shake shake shake, shake shake shake your booty, wait I drifted. What could be in this box? It was light weight, didn't really rattle much? Not a book, a gadget? No, something I forgot about.

Hubby told me a few weeks back, he often tells me of what he feels are cool finds on the net, that he had been unhappy with his hat purchases over the years. He feels they don't cover enough of his neck and ears. His father and many relations have died from cancer and have had skin cancer, so it makes perfect sense he is concerned. But he just bought a new hat barely a few months past? Go check out 'What's More Dangerous'. Another hat to add to the already population that falls out of the coat closet. Yikes.

Things could be worse. I could have too continue putting up with the expensive 'snotty' clubs we used to belong to, or belong to a country club, which I am not knocking, I had fun at times (psst, it was more about the food), and golfing was cool to learn. He felt it was a good thing to get into since his bosses at the old Texas job were into it. But we like to travel and eat well, and do not spend much on other things. Of course I am writing about my husband's obsession with Amazon.com. I wish he was into classic cars or dancing clubs, yeah that again.

"The box, what was in the box!" I can hear some of you now. A hat. Yes, I opened it up and thought my goodness he has bought another hat! Then I remember him telling me a few weeks ago, something about snaps and sun protection. But did they have a photo of it on the website? Because it's obvious what came to my mind when I snapped it together? No? You don't get it? Hmmm

The French Foreign Legion. My husband has joined the French Foreign Legion! I grabbed my cell phone, and....took the above photo, of course! I text my sister first, because she gets my sense of humor, then I sent it on to the love of my life. With of course the question "What's with this hat? Did you join The French Foreign Legion?"

He eventually came home and said nothing about my text. But he did look in the box, he took it out, he tried it on in front of the mirror and then said "This is the wrong color. I ordered the blue one." What did I say? Well...I informed him that no matter what color it was, blue, black, or green, the fabric texture and look of the hat screamed 'The French Foreign Legion' and when could I expect him to pack up and leave for his journey into the world of gun toting, linen wearing, and sand constantly in his crotch life on the desert.

Or maybe he was surprising me by gearing up for the Zombie Apocalypse!

Luckily he gets my sense of humor or we wouldn't be married for the last fourteen years this past Tuesday, October 11th. I however do love telling the story to my friends who come over and see it displayed on the table still. God bless this man whom I love so much. I hope we have many more years of mystery boxes on the porch to open and explore our obsessions together. Our journey is always a fun one.

By the way, we have a trip to Korea to visit my son, who is teaching in Seoul. We are excited about this trip, and I will post photos as we go along. I am sure there will be a few of hubby in his 'TFL' hat.

Happy Anniversary My Love, keep those boxes coming, I am always up for more jokes...if you can take them for fourteen more!

Never Try To Out Dance A Natural- Part 2

2011-10-09T13:37:00.000-07:00

It's time for the sequel, and since my whole purpose of writing the previous post started with a thought of my childhood after reading a Peanut post over at ShrinkingTheCamel.com, Shrewd As Snakes and Innocent As Doves. It reminded me of a time in music class, maybe more of an all around 'Artistic' class in the day (before funds were cut). You can check out Part I before reading this post.

Mrs. Ball, I cannot really remember if she wasn't a Ms. Ball, well she ran a top notch class. We were all probably scared to death of her, because I remember pulling up my socks, combing my hair, pulling my skirt down and tucking in my Catholic like uniform before walking into her music room.

She announced we would be learning to dance, and she was going to make it a competition. She taught us a few steps, then she played piano, we attempted the steps. She taught a few more steps, played and so on. Till we learned the whole routine. I was a visual student. No problem. However, during those times I was also a bit on the shy side. Who me? Yeah right you are saying, many people find it hard to believe, but I was.

My second grade teacher tried to talk my parents into holding me back a year. She told my mom that I never displayed much interaction in her class with students or the work. I was too quiet to be smart. My mother knew better. At home I was a thriving eight year old. I talked. I interacted with the family. I even fought with my siblings on a regular basis. My sister Mary and I kicked my brothers butt on a very regular basis. Sorry Alton.

Well they did not hold me back, but after raising my own son who is a pea in my pod, they should have listened to my teacher. I struggled academically. I did excel in physical activities- like day dreaming, drawing, writing (my hands moved), and what ever else came my way, outside the class room. I loved swings.

Back to the competition...once I get going, you can't stop me. There were a few people in Ms. Ball's music class that verbally bullied me on occasion. And today was no different. I was proud of myself this day, because this was something I could do well. No one could or would stop me. Even if it meant I was going to get my rear end kicked in gym class later on.

When the dance competition began it was like the Kentucky Derby, or at least the carnival version. Ms. Ball's fingers touched the keys...we were off! Five of us lined up, legs begin kicking, feet moving, our bodies were reeling. A few slip, a few fall down, and then it's me and another girl. The bully girl. But she didn't have a chance. I stood proud and received my wreath and trophy, well in my imagination. My father always said I was his horse even if I never won a race. All I really got that day was on Ms. Ball's good side and a boost of self confidence.

I ran home and proudly announced to my dad about winning the dance competition. Ms. Ball had also announced I was going to be in the Christmas Pageant that year. I felt so good I asked for a guitar and lessons. A stretch on my father and mom's budget, but hey, it doesn't hurt to try. The high fives from fellow students were always plenty in music class that semester, at least until Ms. Ball pulled my brothers ear for something he said, or didn't do and my father marched down there and pulled hers back.

The roll of royalty was short lived. My parents also decided to move us to another suburb of Dallas. Way north. Carrollton. I remember thinking Where the hell is Carrollton? It had to be a city of Zombies right? Or worse, full of Zombie bullies I had to fend off for years to come. I was sure moving there wasn't going to be a Footloose kind of experience.

I didn't get to be in the pageant, nor did I teach my new found bullies in Carrollton how to dance, at least until much later. But I learned to play guitar, found 'Spoken Word' and open mics, married a fellow music lover and we will dance in our hearts for the rest of our lives.

I retreated back into my shell after we moved, and eventually lost it somewhere between here and eight grade when I slapped a boy in the hallway for calling my friend a not so nice name. I got respected in high school, the real bullies left me alone. Another story. I am not too proud of that.

Z-composition Begins

2011-10-06T14:51:00.000-07:00

I got skillz...

Come join us on facebook, if you haven't already...find Z-composition on my page, Elizabeth Akin Stelling

Before the decay sets in...

I set up our facebook 'Like' page. Working on the website. Trying to learn some PhotoShop skills. I admire ToonGuy's talent. The photo above was done by me, then layered by a friend of mine in Texas. I started it in MSPaint, and she smoothed out my rough edges, then I added some here and there!

Lots of hours can be spent doing this stuff, but it's fun! I don't have the heart to tell her that zombies do not have blood shot eyes, or do they? Looks more like a skull and bones kind of character, but I will take what I can get!

Muahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Some haiku for Pearl!

Human flesh is warm

the blood drips like summer rain

then they get up again

Let's celebrate my fellow Zombie fans!

(Photo used by permission- Zombie Run in NYC, September 2011, The Zombie Hunter)

Open call for submissions for 'Z-composition Magazine @ ZombiePoetry.com'.

We are a fledgling literary site looking for obscure, necro-style, organic phenomenon, decay and fragmentation of reanimation, sci-fi, dream like, fantasy, horror, dark, comedy, mainstream, all/most styles of poetry, prose, and flash fiction (450 word min). Artwork and photography excepted. Z-composition wants to publish quality writers and authors. Unpublished authors welcome.

Z-composition will be a monthly on-line e-zine, with yearly October book in print beginning 2012.

Z-composition accepts original submissions or previously published pieces (only if author retains copyright) for consideration. Authors may retain copyright; however, if work published here first is published elsewhere later, please cite Z-composition as the source of original publication.

Z-composition does not charge a reading fee and does not pay for contributions.

Can't Hold Me

2011-10-03T22:15:00.000-07:00

If your car breaks down in the middle of the night, let's hope it is not a neighborhood with bars on the windows. (Yes, every house, store, drive-thru, etc had bars on the windows) Like me at midnight on a Sunday.

My van was diagnosed with terminal death a month ago. We have been shopping around for me a new catering van and a family car. I know two cars, but hubby's car is getting old too. He wants to keep it, so we barely drive it. It's like vintage car to him. At one time we had four cars, but my son took one to college; it was totaled by some kid late at night, then my son came for a visit and drove the other car back home (many states away). That was my favorite, daddy left it to me, but he needs to finish school before he commits to car payments.

So we found what we want, but are waiting till the last minute. 2012's will hit the lots soon, and they will want to give away the 11's. However as I said we took mine on the road thinking we had some months left to drive it before ditching, for the new van. Nope, it decided I pushed my van too far and maybe it wanted to go in the Meadowlands and go out like Hoffa. Did I say how smelly that place was?

If I sat there long enough, which was already three hours till the tow truck showed and took us to our hotel. After the first one broke down, yeah a tow truck even breaks down. I think we might have started to decompose from the smell seeping in.

What was I doing there you ask? I was asked to perform my work in another direction. Which was a success. I read some pieces from the new book, new poetry, and old classics. Good age group for this genre. I was asked to get up again and went into a funny persona I do from time to time. "Ladies raise your machette's, wine glasses, and cocktails...to the fact men...yada yada yada". Got lot's of laughs. Hubby even came. A rarity he goes to many of my performances. He had his Ipad, but actually said he loved the performance. He hears me practice at home, but not in actual crowd observation.

Well we got the van towed, found out it was 'the' problem we knew about, and then I had to tow it back to Princeton yesterday evening. I was exhausted from no sleep and sitting all day. Money, it flies in, and it flies out. I still managed to go to my clients tonight and work. Now I am up late, and have to get up early. Why would anyone want to get into my profession at this age? I ask myself. Its for the young. On your feet all day. Oh sorry, I drifted off for a few seconds.

Parts of New Jersey are really cool, but there are the parts that are not so nice...if they find Hoffa someday and he was covered with cement in NJ, I have a feeling he made out like a zombie and headed to fresher ground...so he could clear his nostrils...smelly Meadowlands, and no mask...

I figure if I continue with positive reinforcements, things will stay positive...

Follow Your Instincts

2011-10-02T15:14:00.000-07:00

This was our first real day of cold in New Jersey, with a side of clouds and drizzle since Fall's official date nine days ago. It all makes for a great plate of inspiration. I have been indoors the past three days writing. Hubby came home Friday from work and as I greeted him at the door, dinner ready, the cool change of weather crept into my bones. I had been huddled up on the sofa with my lap top and no idea what what lay just outside my patio door.

Today I decided to take a drive down a long slow road. One I love to visit. Most of it is preserved land. Old farmsteads, battlefields and more line the stretch. Great inspiration for me. I can pull over at most points and think. Imagine what a poem is going to say or what a character might do in certain situations. I call it the hunt. Discovery. I do not care how many times I come this way I see something fascinating. Today was no different.

I have reached my first 100 pages of my latest book. From what I have heard and read it is the point you want to share with editors and peers to see if the story has potential. I am nervous but excited. The pressure is on and I am game. I have already begun to think about the second book and even the third. When the inspiration hits I have often written pieces for all three. Thinking of the past, present and future for each person.

My survival is at stake. Writing is saving my sanity. I have found myself isolated at times due to pressures of work, family, and my own needs. At first it was harder for me to deal with little social engagements. Many people I know here found themselves out of work and have had to take whatever they can get, so their time outside of work and home has no precedence. Money is tight so we stay close to home. In the long run it has been the best thing for me. I have learned to use my time more wisely. Once upon a time, work and family took so much time I found my self tired and unable to think.

Today, I am the hunter, not the hunted. I prowl the landscape and look for inspiration and when the time is right, I strike! Even this corn field made its way into a poem...

Ancient Destiny

There, see them
upright on the horizon
tall leafy stalks, a-maize-ment
swaying in the breeze of October
silk fidgeting back and forth over their ears
marching forward as decay mingling with moisture keeping death at bay
we are children in wonder, drawn to hunger
don't be the armies victim, a second longer you will see
nimble prey rushing advances on soggy ground

Never Try To Out Dance A Natural- Part 1

2011-09-30T09:03:00.000-07:00

A good friend of mine always says, or at least his poems say "Husbands don't dance." I sigh each time I hear this. Because it's true. My man danced before I became his wife. We were always running and then bumping into each other on the dance floor back in the day when we were just friends, and dating. I miss those days. Sigh.

Don't get me wrong, I am crazy about my husband the way he is. We are so well suited for each other, we never fight. Disagreements and mood elevated moments happen, but most of the time we share the most wonderful times together. So why am I so hell bent on getting him on the dance floor? It's in my blood.

Even recently a friend and I went to a local night club, on the 'Elderly night', and as I began to shake my grove thang, she said I had moves. It's then I tell people my grandmother must have had an affair with a Spanish Flamenco dancer. I can really move to most any music, but especially Latin music. Even my son has my dance gene. I was introduced to The Gypsy Kings around the late eighties and was hooked to Latin rhythm dancing. I could watch and mimic most moves.

I could not find their music in conventional stores so I set out to hit a few Latin places along a strip in Dallas, known as little Mexico. I thought maybe I could find some really good music to clean house too. Uh huh.

My son in tow, because I home schooled at that time, I parked and entered a strange world of la música. Strange? Because I did not speak one iota of Spanish. I relied on the fact they would speak English. I asked if they knew The Gypsy Kings. Three guys behind the counter chatted amongst themselves for a few minutes and then one of them produced a tape. Yes, a cassette tape. Then a dinosaur ran past the front window chasing a homeless guy.

The young man, well he is now in my memory, put the music tape into their stereo system and I began to recognize the tune and beats. But the three guys all were talking again, in Spanish and pointing behind me. Had the dinosaur broke through the door? No. I turned to see my son behind me swinging his hips and making a various degree of turns he had never displayed before. Huh? Okay, so now you get it, we like to dance.

My father was a dancer. Swing, fox trot, and country, like the old two step, not the line dancing of today. He taught me how to dance in our kitchen when I was growing up. When I was old enough to accompany them to the dance halls, I was hooked. I still miss ole Belle Starr off Central Expressway. The good ole days. I miss my twenty something knees.

When hubby and I met he told me a sad story of his attempts at country two-step. He would go out to a few of the places well known around town and the old Gilley's. When he saw a girl he thought was attractive he would ask her to dance. Often enough they would take a turn around the dance floor, but they would stop him and say "When you learn how to dance come back and ask." Then they would walk away. He is fine freestyle dancing. I say let your freak flag fly in that area.

Hubby and I usually only dance at weddings these days. Not on my side, well one cousins in Fort Worth, but mostly his side. He is the oldest of eight, but the last of them got married last October. Now we have to wait for the children of his mother's children to get married. Sigh.

You can believe I will be throwing my son, if he gets married, a grand party. If our knees survive another hundred years and these dinosaurs feel like getting out on the dance floor. You can bet I will savor every minute. Because, 'Old ~~married men~~ husbands could dance'.

My whole purpose of writing this started with a thought of my childhood after reading a Peanut post over at ShrinkingTheCamel.com, Shrewd As Snakes and Innocent As Doves. It reminded me of a time in music class, maybe more of an all around 'Artistic' class in the day (before funds were cut back in schools). I will continue this story in a few days.

My poet friend Pasquale misses his wife, and I think came up with his poem due to regret...

If you are missing the weekly 'Poem Share' then click on these words, Make Friday Write, and join us...

Dreams Tell All

2011-09-29T08:14:00.000-07:00

The Truth In Dreams

It was extremely hot on stage as I took my final bow. Makeup was running down my neck and into my eyes. I scan the audience and that is when I see something, her face. Months, even years had passed since I saw anything but a shell of my daughter's body. Her reddish brown hair cut into a bob with short bangs. She was wearing a green dress with white trim. I knew she had on the black shoes we dropped off at the crematorium. I knew she would have them on. She loved to go out dressed to the tee. A girl's girl she was: prim and proper.

She was opposite of her mother, of course. I was a tom-boy as far back as I could remember. Sure my mom would take or send us to church in a dress, but it was not me. I like shorts or pants, even if my mother had sewn them herself. Elastic waist band and all.

I was glad to see her. The intensity of her presence meant a lot. Especially to a mother whose daughter had died before her. Parents are supposed to leave this earth before their children. But it happens. Something devastating takes them away from us. We can only hope they did not suffer, or are in any great pain where they might be.

She was saying it was okay for me to do what I needed to do. She would be at my side until the day I die. Maybe there would be lapse of time before I needed her again. To sooth my pain she would come when I needed her.

See I had not seen her face in my dreams for a long time. Parents often have a hard time looking at photos, or even videos, because it is hard, at least for me. I am not sure I could ever look at any of that stuff again. But I began worrying that I might not remember what she looked like. I had doubted my details. The last time I saw her in person was when she had passed away. It was in the hospital. They had left her on the gurney in her hospital gown. Surprisingly she was neatly groomed. Right down to the hairstyle in my dream. The hospital staff allow the parents to visit before her body is removed.

Moving on, and because of my experiences with psychic abilities, I had not wanted to have her visit me shortly after her death in an spirit form. Could anyone handle that? Somehow I managed to ward anything such as that off for all these years. See I donated some of her much needed her body parts to be used by other children who might need them to live a better life; it made me afraid I would see her with no eyes or skin. Maybe zombie like. She wouldn't have wanted me to be afraid. I had seen her pulsing spirit in animals and in my recent client's daughter. I will write about that one day. Animals and children have experiences with spirits. I have heard its amazing.

The night was coming to a close and the crowd had been entertained, time for me to come out of my guise, so she revealed herself. How do I interpret the whole dream? My feelings? Anelisa wants me to be myself, to relax and begin to enjoy my life. Sure things have drastically changed for the better, but I was having a hard time. My client’s daughter was dying from a similar heart disease, and I knew it from the first day we met. Years would go by as I was reliving my own daughter’s death again. Her mother was going through what I had already been through, and I was supposed to be a support system for their family? I barely had a support group myself.

In many ways working with their family did me move to a higher healing ground. I did begin to relax. My biggest loss outside of Anelisa's death was my happiness had disappeared, and I wanted to find it again. She was telling me things were going to be alright. She smiled at me in a way a mother smiles at their own children, in a way unconditional love would shine through. Like when women become pregnant, they have this glow. It never leaves a mother.

Next thing I know Anelisa and I are at home together (still in dream state). My new home in the north east. We go to sleep right next to each other. The next morning we woke up and I made breakfast for her step-dad and brother. When they come into the room I say Hey, look who came to see us! Both look at me like I was crazy. I hug my daughter and say, See she is right here. Everything is going to be alright!

Afterward, I woke up with such a strong feeling she had been right next to me. Through the whole night I could feel her. They say when an arm is damaged or removed the body still feels the limb as if it was still intact. And because this was a dream, a meaningful dream, a bond which could never be severed had begun between Anjali's mom and I. We don't share the same spiritual beliefs, but we both feel the girls are in a better place.

The harness of sadness was loose and I began writing again; it was a kind of freedom which I had not experienced in a long time. I do strongly believe our spirit speaks truth in dreams.

This is a little writing practice. Get the mind going...while I hear thunder and lightening outside...and for those of you who know me, a true story. - E. Stelling, 2011

What Do You Have To Say

2011-09-26T13:23:00.000-07:00

Let's do something different over here...since I am so deep into writing, and have not been inspired to post here.

What does this picture say to you?

Does it imply something missing?

What is missing from this picture?

Do titles imply what will take place in a story?

Write a short paragraph about what you first thought, or what you think fits...

Here is mine...

Dead Town, USA

The streets were hot and why hadn't we seen any people. We had been walking around for two hours, and there was no historic jail house to be seen. Jacob insisted we stop in this god forsaken town so he could visit a place mentioned in his stupid guide book. I wanted to throw that damn book out the window five towns back. It was bad enough the mountains kept our wireless phones and electronic pads from working, but now tired and hungry we hadn't seen a good place to rest in miles. The town was not only deserted, but every building looked dry, dusty and colorless. Like an old movie. This restaurant was on the last street we had turned. And there it was, a bright neon string of lights flashing 'Open'.

Thank goodness. There were three tables but no chairs out front, so I walked through the swinging door to check out the menu. Jacob and I hadn't spoken the whole trek, at least after I yelled at him before leaving the car. So I didn't bother even asking him if this was okay. A good look at their bar told me something cold and refreshing was due. Maybe the waitstaff could recommend a good hotel for the night. Now that I think about it, I could eat a horse. I hope the stove is big enough. It was then I turn around and realize Jacob never followed me in.

Maybe write what happens afterward...

Have fun...and I will tell you what did happen in a few days...

Strange, Disturbing, and Fun

2011-09-20T22:19:00.000-07:00

Or at least I hope you find this fun. I have a new website that will go up before Halloween, Zombiepoetry.com. Yay! Since I am writing a trilogy called, no wait, I will not let that cat out of the bag yet, but I will share a few fun things I just wrote. A poem for the site, and a recipe from the Gourmet Zombie Eats Cookbook, yes recipes for zombies! I know Toon will like this, and hopefully others.

I have hired a graphic designer to begin helping me create my website and book details!

It will grow on you like a second set of rotting skin...yes, I made that bad joke! But it will. I prefer Vamps, but they will be in the books as well. Secrets you will have to find when you order my book and read it!

Much of this is still in revision stage (and totally bogus as far as recipes goes, all in fun and adapted from real recipes of beef, chicken, pork, and or fish, I am not trying to turn anyone into a cannibal, or a zombie), and in the process of being copyrighted. Let me know what you think, any ideas to improve...and its all in fun!

(content of poem and recipe removed for revision and publication)

Materials in this post may not be copied or borrowed by any persons without the authors permission!

Submissions are now open for what we are calling 'Z-composition Magazine @ ZombiePoetry.com'. We are looking for obscure, necro-style, sci-fi, dream like, horror, dark, comedy, mainstream, all/most styles and humorous. We want you to stretch yourself in what you see. This will be a quarterly on-line publication and each quarter publishing 3 to 7 poets and writers; 2 artist and photographers will be chosen to represent Z-composition each quarter, or we may publish more if they are outstandingly good. You may send in 3 to 5 submissions each quarter, and zombie content not required. We also do not care what you do in your real job, or if this is your real job, just send us your best stuff. elizabeth@cookappeal.com

Submission amounts and deadlines are subject to change as we move forward. (We as in I have 2 editors, 1 pending so far) If you are interested in working on Z-composition Magazine on a volunteer basis please contact me at elizabeth@cookappeal.com.

Attention: boysgirls- A Book Review

2011-09-15T17:42:00.000-07:00

I like all genres of reading. However I lean more towards history, mysterious history, period pieces, mysterious period pieces, CSI investigations, and yes sci-fi'sih anything. But as a child I loved fairy tales. I loved them so much it was the first thing introduced to my own children. Anything imagination stretching, and my son still loves those same stories. And especially better if it takes on a poetry or prose form.

Katie Farris does just that, give us some sci-fi'ish crossed with fairy tale'ish dream like story images as she spins us into her of un-thought of reality, well never in my own dreams, but conceivable. A quirky kind of prose comes through these girl and boy tales. At first read I did question, was it for teens, then was it poetry, but eventually just went with it. I liked fairy tales as a child, so why not fairy tales for the grown up kid in me.

Katie's introduction, as I said above, was poetry like. Her bold prose language perhaps with rhyming lines that lead you to a wardrobe, point past large creature like coats, and out into a magical anticipated white drawing board where she would begin drawing her characters for us. Can I really explain the cool imagery she supplies the reader? Not hardly, but it is so great.

I had not known of her or that she was a creative writing teacher, or even a poet, I just knew I was drawn in with the introduction. If you are not familiar with Katie Ferris, then I suggest you read this book. Do you really need a wordy review to tell you that I've read it three times already!

boysgirls by Katie Farris, Marick Press 2011

Some Southerner Sharing

2011-09-13T07:38:00.000-07:00

A friend I grew up with in Texas shared some photos and gave me permission to share them on here. Scott Welch and his family have property with horses in Texas. Unfortunately with the drought, one of the worst in years, they say since 1950's, he is losing the watering holes that many enjoy for fishing and keeps the cows and horses in water while they are pastured out. This could have affects on all for years to come.

The photo above is what the ground begins to look like as water dries up in serious heat. Scott had to take his tractor plow down to one of the ponds and decided to make it deeper and prays it will fill up. The pond he keeps fish in has not completely dried up, he has put out a call to anyone who wants to fish for 10 pound cats to come on over and fill up your freezer. (this photo is from earlier in the year- I do miss seeing cowboys in their garb)

Scott also shared photos of properties all around him going up in flames. They are not the wildfires which have destroyed so much around Texas you are hearing about in the news, but are still dangerous when so much is dry like this.

The is one of the reasons I all too happy to leave Texas- the heat and so much brown landscape from June until the fall. My heart does go out to Scott and my many other friends who are enduring the heat and drought.

To my readers- Sorry for all the sad crap I have posted lately....back to the funny southern Creative TMI in the days to come...I might throw myself into a giant vat of doughnuts and ruin my new healthy eating style if I keep this up!

-This image above was taken in Canadian, Texas

Huffington Post, 2011- As the state struggles with the worst one-year drought in its history, entire ecosystems, from the smallest insects to the largest predators, are struggling for survival. The foundations of their habitats – rivers, springs, creeks, streams and lakes – have turned into dry sand, wet mud, trickling springs or, in the best case, large puddles.

"It has a compound effect on a multitude of species and organisms and habitat types because of the way that it's chained and linked together," said Jeff Bonner, a wildlife biologist with the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department.

Since January, Texas has only gotten about 6 inches of rain, compared to a norm of about 13 inches, making it the most severe one-year drought on record. Last week, the U.S. Climate Prediction Center said the La Nina weather pattern blamed for the lack of rain might be back soon, and if that happens, the dry spell would almost certainly extend into 2012.

September 11, 2011

2011-09-11T04:56:00.000-07:00

Early one morning heart disease hijacked my fourteen year old daughters life, shooting down my home hearth as my family and I knew it. Sound familiar, yes we all witnessed terrorists attacking The World Trade Centers Twin Towers I & II in New York City, but some of us were already suffering from other loss.

I do not mean in any way to sound unpatriotic, but I feel we should remember our loved ones every day of our lives, not just on certain days, or years. I guess because the pain was so great after only one year, my heart was numb. Does this mean I have no connection to that horrible day, of course I do, but I feel this day has turned into more of a holiday than what it really was.

We should fly our countries flag everyday, not just today on facebook or our blogs or on September 11th. Maybe I am flying my daughters flag? I do not go one day without feeling sad in some way or another. I loved her so much.

However my heart does go out to those who lost on this day. In a way we join hands in a link of loss.

This poem is my own monument for this date, and from my book 365 Days X Ten (publishing still pending)...

Twin Tower I

Many of us, sat and watched
one by one as twin towers

hit by planes
punctured a democracy

Still numb from my own explosion
a world no longer spinning

staring numbly at the screen
I wanted to jump

how sad life had become
years earlier, a tiny heart

held me hostage, for so long
the terror of not knowing

I sat in a similar chair, television revealing
a space shuttle blowing up

Holding my new baby in terror
hoping their loved ones

would be okay
as new life would be celebrated.

Love and pain can occupy the same time and space,
but are never the same each time around - A mother's own words...

(the above flag is my own photo taken 7/21/2011, and flies over the World Trade Center memorial site in NYC)

Let The Games Begin...

2011-09-09T09:50:00.000-07:00

Is anybody a zombie fan? I have read that some of you are. Yes, you my artistic friends.

At some point in our lives we are zombies, or similar.

You will be glad to know the zombie books I am writing are progressing. I have taken my work to professionals and gotten many ideas for the story line, and other areas.

If you follow this blog, you read a piece from the book many months ago. I shelved it for a while since I had my poetry manuscripts to finish and turn in. I got news about my first book. Sucks really. Because it was not good news. I will not talk about it any further, just will be something else one day.

I saw this on the grass at a rest stop on our rather rainy and long trip home from New England. Nine hours or more on the road. I lost count hearing hubby complain and complain about traffic, road delays, flooding, braking, did I say braking. That can turn anybody into a zombie...traffic. A mad, out for blood, traffic eating brains creature of some sorts.

Well this photo reminded me of how we need to begin building our Zombie Apocalypse Arsenal. Now I need to find a nail gun. Or at least my characters need too.

Are you excited about the movie 'World War Z' coming this fall? (Brad Pitt plays the lead character) I am because I read the book and am wanting to see how they film it. We saw 'Battle LA' and I really liked how they filmed it. I hate military style movies, I hate killing really. Blood and guts, and all that. But I like the idea of Vampires, Werewolves, and Zombies? Real war gets me. I liked it, maybe because of the alien element.

Who would win? Aliens or Zombies? They almost move at the same speed.

What are you writing?

I Love The Road Less Traveled

2011-09-07T10:40:00.000-07:00

Hubby travels at any given moment, yes, I never know until he comes home and tells me he will be leaving the next day or on the weekend. I have learned over the past fourteen years to accept it. Many of my girlfriends laugh and say they wish their husbands would leave town, so they could have some peace and quiet. I always thought once the kids were gone was the time for that. I do enjoy doing my own thing when he is gone, but once in a while he says I can go with him.

This was one of those times. A chance for a road trip to New England. Unfortunately the weather was apparent- rain rain rain. With the flooding the east coast has had, could we be in for a disastrous drive? A friend had just shared while taking her mom on a similar road trip, they could not travel on the rural roads due to flooding damage. We decided to give it a try, but the photo above shows you what we encountered. All along the way we experienced 'dips' and missing road edges that were not even near a river, just along the mountains.

This was a road that lead to a sculpture garden I wanted to visit on the way through Connecticut. We had to take a detour the GPS did not recognize. At times the rain just dumped down so hard I could not see, so we pulled over. At times it did the same and we were on small two lane roads; it was really scary. We made it, and now have to face flooding in our neighborhood again. I am hoping this stops and heads to Texas where fires are destroying many homes. My heart goes out to these people who are losing everything they own. I guess life is more important, so I send my best to them.

I did accomplish what I had set out to do on this trip, write three more chapters in my book. There was a chance with it raining so much for me to think about, the direction my book was heading, and I got to do some brainstorming. No pun intended!

While in the hotel the last few days I took notice of how the walls were painted a bright sunny yellow, because n the past I had painted my bedroom (whole house) walls yellow. In St. Louis and New Jersey rental properties. The sun would come up first thing in the morning and make my room too bright to sleep, I hated it. But now with the rain drops on the window screen, blowing trees outside, a temperature drop further north, and coming our way, well, I welcome the feeling of a little sunshine brightening my day.

The home next to this river (above picture) was on a low flat area, then went back down hill. We were wondering if it would take out their house if it got worse. Also, for those Leaf Peepers, I hope it clears up in time for that New England road trip.

Feeling Secure- Poem Share

2011-09-02T15:54:00.000-07:00

Are we? Really?

I often feel driving is the safest mode of travel. But in the past, experts say flying is safer than driving.

I have airplane issues, so I prefer to drive. You see more, creative juices flow, and so on...

Trying to decide where to go with this. The photo above is like a story of someone who runs from their fears or monsters, but at every turn they see them in unlikely things.

Monday I discovered the pool was open and decided to take a walk. When I saw it was possible to go for a swim, I did. The water over the past three weeks, with night air cooling down from the eighties, this was no different, it has been cold. Maybe a few degrees cooler, uh yes, but I could handle it right? I went in head first. It was then the memory of hitting the river in 'As The World Churns', well, it hit me. A cold blast of somewhere between I cannot breath, and what was I thinking. But the body and mind did worked together.

With help from my legs. I pushed on and used it for an advantage, of weight control. Exercising vigorously the past two months has been great. Another monster to conquer. But the pool is no river. A bit calmer.

Rivers are monsters we should never challenge.

I have never tried using Greek Mythology in my poems before, until this. I have heard a local guy who attended my open mic, reading his own GM filled works. At times I felt it was boring, and had heard others say the same, but now I think his work will make more sense, and I have a greater appreciation. I do like reading about mythology. Jessie Carty has switched our poem share from Thursday to Make Friday Write!

   Before Man Grew In Numbers

       "Wild as the blasts of roaring Boreas, or shouting Notos
       when with hurricane-swoop he heaves the wide sea high,
       when in the east up-rises the disastrous Altar-star
       bringing calamity to seafarers." -Fall of Troy

       their voices proceed
       lurking, just beyond dense wood
   where primordial son, Euryalos run
   cyclops wide stepping and clumsy
       moving land and
       leaving the fallen under feet
       to brothers rot and decay
   under gods who
       make sanctuary of gray monument
       of rivers reaping blood
       forging tears from woman's womb
       filling a monsters shoes.

Here are my original lines that lead to the above-

       I begin looking for the fallen
       down rich green paths
       man made signs direct us, past
       gray monuments
       our feet pressing down
       new shoots, flowerless
       bottom life forced back

       a beetle settled on green leaf
       speaking to the sky
       talking of water gods
       they had already arrived
       for centuries left in command
       brothers fear and paralysis
       began laying the foundation
       bringing this sanctuary to a close.

Not sure where I will go with these. I am trying, and have written many more lines.

This is the river view after it took part of Route 287 (above and below). Local police and road workers look down in amazement. I look at the layers of dirt and sand put down over the years as the road is built, then widened, and see how the power of water can do such damage. I also understand how monsters are used to create more power.

But do monsters have a conscious? Or do they just unleash nightmares...

Trash To Treasure

2011-08-31T14:24:00.000-07:00

Normally I stray from reviewing anything on this blog except books, once a dream cable show comparison, but I decided to share some feelings on Picker Sisters. Lil'sista called me last week to say there was a great new show on. Dumpster diving to antique pickin has always been one of our very own hobby's of choice, growing up dirt poor and all. So, of course we would love to see two girls from the south digging in someone else garbage.

Our dad's father had a junkyard when we were growing up, and I spent lots of time there. It's in our blood. I never think he and my grandmother planned on that happening, but over the years of 1920 to 1950 he was building small air craft for himself, hoping to become well known as the Wright brothers. He does have patents, and is well known in the piloting circles. So I imagine they collected more than he ever needed for parts, and then some right. It just became a way of making a buck or two. Bartering was a way of life back then. I got my start in that junkyard off Old Jacksboro Hwy in Fort Worth. I would make deals with him on stuff (my grandmother called it crap) like milk glass. He would laugh as she stormed around his work shop taking things out of my hands. I even got it for free! *silly snickerin' on my end*

The show? The designers find industrial-looking trash and re-purpose it for use in the home. Road signs turn into headboards. Troughs turn into light fixtures. And, all of it is done for their pop-up store i-10 (The store is located at 8300 Melrose Ave. in Los Angeles, the cross street is Sweetzer. It's approx. 1 mile from the Beverly Center) Fun aside, recycling used objects for decorating is a great way to spruce up your home while keeping the environment in mind.

And...Two designer friends rent an SUV with a trailer hitched to the back, and go off on road trips looking for the rustiest stuff you can imagine. My kind of *sniffle* job description at best. I love antiques. *sniffle* I love to drive. *sniffle* I am not afraid to get my hands or knees dirty. *sniffle* Hey! My sister loves to yap, she would make a good side kick, just like the blonde in the show.

These two girls travel around a state, town to town asking if anyone knows of old buildings or property that needs some pickin'. Is it a real word for anything else but music in our vocabulary? Outside of the south? Evidently it is now. Pickers is what they call shopping your junkyard, barns, and basements for gems.

I will refrain from the nose jokes, you too...please, thank you.

Antique Archaeology is the name of the most famous business on cable, hosted by Mike Wolfe of the original 'American Pickers' show on The History Channel. And I do find it interesting to see what everyone is hoarding in their backrooms. I am guilty of buying stuff and forgetting, maybe conveniently, about it as it gets buried under the newest purchases. Although I often give it away to avoid the title, hoarder.

I have many times driven by country side acreages and saw things (many rusty and falling down things) and thought 'Wow!' what I could do with that, but kept driving, because I have no money or big trailer to haul it home. Like my dad would say, "Everything is for sale, and nothing is for free." Brings up another memory- my father knew how fond I was of old buildings and barns as we drove through Texas, so he would say when I got married he would buy us a fixer upper. After years and years and the laughter of the others in the car, I announced it would be alright with me.

Back to the show...Darn it, my lil'sista and I could have really run with this idea. Too bad we did not think of it first. A few people here told us we could (should) have our own reality show with our personalities and how we kept them all laughing. More bickerin than pickin. More like pickin on each other. I doubt the Akin sisters, real sisters, have a chance at it now. Maybe a parody show? Come on cable executives, give The Akin Sisters a chance!

Some advise to the girls, if this was my show-

Sure spunky young hotties get attention from men, but my no-no's...

1) Whisper more darlin!

Or maybe I should say become an Antique Whisperer? Don't run up and spot treasures while the owner/seller is standing there, while you spew out your ideas... "Ahhhhh, and OMG'd!" *high pitched voices* and say "Can you just see that as a such and such and such, oh what we could do with this". Shut up and act like it would take a lot to turn that junk into trendy pieces (which will eventually end up in someone's dark and dusty garage, or a trash dump!).

2) Appreciate that handyman you employ!

All I have heard you two girls say so far is how lucky you are to have this wonderful job. Alan, he is a hunk and may have more talent in his little pinky than you two really do. Heck he might even start his own show if you don't compliment him more often! I will hire him, if...

3) Wear job appropriate clothing, please.

Hint hint: Knee pads for those ladder climbs, and full length jeans! Sure I see you have at least taken caution to heart and got yourselves a pair of garden cloves before you break your nails on some of that rusty junk you try and pick up. Maybe add a funny telephone-Superman booth meets Benny Hill quick change after you meet the junk yard owners.

I know you want to look cute, but please...leave the silk and lace in your closet at home. And please, those jean shorts? What would happen if you were to slip and cut yourselves with one of those rusty nails or large farm equipment pieces as you try to lift. Be consistent, your not hosting America's Top Runway or Top Chef.

Are your tetanus shots up to date? I'm just sayin...

4) Have you considered hiring a psychic?

All that history is being taken a part and redesigned. The ramifications you are going to bring into your store. There are people like Billy Bob Thorton, somebody who can afford your new junk, who won't buy antiques because he is afraid of the ghost and stories that lie in their bones. You might want to either make sure they are not haunted, or if someone wants to know the history, please disclose this 'could be horrifying' information.

Okay ladies, lil'sista and I will keep watchin, and we will have some more pickin comin' your way!

Inherited Values- I am not the only one who decided to pick on the girls in Picker Sisters...

(Photo by E Stelling, Nicklesville, VA, and deep in the heart of a friends farm in the Appalachian Mnts)

Hurricane Irene- Princeton, NJ

2011-08-29T17:39:00.000-07:00

Not much to say for this week. No writing this weekend, as my area was in the dark until noon today. I called on my cell phone to my friends in Texas and they relayed information from the news and etc to us. I charged my phone in the car. The wind and rain was not as bad as near the shore, but it really came down. Limbs and trees lay all about. Many neighborhoods around me are still without power, and they are saying it could be another week. My development is on a bit higher ground than the roads and rivers around me. The major power lines are a quarter mile or less out from our secluded development, off US 1. (Route 206, south of my home)

Severe flooding is all about as you will see in these photos (below Route 1, south of my house). At one point to the right of my house it was under water. We were prepared for much worse, but now my heart goes out to those who are suffering more than I am.

Hubby and I did enjoy snuggling together as we had a back up DVD player and batteries to watch a few old movies. I read this book about Peru I have had laying around, and we also enjoyed resting. Although hubby is like a caged animal when it comes to no internet. He is a big time computer geek and engineer, so he was on his IPad, but at times that was not working.

I took a trip out driving this afternoon, and went to the market to get some things for the refrigerator. The shelves were sparse, no water, no ice for those without power, so I feel extremely lucky to be able to go home and cook dinner tonight. I also found out the pool was open, which I think was crazy!, but hey I put my suit and Emperor Penguin face on and dived right in. It was cold, around 70 degrees my friend Kate said. I was not the only crazy person doing laps. (Route 27, just west behind my house)

What is amazing to me, that Vermont was hit so hard. I hear on the news that they are used to flooding, but this is the worst they have ever experienced. I pray they stay safe and things begin to come together as quick as possible. I just heard our rivers have not crested yet, and because our area is so criss crossed with rivers, it could get worse in the next day or so.

We have family on LI, and they surprisingly (and under evacuate order) came out fine. Hubby's step mom is still without power and a small tornado took down trees and such near her. I have not heard directly from any NYC residents, but would like to see some photos if any were taken. I know the subways were back in action this morning, just delays in some areas for mass transit. Our trains were shut down due to flooding, and lack of movement in and around the areas.

What really disgust me...seeing people walking through the murky rising flood water barefoot and kicking it around like it was okay. We have been asked not to run any water that would go into sewers here, because the pumps are down. Most of that flooding water you see on the news is mixed with sewage water. Uh huh.

Voices CarryTo Friday- Poem Share

2011-08-25T16:22:00.000-07:00

Are we immune to our surroundings? How often do we just sit and listen to the silence? Does your mind speak louder than white noise?

Yes, I think way too much. Or so I have been told.

(Poem removed by author for submissions)

I stumbled upon a great video poem site, Moving Poems by Dave Bonta. (Toon, you should start checking these sites out, and join us/share your work via creative writing teacher/poet, Jessie Carty's 'Blog' site!) Well, really it was through Diane Lockward's 'Blogalicious' recommendation where I found this wonderful blog. I could spend hours in that site. And it did inspire something.

You can go watch Raymond's video poem Orphan's here, but do not turn down the volume, and yes, I really did watch a show on television with the fan on and no way to hear them talking, and the rest is...in the poem.

Taking It Slow

2011-08-24T16:15:00.000-07:00

Yes, I am enjoying my developments pool for the next two weeks. But then it's closed. Kind of sucks since the weather is warm for another month. (I do not lay out to tan, I wear 100 SPF sunscreen hubby found for us) In Texas we can swim all year if we desire. Here they pay for life guards to watch over the sometimes almost empty pools. Parents almost never let their young tweens or younger rug rats come without an adult. So why do we have to do this? Not sure, maybe insurance here is out the roof. Maybe it's the state rules.

I have been hitting the exercising hard and heavy, in the pool and gym. Hubby also bought me some weights to go with my bike and stability ball in living room. I have lost more weight, but still have a long road ahead. So, I am fully working on my portion control. Why? Because this past year I did lose 46 pounds, but I had a lot more to lose, and was still eating heavier than I maybe should have been. My lower back still hurts, and I am tired of it. I assume my weight is responsible. Friends tell me to go to the doctor, but I will refuse to have surgery or take medication. I have not taken my other meds, outside of HB medication, since last summer and I am doing great. That has helped me keep the weight off, as well as very very low carbs in my diet.

For now I will relax and enjoy this beautiful weather. I am also taking a week off from writing. Jessie has put some of her writing blogs on hold, so I am taking the opportunity to focus on other goals. I have been doing some research for my Zombie book, and that requires some reading. I have two books to finish to accomplish this, so no writing until I answer some questions.

BTW did any of you on the east coast feel the earthquake yesterday? I did. I read it went from VA up to NY. I was upstairs and thought my neighbor was slamming doors. Often I feel them walking up their stairs and shutting doors. Then I noticed friends on facebook announced they had felt their houses shake. My clients husband felt it in Manhattan at his office. There are no true fault lines in VA where it originated, but a website explained it as reverse movement. No real damage was done, just a little shaking going on. Reminds me of Jerry Lee Lewis song.

Whats new? I am going to buy a new car. Looking at Prius and BMW, not sure. Going to Korea sometime in the future. Hubby has been traveling, so lots of time to read and relax (my house stays clean, Yay!). My great nephew turned three years old! He is so adorable, and loves cars! My lil-sista says he wears her out. I long for that kind of tired. My client has a baby in her future, so I am sure she will make good use of my time. I did go over and cook for them and company. Pizza crostini, mushroom meatballs and pasta, and a nice fat apple caramel apple pie. I learned how to play Texas Hold'em. A good night!

I am trying to take life as it comes. In a positive and productive way. How about you? Exercise does help reduce stress if things are not always going the way we wish they would. Try it.

What's More Dangerous?

2011-08-17T11:07:00.000-07:00

A bull in a china closet, or...

My husband emailing me a photo of him shopping for a hat in NYC, or,

A wife holding back her desires, and comments?

My personal opinion...the fashion police should have their own 911 number on every person's speed dial.

There is no real danger here, I just had no idea he was even looking for a hat.

I learned in the beginning of our relationship he had his own agenda...for style, so I never have been pushy about such things. At least he has a style, and one I can live with. But he has never been one for adornments, bling as it is called today. My key to a successful relationship, pick your arguments, this one is totally low on my list of happiness.

I wanted to buy him a bracelet once. Why? Because I am a woman who likes men who wear rings and jewelry. Aren't all accessories bling? Although I am not big on the 'guido look' of New Jersey, you know, the slick hair and bling bling bling. Partly, it just doesn't do it for me. But fit intelligent men who wear bracelets do. I also admire men who look distinguished in hats, vests, and even walking sticks. You know those little extra bling accessories.

Does wearing a certain style of accessories or bling say "I am confident" to you? I always thought so. My husband did give me a flat out "No" when I asked him about the bracelet purchase. I am going to blame the first boyfriend Leslie for this obsession. He wore one, he even gave it to me to wear in high school when we went steady. I miss that at times.

I gave up hope along the years of my man ever looking the way I had always imagined, or longed for. I just accept hubby likes to dress up when we step out. He is an engineer, crisp and clean cut for the office. Stay with me here, please. This feeling I have about how my man would look goes back even further than the first boy friend. Maybe to early childhood. When a nice looking or older gentleman sporting a nice hat over well groomed hair, an overcoat, maybe a smooth looking pair of shoes and briefcase walked by, my neck tends to bend in their direction. It was my earliest memory of my father (and a few other male role models in the family).

Yes, the father thing.

When I was as young, three or four, I have memories of my dad leaving for work. As I got older his uniform changed, but was always neatly ironed. Crisp and clean. We were told he had worked as a salesman, maybe even a door to door salesman, and it was their uniform during that era. No one today would be caught doing door to door sales, would they? Because it means you cannot get a higher paying job, maybe? Sales is not at the bottom of the totem pole, I guess, maybe it depends on what your selling.

I am a girl and my father was my hero, so it seems natural, according to Freud, I would steer in this direction as I matured. Nope, I just like nicely groomed men. Sure I like my man in a good tight pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but I remember sitting in Sunday church service and seeing a few men with gray dusted hair sporting Fedora like hats and wearing artistic like vests as they entered or left. It always catches my attention.

My ex, the father of my children who attended church with me just did not like them. His hair was too important to mess up. Nor did he like clothing or jewelry outside of the wedding band. He was one step from wearing a pocket protector like his own father. If that ever happened I might have denied knowing him. I would sigh and hold out hope he might change his mind as he aged.

Being pushy would have only alienated him from what was already a difficult relationship. Women if you find these words hitting a chord, have patience, or if your single hold out for what you want. My mom always said "You can fall in love with a rich man as easily as a poor man". In my case I was not looking for money the next time around, just common ground companionship, beliefs, goals and love; it just happened the next man I feel in love with had a higher paying profession.

After a two year friendship, I fell for an upscale dresser of my ex. He also liked food, wine, dancing, fishing, reading, conversation, God, and so many other things I had come to enjoy (like my writing). He just doesn't want to wear bling outside of his beautiful wedding band. We have been together sixteen years, and to my surprise in the most recent years, he came home with a fly fishing vest. Points! Hey its a vest right? But the hat he bought that day, well was kind of...big time dorky.

This will give a bit away about myself, but I am sort of old fashioned. I know so many relationships that are 'his is his, hers is hers' in these times, but many of them do not work out in the long run. Marriage cannot be about selfishness. Fifty/fifty folks! Let him pick out a few of his own purchases now and then because he works hard all week. He doesn't bug me about my personal shopping. I do enjoy wearing jewelry he has bought (surprised) me, which might not be what I would have bought. But he loves me and he has good taste.

So, when he emailed me this past weekend with this picture, well, I panicked. I was happy to throw out that dorky hat he wears everywhere to keep the sun out of his eyes, saving him from skin cancer, but I kind of wanted a particular hat. You know, the kind I see on professor types around the college town we live in, or on tourist men walking around the streets of Spain. Can't you imagine?

When he came off the train and climbed in the car Sunday night, I was smiling. The sexiest man had just reached over to kiss me hello. Woo Hoo! I loved the hat. He did ask me if I thought it made him look old. No, just mature, like I always wanted, and he did it all on his own.

Nawwwww, he just got lucky and probably had the salesgirl tell him what was fashionable for his age. Too bad they did not sell bracelets. She could have told him "Oh women love bling on their man, and it's the latest fashion." For her, the sales girl, is truly the life of danger when a clueless man walks in.

Okay, now I take back what I said about sales jobs, they are unsung heroes in my book.

I like Men Who Like and Read Poetry- Book Review

2011-08-16T12:04:00.000-07:00

If a man writes poetry, well then, I really really...really like him!

That was just me thinking out loud, but it's true. How many men do we know personally who read, or even write poetry? I only knew of one man in my life, my grandfather. I so admired him. These days I am acquainted with a few more men who do read and even write poetry. I have enjoyed both sexes who have written poetic verse.

Okay, where am I going with this? Marcus Goodyear is one of those men, and not only does he read, but he writes poetry...AND he was born and raised in Texas. My home state.

There is an element of personal connection in his writing for me (and I say so many times in this review!). I recognize things he speaks of, especially this piece, 'Resort' (pg 14, Barbies at communion, by Marcus Goodyear)-

When the Baker Hotel died,
no one ordered an autopsy
or called the local mortician.
They just left the carcass
at the crossroads where it fell,
bulging brick walls, gouged eyes
empty sockets jagg'd with glass.

Each line holds me on the steps out front of one of my favorite haunts in Mineral Wells, Texas. A place I pass each time I visit my dad's family in west Texas. A once grand attraction which put a dead town on the map. I never got beyond the foyer (more frightened of jail) or surrounding grounds, but have known so many who dared to take its contents. And display them proudly.

On coffee break, the local doc
doesn't wonder if he could
save her. ...

The marrow sold cheap to antique
stores, and left rooms mostly hallow.
Shout your name in the stairwell,
the space will keep your voice
...

Remember me, Remember me

It could be any abandoned giant along your horizon these days, but it draws up emotion for me I cannot describe. Eerie are his words; eerie as the stories surrounding its ghost sightings on each floor, and all along the Baker Hotel's grounds. Lots of history is written about this place if you like conjuring up old haunts.

(Baker Hotel, July 2009, taken by myself)

I also identify with another aspect of Marcus works, religion. Normally I am put off by anything from my southern bible belt upbringing, mostly television evangelists. He has a way of looking at his beliefs, and you know when he says "...poetry is prayer...", well it hits home in a more personal down to earth way.

Many of his words, lines, and stanza's in this book conjure up my own memories of sitting in the pew each Sunday, all dressed up, and if we even gave a "I can't sit still" sigh, my mom's hand would slither right over bibles, hymnals, siblings laps, purses like the snake in Eden's garden...and *strike!*, bite us right on the leg. Which would surely lead to our own personal Jesus experience after the service, if we kept it up.

Without giving away Marcus Goodyear's book title's whole poem 'Barbies at communion' (pg 3) during communion his daughter is undressing her dolls, it is a chuckle for me to read-

...
my daughter undresses
Ariel Barbie, Tinkerbell Barbie,
and 12-inch generic Sleeping Beauty.
I don't know why Ariel's butt crack
makes me nervous, shining up at me
...

He clearly has a good sense of humor, and a down to earth dad (much of his writing depicts this to me). I only wish my mother had thought of bringing things for us to do during those long hour and half services, especially ceremonial ones. But things were different back during my childhood, clearly my siblings and I were raised during the 'children are to be seen (show off our Sunday best, make the parents look like they were raising good children), and not to be heard' or allowed to express our boredom era. My own children were allowed to be themselves during service, as Marcus's, then thankfully they had their own class so the parents could focus on the lesson at hand.

What more can I say about this wonderful poetry book? Lots, as he has many other topics he touches base on. He also honors friends and family on many of the pages, possibly with inside jokes, or just thoughts that often occur to poets (or at least they do with me) about subjects. I would be honored to see myself related to a poets deep thoughts.

Marcus conjures up my grandfather's thoughtfulness, and many other great male poets whom I admire. I hope to read more of his work. I have a feeling studying his work will help me in my own writing endeavors.

You can find Marcus Goodyear on his website 'GoodWordEditing'. In his 'About' section of this website he explains...

'He is the Senior Editor for Foundations for Laity Renewal, a nonpofit organization in Texas founded by the H. E. Butt Foundation (and the same family that owns and operates the H. E. B. grocery company). Practically speaking, this means I spend my days working with words–sometimes writing, sometimes ghost writing, sometimes editing, most often in the space of new media on these websites: TheHighCalling.org, HighCallingBlogs.com, or Christianity Today’s FaithInTheWorkplace.com.

PS- This also conjures (there is that word again) up images of my favorite food market from the H.E.B. companies- Central Market. If you have not visited this store in the Austin or Dallas area, you should be ashamed. This store cannot be compared to that big health food store chain, no not at all, and if you want one in your area or state, then run, run to the altar and pray they expand beyond Texas (said with a chuckle).

My Arms Hurt, I've Been Flying All Day

2011-08-10T09:09:00.000-07:00

I know talking about my wonderful son can bore you, but hey, I am proud that my son has taken the high road to a successful and happy future.

He is in Korea teaching, and someone just found out she gets to travel there and visit him. He is lucky his step-father is so into trying new and unusual stuff.

Hubby has been traveling a bit more with work, yes, after my sister leaves. One of the purposes of bringing her here months ago was because it would give me something to entertain myself with when I am not working low summer hours. Oh well, you have to take life as it comes, a lesson I have been struggling with lately.

I love to travel too, and am envious he is having so much fun in work and play. Both hubby and son. Well, I am sure hubby strains to find fun in going to isolated military bases and no good eateries for miles and miles.

Lots of poetry has been flowing the past weeks since my sister left, but no sharing yet. I need to meditate and have been entertaining lots of company this past week. One coming today, my poet friend Pasquale. We will walk/swim the pool, talk of poetry, life, and enjoy a tasty brisket I have slow cooking on the smoker per his request.

I wish for you all a wonderful positive energy, and for my son, that he continues to find the positive paths to his destiny.

I am along for the ride.

Peace to you all.

The Sky Is Falling

2011-08-06T20:15:00.000-07:00

Often I find myself wide awake at 5 AM (like today!) so, I might check out something on television. I am still out on a sci-fi show called, 'Falling Skies'. I catch a show or two here and there. Since its not one of my regular DVR choices, I am a few, well more than a few behind. Ice and Coco have taken my attention if totally bored. Yes, I know that is some bad TV, but I am curious. Not so curious as of this past week, because I have had enough of that Jessica Simpson doppelganger. Coco may have more money and got back, but geez.

My whole thought on this is what would I do if aliens did come to earth and begin attacking us. Could I, would I survive?

I might have to kick some alien butt if it meant I was left to eat can goods for a whole season. Not be able to eat good local produce? Or some good seafood...the cows, what have they done with the cows? My whole foodie existence would be enough to create an alien butt kicking rage.

I wonder if Obama's daughters have asked him, "Daddy, what would you do if aliens came down to earth and started kicking some butt?" Wonder how he handles those questions as a parent and president, just sayin...

Aliens or Zombies?

Oh goodness, now look what I have done to my brain...back to writing 'Crush'...I will fight them on paper for now...

Voices Through Skin- A Book Review

2011-07-31T09:11:00.000-07:00

It has taken me weeks to finish this book. That is not a bad thing. First, because I have been a bit afraid to really let the words seep in under my skin. So many things Theresa Senato Edwards speak about in this collection could be about me, or someone close to me. Will I begin to see these things folded so neatly and put away in a box? The key to its lock swallowed, maybe hidden somewhere in my heart. Where we so often hide, all things.

The cover art is great too!

Second, because it is a book that needs quiet time to take in every word, each stanza, and to digest what Theresa has taken such care to share. I also have had company for a month and wanted so badly to have that quiet time, but it never came until this past week. I suspect I will be reading this book more down the road.

What I would hope for all poets is, we wish for our work, to create inspiration when read. One of her poems, page 77, 'On Your Back' brought to light something I myself had wanted to write about. Something many women of my generation do have neatly folded and locked away- rape. In this poem Theresa is actually talking about Lupus, but the title sparked something. This book is a wonderful look through her lens of life in our skin.

Her words:

I'm reminded-
perseverance on the skin,
soft lives branded, involuntary.

My own poem has come out of these words. I wish I could share more of her work, but frankly, you should buy your own copy. Pick one up, make some tea, maybe cut up an apple and sit back to relax. Then pick up her book and begin your own journey into some self discovery. Let some healing begin.

Voices Through Skin, by Theresa Senato Edwards, Sibling Rivalry Press, 2011

It's All Backwards, or am I

2011-07-29T10:09:00.000-07:00

Just out of a moment, a feeling, maybe for fun...I wrote this. Partly because last night must have been a much needed cry, which for some crazy reason, at least for me, crying can bring up old pain. Past hurt we stick in a bread box, placing it in a dark corner. When we begin to feel hunger calling and start poking around for a bite, we might find things we really thought we had eaten, or thrown out.

Going backwards, before the waters rushed in, I am sharing, how as the homemaker in my house, and how I have every detail planned for the week, including meals, things can throw me off. That is when some food bandit eats something they are not suppose to eat, and I have to plan a new strategy. It throws me off, and I am a Gemini. Yes, it is written we are suppose to bounce back, resilient and all that stupid astrology crap. Normally I am up faster than I am down.

Hubby for some reason thought a huge, and I said huge container of orzo salad was his lunch when he left for work...he says because there was a single piece of chicken and gravy in there. He ate the whole thing, yes men can eat more than their share at times. I am really trying to keep him on a portion control diet, due to high cholesterol and a growing belly. Beware, I am the diet master.

He does complain his pants don't fit and has to buy a bigger size each year. Hmmm, so my solution is to help him, but if he continues to eat my predestined entree sides, four cups worth, then whose fault is it. Pasta is one of those foods that can really put on the pounds if you do not exercise regularly. I know this personally. Okay, I know, I can go on.

I had this beautiful Korean BBQ marinated and on the grill when I discovered he had eaten our side dish. What to do? Cry of course, after I blew up, but once the flood gate opened, well it all went to hell in a hand basket, in a manner of speaking. I made some boiled potatoes, only a few, because I knew he would eat them all if I had made too much (I usually make his plates at home, a most certain portion control method). I ate a small amount and kept quiet the rest of the evening.

Did someone just ask why the right container was not handed to him in the morning? Do I look like Mrs. Beaver and I am waiting at the door with his lunch box? I was on the sofa reading like a modern woman.

Well this morning came, I still felt some amount of melancholy, so, I wrote this sappy piece. Heh! Sappy! Get it? Its better than what I used to do, eat a box of doughnuts, or two, and put my health at risk. Something I grew up seeing my mom do when sadness hit the fan, or other things. Oh, how do we deal with pain when it seeps out. See , the happy-go-lucky resilient me has returned.

Next time I'm hiding my beloved orzo, uh, side dish in the back of the fridge, in the dark corner with my pain.

Cut This Hackberry Some Slack

Shaking trees let go
of their seed, their leaves
in revelation of powers at hand
do we doubt the appendage
set forth behind reason

loss is a strong inertia, unwanted
trembling when pain rises
up through the ground
filling the trunk with disease
some splitting extremities

a single fruit falls, barely marred
outwardly it continues to roll
away away, polishing its self
flesh sweetened by time
sustaining nature’s purpose

decaying limbs lay
at mounds of moved dirt
nomadic life taking over
adding color to landscape
whispering war to passerby's

when the wind is quiet
branches furrow inward
embracing isolation, grasping sanity
an aging tree continues to reach
ominous outlined horizons call

This piece is also laced with something I saw on Marcus Goodyear's post about Mother Theresa and doubt...

A Review of 'Flash Fiction'- 72 Very Short Stories

2011-07-26T16:50:00.000-07:00

By the time you read one of my blog rants, or even one of my poems you could have read two or three of this books very short stories- Flash Fiction: 72 Very Short Stories. I have wanted to read a full collection of flash fiction in published form for a while. Enjoying writing them myself, I have wanted to compare what sits in my FF files to what some would consider really good, or publish worthy. They are all wonderful, and I have made it through the book twice now.

What is flash fiction? (For those of us who are just beginning to develop our writing knowledge)

Interesting how I found so many great places that explain what flash fiction is, while looking for others reviews. One for example goes into a very thought provoking explanation and comparison to prose poetry, Cheek Teeth: The mouthpiece of TRACHODON, written by managing editor of Cheek Teeth, Katey Schultz. I plan on following her site, and submitting my work to TRACHODON.

Hey Michael Madsen the writer/poet, this is another hint!

You can most certainly find the meaning of flash fiction on Wikipedia, read Zinta's Review, and in a few of my 'How To' writing manuals, but it is basically 'a very short story': a moment captured in time, and if you blink, well you might just miss the explosion. My kind of writing, for an ADHD kind of writer. I am working on some much longer books, but have trouble staying focused, with so many ideas floating in my head, there are too many to write. This book will sit out for my company to read if I ever keep them waiting long.

Do I recommend others to read this book?

Order this book, or read 'Flash-Fiction-Very-Short-Stories' if you see it laying around someones living room!

Poem Share, and a rambling

2011-07-25T13:58:00.000-07:00

I pride myself in being all about discovery. I love to discover new things. Especially poetry. My book shelf is lined with old and new poetry books. Some I understand, some I do not. I will not give up trying to discover the hidden meanings in these poets work.

To my surprise an actor, Michael Madsen writes poetry. I went on a journey to read as much of his work as I could the past few days. He has a blog and another website for his work, and his books are a bit pricey. Must be nice to have enough money to self publish all eight of your books, and get so much attention. The privilege of being a Hollywood A-lister I suppose. I know, I know, sounds like a rant. But, I did begin to find some of his work I felt was worthy of praise.

He writes about his life, which we all do, he writes about fellow actors who have influenced him, partied with him, or taken their lives, and he writes the word 'fuck' in a lot of poems. I visualize a rough and tough bad boy here. Matter of fact he and I might even get along in person. I saw his mom is a writer, so maybe that is the talent well from which poetry springs up. We all have something to say, right?

For years I dreamed of being published through a high end house, and even thought about self publishing...soon I realized there was a lot to learn about writing poetry, even just writing since I was years behind due to my daughters illness and my job as a mom and bread winner, but I am glad I found so many of you out there that help me in my own self discovery.

However Michael, if you are out there, maybe listening, or even give a poop...try submitting your work to journals and on-line publications like I do. Let your poet peers have a glimpse at some of that work you write and give their two cents. How about standing up behind a podium and read at an open mic with us. Do they have A-lister Open Mics? Maybe you should start one, and invite other poets to attend. I would pay for an airplane ticket to see you read in person.

I wrote this after watching a few of his youtube poetry vids...

If You Sit Still Long Enough You Begin To Think

One afternoon
I watched actor Michael Madsen
read poetry behind a podium
my feet would have preferred
to move closer to the outside
to the real world

he writes?
and it’s pretty good?
the voice of a rough and tough
Hollywood bad boy has my attention
I like watching him ride his chopper on youtube
his words
his poetry, make me reminisce
about past mistakes

in grade school, I wanted to act
before my parents moved the family
to a new neighborhood, and a new school
where red hair, freckles and four eyes stopped all progress
halted my dreams of a part in the Christmas pageant
in which I was chosen to play the lead angel

back in the old neighborhood, and school
where I left my desires
my best foot forward
a door opened, for a younger would be
my memory walks their hallways
my could’as remain tightly folded in anger

Michael’s words also made me realize
I always wanted to walk along the golden coast
ride motorcycles and sleep with my groupie bad boys
to count their tattoo’s
shoot guns off roof tops while drinking Jack-n-coke
snort coke in club bathrooms with other A-lister’s
see my name in big lights, and in gossip magazines
next to theirs

I did ride motorcycles in my youth
rode midnight freight trains across Texas
smoked weed in the caboose with conductors
got my first tattoo after my daughter passed away
I was forty three
there is still so much more to try

Mr. Madsen
the poet in him and I share some of the same scares
but we run in different circles
maybe we run from the same past
but my curtain goes up when I wake up every morning
words form lines written by my own hand
no rehearsals
no time for regrets

Today, what I have
and have not are all I ever will need.

(First draft, and will be taken down if I decide its publish worthy...E)

The Beginning of The End

2011-07-23T08:04:00.000-07:00

My lil'sista has gone back home. She had to be at the airport in prime hot hot heat traffic time. Ugh! My air conditioner decided to stop working in the van. Not a pretty site when I rolled the windows down for air and she spent the enter time in the floor shielding her perfectly combed, dried, and hair sprayed do. Some things never change! LOL

We had a good time in NYC last weekend. We stayed at the Millinium Hilton, across from the World Trade Center Site and Memorial. Lots of building going on there. She was not used to so much walking. I do know I will never take her out to a fancy up scale restaurant again. A waste. I thought the whole staff was going to throw her out over the steak not being well done enough. Yes, she ruined an expensive cut of meat and they were not happy. My sister is a picky eater. Meat and potatoes + bland = her.

I do have to give her credit, she liked my goat cheese gnocchi and the risotto I made for hubby, and asked me to show her how to cook it. I doubt she will make it at home, because her boyfriend eats the same way she does. We shall see.

Her and I are so night and day. I love her, but we could not live together. It would have to be an apartment with two separate sides; with her own bedroom, bath, kitchen, and living area. Her side would have no stove or oven. Why, because her diet consists of doughnuts, pound cakes, can tuna, and sardines...oh and crackers with chunks of Colby cheese as she complains she is fat. No exercise and no vegetables, because she is one of those who think skinny people just starve themselves if they gain a pound or two. She is my parents all over again.

I told her that at our age we have to work twice as hard, and it only begins to sage if you do not tone it up.

It may seem that I am not that crazy about my sister, but I do love her. There will just be a long break between visits, as all families have their ups and downs...or it wouldn't be family!

Okay enough that silly complaining, we have our house back, and I have a pile of books to read and review.

Here is a not so great video of the WTC area across from our room. Its not a good video, but gives you an idea of all the construction going on over there...yeah, I am sure I get my share of complaints for not being so perfect, Heh!

Have a 'Wet' Weekend...

2011-07-15T17:55:00.000-07:00

...or maybe I should say...Stay Cool...

My lil'sista and I are going into NYC for the weekend after we take care of a family emergency.

She wants to see The Big Apple and I got us a high end hotel room so we can have a great dinner, drinks, laughs, maybe a club or two, hit the sack as late as we want, and then we hit Atlantic City. Woo Hoo! She has one week left, so I have to pack in as much as I can these past few days. Right?

Okay, confession...We will have to come home eventually to rest up, because hubby's birthday is next week. For a month he and I are the same age, but he will age more in a few days, and he needs his rest. Age before beauty as Mary says!

We spent the day at the pool filming Jessie Carty's new poem. She has something up her sleeve, but I thought I would take the opportunity to share one of my 365 Days X Ten poems for you in a different fashion...and yes, I love the water. There is 100 SPF sunscreen involved, or I would resemble a lobster. Besides it goes away after a day, and freckles remain.

Six Sense by Elizabeth Stelling

Here is one I took on the train while we were in the Poconos...'Silly Sister'

Raw Footage

2011-07-14T03:50:00.000-07:00

We survived our family white water rafting excursion on the weekend, but with bumps and bruises (they show up days later); it has taken Mary and I a few days to recover physically and mentally. None the less we are forever changed by what happened, and how we use these situations to grow. I saw this quote on facebook and it fits...

A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery while on a detour." Author unknown

I consider myself one of those truly happy people.

Today is the 11th year anniversary of my daughters passing. My life forever changed. Really the day she was born, but facets move about in obscure ways.

I woke up extremely early and could not go back to sleep. Something I have not done in a while. Maybe an unconscious awakening, maybe not. I need rest because today I have my homeless 'Homefront' meal project this afternoon. We will cook and package food for at least 90 people who are living in motels around the city, many of them are children.

I discovered this photographer Greg Friedler (mentioned on here once before), a New Orleans born artist who was highlighted in a documentary called Stripped: The Naked Las Vegas. His work is fantastic, and great for some inspiration prompt writing. Last night I decided to check his website for his latest 'Daily Compositions'. In doing so the site offered a link to some of his 'Naked' work. Viewing some of this work, I was inspired to write this for Jessie Carty's Thursday Poem Share.

This 'Mattress' link is my inspiration...Thanks Greg for your wonderful contributions to my life...

A Window Junkie's Next Fix

Eyes bend forward
taking in

and exhale life,

saying goodbye to innocence.

Lips become dry
turning tables

giving words back,

finalizing kisses
swept across the skin.

Fickle hearts move on

never remembering a name
the reason, or last time

love stroked Eden’s cradle.

Infernal fires rained down
closing doors,

never knowing
the side
a place, a corner

where hurt felt like

a last breath,
seedy back lot rooms,

before dawn gave way

to ghostly stains.

(Photo above was taken on our Jim Thorpe train ride along side the river...looks mild right?)

As The World Churns

2011-07-11T18:05:00.000-07:00

Drama. Yes there was weekend drama. We are back from our Poconos excursion and skirmish. The problem is the trip turned out to be a bit scary for my sister, two other rafters and myself. We went white water rafting, and I assumed it was the beginners level when I signed us up. I told the girl on the phone we wanted beginners level. It was about three hours into our rowing a raft with six people, all first timers, five adults and an eleven year old. Pretty much following along in about the middle the whole trip. The rapids we hit were scarier at the beginning with mild ones here and there.

On the second tier of class three rapids we noticed a raft was stuck on a big rock and we headed straight for them. Being other large objects we bumped into so far, we figured, or I did, that we would bounce over to the side and go down, and a guide would help them off. You do gain momentum once you begin going down the tiny water falls (rapids) and have little control (maybe without experience).

Our raft went up on top of them and threw me, the lady and her husband in the front off, then my sister was in the air, and went into the water last. Luckily she is smaller than the rest of us and she drifted quickly down stream towards the other rafts. My husband and the couples eleven year old daughter never left the boat, which totally was just freaky.We assume their weight kept them on the other raft, but then was pushed back down into the water. He stayed with her to secure the raft over to the shores edge.

I honestly thought the raft was going totally upside down, but it did not. I hit the water first and felt my favorite blue and world traveled Cape May Ferry hat coming off so I grabbed it thinking "Oh noooo you don't!", then began churning around and around in the rapids and current of the river. It was up to my chest as I tried to stand up (which they tell you not to do) but other rafts pushed me back under, and went over me. I might have thought someone would have tried to grab me, but none did. Not sure if they even saw us. The whole time I was swallowing lots and lots of water trying to catch a breath as I rolled over and over.

The couple managed to hang onto a big rock and were pulled back into the raft by the guide and my husband. Another boat saw my sister down stream and began to pull her in, but just as I came up for air again, back floating (trying to breath as an asthma attack came on) she heard me saying "someone please help me" and pushed off of their raft to come after me. Idiot, but I know she loves me, but I told her she should have thought of herself first like the guide said in the safety talk.

Another guide in a kayak came upon us and I grabbed the front as he had instructed. She was holding onto my leg, or life jacket. She might have drowned me just from that alone. We had a talk about this, but "she wasn't going on without me" came out of her mouth. Both of us were pretty banged up. I did not sleep at all last night. I now know what it is like when someone is drowning, or stuck in a washing machine *smiling*. One of my biggest fears is too drown, and I was afraid of water until I was eighteen. Even though my dad threw us in over the boat as kids. I learned how to swim before I left home and am pretty strong, but currents are stronger.

Outside of this, I enjoyed the thrill of the rapids and being on the river. I am a water girl no matter what, and would do it again (without her). The time I have spent in the gym and swimming the past year helped. I am not as sore today as one might be without the exercise. Phew! is all I can say. We got the full experience of the white water rapids and those were the mid-level experience. Hubby said maybe we should have done the beginner/family trip. No one in our raft knew about rowing. Hubby and I have had some experience and you have to be in sync. Lil'sista and the couples daughter were totally useless. The couple's hubby was suppose to be the leader. They asked me too, maybe next time I will do it. They do over pack those rafts, one of the complaints from the couple. I do not think if we had less or one more we could have avoided that freak accident. Chalk it up to experience.

I have to say, I love my sister but in dangerous situations...she does not hold up well in panic situations. She even admits she did not hear anything at the safety training.

I went back into the water today and am working out the sore muscles...she cried like a baby just bending over.Thanks Brian (my trainer) for pushing me this past year to get in shape. I am going to the gym tomorrow and restart my training with him. I had muscle strength which helped me get through this ordeal.

(How did I take these photos? I bought a Aquapac container which fit my IPhone, so it stayed dry and I got these great photos) I also posted more trip photos on facebook.

Right Under Our Noses

2011-07-07T11:58:00.000-07:00

What is going on in your neck of the woods? Are you sure there is not something going on right outside your door as 'normal' life goes on inside? Things that make us go Hmmm...

Now for some real TMI: My house is upside down right now. Discovered my sister came with unwelcome guests, so we are cleaning and spraying everything. Drives me nuts since my daughter had the same problem three times when she was in elementary school. My best friend in Dallas had the same thing happen to her three daughters, for whom I had to cut all of their long long hair completely off. A part of life we wish would keep away...I am amazed at how people are when little things like this invade their lives...maybe this is a good poem subject...

My sister now is sporting a very short do, like me. The hopes of growing my hair out will have to wait till next year. I guess all those years cutting hair left me with some experience to notice important details which can affect others.

Isn't life grand...and I am saying it with a smile on my face...

Dream Walker
posthumous shores

I roamed the streets
fifteen hundred miles away
along la Perla, shanty lined beach
each on top of the next
body filled coffins
off, wood, clay and sand
skirting high fortress walls
built to protect an old city
I raise my hands
in surrender

long ago, world wanderers
discovered beauty and riches
moved mountains, so
man could attain glory
is this why we desire
to conquer new places
seek adventure
for our own personal gain

sleep gives way to dreams
of ghost continuing down hallways
standing at her door, the room
seems smaller than remembered
so dark, even with lights
outside, neighbors brick walls
close in like ocean waves.

It's not finished, but I will come back to it. Have not had time to write this week with all the goings on, and a weekend of white water rafting and exploring...my favorite thing to do...Peace and love to you all!

Strong Verbs

2011-07-03T11:27:00.000-07:00

Whats up everyone?

Me?

I accept what is laid before me.

However, I just found out a publication lost my submissions for their yearly journal. Sadly, they admit some submissions went into a spam folder in spite they sent me an acceptance email (which I sent to the editor to show her, since she said she did not have my work in her folder). I had been wondering why no other email had come to let me know about the book my chosen poem would appear in. Oh well... I of all people know to look in the spam folder before deleting items. Oh well...

I was looking forward to sharing. On the other hand, 'My Father Was A Jazz Singer' did appear in a publication on-line June 19th and I forgot to post it. Oh well... One publication is better than none, I suppose.

On another note...lil'sista and I are having fun. There are a few nips and tucks here and there, but I will survive. Or should I say, we will survive.

Its been a while, but we went to see this really great band after dinner last night. Dinner was a bit 'sweet' for her and my taste, hubby loved it all, but we settled for fish and chips at the pub watching 'Jagged'. Great music guys!

Wild Wild Whispers

2011-06-28T21:32:00.000-07:00

Lil'sista decided it was time to get busy around the house, but I remained anchored to the sofa reading one of my new books. I have three prior to review, but I could not help myself. Pearl Pirie's 'been shed bore' was calling my name; it has been since Jim Knowles mentioned it in a post, then I saw it on her site. Pearl has many blogs to read as well.

I put the book, among others in my Amazon.com shopping cart with anticipation. Birthday money came in, and it was ordered last week.

There is so much to explore in this 77 page book. I have already noticed 'Less Is More' in her work. Not having seen any other reviews, I will take my time savoring her work, but I can say this...I like it. Just skimming through there already seems to be a learning going on for me, so that I wrote this piece. Let me share, and let me know what you think.

just us and a summer

shaking salt along eastern islands
we set out for unnoted treasures
walking up and down
pushing dunes aside

along the way
you held me under furious waves

full silver linings
scream through the day’s silence
beads of sweat hold on
stepping back we cowered at the miles
aging topside's set the shore ablaze
lazy eyes followed wings on nautical breeze
as each scavenger dove on command
sweeping us inland

grain for grain, we left with more in our shoes
every beach had its chance

Lil'sista Update

2011-06-28T05:52:00.000-07:00

This is the house my hubby grew up in, but the current owners are not taking care of it. Up close it is in pretty bad shape. Three stories, and below is where my husband's room was...pretty cool. He said there was an elevator and the top story is where the servants stayed. It is a shame the house is falling apart now. I am sure a very wealthy family came from New York, built the house for a summer home, but maybe no one was left to take care of it the way it was meant.

After hubby's nieces graduation party we hit the beach. The weather was perfect, 74 degrees, but the water was still a bit cold. So she got the tour and then it was off to his step mom's for the next two days.

Sis likes green...like my mother...has to have her pic taken with everything green...

Next we took her to some wineries, as she had never been before. We took her to a really upscale Sparkling Pointe and then to what step-mom and I laughingly call 'The Shack' at One Woman. What a long day we had! It was nice to return home for a few days of rest before we head out again. I have a stack of books just waiting for me to begin reading, and a few poem ideas to begin drafting. How was your weekend?

Metaphorically Speaking, Of Course

2011-06-21T12:29:00.000-07:00

A request made by a friend of mine.: I guess writing in this manner makes me feel the writing is forced, or too wax poetic, of which I was once accused of over using by my ex-husband. That is why I try and stay away from it. Is it painting too much of a picture. Truth be told, I found it difficult to write and keep a straight face. Meaning my eyes wrinkled up as I pushed my fingers into the very tight inkwell hole and began to make the third to the last line. Metaphorically speaking of course.

Growing up in Carrollton, Texas we had this painting my mom bought to go with the seventies Spanish Iron furniture they also bought; it was of a still life...a peeled orange next to a vinegar bottle, and had a glass of red wine off to the side. Man was it a dark fake. I was always puzzled at that painting. You know how we place things like a picture in specific spots, but do you ever really look at them after you made the choice? Do you really LOOK at them, study them, or do you just dust them off each week as it blends in to our surroundings. Sort of like a photographers musings along their path.

In anticipation of Lil'sista, I found it hard to go to sleep and woke up early, as usual, and began thinking of how I could lay in bed all day because I was just plain tired. Of how things would still change around me, even if I continued to lay there. I also watched 'Stripped: Greg Friedler's Naked Las Vegas', by David Palmer before I fell asleep. Must have impacted my thinking. Or was it Greg's blog, and his still life's of fruits and such? Hmmm, does art really imitate life...

Still Life
as requested by Jeanne

I sit, quietly on the edge of an island
of blankets as the world turns
spinning schedules before the day

ever begins. Morning shadows start tripping
across my lap, stretching obscure minute men
who under your nose steal the thunder

aimed at hearts filled with memory
and pain. A shelter of hoarding rises up with
empty vessel lined shelves; in waiting

they mirror me, ready for random target practice
when an ocean of tears breaks free of its barriers
and keep me prisoner in this spot, where day began.

On this black leather sofa planet crust
evenings darkness meld and break me free.
Floating along the red hot lava of desire

I scavenge up nourishment, and exercise
the will to bend my legs. But it all pulls me under
sinking what I was crafting as a get away boat.

Metaphorically I am like my photo, many flavors, layers, and what you see is not always what you might get. Ha!

Jeanne how was this? and it is a first draft, not sure there will be another...I will let it simmer in my mind pot...

My Sister Is Coming, My Sister Is Coming!!!

2011-06-20T18:01:00.000-07:00

In normal times this would be alarming, at least for hubby. It means his house will be over taken with bad joke jokes, the smell of comfort foods he would prefer not to eat, more (extra!) empty wine bottles, and many other shenanigans over the course of a few months. But its the price he has to pay to have me in his life. He can deal with it. I have not seen her since Christmas, nor has she been here for four years. Time to party Sista!

I have some fun things in store for her, of some I will not tell her, just let her jaw drop when we arrive. You too will find out soon enough. I will be sharing.

I am a bit envious when Farmlady posts about her and the sisters travels and adventures together, but I now get my chance. I miss my daughter and the chance to have female family bonding time, but I am grateful there was a little sister in my life. Turning 50 this past week now gives me an "I'm older, so listen to me" advantage, so we shall see how I can work that one in. Oh am I feeling devious. Wait till she sees the sign I made to hold up at the airport!

Just you wait Miss Poo Poo- Red Legs- Pineapple Top- There's that drive in theater I have been talking about! (long story, but each title has one)

Oh and that long hair she is supporting above- Gone! I am cutting it off to donate it to a cancer group...she complains her neck always hurts...I wonder why...

Thanks and Thursday Poem Share

2011-06-16T18:53:00.000-07:00

Thanks to all of you who wished me Happy Birthday wishes in email, phone calls, and on facebook. I have had a lovely time the past two weeks, especially this past weekend (North Fork beach in photo) and now embrace 50 with all the grace and courage one can...LOL Did that sound the way one would embrace age? Heh!

I received three very funny cards in the past few days. One being my sister who greeted me with 'Sis' and 'Wonderful' in the first sentence, but ended with 'Save the Wax' candles for my mustache and leg hair...too funny!

This weekend is going to be filled with lots of relaxation. The past two weeks have been so busy that I have not written much. My little sister Mary is coming this next Wednesday and will stay for a whole month! I have a very busy schedule planned, and will be posting our adventures. White water rafting, and some things neither of us have tried before are planned.

Well any way here is a poem I have laying around my files, but want to work...

(removed for work shopping and revisions- Thanks for reading!)

Some Good News...Always

2011-06-10T08:32:00.000-07:00

I am off to Long Island for the weekend...more pre-birthday celebrating with hubby's family. The plan is, laying on bro-in-law's beach behind their house, take the boat over to Fire Island, some sort of drink in hand here and there, munchies, dinner at six, then off to a show, back and forth between mom-in-law and step mom-in-law (con-ver-tible, top down driving on the North Fork!). Three days of doing nothing. Not even cooking. Which I do everyday at home, my part-time job, and my once a week position at the church cooking for the homeless. Things on that end are going great!

Now lets get down to the real news. I went to the eye doctor. A follow-up for my swollen left eye, the gimp eye, and the fact that my vision has done nothing but gotten worse the past five years. I discussed eye surgery. Have they developed anything to help my blind eye, and a correction for the right side? YES!!!

I am scheduled to see the surgeon in August! Yes, they do have surgeries to help correct my vision. I have been waiting for this my whole life. Growing up with one 20/20 vision was not that bad, it was like those who have two eyes. But it did cause problems for me once the vision began going down hill in my late thirties. In some ways I feel it was a handicap, and has caused problems with making and missing mistakes in writing, along with being dyslexic. So with that, I look forward to what the future, and eye doctor holds!

Also...I turned in my mini-chapbook to the MFA Blog hosted by Jessie Carty and to Jennie my instructor for the MFA program which I audited this last semester at Princeton. Both gave me passing grades for my work. They both gave me high praise for my thesis project- 'My Valley of Kings', a mini-chapbook- titles and content. I now feel confident to pursue returning to college if that is what I wanted to do.

Thanks for your support, and for listening...fifty is turning out to be the magical age for me...although I would love to re-visit 33 and my Irish trip...and for selfish reasons...

Just Cracking Myself Up!

2011-06-06T18:36:00.000-07:00

I should be sad, but I am not. I have slowly gotten news from all my stops along the way to Texas, they have had to cancel for personal reasons, and from being unsure it would work out if I was in the area. It will be fun when we all can get together, but I am okay. My trip is postponed for now. I need to be seriously working on my newest book. I already began the second book, but I am not even finished with the first one. A trilogy it will be...yes, liken to Twilight and others.

While coming up with an idea for a book for my family once the genealogy was finished, and after watching Clash of the Titans, something came to me...sadly at 2 AM in the freaking morning. My sleep is off again. Stomach issues and napping do not work well together. ARGH!!! But hey, I get some writing done.

Yep, when I think of how different I was than my siblings growing up, and how my brother (don't all brothers say this to you!) would tell me I was adopted. Making me cry, and scaring the crap out of me was his pleasure.

I know it still needs work...but is going to be part of 'My Valley of Kings' Mini-chapbook collection.

Hades On A Good Day

Growing up felt like hell,
because,
I really thought my parents
had adopted me...

------------- (middle section poem taken down for submission purposes)

a grandmother mirrored in me
a son’s face straight from Scotland
I am a fair princess, hidden
amongst peasants.

After reading this aloud to hubby; it really cracked me up! Oh well, if I cannot laugh at myself, then who...Let the summer games begin...I am turning 50 in less than two weeks...so much fun ahead!

What'cha Eating?

2011-06-02T13:27:00.000-07:00

I am bad. Yes. When I know certain foods bother my stomach, I still manage to suffer from lifting them to my mouth. Especially sugar. I have managed to stay away from baking too much, the gluten and sugar, and even have a cake sitting from the weekend I will dump in the trash (after hubby eats one more piece tonight).

So while the plumber is running the dishwasher, fixing it, my stomach churns along...

Also, my contribution to Thursday Poem Share over at Jessie Carty's...

IBS

A stomach churns from last night's
empty box of sugar babies laying
‘nutrition information’ side down next

to the couch, near the back patio
hidden from husband’s view, his
wanton mouth, but conveniently

at cravings reach to the addict who
grew up on homemade pies, cakes,
and candies waiting on counters

kitchen and coffee table, hidden in back
bedroom drawer where a father would
share his stash if you were quiet when

he drank while watching television, or
napped on weekends when mom was
in the kitchen cooking as we rode

bikes down to the local Dairy Queen
for ice cream and Jan’s Food Store
filling our pockets with penny candy

back home, one by one, we begin to
feel the sting of what our parents called
the family curse running from generation

to generation of not being able to eat certain
foods; sugar, dairy, and beef, but I cannot
help myself I Buy Sugar regardless.

I doubt I would publish this one, except self, so I will leave it up!

Review- Road Work Ahead by Raymond Luczak

2011-06-01T07:30:00.000-07:00

What do we all do when a relationship ends, good or bad? We begin to open up and share bits and pieces of what we remember, places we have gone, places we need to see, good or bad. I have met some people who still revelled in the pain of the past, but you do not read this in his work. Raymond opens up and begins to look at what repairs are needed, what road to travel next, not just where he's been. When we do this, begin to repair what may have been neglected, pain and heartache bursting through our chest, we begin to see things in another light. I see this in his words.

Raymond's poetry sheds light on his own pain, what he may or may not miss, and I believe through his writing and visiting the places he has pulled into his heart has helped him move on to new roads. Raymond Luczak may be deaf, but he hears so much more than we can imagine in his surroundings. His poetry shows us exactly what he has heard...

The first poem of this book begins with-

Once I arrived in Paris, I declared war against Time.

Strong.

Spies adored my aging face. It'd given away
one secret after another. I had been shafted.

- ARC DE TRIOMPHE, 2005

My favorite line in this poem. I cannot tell you how many times this relates to me when I have gone somewhere and wanted to put time in a box and live out every street, conquer a country. Time can be a friend, but most always an enemy.

Who wouldn't grow and heal with this writer at our side, reminding us the summer wind is around the corner, and there are so many roads still left untraveled.

2nd Annual Bill's Figs Poetry Festival, New Jersey Poetry

2011-05-22T07:56:00.000-07:00

After almost a week of non stop rain, we had sunshine Saturday morning. It was May 21st, 2011 and I set out for Flemington, New Jersey. My friend/supporter Gina and I packed some of my fresh spinach artichoke dip, apples and peanut butter as we set out for a fun afternoon. I told her we were going to a Fig Farm...laughingly she never asked me what I meant. as there is no such thing...more of an orchard. She is an adventurer like me!

We had the privilege of hearing some wonderful and well published poets-

Hunterdon County poets Warren Cooper, Juditha Dowd, Kathe Palka, and Ray Brown read followed by an Open Mic. The reading is under a tent in the fig grove.

We also heard two Philadelphia poets- Adriann 'The Pen' Bautistaand, and Smyte IX- a Princeton poet, and I read too.

A representative of Painted Bride Quarterly Journal presented works as well.

In addition to hearing some great poetry, Bill has 230 different types of figs, 55 are currently available for sale. He has approximately 1,300 fig trees of different sizes on the grounds.

The poetry was wonderful! So many different styles were represented...if you write, you should perform your work. Or at least go out and listen to other poets. Support each other. Get out and attend open mics and poetry events! That is an order!

I read three of my pieces- Corn Bread and Beans, Texas Skies, and did one of my spoken word pieces untitled, and all by heart. Sadly my poetry books and bag were left at home in a rush, because I had to make an emergency eye doctor appointment on the way.

I forgot to talk with Bill about taking a tree home with me. Bill's wife told me most animals will leave them alone, except for squirrels. My first memory of a 'strange food' outside of my modest poverty foods of my youth is my neighbors fig tree. I would stand at the fence and gaze at it. One day the neighbor, whom all the kids in the neighborhood were afraid came out and asked me if I would like to try one. I said apprehensively "Yes" and thus began my love affair with food exploration.

The sunshine held up until the last thirty minutes, and it began to rain. Bill put up a tent with chairs for us all, and thankfully! His gracious wife put out snacks, and I shared my spinach artichoke dip and celery sticks with them as well. I look forward to returning to Bill's Fig Farm again one day. Thanks Bill!

Want Figs and Poetry?

Bill's Figs
329 Old York Road
Flemington, NJ

It's Done

2011-05-19T06:55:00.000-07:00

I have finished my second manuscript. Some of it was a little forced, but Pasquale has a majority of the work done, so be it. I did what could be done. We will meet today, organize it and turn it in to the publisher. Now we have to decide what the cover will be. There have been jokes going around about a photo being taken with the two of us in fig leaves, like Adam and Eve of sorts. He eighty, and me overweight and fifty. Yeah that one works. I had thought of a cartoon characteture being a funnier design. We will see.

I have been continuously plagued by allergies; headaches, wheeziness, itchy, and hard to breath stuffiness this spring, so its been a challenge to concentrate on writing, especially if I have to take medication. I am hearing its hard on many people. Thanks to so many great friends for their inspirations and support these past few months.

Oh I almost forgot to add a poem from the book, a small preview of something I have written. When I listen to people's reaction at the title of the book 'One Hundred and Fifty Years of Love' many people will share a love story, and this one sparked a poem.

Back When I Was Fifteen
as told to me by Marybeth Carshaw-Stinson

The taste of the ocean upon your lips
the kiss I had longed for
a love so new
in a place so old, Asbury Park
at the top of the old Ferris wheel
where for years lovers had watched
the sea and skies
from canopied cars that reached the stars
we were as high as the clouds
as free as the gulls
and I will never forget, my love
being on top of the world with you.

Don't Rain On My Parade

2011-05-16T08:37:00.000-07:00

My church participated in one of the local Gay Pride Parades, and I walked most of the way. Since I began working out last June I have felt so much better. Sometimes I do not feel like the weight is slipping off as fast as I would like, but 46 pounds is a lot. I began working out four times a week recently and the skinny girl is popping through! My client Puneeta called me after seeing my photo on facebook to tell me she saw I have lost a lot of weight.

Okay this is not about m'E. It is about teaching our kids to love each other, acceptance, and equal rights for all. If you think about it, women, blacks, and others only have the right to vote. Our constitution only states women have the right to vote...what about our other rights? I know this is getting political, but I have always felt we all deserve the same treatment, and love everyone. Okay, well maybe there is one or two of you out there that have gotten on my bad side, and I would like to *@#k up the guy who robbed and raped me at gun point when I was 19, but I do still care about them....just sayin'...somehow we forgive don't we...

I apologize if my language is a bit rough today...

I Need Some Boots

2011-05-13T11:43:00.000-07:00

Once again its Thursday Poem Share over at Jessie Carty's 58 Inches...

Cowboys and Aliens

I grew up near western horses, saw
cow’s and buffalo through wire fences

hung out with high school agriculture students
watched them ride in rodeo on weekends

when I decided to place myself
in the saddle, fit my shoes in the stirrups

grab the reigns I imagine heading toward
well traveled trails on a horse who also hungers

for freedom across the open range
carved out by buffalo, deer elk, and history

instead its head hangs low as we mosey
clippity clop over dry mud ball fields

riddled with pot holes and clover calling out
under low lying tree limbs catching city girls

off guard to what once belonged to wild folklore
grabbing my reigns as my doggy begins

heading back home to the barn full of hay
it doesn’t take much to convince us

we were not natural born riders but
aliens visiting another world.

(Vincent Van Gogh, A Pair of Boots, 1887 in above photo)

He is 24, a baby no more...

2011-05-10T19:19:00.000-07:00

My son Aaron is 24 today. But I will always see him like this...

I watch him grow every day, into the man I always knew he would. I have been blessed in so many ways in spite of the sadness in my past, sadness that lurks in the hole ripped through my heart. The dream I had the other day was mostly about him. I miss his carefree cherub like disposition, and the fact he is too big to sit in my lap. His soft blonde curls tickling my nose once, replaced with whisker like bristles when he hugs and kisses me hello and goodbye today.

However he did tell me he still had his Lego's in storage, so there is still a child somewhere inside him.

I love you Son,

Love Mom

What I did on May 8th...

2011-05-09T15:56:00.000-07:00

Before and Day Of?

Absolutely nothing!!! as far as lifting my finger to cook, clean, or any kind of work...hubby treated me like a queen...

I did my rear off Saturday. Food and set-up prep. Appetizers Done. Prep. Cooked. Secondi Course Done, well Parsnip Soup and Local Spinach Salad with Strawberries and Spicy Walnuts. (Oh and they are all non-stop eating, drinking, and talking away!) Prep. Cooked. Entree, or final meal is done. They eat while I clean up. I had one of my Parmesan crusted soft shell crabs, and was delish! They bought pre-made desserts, so exiting was easy. Hubby and I spend the next two days between his step-mom and mom's house on Long Island. No photos of the crab. It was too busy for me. I also would put that up on my food blog, oh well. I did sip on a mint julep. Okay two, something I had never tried before! Different.

My Mother's Day was glorious. Aaron called from Korea, I got to ride in Mom Val's convertible...

hubby looks like a Star Wars creature in the back seat, wineries and music, maple walnut ice cream stop...

and just beautiful weather. Allergies? I put up with them. Mom Val liked this photo opportunity...

The book I am reading above is something I won from the contest Kells had in April, since it was national poetry month! Mom Val was excited, because she has the CD from Il Postino, which has famous individual's reading from his poetry...

Pablo Neruda
Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair

I highly recommend this book!

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin between my hands...from 'We Have Even Lost'

Morning then comes...

2011-05-06T10:21:00.000-07:00

I am a little late with my Thursday Poem Share hosted by Jessie Carty, but I had a rough and busy week. There is a lot to do as I have an early Mother's Day gathering to cook for tomorrow. I am excited because the job is in NY, so I get a few days away from home. The menu is soft shell crab and a meat of my choice. I love this, and found the crabs for 4.50 each. A far stretch from the Virginian crabs here in Princeton go for 10 to 12 dollars each.

(I take the poems down, but thanks for all the suggestions...I will rework this one in a few weeks...and probably submit!)

Sound and Meaning

2011-04-28T10:25:00.000-07:00

Laying in bed the past few days on the last leg of pneumonia, I have been listening to my surroundings. Curious I decided to try and write some poetry with sounds. I did some research and learned about onomatopoeia. Onomatopoeia is usually cited as a poetic effect. That makes sense because poetry is all about communicating emotion using the interplay between sound and meaning.

Playing with sounds in the first part, and then trying to let words make the sounds in the second, nothing serious here. Doubt I would submit this one.

I found a few good sites, and will look further by picking some poet friends brains.

The Sounds Of Spring

Eight AM mowers head the silent calendar call
as one by one they roll down the trailer ramps
um um
bu mpp bu mpp scrapping over the curb toward
the back of the condos and into the range of my

view where I lay sleeping with the window
slightly open phooosh phoosh phoosh goes
the breeze bringing in cool air softening the
upstairs hot existence from the days before

overcast skies off and on again peeking sun
holding in the earth’s rising temperature
swish swish swiiissshhh go huge tree
limbs rustling when the breeze picks up

blowing even darker clouds over birds
who right outside chirp chirp chirp in my
view are nesting their pieces of dead bush
and other particles needed for their young’s

to be born very soon HONK! HONK! HONK!
someone’s car alarm begins to sound when my
pillow is pulled over my head kakaa kakaa
nearby ravens have begun to pick the ground

for seeds along the stretch of freshly cut grass
kiii kiii kiii kiii the neighbor begins raking
her six by nine cement patio debris after
the gardeners have moved on to the other end

of the complex leaving moments for me to sleep
sniff sniff sniff cough cough go my spring allergies
rolling over planting my feet plunk plunk one by
one onto the floor saying hello hello downstairs.

II.

Stepping out of the gym door into the cool evening
my wet hair after a swim then shower whoosh like
reentering the pool as croak croak croak frogs in
the distance animate my walk to the car click click

pop my key unlocks the door as I slip into the
leather seats sliding across closest to the middle
the door slamming behind me headlights come on
with the turn of the key in the ignition engine starting

chirp chirp chirp sings a cricket finding its way into
the van the radio drowns it out a bit as the window
rolls down inviting the sounds of passing cars the
wind rushing in my hair blowing wildly across the

view of oncoming traffic into my mouth causing me
to spit sputter when it becomes like dental floss
caught in my teeth thunder rolls across the sky like
bowling balls down wooden lanes striking pins

the gods have either knocked over a bit of water
quietly it hits the windshield and my left arm hanging
on the door laughing my left hand slaps back
a high five to how different night and day can be.

Poetry On The Porch

2011-04-25T18:58:00.000-07:00

I had the honor of attending 'Poetry On The Porch' at the Alice Paul Institute, organized by Erika Kelly, a poet I met three or four years ago through blogging. She began working with me on my writing as an editor. Then we began to appear in local circles together. She is a wonderful writer in her own right and I am glad to be able to support her. Erika organizes this event-

National Poetry Month is a month-long, national celebration of poetry established by the Academy of American Poets. The concept is to widen the attention of individuals and the media—to the art of poetry, to living poets, to our complex poetic heritage, and to poetry books and journals of wide aesthetic range and concern. We hope to increase the visibility and availability of poetry in popular culture while acknowledging and celebrating poetry’s ability to sustain itself in the many places where it is practiced and appreciated.

The Alice Paul Institute is a not-for-profit 501(c)3 corporation based in Mount Laurel, New Jersey. It was founded in 1984 by a group of dedicated volunteers to commemorate the centennial of Alice Paul's 1885 birth and to further her legacy. The organization was operated by volunteers for more than a decade. Today, four staff members, as well as volunteers, oversee the daily business and special events at Paulsdale.

After Annmarie Lockhart, Joanie DiMartino, Paloma Amar, and Erika Kelly read I was given the chance to read. I chose a few new poems but decided to read a poem I had written when I was only 15 years old. A memory that stood out in my head still to this day, and had revised it a few times, but the original just works. Most of our mothers and grandmothers did not use dried seasonings, nor did we own any bottles. They used only fresh ingredients bought from the market, or used what they had on hand. It occurred to me my mom seasoned her food with 'Depression', something she suffered from her whole life, up until she passed away.

(Poems are removed after three days...)

Poem Share Early

2011-04-19T11:52:00.000-07:00

Debbie Fuller inspired this title and direction of my poem about this past Saturday assisting Ray Brown, Poet- hosting a workshop and teaching poetry to children at Classic Books in Trenton, something we will be doing at other local libraries in our area.

The thought of being sandwiched in between a Neo-Nazi's and Black Panthers rally kind of had the air buzzing. We lost two of our poets to the excitement. Heck I wanted to walk over to the rallies, and I did after it was over, but it began to rain. The last time I walked into a lions den, I almost came out armless. Another story...

Jessie Carty will be hosting the Thursday Poem Share, so mine is going up early. I am trying to spend every free minute writing this week. My homeless feeding frenzy group went well last week. The birthday party I catered Saturday night almost did me in. The eating gluten for which I keep away from at home, but virtually impossible when I am cooking it for others. I am also physically tired. Mentally tired in some ways. So it brings on thoughts of fraying material...

In The Fray

Behind the wheel of a driving machine
pulling off Route 1 south
a jug handle leading west
agitators of weather spinning circles
around the policeman
their silent and flashing lights scream force
turning into a pit of unsettling direction
towards a small bookstore with waiting students
poems in hand voices ready to speak
it’s ticking clock hangs on a dingy wall
and as minutes pass around other neglect
books gathering dust on the shelves
in a struggling old city along a side street
a lack of audience and fear
in a capital on the brink of ruin

Today Neo-Nazi’s rally along streets, shadows
First Amendment fists hit the open air
searching for the uneducated and neglected
a few blocks over the cheeks barely feel the sting
Black Panther gathered to voice majority
rubbing out opposite votes

Innocent children gather speaking favorite color
names, food, and what instrument they might want to be
drums beat wildly as laughter echoes out the back door
and down the alley
Caucasian, Asian, African American together
in the middle of musty old Classics
hanging by the thread of a progressive society

If you look at the cell phone photo above you might think it a prompt piece, but it was not. So it will sit for revisions...

Hangin On

2011-04-19T04:18:00.000-07:00

Can you see the yellow jacket hanging on for dear life on my side mirror? In funny contrast to the yellow vehicle behind me right. Yeah, on a beautiful sunny day (what happened to those we are all wondering, sunny days) he was flying at my open window, but as I quickly rolled it up he settled on the side mirror. It was fate. Now it is residing in Washington Crossing's field of daffodils, or what else it may have found. Kind of like me and all the things I have going on.

This past week I was wrapping up my genealogy and decided to add my son's father's family, but then thought about my first husband. A marriage which lasted five years from the tender young age of 18 to 22. He was twenty seven. A church going happy go lucky sort of guy, or at least I thought, very handsome, many said he looked like Kevin Costner, or even Harrison Ford, but as they say, once your married, things change.

Drugs, sex, rock-n-roll, and cruelty were his vises. His mother failed to tell me he had tried to commit suicide three times. His parents thought I would help him. We were close, even until my kids were ten or so, then I lost touch. His grandparents were wealthy Austin'ites. If you have not visited that part of Texas, well, they say its the prettiest part of the state. They owned lots of cattle and land near Georgetown. His grandfather passed away in 08, and his grandmother passed in 09...my ex-husband passed away in 09, only a few months before his grandmother. After some investigation, I discovered his third wife had shot and killed him.

I suddenly felt like the bee, I had hung on to dear life those five years so long ago, and when our world stopped...I decided to fly away and find what else lay ahead. He married a seventeen year old before the ink was dry on our divorce papers. Then married again, same situation, both times. Narcissistic abusers with charm, who go after young girls usually don't change (my opinion).

He left behind a son. My heart does goes out to those he left in the wake (more Tsunami). A life with barely a father, now no father at all. Making sense of life is hard enough, but to do it without a parent, I know this all too well. Our parallels are not so far apart. I feel the son is now the bee, even though men handle things differently than women do, lets hope he figures out when to get off the emotional ride. I only hope his mom left in time. Otherwise his sting may be a deadly one too.

I have been trying to write a poem in reference to this piece I just wrote. Maybe I will come back and take some key elements out, re-arrange it, but I find it difficult to write where my feelings are on these things. Almost like there is no connection once I have moved on. Hmmm...

Journal: Busy busy busy

2011-04-10T16:34:00.000-07:00

I am not complaining either. My work load had halted almost to a dead stop a year ago, after years of working, sometimes two jobs, and now I have several offers for kitchen jobs. I went for an interview with the college, but they are not paying much. I do better with the catering gigs I get here and there, and would rather use my skills at the teaching job I have had in Trenton for quite a few years now. The kids are worth it.

I also am heading up a team of people to feed the homeless, and we start tomorrow. As I said before, the writing and such will be tricky, but I can do it. All the activity is helping me to lose weight. I have a reading and open mic to attend tomorrow by invitation, so excited about that. I am going to start video taping again, and share some of the poets work. I hear the two who open tomorrow are really 'funny', as well as good writers.

The weather here is off and on cold, warm, cloudy and sunny. Make up your mind Mother Earth. I managed not to use it as an excuse and went to church today. My second week in a row. We are hoping this place is a good fit for our spiritual needs. They are a liberal congregation, accepting of all beliefs and lifestyles. Today during the service Bernie, one of my new friends read a poem he wrote about a fifteen year old girl who is buried in a local cemetery. It bothers him a child would die before their parents, and he wanted to immortalize her, and the band turned it into a song; it was kind of a bluegrass medley. I was in tears.

As you know I miss my daughter so much, and also think of the lost when I see a tomb stone as Bernie did. Which brings me to my client, her daughter passed away and it was hard on me too. She is pregnant again, and I will be going back to work for the family as their personal chef in the fall, so my life is getting back to busy, the way I like it. I also have begun to submit my writing, so the next weeks will be mixed with nervous, but I am hoping to grow from my experiences. Like ridding the negative, and replacing it with positive.

I believe if you have a talent and are not doing anything with it, why waste it. You should do something with it, even if you volunteer once a month or more. Keeping busy around the house, having a hobby, and expanding your mind is good for the soul. Something my grandfather proved to be true. Well, hubby put his Dilbert DVD in, so I guess its a message to go do something else!

(Photo- Something I took in the Washington Islands, 2008)

Poetry Work-shops

2011-04-05T20:12:00.000-07:00

Today I am recommending writing work-shops, but three years ago I was afraid of them. Fear and feeling intimidated by people who have spent more of their life writing professionally or working as teachers was my excuse.

Why are work-shops important?

The writers workshop format is an effective method to review, evaluate, and improve writing skills. The general structure of a writers workshop has a group of ``discussants'' who listen to you reading your work before the session. During the workshop the discussants examine the strengths and weaknesses of each person's paper, accentuating positive aspects and suggesting improvements in content and style.

The Delaware Valley and US-1 Princeton Poets meet once a month, and on different days of the week. I took several of my previous published poems to the workshops. Tonight I returned after two years. Funny Joe who mediates DVP, he called me the prodigal daughter. They had wondered what happened to me, since many said they enjoyed my writing.

The group work-shopped one of my newer poems 'At The Root Of The Willows'. Jessie had already told me she felt it was complete, and to sent it out for submission, but I was still up in the air about my punctuation. Several of the poets are teachers, and retired teachers, so they helped me with punctuation. It was unanimous, the poem needed no other work, and they really liked it. Again I walked away feeling confident in my writing.

Jessie will be glad to know I also felt more confident to add suggestions to the other poets work as we went around the table.

Why am I sharing this? Because I am returning each month, along with my writing partner Marybeth. I will also be attending the open mics held at the Princeton college. I had felt they were to upper brow for me, but now I feel like an equal. It also helps that I learned one of my fathers uncles was a Princeton graduate; as well as my MFA instructor from the class I have been auditing encouraged me to read- Jean feels my writing should be heard.

I have not written much the past weekend because of work and social activities, but this weekend I will be working on some older pieces for class and my workshops. I really appreciate all the help I have gotten from readers, poets, and new friends from class.

Balance has been a tricky thing these past weeks. I have been asked to consult with a new kitchen, and we will be making food for local homeless groups. I am sure I can manage it all, I like being busy!

Here is also a great blog on writing- Author Culture has a piece of this week about critiquing others work- How to Offer Beneficial Critiquing by Lynette Bonner.

Jessie also (I would think) has tips on critiquing others works in a professional and courteous manner, and maybe she would consent to guest blog for me on the subject!

My Genealogy Paths

2011-04-02T07:37:00.000-07:00

I have been MIA on here for the past week. Something has been bothering me for a while, and I decided to act upon it. Family heritage...was I Irish, or Scot-Irish? Since my visit with my Aunt Erlene a few years ago and we took a trip to see my family land and last living relatives, I had begun to ask questions about where we originally came from, or who we descended from.. In spite of her short term memory loss I was able to get key information about some of the family names, but needed lots more to begin my search. In my search I discovered my aunts name was not spelled 'Earlene' as I had always thought, but birth records showed the above spelling.

Needless to say, but I am having so much fun! Maybe too much fun (my sister and husband say) discovering who and where I came from. William Eakin started it all- his son changed it to 'Akin', but the first born son kept the original spelling. Many census reports have one or more spelling*. He was brought over on a ship in 1747, after being labled a 'rebel' in the Battle of Culloden-1746. Once in New York he married a fellow Scottish woman, Eleanor McDaniel. His grandsons fought in wars and one was a Reverend. A church still stands in Maury County Tennessee and is credited to the Akin name. That ended when his son came to Texas. Not sure what happened to the Presbyterian influence. My grandfather and grandmother did not attend church, but took my father. He stopped going after his first divorce. My mom's family was Catholic and Pentecostal, which is what I was brought up in. Gosh so much, so much! I saw my grandfather was married to someone before my grandmother, and I saw my dad's ex-wife's name, something all hush hush.

Then there are the Stokers. A family I grew up hearing about. I was always told my looks, humor and strength were that of my great grandmother, Martha Susan. Turns out this branch of my family tree has ties to Virgina and Jamestown, as does my mothers family as well. Which brings me to the Kennon side (my mom), also Scottish. My journey through my mothers family is what surprised me. What happened. My sister and I found ourselves asking that question this week. From riches to rags. Not to mention both sides of the family had from nine to thirteen children. I have so many cousins from Virginia to Tennessee, to North Carolina, and finally in Texas. Phew!

Did I mention my mothers mother's family? Carrol- 'Mulatto' was the final word, and after her great great greats...nothing, well outside of the cousins having married it all went cold. I am guessing slaves, and who had children with white owners. I heard rumors about this from my grandfather, but grannie was not telling. All hush hush, and she was not very nice. My sister, Mary and I had a good laugh about that one. Not because we are ashamed of it, but because my mother and her family were so racist. Maybe because my father was too. I never found the Native American ties on this side of the family either. Maybe they explained the African American heritage away with the tale of Native American blood...who knows!

My moms father's side of the family owned slaves and were in the Confederate Army (Union on the Akin side). I am not surprised. They owned lots of them, along with land in North Carolina. I found list, but only one name was mentioned, a cook is mentioned on the census. I even made a family tree for her (maybe out of guilt), Tennie Tellus, or Tullus, or Telles, or...I found so many variant spellings in the census reports, so I am not sure. Well I hope if Tennie's family are looking, they will see I left a trail for them. She was married to Samuel Tullus, and had five children.

Oddly, Telles was also a name associated with my great grandmother, in parentheses; my dad's mom's mom. Then that trail just went dead, well sort of. Something kept popping up, a Hispanic trail to Mexico for Delia Telles. She did not look like she could have come from Mexico like the father listed. Odd??? Maybe it will pan out.

The Native American heritage I was told about by my father, and his grandfather? Stone cold. Dead in the water. If my great grandfather was indeed Native American, how do I find out? He was born in Kentucky. Only stories floated around. He told my dad his great grandmother was taken by Indians, and the family went after her. She was finally found two years later, and returned. After having a daughter, my grandfathers mom. I saw 'Lightfoot' in that family link, but I will have to take some more time to go in that direction.

That is the problem...this takes lots and lots of time...and even more time in my future. I still need to do my son's fathers family- Dillion/Adams, and my current husband- Stelling/Kane. As I said, what a journey the past two weeks have been. And I still find time to cook, clean, and work. Oh and I have a husband! He works a lot of hours lately, which is why I decided to distract myself with the genealogy quest. My son? Oh he is doing great. He is in Korea teaching with his girlfriend. They are on quite an adventure themselves. I talk to him more now via skype and other than I did when he lived in the states. Funny huh?

And the family names! First of all, Elizabeth was a name that was seen all through the centuries in my families, and on both sides. Mary, my sisters name, did not show up until my great grandmother. I had always wished my name was more exotic, but what can you do? Heh! There were some strange names that did not make it past 1800, and thank goodness. Gave me a few laughs!

Now I have to go begin my days adventure. I am catering a party for thirteen people. Most of the food is done, but I have to finish the scallop ceviche, black beans, and mango masa boats. The chocolate brownie mousse parfaits too. I am not sure why, but when I serve those dinner guest tonight, I will be thinking about the women along the pioneer and other trails who had all those children. Goodness! A lot of mouths to feed.

*I have heard, no real records are out there to indicate this, and I am no expert, am taking a stab here; through my own family history they dropped the 'E' off of the name because of our own (United States) version of the English language, and simplicity. The 'E' provided a longer A sound of Akin in the Scottish tongue...therefore Eakin.

(Above- Scottish Flag of the Highlands, William Eakin's family records/Below- Jamestown emblem, bestowed upon member- Robert Kennon in family records)