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