Thursday, July 27, 2006

Not dead yet

BigMama called me today and asked if everything was all right.

"Yeah, why?" I asked back.

"Well, I had this weird dream," add cell phone static here, "and the next thing I know we're at your funeral."

"Really? No, I'm still here."

More static...

"Can you hear me now? Can you hear me now?"

BigMama thinks that the funeral scene is a good thing. It shows I am on the edge of a rebirth, (in a size 6, if you please). That good things are coming.

So unlike when I ruined her day for mentioning I saw on CNN that some Christian sects are getting ready for the end of the world, my day was picture perfect. Good things are coming. Maybe, just maybe, I'll live to see my book published and enjoyed.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Still writing, but

All I want to do is read my book. I know that sounds stuck up and pompous, but I love rediscovering the twists and turns. I love figuring out what I can do to sharpen the plot. So that others can say, "I should have seen this coming..." but they didn't see it.

I set for myself the goal of 3 chapter summaries a day. I'm on 24 and there are 40 chapters in the book. If I do more... so be it, but I must finish this task and three a day will allow time for life and reading and tightening.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Now back to my regularly scheduled book

Dear, dear friends
dancing through my fingers.
Your lives, a molten mixture
Of wars, grief, and a love.
My pen, governs the future.

You live. Forever Yours.
Pacing old planked floors.
Questioning the existence of ghosts.
Engaged in friendships that cross lifetimes.

My heart beats for you.
Tears blur the separation of our worlds.
I breathe, your soul existence.
Close my eyes and see your faces.
Don't cry Sarah, Life is good in the small town of Stockbridge.

Friday, July 21, 2006



A fan, Electric wind
I dream of October

The dishwasher,
Rhythmic, soothing
Close the door, open a book

Bicycle tires
Their hummm accented with
sharp squeals and laughter

Kayaks slice silent waters
Within the quiet lies, teaming life and
butterfly kisses.

My child, sleeping
The nightmare dispersed.
Leaving sweet breaths of trust and love

Thursday, July 20, 2006

In the quiet of the day

In the quiet of the day, I'm reading,
Writing group is this evening.

In the quiet of the day, I'm food shopping.
Family and friends are coming.

In the quiet of the day, I'm swimming.
The soothing sound of my air bubbles
calm my every nerve.

In the quiet of the day, I'm sitting.
Listening to the quiet of the day.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006


I'm up, and I'm wondering if my internal clock, that gizmo that signals for me to wake up and then on the other end, to go to sleep, will ever mirror my bedroom clock.

Granted I have a lot on my mind. The to do list is gaining momentum with kids activities, playdates, painting at the pool (Have I mentioned that I'm painting at the pool club too?), family coming in from Colorado and Ireland, and a house that looks like a bomb has gone off, repeatedly. I'm yawning here. I have been for an hour now.

Also I am wondering how am I going to manage going to the registry, food shopping, and finishing painting the trim at the pool all in the span of three hours this coming morning. I think I spend more time juggling the to do list than actually doing the to do list.

The bright side, I've made time for writing today. Thank God for the blog. A few keystrokes and one item is off the list.

I think I'll finish the entry way now...

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Tired of Painting

I'm tired of painting, and I'm tired of writing about painting.

So, I'll write about motorcycles and how not to take down a fence.

My dear husband has a very old Triumph 650 motorcycle and when we got married I discovered I loved riding on the back of his motorcycle. Maybe it was the not so quiet hum of the engine, or the fact that my arms get to be wrapped around him and I get to sit ever so close for hours, but I loved it. And when we found ourselves without children (no we didn't lock them in t he basement) we'd go for long relaxing rides.

A few years ago the dear one started talking about me learning how to ride by myself. He started to teach me on his bike, which has an old kick start. We discovered that I didn't have enough umph to turn it over. Then he took me and the beast into the backyard.

Our backyard is about 120 feet long, so there is a bit of a space for learning. Unfortunately on my first run across the grass, the bike got away from me and I went head on into our new stockade fence, taking out a few six foot pickets and breaking a support beam.

The fence took the brunt of the accident. And even though I wanted to get back on that horse, my dear one thought it would be best if I didn't since I can't pick the bike up when it lays over.

Years pass... and I thought I was out of the motorcycle woods, until yesterday. Yesterday, we bought, for me, a used small black 250cc motorcycle. It has an electric start, and I can get it upright when it falls over.

So, things were looking up, until I realized that 99 times out of 100 I don't know my left from my right. How the hell would I sort out the clutch and the front brake or the shift from the back break? Still a bit nervous, okay VERY nervous, I would take out the fence again, I fell asleep last night picturing my left hand on the clutch and my right hand on the brake. And when I woke up this morning I had an overwhelming sense of relief. I knew from the moment I opened my eyes and looked at my left hand and said, "CLUTCH," and then looked at my right and said, "BRAKE," that all would be right in my backyard.

Friday, July 14, 2006


1. Still housing three frogs and a tadpole. Old Mr. Bullfrog is refusing to grow front limbs, and his back legs aren't anything to hop home about. August 5th is freedom day for frogs and tadpoles.

2. Ran out of primer today with half a wall left to prime. Then it's on to the ceiling and walls. Be still my heart.

3. We are continuing our ride on the correct emotional track. Thank God.

4. My piece for writing group is as half done as my primed wall.... when is the deadline????

Thursday, July 13, 2006

I've been to hell and back

Today I experienced the complete and full frontal assault of PMS in a young teen. For a while it was touch and go. I didn't know if either of us would survive the chemical madness that was laying waste to our lives.

Eventually the storm eased (I got an apology and many hugs) and though we are a bit battered and bruised we're here.

And now that it's over I have to laugh a bit. I was told in no uncertain terms that I was hated, deeply and utterly hated. And not only was I hated, but so were my other children, my husband, my parents, my siblings and all their children and in-laws, my in-laws and my aunts and uncles.

It's great being a hated mom. It's a badge. I must be doing something right.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

More on Painting

The kitchen is done.
Stairs, and vanity doors too.
Decks are resealed.
The pristine white cellar door rehung.

Moving onto the entry way.
It's all sanded and taped.
Ready for the primer
then it's Pretty in Pink.

By Saturday, Sunday, Monday...
I hope it's done.
(It's only been 10 months)
If there is a prayer left in me,
a brush in one hand, a roller in the other.

Painting begets painting
The new railings are calling.
Then there is the garage,
and the upstairs bathroom,
and the office bookshelves...

(Will I ever get back to writing?)

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Not Necessarily What Your Parents Did

I haven't been blogging much, but I've been reading my favorite book. After all it only takes a few minutes each day. Yesterday's read was quite thought provoking. Basically it said, just because your parents did it, doesn't make it the correct way. Lately, I've been think along these lines for punishments.

I love my parents and I know they love me. Still growing up the wooden spoon was always within arms reach. As a child I hated to be given the swat. But it worked. Do I punch my brother and risk the spoon or not? Good question. Usually not.

Now, as a parent I try talking with my children. But I have to tell you, after saying, Don't hit your sister, for the hundredth time I wonder if the spoon is a better way to go. I'm tempted. So far, I have resorted to saying, "Grandpa would have the spoon out by now. Is that what it's going to take? Is this what you are teaching me? That Grandpa was right all along."

Usually, the shock and horror of just saying the spoon brings the fighting to a close.

Maybe we should mention the spoon over in Iraq. Might work.