No Worries

Slowing down
No alarm clock
What day it is
What time it is
Is of no concern
As are the bills back home
Shorts and sandals every day
Walking in the rain without umbrella
Slow-moving speed limits
Snaillike pace to cross the street
Taking pictures of flowers on the daily walk
Seeing the colors of the rainbow
Amazed by a double rainbow
Mesmerized by a fading sunset
The causal life in Hawaii
No worries

Aurora's Poem

How precious life is when you hold a newborn
The power of God
A miracle of miracles
A gift from heaven
An angel here on earth
Knowing she is a part of me
My life carrying on
The cycle of humankind turning its wheels
Seems strange
Yes
Mystifying
Yes
It is real
A beautiful baby
New breath
Tiny fingers and toes
Little cries you want to protect
The potential of something grand
I want to be there holding your hand

Watch me grow

The 50 Cent Tour

Lost in paradise
One wrong turn turned into another
Palm trees abound
Peeks of the Pacific bring to mind
You're on an island
How far off course can you go
On this land surrounded by water?
The boundaries are finite
In this new and exotic territory
I must be on the 50 cent tour,
This is not Gilligan's Island,
Discovering landmarks to return to
If only I could find them again
The perfect landmark of all
The island police station
Found quite by accident
Where the good looking and personable tour guide,
Officer Yamamito
Rescued me with good directions.

Nothing Else Matters

Nothing else matters
Rocking in the chair

Nothing else matters
My baby and me

Nothing else matters
Sitting near a breeze

Nothing else matters
Lola and Lil' Bear

Exuberance

Flying high as a kite
Up in a hot air balloon
Floating on a cloud
Soaring through the sky
Uncontained joy
Feet only just touching the ground
There are not enough words to express how I feel
Everyone said how wonderful it would be
As if it was a secret to be revealed
But I had to wait
Wait to become a grandmother
But Little Aurora didn’t
Two weeks early
The phone call
A gentle mew
What, I said, do I hear?
It’s your grandbaby
Big healthy wail
Lola, I’m here
Oh my
Shocked and speechless
I heard my grandbaby cry
My little love arrived early
A girl, a girl, it’s a girl!
Prodigal smiles
Mommy tears
Love abounds
For my newest joy in life
　
　

Destination

The journey awaits
Leaving on a jet plane
Up, up and away
Heading down that road
Detouring on the path untaken
A new mountain passage
Paddling up river with paddle
Putting one foot in front of the other
The destination matters most
Anticipation captures the heart
A brand-new experience
Great expectations
Elevated excitement
Life changes
Upon returning home
I'll be a different person
I'll be granmama

Alone

I'm standing alone at the top of the hill
I'm standing alone at the bottom of the hill
Looking up
Looking down
Moving left
Moving right
Full colors ahead
Darkness behind
When I'm up
I should be down
When I'm down
I should be up
When to zig
When to zag
It all depends on me
Awaiting sunset
Anticipating dawn
Biding my time
Wondering
Deciding
The quandary
What is right for me
Is mine alone

Book Review: Dreams of Joy by Lisa See

What happens when you find out that your mother is your aunt and your aunt is really your mother? So, your father is not your father. Joy, then, runs halfway around the world to Shanghai in 1957 in search of her real father. Lisa See, author of Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, returns to China to continue the story of Pearl and May from Shanghai Girls and Joy, Pearl’s nineteen-year-old daughter. See’s historical novel places Joy in Communist China chasing the ideals of the New Society of Red China under the dictatorial rule of Mao. Pearl chases after her daughter confronting the horrors of her home country which she had fled from twenty years earlier. Two women with two dreams travel from the crowed city of Shanghai to the remote villages of the outlying country, one in search of the love of her father and the other in search of her daughter’s love. Will a mother’s love prevail? In Dreams of Joy, as well as, her other novels, See reveals the influence of Amy Tan who, also, explores the theme of mother/ daughter relationships that is universal in all cultures.

50 Years of Life

We come to a point in life where we want to know we’ve made a difference, conquered our challenges and take stock of our accomplishments, milestones and rites of passage.

This is my list for my 50 years of life:

50 years old
1 of six kids
12 years of Catholic school education
3 daughters
2 marriages to the same man
2 divorces from said man
2 college degrees: BA in Theatre Arts, MA in Drama
8 years to complete them
1 certificate: Pharmacy Technician
100+ miles walked in walk-a-thons
$10,000+ sold in toys
12 years owning the same car
195,000 miles on that car
17 years old when I bought my first car on a loan from the bank
2 cats I live with
12 years living with multiple sclerosis
5 years living with bipolar illness
1 childhood pony named Holly
12 years old when I got my ears pierced for the first time
19 years old when I got my ears pierced for the second time
1 litter of kittens born on my doorstep on my 36^th birthday
1 litter of kittens born in the basement when I was a kid
1 litter of kittens born in a wood pile when my girls were toddlers
1 litter of kittens born in my closet one year before the doorstep litter
1 dog I named Lazy
1 cat I rolled over with the car
10 years as a drama instructor
27 years of motherhood
1 grandchild expected, next month
15 houses or apartments I have lived in
$0 in debt
2 bankruptcies
1 major surgery
3 broken arms
2 major car accidents
3 ½ weeks visit in Great Britain, England and Scotland
2 trips to Hawaii
3 trips to New York
200+ Facebook friends
13 Goodreads friends
136 books read since I started tracking them on Goodreads
58 connections on LikedIn
25 years of volunteer work from designing costumes to PTA to selling books
The blessings continue…

To add two more
1 year of blogging
50 postings

Where I’ve been and what I have done doesn’t necessarily define me now. What I know: faith, hope and love goes a long way and keeping a smile on your face every day.

Here’s to 50 more!

For Raul (War-Peace Poem)

We don’t need anymore war songs
In fact we don’t need any more war
Aristophanes wrote about it
It is older than dirt
The bible says there is time for war
But the hour glass has gone its course
We don’t need any more war
Let’s bring our boys home
It’s not just for the boys
But for the mothers and fathers too!
The girls want to do their part
They’re done
They want to come home too!
Let’s sing about it
We have
Bob, Bobby, and John
Crooned to their hearts content
Yet, they were only content when the boys came back home
Young men and women
The product of our children fighting
Fighting for world peace
They sing a song of justice
And there’s no place like home
Where Peace can be found
Far away from the battlefield
Now is a time for PEACE

Hugo's Poem

You came back to only leave again
Your daughter prayed every night
For her parents to reconcile
A little girl's wishes come true
only to be dismantled again
My wishes come true
only to be dismantled again
You came back once
Chances are you'll come back again
I keep telling myself I don't need you
I keep telling myself I'm better without you
I keep telling myself to move on
When will I forget the dreams we had,
Your smile and your laugh,
The strength I felt with you by my side
When will I forget?
I'm at a loss
Waiting for the day of your return
Waiting for you to come rescue me
From my pain
I wish you were dead
So I could properly grieve you
And know without a doubt
That you shall never return
Instead you can walk through that door
And make me long for you even more
Don't come see me
Don't be nice to me
Don't make me want you
I am sad without you
Just go away
So I can find my own way
On my own

Uninspired Writing

Uninspired writing
The mailbox
The lake
The prom date
Waiting for the right words
To appear at the tip of my pen
Words of anticipation, reminiscences, longing
Don't wait to be inspired
You'll never write
They say
So I write of yesterday and today then tomorrow
To capture life's mysteries
From moment to moment
Stories often allude me
Poems escape me
Words magically come to mind at night
Only to dissipate in the morning
Wishing for more inspiration
I continue to write
Finally it grabs me
And I scribble this poem

The Journey

I'll get there
Moving to the sunset
Chasing a rainbow
Finding the helicopter that just landed
Speeding down the long lonely highway
Focusing on that ever important degree
Eating my way through a scrumptious buffet
Flying high in the sky aboard an airplane
The thrill of it all
The direction keeps changing
That's what makes it fun
Searching for new destinations
Making friends along the way
The toasts
The laughter
The stories
Of quandaries, mistakes and successes
Of what's new in this world
I'll keep looking forward
To many possibilities
Enjoying the landscape
Along the way
I'll get there

What Is Comfort?

Comfort Inn
Comfort Zone
Comfort Food
Words of Comfort
even
Southern Comfort
Being comfortable in life is essential
Like a pair of jeans that fit just right
Eating childhood foods
Peanut butter and jelly
Macaroni and cheese
Chocolate milk
What's more
Sipping a cup of soothing tea
Sleeping on that heavenly mattress
Sitting in the sun in your favorite chair
Or sitting in the back booth at the diner
Ordering the same food every time

What brings the most comfort in life
Is a friend like you
Your hand in mine

Shifting Light

If you always do
What you've always done
Then you always get
What you've always got
Change is possible
When going down the road
A U-turn is permitted
It may feel like
Going against the tide
Moving in a new direction
Take notice of what you missed
Look for new opportunities
Don't be afraid
You'll land safely
Trusting in yourself
Change is possible
Don't hold back
You'll find peace
In the shifting light

The Secret

Its a secret
Its not a secret anymore
I'm going to be a grandmother!
WOW!
Life growing inside the womb
A baby
It is the first baby in a long time
The first grandchild
The first great grandchild
The first great great grandchild
I wonder if it is a boy or a girl
I hope it is a boy
I think it is a girl
Either way I get what I want
What I hoped for
Or what I thought

My precious daughter
My first born
Now will be a mother too!
I, a grandmother
It is real
I pray for the new life
So much to look forward to
It is a breath of fresh air
My family welcoming a newborn
I feel proud
I can't wait to hold the baby
In my arms and tell
My precious grandchild
I Love You

A Penny In My Pocket

A penny
A penny
What's a penny?
An insignificant coin?
I count it
As good fortune
When I find a penny
On the ground
One
Two
Three
I have three pennies
In my pocket
I feel good
I feel blessed
I feel confident
When I put my hand
In my pocket
And feel the coins
Rub against each other
I know that
I am worth
So much more

Hank’s Dying Story

Why Hank? Why Me?
Why did I have to be there?
The hospital
All I heard was Oakland Kaiser
He’s at Oakland Kaiser
He was not doing well
I told my daughter
She cried
“Not Hank, Not Hank.”
“I need to see him.”
I don’t know where he is.
So, I had to find him
Find him I did.
Room 623
In the worst shape possible
Did he know it was me?
Half of the time
But he knew two Leticias
He was trying to figure out which one
Many words
Some I understood
A repeated story
I already had heard
Held his hand
He was hanging on for dear life
Dear it was
He was fading fast
The small black box
Where is it?
Small black box
Second request
Nothing I could see
Minutes later
Under his arm
The button to push for relief of the agonizing pain
It was agonizing for me too
Oh, the black box
Gray and round
I felt responsible for his pain
Held his hand
Smoothed his hair
No brush
“I’m not doing it for the man.”
Sang songs
Insty spider
Sang last three word with me
You don’t have to be tough as nails, No
Tough as nails
Tough as nails
It is okay to let go
His last words to me
Two days before he died
Thank you
Insty Spider
Up the spout again

Crunching Leaves

Stomp, Stomp, Stomp,
Crunch, Crunch, Crunch,
A favorite pastime from childhood
Crunching leaves
While we were walking home
My siblings and I
On a tree lined street
We would race to catch the next leaf
Even now, years later
The satisfaction is still the same
Crunching leaves
With every stomp I feel a release
Of energy and emotion
Like the popping bubble-wrap
Awwh, music to my ears
I feel like a kid again

A Lifetime of Memories

I don't remember life as it should be
What I do remember
My memory has become my own version of events
What I believe to be true
When I check the facts
Of family stories
They often differ
Than what my memory holds
I paint my own reality and
I am glad for my own happy outcomes
There are the dark memories
Which I am happy to forget
To let go of the pain and frustration
With the lost memory
This is prevalent in childbirth
That moment the baby cries
All is forgotten of the labor
I feel honored to have lived
Through this happy event three times
More happy memories to grow on
With an entire lifetime to remember or forget
I write to remember

More Thoughts on Memory

I enjoy rereading books because
I don't recall names and plots
Or who lives or dies
Episodes on TV are the like
I love the selective memory
Because each story has something
New to provide
A surprise or unexpected turn of events
Or a tender moment

The Yellow Sweater

The yellow sweater
Worn with black
Must look like a bumble bee
Mom says I can wear yellow
It makes me feel good
Even when I'm not feeling it
I like the attention
I get when I wear
My now favorite sweater
Compliments around
From friends and fellows
The yellow sweater

The Camel and Cat Story

Mom and Mandy are on the telephone with a three hour time difference. Mandy is 25 years old.
I’m glad I got you on the phone. Sorry I missed your call. It’s late. Mom starts off.
I had just got home from work and I was tired. Mandy responds.
You must be in bed already. Do you want a bedtime story?
Yeh
The camel went into town to visit his camel friend. The End.
Mmmmmh
Both camels had two humps in case you wanted to know.
Good.
Do you work to….Oh my gosh? Mijo is banging at the door. The sliding glass door. What’s he doing? There’s a big black cat out there. How did he get on the second floor balcony?
He’s a cat. He does that.
He’s the bad cat who get all the females pregnant.
Bastard!
Mandy!
Just saying.

I had just moved to the apartment complex and the downstairs neighbor had told me about this roaming male. I really wasn’t surprised when I saw his gold green eye like beams staring in the window. I was just confused as to how he ended up on the second floor balcony or how he knew there was another cat to spy on. I was proud of my Mijo with his beautiful gray coast with his Russian blue striping on his tail. The mean bad black cat was a disgrace to the neighborhood. Someone should get him fixed.

Mom, mom, you still there?
Okay fine. I turned the light on. He went away. Where were we?
Camels.
Camels, right.
What color were they?
Black.

Facebook Poem, April 25, 2012

Today's inspiration
Twisted humor
Shits and giggles
Will make you smile
Let's tell this one to your boss
On the other hand
I'll say it again
And the voices, oh my...
Are they a curse or a gift?
So uplifting I swear
So...there's that
So...you think you're funny
So much fun
It's gonna be a fun time!
Lol...Too funny!
On the other hand
Something went right
That's right
To prove a point
Powerful words
Don't miss it
WOW!

Today's Limerick

Sandy's Limerick

There is a business woman named Sandy
Who liked to dress in style and trendy
She got a new hat and a coat
For a ride on a boat
Good idea for the day was rainy and windy

Hit Or Miss

I am aiming for you
The target keeps moving
Then it is out of sight
I look for the sincerity in your eyes
The generous smile
The infectious laughter
The gentle touch on my arm
The engulfing hug
The peck on my cheek
I am waiting here for you
To brighten my day
Again, I sit here alone
Not a hit, but a miss

Something About Nothing

I am always writing about this thing or that thing
Having things settled
Something happened
Write something
Something he would do
Get things done
Going through everything
Worry about nothing
Pray about everything
Everything takes so much energy
Something to do
But nothing yet
Words from my journal
They say it all

Perfectionism

I am not a perfectionist
At least I don't think I am
I joke I am a recovering perfectionist
I'm a club of one
Ha ha, that is supposed to be funny
I know I want to be the perfect
Mother, daughter, student, friend
I always wonder if I meet my own standards
I worry how others see me
I worry about my own failings
All this to be perfect
I, also, joke that when I'm perfect
I will be six feet under
I think I stress out in my aim to be perfect
I don't think it shows
But my daughters tell me it does
I need to relax and as a song once said
"Roll with it baby."
As I say, "Don't forget to breathe."
(Big sigh)

Facebook Poem, December 8, 2010

Every get the feeling
You have to remember
Gifts are all conceptualized
Ohh, that makes more sense
All spending is now restricted
My beautiful baby girl
Try to sleep, try try baby
Imagine
Imagine that
As long as we listen and believe
It’s hell I tell you
PEACE, beauty, strength, courage, grace
Lots of blog jabber
I’m hoping this will make you laugh
Wocka Wocka
Woot Woot
Squee
Ha Ha Ha
Study Study Study
Go Go Go
Bejeweled Blitz 3
I’m starting to think I have an FB ghost
Stay tuned for more…..

This Land is Your Land

This land is your land
This land is my land.
A song from the sixties we sang in grammar school.
The teacher played it on guitar.
We even changed the words to sing about the school's boundaries making it more personal.
Years later, I learned that it was a popular folk song.
I was too young in the sixties, I'm a late baby boomer, to appreciate the folk guitar music scene.
We had a folk guitar mass at church which I sang in the choir for a short while.
I just remember a guy with big hair and groovy clothes leading the group.
I didn't know we were singing songs that were played at Woodstock.

Jessica's Poem

Words can’t say enough
Flowers say it more
Fresh cut roses
Vibrant, life giving
To be appreciated
At the height of their beauty
Though the potted plant
Brings ever growing life
With each new bloom
Joyous in color
Orange, magenta, pinks
Green foliage
Roots to plant
Not just stagnant
But grounded
Gives, yields to the
Mature bush
Decked out in its fiery blooms
The wind catches its gentle petals
Captured in the breeze
Swirling like a mini tornado
Colors upon themselves
Moving across the stone brick plaza
Twirling, spinning
Then settle back down
A dance of grace
A gust of wind comes again
O take flight gentle blooms

The Box and the Egg

Sometimes I think the world is unfair when you don't fit in it's box. It has gotten so that thinking outside the box is really inside the box thinking. I've always felt that I was more like a hard boiled egg than silly putty which can be molded to fit the other person's needs and not my own. Hard boiled means that I am sure of myself and can't be easily broken.

Does It Count

Does it count the sky is blue,
Does it count the grass is green,
Does it count the ocean is deep,
Does it count the sun is bright,
Does it count stop signs are red and yield is yellow,
Does it count flowers are a springtime's blessing,
Does it count chocolate candy is sweet and sugary,
Does it count the heart is a muscle?
What counts is your smile when you look at me.

Morning Mantra

Today I will start anew
Like every morning
I have a new day
To accomplish what I can
To accept my limitations
And still rise above it
Sometimes I feel bogged down
With no where to go
I have to remind myself to
Continually move forward
A small step is movement
Staying hopeful and positive
Goes a long way
Remember the words
I admire your tenacity
I like your attitude

My Voice

My Voice
I have been hiding
It is crying to be heard
Pained
Sorrow
Grief
And yet there’s still Joy.
My voice
I want it to be heard
I want to be respected
I want to be understood
I want to make a difference.
I can’t make a difference
If all I do is manipulate
Other people’s words.
What I have to say is important
I don’t want to be invisible anymore.
My voice
My thoughts
My opinions
I want to be heard
What I say matters
Don’t keep stepping on my toes
Don’t keep shutting me out
Don’t keep telling me lies.
Your voice counts too
If only you were honest with yourself
Your voice and my voice
Are loud angry silent
We just can’t hear each other
I don’t understand why?
It could be different
But you don’t want to try
All you do is stifle
What I have to say
Misconstrue my words
Mock my opinions
And say they are unimportant
But your indifference is volatile
(flames, vengeance, hot, back up, get away, it is just survival now)
And I only lose my voice
And you in the same.
My voice doesn’t matter because
It can’t be distinguished through the flames
The heat has cooled
Comfort swells
Through the pain
Once again I am
My own.
I too can feel again
I can almost speak
Again
Will any one care?
I need to raise my voice
To find out
I regain my breath
I am standing up tall
My voice is amazing
Heard from the mountain tops
And still I don’t fall.
Ringing across the plains
The Empire State Building is my trophy
And still I don’t fall.

Dandelion

My children loved Lisa Atkinson’s Tickle the Fish album. We first had it as a cassette tape and then later bought it as a CD. My girls have long since grown up and they still enjoy listening to the CD. I, recently, had to retrieve it from them. I would listen to Tickle the Fish many times over when I was feeling defeated by life. Lisa’s uplifting songs brought me back from many a dreary day. One song in particular, “Dandelion”, I would listen to over and over again. “They’re as special as you and me.” Lisa had the ability to look at life through a child’s eyes simplifying it and making it still worth living.
So on this fateful day, early in the morning, I noticed a dandelion on the lawn. I rejoiced, feeling it was just for me. Later in the day, the seeds had blown away. “Awwh,” I thought, “They’re gone already.” But really the seeds went off to grow and multiply. That evening, I found out from a friend that Lisa had died earlier in the year. It was like the dandelion told me. Like the dandelion seeds spreading everywhere, Lisa spread joy through her singing which grew and multiplied.
Sometime later, amid yet another crisis, I was walking around my neighborhood in the middle of the night trying to sort things out. When I finally returned home, there on the corner of the grass was a single dandelion. As I cried, I looked up to the sky and said, “Thank you Lisa,” I now could go back inside for some much needed sleep.
The next morning the dandelion was still there standing strong. My problems weren’t solved, but with the affirmation of the strength of the dandelion, I knew I could be strong and carry on and embrace life as it should be full of dandelions….“They’re as special as you and me.”

The Art of Being Positive

I think I lost my happy attitude
I used to be such a positive person
Don’t worry, be happy
Isn’t what it is cut out to be
What they say is to surround yourself
Around positive people
So what if the people bringing you down
Are your family?
I think I lost my happy attitude
Oh where, oh where can it be?
Trying to think positive
I think I can, I think I can
Look always on the bright side of things
It’s a happy day
Well, I’m working on it
Happy to be standing on my two feet
Sound positive like a Kaiser commercial
Live, Thrive
Still trying to think positive
My mind is drawing a blank
It’s a happy day, again
Sonrisa en Espanol
Smile, you’re on Candid Camera
I’m sure it will work out
Every problem has a silver lining
When one door closes, a window opens
Something good comes about when bad things happen
Remember the great positive thinkers
Norman Vincent Peale and Pollyanna
I think I’ve found what I’m looking for
Like McDonald’s, “I’m loving it!”

Legacy

I don’t want to leave anything behind when I leave
Leave the earth, leave this world
There are many things I never captured along the way
Those I can’t leave behind
I only wish to leave memories of the love
I gave to my children, my grandchildren yet to be
I feel for my daughters having to sort through
My precious things
Who wants what
Or nothing al all
They’ll find my journals of what I was
Alone in my writing
To be read
Or just tossed away
Words left meaningless on paper
They only mattered to me as I wrote them
As a rule I never re-read my journals
They are private moments that at times
Sprung stories, poems and plays
Many words were of loss and frustration
Did I capture my happiness? My gratitude?
Though I write to remember later
Where I was when I was what I wrote
I never go back to find out why
I only move forward to each new day
Every new beginning not to a journey’s end

Song- The Shopping Cart Blues

Oh woah, oh woah, the poor ole shopping cart
Oh woah, oh woah, the lonely shopping cart
There’s one, there’s one
There is another
There’s one, there’s one
There is another
Red, green, yellow, white
How do you keep them out of site?
Oh woah, oh woah, the poor ole shopping cart
Oh woah, oh woah, the lonely shopping cart
Always to be found
The landscape changes when there’re around
Oh woah, oh woah, the poor ole shopping cart
Oh woah, oh woah, the lonely shopping cart
Why do I care?
They are every where to be seen
What makes me a shopping cart?
I always knew it from the start.
I am lost and lonely just like them
Abandoned and no place to belong
Discarded from my homing place
Oh woah, oh woah, the poor ole shopping cart
Oh woah, oh woah, the lonely shopping cart

Monday's Limerick

Vanessa's Limerick

There was a fine girl named Vanessa
Who went to the black and white ball with Contessa
Everyone got up to dance
They started to prance
And she ripped a big hole in her dressa

Famous Drinks, Chatter #423

Have you ever noticed there are drinks named after famous people? The ones I’m most familiar with are the Roy Rogers with coca cola, grenadine syrup and a cherry, the Shirley Temple with seven-up, grenadine syrup and, also, with a cherry, and the Arnold Palmer with tea and lemonade. The Arnold Palmer used to be called the half and half. Around the golf clubs, it became known as the Arnold Palmer because he drank it all the time and the name stuck. One day at a self-service drink bar I mixed lemonade with ice tea. I liked it, so I started ordering it at restaurants. One day the waiter said, “An Arnold Palmer.” I said, “A what?” He said, “They call it an Arnold Palmer.” So I’ve been ordering it since and the waiters know what I’m talking about.
When I was married my husband didn’t drink the Arnold Palmer and neither did I. When joining him for lunch years after we were divorced, I discovered we were both drinking Arnold Palmers. I thought it was curious that now we both liked the same drink.
It is interesting that Roy Rogers and Shirley Temple didn’t care for the drinks named after them. I liked seven-up better than coca cola, so when I was a kid, I enjoyed ordering Shirley Temple’s because they were so sweet and they made me feel grown up drinking a mixed drink The cherry added to the all grown up feeling. Funny that the drink that made me feel grown up was named after a child actress.

My Sunday Morning Poem

Always looking
Always watching
Nothing escapes me
See the dog hanging out
Look there’s more
Looks like people talking to themselves
Or talking to their laptops
A baby strolling in a carriage
A loving warm embrace
Including a dog in a friendly hello
Hear foul mouth talk
And the grumbling motorcycle
Shuffling feet break my concentration
Cars passing sound like the surf
With its ebbs and flows
A whiff of coffee awakens my nose
The air feels crisp and fresh
The sun filtered in through a haze
Lots of people come and go
I like the constant movement
All this on a lazy Sunday morning
It brings soothing comfort
A huge sigh like I had been holding my breath

The Cell Phone

My cell phone “fell off the cabbage truck.” At least that is what my mother used to say when something just showed up. Where? We never knew. It just showed up. I actually believed her. I could visualize the truck rumbling down the highway and something falling. This time an iPhone for me.
I feel kind of embarrassed that I have a smart phone either way on the spectrum.
For my friends who still have a flip phone, I am embarrassed that I have a much more expensive phone. I apologize and say it was given to me by my daughter. Where she got it, I wasn’t sure why or how? Thus, it fell off the cabbage truck. I was embarrassed that it made me look richer than them “It is really nothing,” I would explain away my good fortune.
For my other friends who have the latest version of the android, blackberry or iPhone, I am embarrassed because mine is so slow and doesn’t have the newest features. Again it fell off the cabbage truck. So you take what you can get. I worry that they’ll think less of me because I’m not on the tech fast track.
Why am I so concerned with “keeping up with the Jones?” I don’t know.
That was something else my mom used to say.

How Do You Slip on a Banana Peel Gracefully?

Have you ever slipped on a banana peel and fallen on your ass, said a minimum of three cuss words, and, perhaps, even broken a tailbone? Have you seen someone else slip on a banana peel and laughed your ass off until you realized they were hurt? Don’t worry. You are not an asshole for laughing. It is human instinct to react so thoughtlessly. I had to learn this in graduate school. Well, falling is funny. Have you ever seen Charlie Chaplin slip on a banana peel? My business card says, “I fall down for a living.” There is no joke about it. My most dramatic falls have been on stage or in a theater which has netted me a broken arm, a blown out knee, and, yes, a broken funny bone. The first time I shared my MS story on stage, I purposely tripped and dropped my walking stick. This stuff really happens to me and I wanted to show on stage what has become routine in my life. Well, my open mic friends didn’t know I had MS and were overly sympathetic. I started laughing. “It is all part of the shtick. Haven’t you seen Steve Martin fall?” I thought they were going to hit me. I am sure they felt manipulated. They have since forgiven me and let me back up on stage.
My favorite true falling joke: What goes bumpity, bump, shit? Mother falling down the stairs. When I told Jon, he laughed his ass off. Thanks Jon!
So how do you fall gracefully? You don't. The recovery is what is important. How quick can you get back up and save face? Sandra Bullock shows this well in the movie Miss Congeniality. “Okay, I’m up.” Sometimes, it is not so quick. Often, a bruised ego hurts more than the broken bone. When I fell in the theater, the students laughed. I am glad it was dark, so they couldn’t see my red face. That was the problem. Note to self: Don’t walk around in a dark theater. You never know what goes bump in the night. ME!
The ego can take longer to heal than the bone. OUCH! This is a new acronym I heard. LMF- Love My Faults. Learning to love oneself is a life long lesson. I had to learn how to forgive myself for my vulnerabilities, physically and emotionally and be gentle with myself. I had to learn how to trust again that the ground would rise up to meet me when I take that next step. My wish for you: The next time you put a smile on someone else’s face will be because you smiled first. By the way, I have forgiven Jon for LHAO and let him buy me a margarita. Salud!
More chatter…
I still walk around in the dark. I love it and have done it since I was a kid living in a creaky house.
My other true falling down joke: How many Mexicans does it take to change the battery on a smoke detector? Two. One to climb the ladder and get electrocuted and fall off the ladder, and the other one to call 911. Glad my daughter is an EMT. In case you didn’t figure it out, I am the Mexican in the joke.
This story is dedicated to Jon who has had his share of banana peels.

Our Destination

Our destination is fixed on the perpetual motion of search
Fixed
Fixed
Fixed
Motion
Motion
Motion
Do the two go hand in hand?
Is it about stops and starts?
Is it about two roads to take?
Questions
Always questions
I write about
More knowledge
Other people’s thoughts
Other people’s words
Share them with me
I want to know more
Where does that land?
Did I meet my destination?
Or somewhere in between?
It is not a beach or a harbor
It is not a place within my head or heart
Maybe it is a place inside the two
The destination is where I am not
But I always keep moving
Where do the roots grow and take place?
Can we blossom in shallow land?
More like a butterfly going to and thro
More like a flitting bee searching every flower
The humming bird with its gentle whirl
How about a stone set in sand?
It withstands the movement of the waves
It is solid while the world swirls around it
It is fixed and motion

The Memory of a Kiss

The memory of a kiss
More perfunctory in a hello or goodbye
Expected
Without meaning
Many of those I have given away
Even the sloppy kiss on the lips from
The guy at the bar
A greeting only
No romance
Romantic is a little more fun
Near the water
Sparkling lights across the bay
In a dashing silver bullet Porsche
Yes, more fun
Higher expectations

Old Habit

So what's my old habit? I went back in time and remembered I took what wasn't mine. Everyone else did, so I thought it was okay. I was working at a drug store and decided to take a pack of cigarettes and smoke them. The pack lasted a whole month and by the time I got to the last one it was pretty stale. I then decided not to continue smoking, thus, I saved myself from picking up an old habit.

Kleinfeld's

Kleinfeld's, to Kleinfeld's we went to buy a wedding dress. To buy a wedding dress, you say? Yes, a wedding dress we bought. They were so fluffy and beaded and yards and yards of lace. It was hard to choose. At one point there were two brides wearing the same dress. Cute as a picture, but no photographs allowed. Many Kodak moments, but it is only the memories that were captured buying a wedding dress that we will hold dear.

Cockroach Chatter # 123

Cockroaches have a bad rap. They’re ugly and spread disease and just plain scary. Have you ever stepped on one and heard it crunch? Thanks to Orkin and Raid to the rescue.
What’s worse than seeing a cockroach climbing out of a coffee mug in a TV commercial? Finding one in your toilet. Early one morning my daughter texted me a picture of a cockroach in her toilet. She was disturbed. I was disturbed that she was disturbed, she woke me up.
Then there’s the food truck, even the Food Channel has a TV show about them, with the nick name “Roach Coach”, I’ve got to be super hungry to get my lunch from one.
When I visited Washington D.C. as a senior in high school, we stayed at a hostel. No frills and the bugs, cockroaches, were the entertainment. The boys would turn out the light in their room and the critters would scurry about. After a minute or two, the lights would be turned back on. Wham! The guys would throw their shoes to see who could hit a cockroach. Fun indeed. A memorable trip to D.C.
My grandmother taught me a song which she has since denied teaching me. Grandmother doesn‘t remember much anymore. (Sings) “La cuckaracha, la cuckaracha no puede caminar. Porque le falta, porque le falta, marijuana por furmar.” Translated: Without marijuana to smoke the cockroach can’t walk.

The Blue Butterfly

Your existence is tenuous You never know where you are going
Much less, where you have been
Wondering who have I been?

To the bar where they know me as Bubbles
Out to the park by the bay, Who am I?
Singing in the church choir raising my voice
In a group of friends and now I’m only part of myself
Mostly me

Comfort me Blue Butterfly
Your freedom takes you wherever the wind blows
Your radiance, your brightness
Reflects the light
Without the light you are none
So may the light shine
Illuminating your brilliance

I yearn for your freedom
Yet your freedom comforts me
You’re not something I can hold
But delight in your existence I can
Come sit on my shoulder, so I may
Feel your peace, Blue Butterfly

Yesterday's Limerick

Loren's Limerick
There was a fine gentleman named Loren
Who loved Criminal Intent with Eames and Goren
When it went off the air
He was filled with despair
A tequila he was pour'n

Today's Limerick

Andy's Limerick

The was a man named Andy
Who had a best friend named Mandy
They went to the sweet shop
Looking to buy pops
Instead they bought dark chocolate candy

What is there to say about toliet paper?

Toilet paper. What is there to say about toilet paper? Plenty.
In the course of an evening of television there are at least three brands of toilet paper advertised. But which one to buy? The commercial that makes you laugh? For me, it is always the one that is on sale.
Someone asked me once how I got through graduate school. I said, "Never run out of toilet paper." In a house full of girls that was crucial. I would go to Costco and buy a case. It worked because I earned my master's.
One funny story from my childhood. I thought I needed to use lots and lots of toilet paper in the bathroom. Well it clogged the toilet. My little sister got spanked when the toilet overflowed. Forty years later, I apologized and she was indifferent. At least I cleared my conscience for the toilet paper fiasco.

Today's Limerick

Ursula's Limerick

There was a fine woman named Ursula
Who made a tasty chicken marsala
When everyone sat down to eat
They gobbled the feast
Then sang a round acapella

Today's Limerick

Wulf's Limerick

There was a featured poet named Wulf
Who was known for his poetry and spoofs
He went crazy one day
We are sad to say
We found him out of his mind on the roof

Today's Limerick

Jessie's Limerick

There was a barkeep at the Bistro named Jessie
Who'll give a kiss and a hug to the lassies
He'll pour you a beer on tap
He's an agreeable chap
He keeps a clean bar, not messy

Today's Limerick

Jim's Limerick

There was a fit and healthy man named Jim
Who liked to exercise with a swim
To the Plunge he went by
And found it was dry
So instead he went to the gym

Something New

Something new is headed my way
I can feel it
The energy is enticing
Even though the sun doesn't shine
It is shining in my world
Something new is coming
I am ready for it
I believe I am