The Zen of Ducks

Plump, steady, funny clowns
Ripple through their circles
Shifting weight like canoes
with a tipsy Captain

South to crane a tired neck
North to hunt for brighter fish
East, then west on pine needles
A hammock for an hour.



I look to them
when I feel gone
At ducks?
When I feel gone?

They remind me how to be here.

One gray, two black, 

two white, I count
Their feathers curl against the wind
They are made of layers, too

So very much like talking

Is that your smile, Astro Duck?
Is this where you sleep at night?

I'm not here to hurt you.

They trust this moment,
Not the last
Give no credence to
a past

Inside his circle
Wonder filled

I really hope he's smiling.

Five Scenes in Driving Over a Bridge

When we first moved to Louisiana, I knew I'd have to drive across the causeway bridge.  I've read that it is the "World's Longest Bridge."  At 23.8 miles long, the entire thing is over a body of gator lovin', fish havin', snake dwellin', shark inhabitin' water, Lake Pontchartrain.  If my mom is reading this, she has officially unfollowed.  She doesn't do bridges.

That little Lego looking bridge in the distance is the causeway.  It's not so cute up close. 

The first time I drove across the bridge, the kids were with me.  Which was good because you're less prone to pass out when you have trusting passengers willing you to remain upright.

"Just bweathe, Mommy," little Abigail offers with her lollipop mouth.
"Look at that PELICAN!" suggests Grayson as if I can see anything but the narrowing of my life before me.

But fear be damned.  Before long we are hitting the metal grid of the halfway mark and heading down toward the city.  Four more trips just like this and I am a pro.

Until I don't have my cheerleaders with me.

Last Friday, I took the trip solo.  As would be the norm with me, panic set in before hitting the toll.  Radio off, windows cracked (you know, in case I need to push them down manually - I saw that on Oprah), and heart in my throat, I remind myself to "bweathe."

Not only am I able to breathe, I am also able to have an entire Round-House theater musical on that 23.8 mile bridge.  Set to various numbers on the radio.  I am the Meryl Streep of The Causeway with nobody but pelicans to see me sweat.

Scene One:  Christian singer Matthew West's Hello, My Name is..
"Hello, my name is regret.  I'm pretty sure that we've met.  
Oh Yeah, we've met alright.  And I just kept on walkin!  Ain't nobody got time for you, regret!

"Every single day of your life, I'm the whisper inside that won't let you forget."
You might be a whisper, but I'm a ROAR!!  RAWR!  R o a r.  Meow.  Aww, I miss my kitty.

"Hello, my name is defeat.  I know you recognize me.  Just when you think you can win, I'll drag you right back down again, til you've lost all belief."
Ok, yes, I do recognize you too, defeat.  And you are one sneaky little son-of-a-gun. BUT I haven't lost all belief so YOU LOSE DEFEAT.  YOU LOSE AGAIN HAHAHAHahahahah.  Ha!  Ha.  Hmmm, this song is making me hate myself.  NEXT.

Scene Two:  Country Boy Dustin Lynch's Where It's At
"It's at 2am when she's reaching over, faded T-shirt hanging off her shoulder.  Dressed up, hair down, in a ball cap."
Hey, I do wear a faded T-shirt....although it's not a sexy shoulder hang one.  Maybe I should stretch one of my old shirts out for Andy.  "Hi Honey.  Here's my shoulder.  Am I sexy with my Flashdance shirt"  HahahAHAHAhhaha.  Ha!  Ha.  I'm hungry.


Scene Three:  Rocker Lady Pat Benetar's Heartbreaker  
"You're the right kind of sinner, to release my inner fantasy, the invincible winner and you know you were born to be....
be...a what?  Born to be a what, Pat?  A writer?  A vet tech?  A teacher?  I need to know, Patty...I'd love some direction and advice.   What was I born to be?!?

"You're a heartbreaker, dream maker, love taker, don't you mess around, no no NO!"'
I love you, PB.  You're more to me than roller skating at Wheel-a-While with Bobby.  Who, incidentally, turned out to be a real jerk.  And he wasn't that cute.  I should've had higher standards.  DON'T YOU MESS AROUND WITH ME BOBBY, NO NO NO! [throws one-handed rock and roll horns to the pelicans]

Scene Four:  Soulful Sam Smith's Stay with Me 
"Oh, won't you stay with me.  Cause you're all I need.  This is ain't love, it's clear to seee...but darlin' stay with me."
Man, this guy's voice is amazing.  Even his breathing is kind of hot.   Poor guy, he doesn't need to beg with a voice like that.

"Why am I so emotional?  No, it's not a good look gain some self control.  Deep down I know this never works.  But you can lay with me so it doesn't hurt."
Who wouldn't lay with you if you sang to them?  Sweetheart, it's ok to be emotional.  But I'd recommend finding someone else.  This one night stand has already texted someone to meet her for breakfast at Waffle House.  You can do better.

"Won't you stay with me.  Cause you're all I need.  This ain't love, it's clear to see but darlin' stay with me."
Just sing, baby.  You'll find someone at the studio, at the rock climbing gym or maybe Walgreen's.  That's how it happens in the real world.  You'll be ok.  Do you like to hot yoga?   


Scene Five:  Radio Off To Enjoy Some Silence
Whoah.  End of bridge already?  That was fast.  


Where's Wendy's?

When Sad is a Rabbit Hole

Sad is a rabbit hole.

For some people who experience feelings of sadness, it casts a pall over a canvas of normal, to hover for a day or so, and then it leaves.

For others, others that seem untouchable, sadness is the canvas and there are things to be done that cast a pall of normal over it.

Things like drinking cappuccinos.  Taking a walk with a friend.  Making people laugh.  Prescription drugs.  Volunteering. Things like going to work, having conversations, and coming home to go to bed.  Normal things.  Normal things that take more energy, strength, and willpower to accomplish than they should.  Because, for them, sadness is busy, so very busy, gnawing away at every molecule of goodness and light it can consume. It feasts on their energy while draining them of theirs.  Sadness is a greedy bastard.  It's obsessed.  It can never have one.  It keeps gnawing and biting and chewing until its had more than its fair share to slog around your insides like a sticky cloud.

Some people figure out a magic formula that protects them.  Their magic formula works!  It changes their chemistry for hours, days, and if they're extremely devoted to the task of meteorology, years.  They find their recipe to stave off sadness and they are euphoric.  They win their mind back before the sticky cloud makes its way to the tippy tippy top.

But then the formula changes. The cloud is back and working its way up, inch by healthy inch.  Your normal becomes warped.  So unrecognizable.  Off kilter and scary.  Unbelievably so, it is back to square one.  Back to search for things that will cast a pall of normal over their inner landscape of that dastardly cloud.

It's a never-ending cycle for those people who fight to feel "well."  They don't choose their canvas but they sure as hell try to color it pretty every single day.  To distract themselves, to fit in, to counter-attack the storm that is always brewing.  To hide it from others who might think less of them despite their heart not to do so.  Some worry if the cloud is catching.

This type of sadness doesn't have to eat you whole.  It will die trying but one day it will die.

May all of you who find yourselves in the rabbit hole give yourself more time.  More time to create another formula that wards off your storms.  More time to understand your struggles will pay off, are paying off today, are such a gift to others fighting with their heads down.  More time to feel how much you are cherished and needed on this earth.  More time to show others that it can be done.

Your rabbit hole won't spit you out.  You have to keep climbing.

In the U.S., call 1-800-273-8255

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

A Letter to Myself

Do you want to run?  Let's hold hands and run with coyotes.

Do you want to sing?  Sing until light lifts from your skin like an easy sunrise.

Do you want to sit quietly and watch?  Then grab your blankets, watch those tiny lizards in the grass, and narrate their funny, busy pace to find each other.

Do you want to walk among the ones just like you?  Then go.  Go to where you feel them, hear them, see them.  But don't walk.  Run.  They might be leaving soon because it's getting hot and one of them forgot sunscreen.  Run toward the ones just like you because that's a start.

Then turn the other way and bump into all the rest.  Be uncomfortable and green.  Nobody cares if you're not where you think you should be.  We all have a parallel me - the one we planned on and the one who says "that's horsesh*t" to her children.   Push yourself to stand there - all there - every stretch of your 5 foot 6 inches without hunching like a scared kangaroo.  Honor your expression as much as theirs for both are valid.  This place won't last forever.  Three years has already turned into one down, two more to go.  There is rich, exciting fabric to weave yourself into where some won't notice and others won't forget.

Go and be here while you still can.

Because you still most certainly can.

Loner Intermission

It's been awfully quiet on this blog for a good reason.  We've had a really nice flow of family visits for two months with about a three day layover for me to bust out my Cleaning Freak Flag again.

I usually spend medium to large chunks of my day alone, reflecting, and, keeping a steady log of my thoughts on this wee bloggity.  The past two months, however, have been quite the opposite.  I've spent time in conversation, planning ahead, and keeping a steady log of things I forgot to do yesterday.

The last few weeks, I've come to understand how being a loner is a crutch for me.  I rely heavily on those solo times to sort through thoughts and file away important things alphabetically.  Being around people often is out of my comfort zone and leaves me feeling disorganized and forgetful.  Not sure why my brain doesn't allow categorizing itself when another person's in the room but it doesn't.  It has serious modesty issues.  It often wears baggy shirts and knows how to remove its bra through a sleeve.

While I miss the ability to collate my thoughts, the missing is overrun by feeling honored my family (First Andy's parents, his sister, now my little brother and his girlfriend) choose to spend their only vacation time here with us in Louisiana.  None of them loves to fly yet they buy airline tickets and hold their breath during takeoff. All of them have very important things going on back home.  Each of them asks what they can do to help out while they are here.  If I respond, "Nothing," they find something anyway and do it better than me. Them there are awesome housemates.

On his second night here, my sweet brother burned off every calorie in his 6 4" lanky frame playing soccer with Grayson in the back yard.  Much like Grayson, my brother is quiet so they commune through play and smiling a lot.  And when I catch him whispering sweet to skittish Sparrow in the hallway, of course my sister heart thumps an extra thump.  This little boy who I remember chasing up a slide and around tree stumps is making adult plans to visit me, 18 years his senior.  

And wait till you see my brother's girlfriend.  She is an absolute living doll, too.  Last night, I found her in our kitchen with her auburn curls piled high, springing themselves from ponytail-holder confinement.  She was stirring brownie dough while swaying softly to something acoustic on her Pandora.  If my brother doesn't propose, I'm going to ask Andy if we can adopt her.  She is art in tiny bare feet.

So while I've not had my crutch to reflect, sort, and make sense of my own brain in the last few weeks, it's pushing me to grow outward instead of inward where it's safe, warm, and filled with chai tea lattes.

Through these visits, I've known familiar warmth, surprising beauty, and love in real time with worthwhile distractions keeping me from myself.

I hardly miss me at all.

Humming

You know that extra sixth sense we all have that isn't quite sight, smell, touch, hear, or taste? It's more like a feel or sensing or...how do I put this...an overall hum?  Well, mine is always in high gear.  I can't turn it off.   I try to turn it off with wine, practicing guitar, trying out a new recipe but it's forever there, like a bass line in my bones.  Is yours like that too?


Last night, I cooked dinner early and got the kids ready for bed before I got the call my husband would be late because the hum told me to do all of that already.

I wanted to take Abby out for lunch yesterday but before we stepped foot in our favorite place, the hum let me know it was bursting with people's energy and too crowded for a girl and her mom.  It was, she screamed at me to leave as soon as we entered the din.

When I need beef broth and noodles for a recipe but I quickly change lanes last minute for a store I don't usually go in because, well, the humming guides me there.  Turns out the organic beef is on sale and it's perched conveniently on a kiosk next to the three other ingredients I would've forgotten at the other store. My body knew it was there so we went.

This sort of thing happens so often that I barely ever run into crowds, get into traffic jams, or am stuck somewhere I don't want to be.  It's not to say bad things don't happen, I just dropped a very large jar of strawberry jam on both of my feet (both of my feet?!), but the hum steers me away from negative energy if I listen.  EVERY. SINGLE. TIME I override the hum, I live to regret it.  I wind up spending time with someone I don't care to spend time with.  Or stuck at an event that doesn't resonate well.  Or worse, spending money at Michael's on a wreathing craft I will never put together.

And the hum can premeditate, too.  For example, if a friend makes an invitation for an event two weeks away, my body hums and I already feel whether that day someone will be sick, late from work, or otherwise just not a good time to go.  Can you imagine that response?  I'm sorry, Michelle, one of my kids is going to have a raging fever and my dog will puke that night.  Or something like that.  There would never be another invitation to anywhere ever again so I temper my response to fit the situation.  If my body is quiet and I don't hum at all, usually the coast is clear and I can make the event.  Some might call this a Self-Fulfilling Prophecy.  I read the book too and yet,  I still call it life.  It's been this way ever since I was a little girl.  This freaky thing has seen me through lots of could've-been-treacherous episodes and one definite near-death experience.  Forty years later?  I trust that sh*t, no question.  I listen to my body's hum automatically and it never does me wrong.

The humming happens when I meet new people, too.  It is such a good judge of character that I trust it implicitly.  I've tested it, which is to say not trusted it, and have always been disappointed, yet impressed when I get lemons.  The sixth sense allows nobody with ill intentions through.  It's like a gargoyle that way and I love it.  I'm sure it's not full-proof, and there are times I still give far too much time to someone I feel I shouldn't, but I'm working on that.  I think it's human nature to feel we can be everything to everyone.  My hum lets me know I can't so I won't.

The humming comes in handy when I'm with animals, too.  Obviously I prefer dogs but it happens no matter what species.  It just so happens, dogs vibe a lot and when I'm with them, it's easy to get caught up in their sensory lane.  It's not long before you see every movement, lip lick, side-eye, and back-leg prance that leads to a scuffle.  There is so much vibing going on at the Dog Adoption Center that I'm on sensory overload the entire time, but in a comfortable way.  It's a language I understand.  It's a language I trust.

Throngs of people are so much more confusing.  Exhausting, really.  Our natural masks, social deflections, and pride defenses make it impossible to vibe without a mask, too.  This is definitely why friends can be aplenty but soul sisters are few.  For me, a friendship bond is the same as humming well together.  When I meet someone I like, it takes me a while to discern whether the chemistry will work or it won't, because we're both wearing masks.  In the end, it's chemistry, either gelling or not.  Dogs?  No mask, all personality traits are out there.  Sometimes there is posturing or submission but those aren't false advertisements, those are rules.  Refreshing.

The only possible glitch I can see about this sixth sense being "on" all the time is that I am usually safe.  Safe is good but it is not always challenging.  I never find myself in an uncomfortable collection of people.  I've spent too many years doing that and while yes very challenging OMG was I extremely challenged,  it brought me to neuroses, not happiness.

So while I'm slightly wanting to be outside my comfort zone at times, I won't push past the brink of insanity for myself anymore.  Humming has become so second-nature that it would take some serious mental wrestling to drive through an ice storm, attend a Mardi Gras parade downtown, or book a flight to Vegas just because.  I think by this time, my body doesn't want to waste one ounce of energy in a place it doesn't belong.  I chose to put it through hat A LOT for several eras so we're solid there.   It has spent a long time thinking about these things.  Which leaves me all the time in the world to reap what it has sewn.

January Chill

January breathes her troubled chill through the clouds

and brings them down to me in feathers,

 in stars between bamboo,

while eggs hide to hold in their last hope of warmth.

I pine with them.
Blanketed in prayer
But today it's winter.

January sun sends warm prisms through my lens,

belated green and orange guardians

His voice is straight and it is calm,

letting me know the choice is gone,

We are walking away

from winter.

These Do Not Go to Eleven

Ok so maybe promising part two of Liebster the next morning was too ambitious for me. 

Here it is, a few days later, but not any less enthusiastic. 

As the rules state, I am to nominate my own 11 Liebster Award Recipients but there is fine print saying they must have fewer than 100 readers.  Let's pretend I'm not wearing my glasses and didn't see that fine print.  Let's also pretend I actually own glasses and read more than three blogs. 

Because I honestly only read three blogs, I am going to list all the blogs I thought enough of to save to my desktop over a year ago.  Unfortunately, their status as "people I am afraid of because of no rational excuse I can come up with" precludes me from actually contacting them to tell them about this award.  I know, such a loser,  I'm sorry.  Yet still, hoping two out of the eleven will play along and at the very least, you will have an arsenal of kickass bloggers to visit. 

1.) SpeckT from A Speckled Trout.  She has way more than 100 followers and a real name which is lovely but I can't bring myself to call her anything but SpeckT.  I love me some SpeckT.  Out of all my blog friends I don't really know in real life, this is the one I'm sure I will meet some day soon.  Obviously, I am not afraid of SpeckT although she could slice me and dice me in a write-off.  We are buddies and I will tell her you guys are coming over.

1b) Anna from An Inch of Gray.  You guys already know her.  She's got followers coming out of her ears but I adore her too much not to add her in here.  Go visit Anna and send her some love.  Christmas is hard for anyone who has lost a loved one.  It is especially hard when that someone is your little boy named Jack.

2.) Cristie from The Right Hand Mom.  She also has far more than 100 readers but hey, I'm breaking the rules right out of the gate.  Cris and I were roommates in college and even shared bunk beds.  I kept her awake most nights asking if she liked Butterfinger or Snickers more mixed in with why people pray.  There was this one time I almost killed her by giving her grapefruit juice when she had walking pneumonia.  Her tongue swelled and she had to go to the ER because I was sure acidic juices were the answer to a problem I didn't understand.  She didn't leave our dorm for a week.  Oh, we also shared a boyfriend!  (Not at the same time, it wasn't that kind of college.  Actually, it kind of was.)

3.)  Linda from All & Sundry (She's as famous as Dooce so not a chance I will contact her to let her know I'm nominating her for this.  Linda has an unmatched wit and a journey that never quits.  She lives where I want to live someday.  Her kids are precious and her husband's adorable too. Go see.)

4.) John from Black Hockey Jesus (Same as Linda, he has a million billion willion followers.  Sorry, I'm afraid of him, too.  This guy's veins explode words and sometimes you are left wondering where the damn bleach and sutures are to clean up after reading him.  Part folklore, part tragedy, he's always an interesting read.)

5.) Ashley from The Sullengers (Lovely Ashley.  She too has like 2k followers but don't let that stop you from becoming one.  Her story is achingly beautiful and so is her soul.  And yes, I'm afraid to bother her also.)

6.) Fluffy Bunnies.  I have no idea who this lady is but man can she take some pictures.  Her style is very artistic and you feel like you are soaring inside a cloud with a magnifying glass when you finish reading her posts.  That is a weird way to say she brings you right into her world with such intriguing detail you feel like you're getting away with something.

7.) Momastery.  Dear Lord go read Glennon if you have not done so already.  She is a feeler, thinker, lover, do-er, healer of all things hurting.  I don't know her but I can claim to have met her in the bathroom at one of her talks in Virginia, before she was famous.  She had stage fright and we hugged it out right next to the mouthwash.  I've never felt so importantly invisible in all my days.  Next to motherhood, that is.

8.) Are we done yet?  I'm running out of apps.  How about AccuWeather?  You guys like her? 

9) The Big Piece of Cake.  Kate is awesome.  She is a busy lady who is now making her FB statuses her blog posts.  It's oddly hilarious.  Kate is well known also and I can see why.  She's a great writer with a dash of humble pie.  Also, she's gorgeous in real life with a firm handshake and a real person's connection.  Go see and bookmark her page. 

10.) Kelle from Enjoying the Small Things.  I haven't read her blog in ages but her pictures inspire me to blow the dust off my Nikon.  Her voice is down-to-earth and upbeat.  She puts a positive spin on things that might otherwise fall crooked.  I appreciate her sunbeam on a cloudy day.

11.)  YAY, I did it with only cheating once!  Kate Ingliss from Sweet & Salty.  She is a dreamy artist who oozes talent, sadness, and hope all in one.  She suffers in private but then lets us all in to pull her back up from the cellar.  She's the goods, man.  Also, she lives in Nova Scotia which is a close second for me to Oregon. 

Oh crap.  I almost forgot to ask them my own 11 questions.  Let me give that a shot before succumbing to the walk my dogs are beaming into my forehead as I type.

1.)  What's your favorite thing about yourself and why. 

2.)  Do you believe in afterlife?  If not, why not how come what for?  Also, do you feel life has a purpose or is it just randomized units of energy bumping into each other?

3.)  If you found a stray animal that was hurt, what would you do? 

4.)  Do your days bore you, enlighten you, weigh you down, or other?

5.)  If you could do anything at all without any concern about money, what would it be and why?

6.)  What is your favorite memory as a child?  Teenager?  Adult?

7.)  What is your internal dialogue saying?  Do you speak kindness to yourself throughout the day?  How does doing this or not doing this impact your actions?

8.) Where would you rather be right now and why?

9.) Describe your perfect afternoon.

10.) Are you doing what your 15 yo self wanted you to do?  If not, what is stopping you?

11.) What kind of people make you happy/inspire you/intrigue you?


Thank you for not giving up on us here at OSMA.  The last couple of weeks have kicked our butts.  Our entire household has gone through every known illness known in Louisiana with two migraines (one Grayson's, the other mine) thrown in for good measure.  We are starting to feel human again just in time for the stress of Christmas.  Although this year, hopefully we can keep that to a minimum since we aren't going anywhere.

What are your plans for the holidays?  I will be hoping for stress free minds for you all, too. 

Here are a few pictures Abby took to decompress.  I love a five year old's perspective and how everything is so relaxed in her presence: 

 

 

 

 

You Say Liebster, I Say Lobster

While I was down and excessively out with some vindictive ex-boyfriend-like stomach bug that refused to leave without a restraining order and a trip to the ER, something awesome happened.  No, not snow.  Oh how I wish it were snow.  We are in the land of the snowflake-less.  Although Louisiana is quite chilly here (in the 30s this morning), we don't get our hopes up that we will spend any time making snow forts and/or have ice ball wars.  We also left all of our cold weather things in boxes up in the attic.  I refuse to go up and rummage through by myself.  Attics freak me out.  There could be cohabitants up there I don't want to know about.  Mice, lizards, squatters.  I see the light on up there sometimes and just leave it on.  Even squatters should be able to see their way to the (our - eek!) bathroom at night.   

What happened to me while I was in the throes of tea brewing and broth sipping is an award!  Not just me but lots of us bloggers won an award...it's called The Liebster!  Which is only one vowel away from another really cool thing I imagine happens in Maine involving toasted rolls and too much mayo.  Mmmm, I bet Maine has snow.  

SO The Liebster is an award given to you to by your fellow blogging soul mates because they like you.  And because they want to recognize their fellow writers for posting anything at all between hurling and helping with homework.  Bloggers are compassionate lovies that way. 

I am honored.  Mostly because my blog friend Andrea, a gifted writer at About 100%, gave it to me.  This woman has me giggling in one post about Labor Day and aching in my heart about her grandfather in another.  I actually went to text her about something funny the other day because I get confused and think we are friends in real life.  Maybe one day we will be but then I'd have to let her know I sound like a thirteen year old over the phone.  It's true.  In person I never get carded.  Over the phone everyone asks to speak to my mom.  I hope she won't break up with me over that.  I still love her and her half thumb.  Go click on her site, she'll explain.

 

 

The Liebster requires me to list some things, answer some things, and ask some things.  Then, I will pay it forward to my own favorites. 

Let us begin the madness: 

11 Facts About Me

1.) I don't use hair conditioner anymore.  This might not be a big deal for normal people but it is HUGE for me.  I've used conditioner for 35 years and have been on a quest (a QUEST people) for healthy hair for most of those 35.  Finally I find Lousiana's answer to Jose Eber and he tells me I need to stop using conditioner, by God I stop using hair conditioner.  So now I use this leave-in detangling mousse product made of milk called "Milkshake" which smells like McDonald's vanilla single scoop and I'm pretty sure that's what gave me ecoli for the last 2.5 weeks.  I'm a slow learner. 

2.) I love dogs more than people.  I can empathize with animals more than I can empathize with people.  I am probably a descendent of stringy-haired Airedales and beat canine blood through quasi-human veins.  I am totally fine with all of this although it probably won't get me into heaven.  I'm sad about that but can't immediately vibe with love for fellow humans the way I can with fellow dogs.  They're just easier to be around.  Overall pure hearted.  Amazing snuggle bunnies.  Nobody talks much.  Forever warm.  Everyone of them likes to play.  (Andrea, keep reading, don't give up me just yet.)

3.) Every day I wake up and am shocked not to be 18 anymore.  For some reason I always think I'm 18 when I wake up.  Imagine my surprise when my children come running in with their complicated breakfast requests and am forced to heave my very much not 18 year old bodice out of bed for other people.  Shocking, every time.

4.) I can never see how I truly feel about something until I'm alone.  A friend I run into at the carpool line asks, "Hey, grab a coffee?" and I just don't know while she's standing there.  I have to make up a reason to go back to my car, sit there a minute, and find out if I really DO want to have coffee or if I'm just afraid to say no.  Chances are, I want to have coffee. 

5.) I volunteer a few hours a week at a local dog adoption center and have not taken one dog home with me yet.  Maybe e-coli hitched a ride on my jeans but I'm kind of still going with milk mousse.  So. Dumb.

6.) The longer my marriage goes on, the more I feel like it's a "We vs.Them" happening here.  We being me and my husband.  Them being the children folk.  This is new for me.  I once was a big loner in our marriage.  It was years before people even knew I wasn't an only parent.  It was all, "When I put them to bed at night.  When I take them out to breakfast."  Now, it's both of us - I bring him into the equation out loud.  Probably just nature's way of making sure I don't disintegrate into crazy dog lady as the kids move on without me.  

7.)  I held my grandma's hand as she passed away.  And sang to her.  I couldn't leave her.  My step-dad was with us.  He couldn't leave me.

8.) I don't have one best friend.  They're all so uniquely precious to me, I can't pick only one.  I also don't keep very many close friends.  Small talk makes me nauseous. 

9.) I find it difficult trusting people who keep themselves busy every single second.  What are they running from?  What happens when they stay still?  Is it that awful to be you?

10.) I never wanted to be a mom.  One time in 10th grade History, a clairvoyant friend went around telling everyone her prediction of what the rest of us would be when they grew up.  My friend Karen, she said would be a lawyer.  (She is.)  My friend Doug would be a mechanic.  (He is.)  My friend Matt would work with kids.  (He's a teacher now.)  She kept skipping over me and finally, sensing my worry, she looked right in my eyes and says, "I'm so sorry, Erin.  I can only envision you as a mom."  I was crushed.  Look at me now.  Wonder where this girl is these days.  And if she's using her powers for good.

11.)  I once dated my college professor.  After graduation.  It was a fairy tale romance until I realized we were 30 years apart and lookit there, I wanted kids!

Ok, now for Andrea's questions.  She asks some toughies (and perhaps even one I needed to Google the meaning of, oy vei.)

1.) What embarrasses you?  

Singing in front of people.  Which was a problem when I tried to do that for a living for a while.

2.) How much do you swear around your kids, if you have kids?  If you don't have kids, how much do you swear in general?  

 Let's just have Abby's often and regular use of swearing speak to this question.  Things got really bad when Andy was deployed.  I was four word slinging with the best of 'em.  When Andy returned and I found Abby in his football hold at REI, I knew I let things go too far.  She had cursed him out asking for her "effing mommy."  Or the time Grayson told Pop to watch out for "those damnbees" on our deck.  I am really trying hard to clean up my act in general.  If I slip up, Abby tells me it hurts God's feelings to talk like that and I shrink down to the shrew size that I am to ask forgiveness.  It's effing hard.

3.) Do you speak a foreign language?  Why or why not?

Je parles Francais.  Un peu.  Mais...not really at all anymore even though I was almost fluent in college after six ans.  J'oublie tout le Francais parce que Je ne practice pas!

4.) If you could live anywhere else in the world, where would it be?  It's okay if you say "right where I am now."  I won't judge you for being boring.

If I could live anywhere else in the world it would be somewhere mountainous.  Maybe Switzerland.  Maybe the Rockies.  Maybe Nepal.  Mountains thrill me and let me know there was so much going on before we humans arrived and will always be happening long after I am lilies on a gravestone.  With mountains you get gorgeous wildflowers and crazy unpredictable weather.  I love the excitement that comes from that environment and the feeling that you're on holiday because exciting things abound.

5.) Outside of your family and yourself, what is your biggest love?

Dogs.  Sorry, Andrea, I just really love them critters.  If not dogs then my biggest love is artistry whether that means writing, woodworking, painting, listening to music, making music, watching dancing (I do no dance well anymore myself), or hanging out on a rickity wooden pier during sunset, J'adore L'Art!

6.) What is one thing you are terrible at?

Only one?  Ok.  I am terrible at cooking.  I don't enjoy food related things.  Growing up, food was always just that happened while we did other things.   We ate a bowl of Cheerios while playing a board game.  We grabbed apples and peanut butter before a hike.  It was never the focal point of anything.  Other than Thanksgiving.  And that's my favorite holiday, weird.  Well, regardless, I am terrible at cooking and putting together meals that entice my family to enjoy them.  I make healthy things, just not very delicious things.

7.) Your dream job.

Oh, this is one I think about all the time.  I think my dream job would be writing from home while welding jewelry or other art out of copper and other metals while also making my own frames for my own pictures to be sold on my own blog.  You know, nothing narcissistically grandiose or anything.

8.) What is your biggest sociopolitical concern?

I'm really quite underwhelming in this department.  As a military wife, I should have so many sociopolitical concerns that keep me up at night.  Truth is, I am mostly concerned our children and our children's children won't know how to feed themselves non toxic food or won't know how to keep themselves competitive with a capitalistic market that is always so near collapse in America.  I do worry about disease and war and GMO famine but an issue that is near to my heart these days is the holocaust quietly sweeping the nation. 

The euthanization of our homeless pets who have been dumped at "Animal Care & Control Centers."  Over 30,000 healthy adoptable pets are put to sleep (which is the nicest misnomer as many places still use the grotesquely painful and inhumane heartstick or gas chamber method to killing animals - I've seen the videos and pictures and THOSE keep me up at night.  If you haven't looked, don't.  It is by far THE most disturbing image to witness.  It gives you dark sick feeling in your gut that people like you and me do this EVERY day and think it's ok.)  The state keeps quiet about how many die daily (most have numbers well over 44 animals PTS per day) along with the fact that untrained "Technicians" choose which ones and how they die.  That's right, we should all be horrified to learn some dude off the streets selects a few dogs or cats based on either their mood or the pet's (often criminally embellished) assessment/rating. 

These babies don't stand a chance once crossing into the concentration camps that call themselves shelters.  Your every day passerby has NO idea such heinous crimes take place, much less that they take place EVERY day because nobody is firing them.  It's a hard job to fill.  It's an even harder job to get fired from once you're on payroll.  I agonize over all the dogs and cats (rabbits, guinea pigs, etc.) that find themselves "saved" by Animal Control just to be housed in crowded, smelly, jail cells to be marched to their death less than a week later.  These places don't network or hold adoption events.  Some don't have the means to.  Some honestly do not have the room because people illegally breed their pets in their backyard or refuse to spend money on spaying/neutering.  These people don't pay, the animals do.  With their lives.  These domestic animals rely on humans for care.  When they are abandoned, they are stripped of the right to live a cared for life.

So there are volunteers that create websites like Urgent Part 2 - Urgent Death Row Dogs to get the word out about these adoptable souls in hopes to save their lives.  Many of these scared to death pets are saved at the 11th hour but due to red tape or just time, so many are needlessly and recklessly killed.  To think, after all this, some people still shop or pay breeders for their pets.  Please direct those family members and friends to their local kill shelter first.  They will find the greatest love of their life starting back at them from behind bars.  Rescue dogs never forget who saved them from hell.  And they rescue you right back. 

Whew, that was a long one.  Thanks for letting me rant.  I obviously feel strongly about this one.  Please spread the word to anyone you suspect might not understand.  Shelter animals are in imminent danger of losing their lives daily.  To make room for the next onslaught of animals dumped because people think they don't have a choice.  There are choices.  A silent hidden holocaust shouldn't be one of them.

9.) Where and when would you go if you could travel through time?

Easy.  I'd go back to the early 1900s when my grandfather and grandmother were babies.  Clip clopping of horse drawn buggies, long skirted women, and men with pipes dangling from their mouths.  Love to be a fly on the wall during those years.  I'd sit back and watch my grandparents grow up, move away, and fall in love.  It will be the party of a century.


10.) Are you adventuresome?

Yes.  I'm adventuresome but cautious if there's such a combination.  I love impromptu hikes but wouldn't bungee jump.  Take me on a plane to South Africa but stop off at the clinic to get our vaccines first.  Grab a bottle of water and drive somewhere we've never been for the day?  YES!  But pack some granola bars for low blood-sugar, please.  Let's go.  What are we waiting for?


11.) Creatively, what are you best at?  What are you worst at?

Ooh, hard one.  Best at.  Best at picking my way through writing.  Best at having a title before writing the book. Best at considering all sides to an argument but still having the fight.  Best at envisioning how the song could sound better before it's even finished.  Best at the making better part.  Worst at the making to the finish part.  Not the best follow-through-er.  When there's a project and I have time to devote myself to the task, it's on.  When I'm my own boss and there are zero repercussions to not finishing the project?  Maybe it'll be done by Christmas.  But probably not because there are far too many cups of tea to be had.

Ok, I'm exhausted and most likely all alone by now since you all clicked out after my tirade about homeless dogs.  I don't even know what my deal is.  We'll move on.

Thank you for reading.  I need to come up with my own questions for my own Liebster people but I'm spent.  Let's reconvene in the morning.  When the kids are at school and I'm skipping the gym for the fifth week in a row, shall we?

I've missed you so.

Dog Walking

Pond mist hits our faces
Sadie's narrow frame
remains all pomp
some circumstance;
Sparrow pulls to burst
wild and frothy like things
that never return.

I feel layers of her -
my grandmother,
in me,
in our home,
in Abby's room
to help her through
nightmares, bellyaches,
killer whales that live
in her open closet.

Her smell is here
and to have it back
is impossible but real.

We grow together
even when our skin
can't touch
It's what gives
me faith to trust
in magic.


The magic that keeps us searching.

The mystery of dogs
knowing what you mean
only through your eyes.

Dreams of people (gone?)
somewhere busier
than earth with more
important tasks at hand
than making dinner.

I watch my canine girls
wake up
Louisiana grass,
dig at
delicious mailboxes,
sniff around
risky gray anthills
with wet noses and standing ears.

They check in with each other
Then me
To show off
how many things
they've figured out.

Did I get it all, too?

Another layer for us to chew on
for a while.