An Update…I think

Is there such a word as downdate?

How about upsidedowndate?

Yeah, that’s better

Whichever it is…I have one

Here are the latest photos of my living room, dining room, kitchen…

Ready?

Look familiar?

Yup…

IMA called off on Saturday (flat tire)

IMA’s Dad wrote me on Monday (mother needed transportation)

It’s 10 am Tuesday…HESA not here yet

IMA pissed

There…that’s my upsidedowndate?

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

 

A Day For Fathers

Today is Father’s Day

I wish my husband Happy Father’s Day, proud of the men I am so thankful for, that he helped our sons become.

I wish my oldest son Happy Father’s Day, proud of the father he is to his own sons who will one day be Fathers in their own right.

I wish my brothers Happy Father’s Day, expressing my love and pride in the sons and daughters they have all helped raise into wonderful human beings.

But, they are not my Father.

They are Fathers to others.

I want my own Father.

I miss my Father.

I cry for him when no one is looking.

I long for stolen moments with him, when no one is paying attention.

I wish for one more Father’s Day with him.

I wish for one more moment with him.

One more dirt road.

One more fishing trip.

One more lesson on how to do it right the first time

“Measure twice, cut once”

I wish for one more chance to tell him I love him.

I wish for one more chance to tell him I need him.

I wish for one more chance…

to show him I am…

…his daughter.

But I’m out of chances.

My only option is to say, here and now, to the ghost of the most important man in my life…

I love you Dad and I wish you were here.

But the bittersweet of Father’s Day is tempered with the happy thoughts and wishes of birth…for my Mother.

Today she turns 77.

She’s seen a lot, been through a lot, has a lot to be proud of, and thankful for…especially proving that you are never too old to take a chance.

I am so proud of the woman she is.  Mother, Grandmother, Great Grandmother…

W O M A N

Happy Birthday Mom

The day is yours, the love is yours…

We are yours….Always

Should We Stay or Should We Go🎶🎶🎶

Okay.  So, I know it’s been a day or two since my last post😉 and I wasn’t actually planning a post today ‘cuz it’s crazy busy for us right now, but…who the hell could resist?

Not I.

You all know how much I like a good ‘saga’  😂 😭 😓

Especially about cars.  Or moving.  Or houses.  Or other Shit-N-Stuff.

Right?

So…after all the blood, sweat, and tears, we shed before, during, and after, moving into our current home, we are considering selling.

Yup…2 years, 6 months in, picking up and moving again is actually being considered.

Nutz! 😵   Looney!  😱   Coocoo for Cocoa Puffs! 🐒

Why?

Two reasons really.

The first, to be closer to my recently transplanted Mom, who is, apparently, one of those lucky people I’ve heard about when it comes to adventures in moving.  Her pack and move went smoothly.  Her house behaved when she moved in and didn’t reach out and break her leg or rain down through her light fixtures from the floor above.

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Remember my crying lights?

She has made a beautiful home for herself…and is quite content to remain where she is.  But, we are finding that even a mere 20 minute/10 mile distance, is 15 minutes too far!

{Hmmm, note to self…A Drive Too Far…Book?  Movie?  Copyright infringement?  Carry on self…}

The second, as important as the first, is because our beautiful Ms. Sadie needs a place to safely run and play in her own backyard, and we cannot give that to her.

Why?

Because we cannot fence it in 😲

Why?

Bureaucratic Bullshit 🚧

We have a gorgeous back yard…

Northfield in the fall

What…don’t believe that’s mine?

What—everrrrrrrrrrrr  👀

Forget the mountains then.

Oh for Pete’s sake…take out the barn if it bothers ya!

Okay Okay (ya picky bitches), take out the fence, the trees, the other barn, and the rolling field in the background and you’ve got my yard.

Happy?

Anyhoo….because Virginia’s disclosure laws are a  j o k e, not one of the half dozen professionals involved in buying real estate, not to mention the previous owner, felt it necessary to inform us that this lot is one of the highest impacted lots in the neighborhood, rendering our little slice of Eden…all but USELESS.

Why?

There is a 60′ (yes, that is SIXTY) gas company easement from the back of the property towards the house and runs the entire width of the tad over a 1/3 acre lot.  From our way of thinking, that should have been mentioned by SOMEONE in the 2 month buying/closing process yeah?

Yeah……….No!

Add to that 60′ another 20′ for the build line which runs from the structure towards the back of the yard, making the total depth/width of what we cannot add to, plant on, or change in a way that would impede….a whopping 80′.

EIGHTY #$#$%#$ FEET  😖 😭 😕

Even though the gas company could work with us on a fee based waiver, they won’t.

But Wait!  There’s More  (oh goody)

There are also easements from the county that cannot be waivered.

One is a 16′ drainage easement, running back to front, the entire length of the property, but it’s on the side property line, so we didn’t give that one much thought.  At the time.  Not until we had to.  And we had to when we wanted to put a storage shed out there.  On the side.  Away from the gas easement.  Ya know, close to the garage and stuff.

Ummmm….Not gonna happen  🚫

Then {and I chuckle here} there is that all too common, everybody else must have one…FLOOD DAM FAULT LINE!  OR FAULT DAM FLOOD LINE!  OR DAM FLOOD FAULT LINE!  OR SOME DAMNED LINE GOING DIAGONALLY THROUGH THE ENTIRE BACK YARD!!

You got one, right?  And you?  And you, and you?  And you over there?  Everybody?  ‘Cause I’m thinking it’s so damned prolific as to be down right common-place.  Like we all got grass so why point out the grass?  Ain’t that why I’ve never heard of this effin’ thing?  Ain’t it?

What the hell is happening?????????????  😱

The only friggin floods that I have ever heard of around here….were inside my damned house and that fault line didn’t help one daggone bit!!  (el squat-o)

Did I say this made me chuckle?

I lied  😫

Of course, we wouldn’t do it if we didn’t think we’d get a decent enough return to buy another.  The market is good right now, the rates are still low, people may be looking to get into a place before the next school year….all good things right?

So I ask you…

🎶 Should we stay or should we go 🎶

(sorry, I can’t help singing it…lol)

Oh geez…after all that, I forgot to mention why I even began this post.  While we muse over the possibility of listing (we’re about 98% there to be honest), we figured we’d do what we always do in this situation…invest more blood, sweat, and tears, not to mention 💰, into getting our imperfect 🏠 perfect so the next 👸 of the newly perfected 🏰 won’t have to lift a friggin’ finger or spend an effn’ dime!

‘Cause that’s how we role…we Hernandezeseses (Hernadezi?)

We buy, we fix, we do……..and we move.  So we can then…buy old and broken, fix to new and pretty, sell to others who don’t have to do a damned thing…just so we can buy old and broken, fix to new and pretty….blah de blah de blah!

In that vein…
We have had the fireplace that hasn’t worked since the day after we moved in, fixed.
We had the Jacuzzi tub’s leaky-ass faucets that we haven’t touched since the first time we went to use it and didn’t because it leaked, repaired.
We’re giving our wood floors a facelift so they don’t offend the next matriarch with their little Sadie scratches.
We’re resurfacing our pinkish, post-form, laminate countertops that somehow were good enough for me, but certainly will put off today’s savvy buyers looking for the trendier granite because ‘It’s so shiiiiny’.

And I’ve saved the best for last…

and the hardest for me…

the die-hard DIY’er:

Hiring someone to do what I do, and do well is tough. But time, old shoulders, bad, up close & personal, eyesight, added to my increased lack o’ patience, has dictated that this time around…we must bite the proverbial and hire a pro.

You all know me and my history with hiring professionals.

Though you know I pride myself in doing my due diligence, you also know it has gotten my leg broken, my house flooded, my toothbrush packed with the toilet brush, and my car dying at 70 MPH on Interstate 91 in New Haven.

Shall we agree that you know this Wonder Woman of Wacky Workmen?

Okay then…we’re off.

We hired a ‘Pro” to paint the interior of our 4BR, 3BA home, top to bottom, head to toe, and everything in between.  The references were stellar. The estimate reasonable. The time frame – 7 days. Perfect.

That should have been my first clue!

When. Will. I. Learn?

Nothing is perfect, nor apparently, what it seems!

I’m getting ahead of myself…let’s see.  To be pro-active, we removed all wall décor, switch plates, outlet covers, electronics, all items in/on/around furniture, packed everything in boxes, moved all furniture to middle of rooms to be covered, placed all non-necessary furnishings, boxes, small items, etc., in the garage, took up all rugs, and basically had the house ‘paint-ready’ for the start date.  Oh, and we moved into my mother’s to give them free reign to only have to cover stuff once and not worry about finishing one room at a time.  The house was theirs.  They had to do nothing but cover, patch, sand, and paint.

Two painters began on Monday the 6th.  The owner’s son who is taking over the business, and his side kick with 25 years under his belt, cut-in and first coat, guy.

Come Saturday, the 11th, one was left and the other one gone.  I fired the side-kick for lack of production and sloppy work.  His smoke breaks alone used half his hours and all of his work needed to be re-done.

He blamed the paint.  I blamed the painter.  I win.

Boom!  You’re outta here! 

I was told he would be replaced with a more professional side kick, but as of today, the 17th, there is still but one.

Mr Painter Man

Who I call IMA

IMA fix it – IMA gonna do it – IMA be here late tomorra – IMA sorry – IMA IMA IMA

By end of business today, there will have been a total of 11 painting days.

Know what’s done?  Hah…stop that laughing.  Wanna know?

Upstairs.

This is still my downstairs…11 days later

Know what else?

There are 3 walls upstairs that need to be redone.  But I told IMA to save that for dessert cause I needed his ass downstairs in the kitchen!  I’ve got a counter top being redone on MONDAY!!

I even returned the remaining 6 gallons of my accent color, a beautiful Crushed Oregano green, for IMA because he keeps blaming the paint…I changed my design for him!

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Does this color scare you?  It’s on my front door, which I painted, without trouble

 What the hell is wrong with me???  IMA STUPID!

Know what I’m doing right now?

😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 etc etc etc

Why bother going through all of this some might ask.  Especially when my house always looks good whether trendy or not.  Always up to date, clean, and comfy.  Homey!

Because Lord knows, today’s modern and discerning buyer would no doubt, walk into a home with red in the kitchen and yellow in the living room; green in the bathroom and a cloud painted blue sky ceiling in the bonus room, would run screaming into the street for the horror!

None of which I put on the walls but was perfectly fine with it until the day I decided to change it.

Boy oh Boy…we can’t expect someone else to think that way now can we?

Or so the real estate professionals tell me. After all, this is only the 6th house we will have sold, so how would I know anything about what sells and what doesn’t?

So…next week, it’ll be Mr. Painter-man who best have my kitchen done by tomorrow (or else ) and the counter-top crew.  That, should be an interesting day  😂

🎶 🎶 We Should’a Stayed and Let Him Go 🎶 🎶

 

From One Boomer to Another…yikes!

1966 – 2016

1966 : Long hair
2016:  Longing for hair

1966 : KEG
2016:  EKG

1966 : Acid rock
2016:  Acid reflux

1966 : Moving to  California  because it’s cool
2016:  Moving to  Arizona  because it’s warm

1966 : Trying to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor
2016:  Trying NOT to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor

1966 : Seeds and stems
2016:  Roughage

1966 : Hoping for a BMW
2016:  Hoping for a BM

1966 : Going to a new, hip joint
2016:  Receiving a new hip joint

1966 : Rolling Stones
2016:  Kidney Stones

1966 : Screw the system
2016:  Upgrade the system

1966 : Disco
2016:  Costco

1966 : Parents begging you to get your hair cut
2016:  Children begging you to get their heads shaved

1966 : Passing the drivers’ test
2016:  Passing the vision test

1966 : Whatever
2016 : Depends

And…just in case you weren’t feeling old enough, this will certainly change things.

Each year the staff at Beloit College in Wisconsin puts together a list to try to give the faculty a sense of the mindset of this year’s incoming freshmen.

Here’s this year’s list:

  • The people who are starting college this fall across the nation were born in 1998.
  • They are too young to remember the space shuttle blowing up.
  • Their lifetime has always included AIDS.
  • Bottle caps have always been screw off and plastic.
  • The CD was introduced 7 years before they were born.
  • They have always had an answering machine.
  • They have always had cable.
  • They cannot fathom not having a remote control.
  • Popcorn has always been cooked in the microwave.
  • They never took a swim and thought about Jaws.
  • They can’t imagine what hard contact lenses are.
  • They don’t know who Mork was or where he was from.
  • They never heard: “Where’s the Beef?”, “I’d walk a mile for a Camel”, or “de plane, Boss, de plane.”
  • They do not care who shot J. R. and have no idea who J. R. even is. Mc Donald’s never came in Styrofoam containers.
  • They don’t have a clue how to use a typewriter.

Do you feel old yet?

Last post was a week until…
This post is a week gone since…
In the blink of an eye it’s over
*
Last post I showed you where…
This post I’m showing you why…
In the click of a button it’s forever

*

1.)  Human Fun & Games

(Hover over photo or click on it for captions)

*

2.)  Nature Au Naturale

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“Will ya looky there Junior…them’s called bipeds. If’n it t’were huntin’ season, I’d show ya how to cook ’em real good in lots o’butter!”

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“Hey Ground Walker! Can’t you read?? You can’t park here! Just look at ’em Ralph…think they own the joint!’

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“STOP THAT I SAID!!!”

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“Good grief, can’t fly ANYWHERE around you bitches!”

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“Oooooh, look at that jet Pops!”

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“That ain’t no jet kids…that’s your cousin George”

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“Ma?  Where ya going Ma?”

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“Louise, get back here!”

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“No worries Pops…I’ll get her.”

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“Jeez Louise…can’t a fella visit his relatives?”

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“Hey Georgie…you can come visit me. I’m free as a bird tonight. Dinner?”

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“Whassat? Let me just clean my ears, thought you invited me to dinner.”

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“Well, alrighty then! I’ll just hop, skip, and a….

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…juuuuuuuump on over sweet thang!”

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Random man / bird fly by

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Random man caused fly away

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“I AM…’nuff said”

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“Oh he’s SUCH a show off!”

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“Hey…if I got it flaunt it right?”

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One…

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Two…

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Three…

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Dinner!”

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“Really? He’s this desperate? I’m BAIT not dinner!  The bird brain!!”

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heeheehee

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Heeeeey……..

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…that tickled ma belly!

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“I don’t get the whole beach thing Dorrie, do you?”

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“No, me either Handsome. Why hang out in all that sandy muck when you can lounge around with me surrounded by all this love stuff?”

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“Gee, I wonder if he’s noticed I’ve picked out the wedding bouquets? Oh Handsooooome? Wanna play Peek a Love-Dove?”

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“Handsome? Handsome? Hmmmm, I guess he noticed…that CHICKEN!”

*

3.)  Art…Is Where You Feel It

(click on a circle for captions)

*
Thanks for coming along…I do hope you enjoyed.

Next time it’s sand and surf, then worshiping the heavens

🙂

In the blink of an eye…

Knock Knock

we tread this earth, green and brown

finite years of life’s countdown

crawl, walk, run, and play

skip, hop, swoon, and sway

egg to fetus to baby, child

adolescence, puberty, then teenage wild

twenties, thirties, forties, more

the time clock ticks but keeps the score

we laugh and cry in joy and sorrow

always thinking there is a tomorrow

killing, dying, violence, abuse

intolerance, slander, what’s the use?

our finite time we waste with hate

malice, gossip, lies that bait

“I am right and you are wrong”

“You don’t matter, move along”

look to the right, look to the left

pick a side or better yet

just put on the blinders; through that tunnel look

where peripheral’s just a word used in books

and open wide; be sure to swallow

what’s left un-sown from minds gone fallow

what’s wrong with us??  we’re going back

to when right was white and wrong was black

to fists and rocks and shoot to kill

our ‘sticks & stones’ now break things at will

when did debate become the place

to harass, harangue, inflame the base?

so trump’s a troll and cruz a liar?

clinton and sanders fantasy cryers?

don’t prove it – just say it – it’s all the same right?

who cares for the truth when what matters is the fight

well I for one am sorry for my nation

we’ll reap what we’re sowing and I fear our creation

we live in a country where anything goes

our music and tv; our poetry and prose

clothing, vehicles, make up, and hair

tattoos and nose rings are everywhere

why is it not for our politics and life choices?

why now are fear and hate the loud voices?

not just of the people, but of those that govern

bottom up to top down, we act like a coven

of witches and bitches and wizards and dicks

if you believe it we’re all screwed, no matter the pick

I’m not naive – nothing I do will matter

I’ll be just as covered in the end with blood spatter

but for me, it’s the end of hate speech

I have my opinions and they’re not there to preach

you do what you want to or have to, for sure

but stop at MY threshold and knock on my door

if I let you in, then I’m saying I’ll listen

I may not agree, but a friend you’ll be christened

up and until or IF you decide

that I need a lesson in choosing sides

do you remember that threshold you crossed?

well head back that way…you’re outta here ol’ hoss!

 

Sea Bird Poem 1

I spy with my beady eyes something on the beach

Sea Bird Poem 2

But what I spy I cannot lie is not something to eat!

Sea Bird Poem 3

What is this crap you’ve left behind on this beach I come for dinner?

Sea Bird Poem 4

If I did that to you humans FAT you’d soon be a whole lot thinner!

Sea Bird Poem 5

Nasty things…

Sea Bird Poem 6

…you human beings

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Yeah I said that out loud

Sea Bird Poem 8

You’re selfish leeches who ruin our beaches instead of feeling proud!

Sea Bird Poem 9

Now I spy with my beady eyes something that belongs

Sea Bird Poem 10

And if in fact it’s still intact I’ll eat it all day long

Sea Bird Poem 11

And when it’s gone I’ll move along and leave my trash behind

Sea Bird Poem 12

The difference being what you are seeing is what you want to find!

Sea Bird Poem 13

So HU-MAN next time you pan my table for your treasure

Sea Bird Poem 14

Just bear in mind that trash you find brings years of joy and pleasure!

Sea Bird Poem 16

As a guest you are a pest and if you keep this up

Sea Bird Poem 17

I will fly high in the sky and aim right for your cup!

Sea Bird Poem 18

So be like me and leave the sea and beaches free of litter

Sea Bird Poem 19

For if not I’ll take my shot and trust me I’m no glitter shitter!

Schooled

Apologies to my FB friends as you’ve already seen these…but I thought my WP friends would enjoy a bit of a beach break too!


Peter Piper Patrols

Peter Piper Patrols

Peter Piper Plots

Peter Piper Plots

Peter Piper Proposes Parlay?

Peter Piper Proposes Parlay?

Peter Piper Peers Potential Pickins'

Peter Piper Peers Potential Pickins’

Peter Piper Prepares to Peck

Peter Piper Prepares to Peck

Peter Piper Pecks a Piece

Peter Piper Pecks a Piece

Peter Piper Picks the Pecked Piece

Peter Piper Picks the Pecked Piece

Peter Piper Panics

Peter Piper Panics

Peter Piper Poses

Peter Piper Poses

Peter Piper Parades

Peter Piper Parades

Peter Piper Pedals

Peter Piper Pedals

Peter Piper Pauses

Peter Piper Pauses

Peter Piper Ponders

Peter Piper Ponders

Peter Piper Proceeds

Peter Piper Proceeds

Peter Piper Pinpoints

Peter Piper Pinpoints

Peter Piper Partakes

Peter Piper Partakes

Peter Piper Pix…

Home is where you learn to walk

Walking.

Like riding a bike…once you learn how…you don’t forget.

Choose not to, sure.  But you don’t forget.

When I was a girl I used to walk everywhere.  I would stomp with purpose in my Wonder Bread bag covered shoes to school in the winters, hoping to get the bags off and stowed before the LL Bean boot-wearing kids could see them.

I’d march, like a good little soldier, the kiddie version of a 50 yard mile to church on Sunday, fiddling with the all too popular, bang-holding, enormous, white, clip-on bow my mother insisted I wear.  One that made my hair sit pregnant and waiting to pop its clip from atop my head, and in doing so, birthing my bangs back onto my forehead where they belonged!  The post clip-on years saw my 9 to 14 year old self, stomp the yard the longest 1/4 mile known to adolescents…especially on Catechism Saturdays, where God’s own wicked witch of the north ruled with an iron fist!

The better walking days were when I was old enough to sashay and glide; take my time meandering and strolling, to the place where all good things happen.  Overstreet.  Which, for those who don’t know, is our far north yank-speak for Downtown.  I could spend my fifty cent allowance buying nickle candy at the Economy Store, making sure to save the quarter I needed for the Sat’dy matinee a couple doors down at the Savoy.  And often times, I’d even have enough to stop at The Candy Kitchen for a creamie on the way home, if that’s what the gang wanted to do.

In the pre-bicycle summers, walking to the pool was the equivalent my now-self walking 5 miles on the huff and puff scale.  I’ve actually checked since then and know now it was just a hair shy of a mile…but it was the last half that was a killer.  Or so it seemed at the time. And looking back…having a bike didn’t improve that hill any…not one lick!  I don’t think I managed to stay ON the bike the whole way up but once, and only then because I rode that hill like it was a Donkey Kong trail, without the ladders!  Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.  It was easier to push it (or leave it home).  Besides, kids pushing bicycles up that hill was just the way of it…until the 10-speed arrived.  YeeHaw…what an invention.  Not that I ever had one, but boy could those kids ride that hill like it was nothing!

Our’s was a small town; a good, walking town for a kid when you come right down to it. Nestled in a little valley surrounded by the Green Mountains; a college town without acting like a college town because we didn’t really sport the kinds of places college kids like to hang.  And those we did have, the cadets managed to get thrown out of more often than not, so it was really just us town folk most of the time.

I loved walking that town, and I know it’s from walking that town that I feel so drawn to the beauty in everyday things that I often take pictures of.  Imagine walking down the street where you live, and everywhere you look, there’s a mountain, or a brook, or a river. Walk to the end of that street and you can chose to go straight over the footbridge, crossing the river towards downtown and what adventures lie there.  Or left over the tracks towards one of your schools or a shortcut to your friend’s house, the side street tree lined and leaf covered.  Or better yet, turn right and walk to where the pavement ends and the dirt begins.  Fields full of wild flowers and cows; promises of swimming holes and tire swings, and mountains as far as the eye can see.

All the time looking up.  All the time thinking…I want to live in those mountains.  I want to hear the brooks run and the smell the spring mud; feel the snow tickle as it falls on my face, and crunch under my feet for as long as I live.

I no longer live in that town.

But that town lives in me.  I take it with me everywhere, as I take all those things I fell in love with there too.

It’s the peace I reach for when I can find none where I am.

No matter where I hang my hat, my  heart remains there…in my little town.  Where walking the streets is not a profession…it’s a path to connection.  To God, to community, to nature, but most importantly, to oneself.

When I need it, I put on my boots and hit the road and remember.  I remember to keep my ears open, my eyes wide, and my mind quiet.  I remember to be thankful for some of the absolute best memories of my life…and more so, to be thankful for giving me the mountains my mind ran away to; where I’d sit under a glorious burnt orange tree while it bathed in the red-gold light of a late fall sun…for the absolute worst of my life.

The little town where I learned to walk; to never take for granted the beauty in the simple things; to accept with gratitude, the gifts it gave me every day; and learned too, the true understanding of what it is…the power…to have a place to call home.

Northfield in the fall

My town, where I learned to walk

 

(photo by Carol of Carol’s View of New England on blogspot)

Mother and Child Reunion…

You hope and pray you’ll do it well – But only God and time will tell

their first breath – that moment when

your life begins all over again

completely blind and ignorant of

what lay in store – except the love

such love not imagined – all encompassing

one day you’re you – now they’re the thing

that wakes you, feeds you, and fills your dreams

the good ones, great ones – in others you scream

you give them all you have to give

and though you know better – for them you live

the minutes to hours to days just fly

they coo and giggle and laugh and cry

the months and years show on your face

“please don’t go” – now – “give me my space”

you gently fade from their day to day

you open the door – you show the way

for them to taste and see anew

the world once filtered – made safe by you

you know it’s time – they feel it too

to let go of the strings – the both of you

and as they pushed and pulled away

your heart wished, once, for yesterday

when you helped them climb – watched them fall

saw them rise and push through it all

you’d let their lives envelope yours

you were the keeper – you kept the scores

of their battles won – challenges met

their struggles to come – those not met yet

you know it’s perspective and balance you need

to nourish the tree – not just the seed

you understand and search for the middle

the line that answers motherhood’s riddle

but the balance you missed – was in not knowing

it was your duty too  – to keep on growing

into the woman – not just the mother

you could be both – not one or t’other

you were just a girl when they came to be

but womanhood stalled for the mother, you see

the trusses you built from that balance not found

kept the woman at bay – shadow bound

so focused were you on their little lives

you forgot to sing – to keep alive

that woman in you you’d set aside

so mother shined while the woman tried

to remake the bed already laid

the woman you could be – the mother you made

in the wings she’ll stay – that much is clear

the woman’s hidden for the mother’s fear

that this bed of weeks – without a word

is that woman’s fault – their wants unheard

but it’s mother who pays this price so daunting

you’ve been weighed and measured – and found wanting

now silent tears drop to mommy’s breast

’cause good’s not enough – your best not best

your youth – a down payment – not the sum

and that number will rise for years to come

the life you gave matters not on the whole

now’s what’s important – their happiness you stole

by not staying that mother to them and to theirs

trying to figure it out – but no one cares

You’ve seen women do it – be both – not just one

that mom of the year – and – that woman so fun

but you are found wanting – and that must be the truth

for you allowed her to die – that woman of your youth

in favor of the mother you thought you should be

now the mom-ster you created shall not be free

to live the life that you once placed on hold

so that others could flourish – in happiness you molded

so – woman repent – to the shadows you go

and the mother you are must pay penance to show

that as long as you live – as long as you breathe

your life is for them – it’s what they believe

You hoped and prayed you did it well – but only God and time will tell


On this, the one year anniversary of the loss of my father, my Superman, I cannot help but reflect on the relationships I have and have had, in my life.

As humans, we embody the word dichotomy in so many ways….but the number one in my book is…we are as simple as we are complicated.

We all begin the same way…simply…we are born.  Yet the simplicity ends there and the complications begin.

Our relationships.  Simple yet complicated.

We love simply, yet that same love, complicates everything.

This post:  A simple plea for an end to the silence…and a look at the complicated life of a woman as mother and mother as woman, and where you go from here…

If you don’t know…you’re in good company, for I don’t either.

To be a mother is a lifelong commitment, of this I have no doubt.  But at what point can the woman come out from behind the curtain with the expectation that the child will see her, know her, for the woman she could be underneath the mother she is?

At what point in her life of being daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother…can a woman who mistakenly set herself aside, reasonably expect to fix that mistake of self-denial, with their blessing instead of their resentment for putting herself first?

My guess would be…not today.

At what point in a child’s life did they forget all she did…so as to remind her of what she’s not doing now?

My guess would be…today


 

So…it is time to say what I want to say and hope it’s heard and felt:

They say there is a reason

They say that time will heal

But neither time nor reason

Will change the way I feel

For no one knows the heartache

That lies behind my smiles

No one knows how many times

I’ve broken down and cried

I want to tell you something

So there won’t be any doubt

You’re so wonderful to think of

But so hard to be without

Simon says…

No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away…

(header photo credit:galleryhip.com)

More or Less is More of Less…only MoreSo

Civilization at the end of 2015

• Our Phones – Wireless
• Cooking – Fireless
• Cars – Keyless
• Food – Fatless
• Tires –Tubeless
• Dress – Sleeveless
• Youth – Jobless
• Leaders – Shameless
• Relationships – Meaningless
• Attitudes – Careless
• Babies – Fatherless
• Feelings – Heartless
• Education – Valueless
• Children – Mannerless
• Country – Godless

We are – SPEECHLESS

Government is – CLUELESS

And our Politicians are – WORTHLESS

I am scared – Shitless!

Ain’t it just – PRICELESS?

old

Mommy Dearest

I’ll go out on a limb here and say for most of us, being a parent is, quite literally, the hardest job we’ve ever had or ever will. And, at the same time, it’s the richest, most fulfilling, most rewarding contribution to our own lives and always will be.  alex

One of the most surprising aspects of parenthood’s lifelong journey is finding out that one split second is all it takes for you to come to know the best and worst of being a parent…the span of that second is the distance between loving another being so much it hurts, to wishing you’d gotten a dog instead!  True dat  :)

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But in looking at this most difficult most rewarding dichotomy, it’s not so hard to understand when you consider first, our tendency to place the highest value on that which was hardest won, and second, our amazing capacity for forgiveness (as parents at least).

But what is it that takes parents to the depths of the difficult to the heights of reward when it comes to loving our children? How do we survive the splintering of our brains in a thousand directions trying to figure them out, yet tarnishes the love in our hearts never?

I don’t question the reward; I think it’s obvious. I do, however, ponder the difficult. Is it because we love too much?  Is it that even possible?

I don’t believe so…

However, could it be that we love too much for too long?  Is that it?  Does parental love need to be doled out in stages or degrees?  Or fit into categories in order to not overload these little overlords once they come into their own?

So what (you ask) are these stages/degrees/categories you ask?

I’m a little cuss who can’t (and don’t want to) function without you so love me, love me more, love me most!

I’m a teenager so love me lots, and with patience, but for God’s sake, don’t let my friends see it!

I’m a young adult now so love me from a distance, but not too far ’cause I may need the car!

I’ve met someone and we’re going to get married.  Can ya help, can ya pay, can we have it there? (ps Mom and Dad…you’re gonna love him/her!)

I’m going to have a baby so love me, love me most, and love me now ’cause we’re going to need babysitters! (ps Mom and Dad…you’re gonna love it!)

Mom? Dad? I’ve never felt this way before…I love this kid so much my heart hurts!
(ps honey…we know!)

And so on…..

The short answer to the too much / too long question is…yes, okay, maybe, a little bit. But we parents come to this conclusion naturally I think. We instinctively know (or learn soon enough if our instincts are not as honed as they will be), which stage or category we’re dealing with or which degree of parental love to douse them with, simply by living it. Organic knowledge.  We just have to choose to go with it.

Does that stop us from loving the same soul-deep way we did when they were newborn?

No.  Perhaps it does in theirs though.  For a time.

I know that they love us the same way we do them…in the beginning.  Outside of themselves, we are their world. Their universe. Their moon and their stars, and they are ours.

Parents and kids grow up together.  That’s a given.  No matter if you’re 18 or 45 when you have your children, you have to grow up with them to be able to give and receive all that these little selves need, and later, need to share.

We may grow up more with our first.  Then again, it may just be that we grow up differently with the next one or two or three.

But…if we’ve played our hands well, we are love.  All of it.  Every stage, every degree, every category is of the love, by the love, for the love.  And they are right there with us.

Completely (in the beginning)

Mostly (in the middle)

Until (still in the middle but getting further towards the…the…well shit…not the end, but you know what I mean right?)

Until…they find out there are more people to love and to be loved by; more stars to shine the light of love on their heads and in their hearts; more room in their world for other loves.

As it has always been.  As it was with our own parents to be sure.  Just another way of experiencing the circle of life.

Consider…

Our children are loved as only a child can be loved and they in turn, love as only a child can love. The universe is secure.

As time goes on, they thrive and grow in that forever, universe-spanning, parental love and love them right back. But as they continue to grow, they s l o w l y  recognize that their world is expanding to include the many, many different kinds of love; each addition a glimmering star to their universe thus far.

But their recognition is as single-minded as their love for us was in the beginning. When they venture out from underneath the love-cloaked expanse of their parental universe, they don’t at once realize that their hearts are big enough to add new loves without setting aside old ones.

Our time will come again (usually around the time the grand-kids show up!), but as parents, it’s only natural that we do feel the initial loss of that connection when our love is no longer the moon and the stars in our child’s heart.

BUT…

Facing this fact head-on is hard, but absolutely necessary.

For our own well-being as well as theirs.

If we don’t, we run the risk of pushing them further out into the expanse by clinging too close, depending too much on their always being there, pining away for their childhood days when they aren’t there, regretting what we didn’t do, or forgetting what we did. Even romanticizing the harder times and not counting our blessings.

We all can probably think of a parent in our experience who has done, or does, this. Think back to the last time you witnessed a parent who cannot let go and re-live what you felt. It’s a very uncomfortable feeling.

I’m certainly not completely innocent of it still.  I sometimes catch myself feeling guilty for not being ‘that mother’. The one who always can, always will, never says no, never says can’t. Who wouldn’t want to be considered ‘the perfect mom’?  But that’s not perfection. It’s limiting to both your life and those of your children.

However, even knowing I am not (and never could be) that mother…(nor is their Dad ‘that guy’) it nevertheless hurts (and in the dark of night, makes me wonder if they’ll still love me enough to ask again- I know, just silly ) to know that we are the ones disappointing our children.

But we get over it because we know we are good parents who have raised good people.  We all deal with disappointments in our relationships.  We have difficult conversations followed by deafening silences.  But we’ve loved each other long enough and well enough to know what’s really important.

So there is hope. Once we’ve matured enough in our parenthood to realize this fact of life, we can recapture that sense of oneness, specialness, absolute love not felt anywhere but in your parents’ heart of hearts.  It is, after all, our hearts that need to make preparations for the day when our children learn there is a love flow-chart.  This will fluctuate during their life spans, but it will always show a solid heart-red line for us.  Mom and Dad.  Steady as she goes.  What more could we hope for?

And an added benefit to this stage of parental maturity is…we can (and hopefully do) look back at our own parents with a new appreciation for all they’ve done, all they’ve been through, and all we’ve learned from them without even knowing it.  Score!

Cheers and happy parenting (and I mean that!)

Dearest Mommy

Dedicated to my Mother and Father and to my Sons
I’m proud to be one of your stars

Is there a Q in Creation?

Hello Hello!

And Happy New Year!

It’s been almost 3 months since I last laid fingers on this spot and quite frankly, I’m stumped as to why.  It’s not as though nothing has been going on in my life; not like I couldn’t have found something to regale you with.  But I didn’t, so there it is.  What to do, what to do?

My Quandry

It’s me and not what’s going on in my life, that is the…

queller of quills that once quivered in quickness as they quilted quality quarters in the quest of her quair; chock-full of the queenly and quintessentially queer, the quacky and quaggy and quixotically quaint.

It is me and me alone who can say…

quiescence remains in this quaffer’s quaich. What’s quashing that quorum of quarrels, quibs, and quips that querimoniously queue up in the quar of my gray- matter quag; quit of its quant?

As it is also me, the once…

quartermaster, now turned querulous quester, who is lost in quassation.  A quat, a quidam, a word-quean, bereft of her quean-dom; whose quiritation quickens toward quotidian.

Quit?

Qualify?

Quantify?

Quiver?

Quash?

Quell?

No

Hence the exercise in the little used and under appreciated

Q

A little warm up to get the juices flowing.

Maybe?

Hopefully?

For if this does not work…

I’m off to the Zees

Yikes!

Is there a Z word for HELLA-NO?

[I looked it up]

Z I P

Wish me luck  :)

 

 

The Post Politic

As I await the dawn of my 20,075th day on this earth, I feel the need for reflection.  Time enough alive, I should think, to have learned a thing or two. Sorry to say, it hasn’t been all good.

However, owing to the fact that tomorrow is an election day here, and the boob-tube shows nothing but boobs…I couldn’t help but get stuck in the quagmire that is our government

Having learned that cliches are cliches, and euphemisms are euphemisms for good reason, and never more evident than when a pattern of behavior BEGS to be seen for exactly what it is, I do think it’s time for me to call it what it is and like I see it…
B U L L S H I T

And by bullshit, I mean Politics

If you’ll allow, I give you:

The top 20 cliches and euphemisms of this 20,074 ½ day old female, who believes are alive and well in today’s bloody, rotten, stinkin’, crappy, silly, non-productive, infuriating, ridiculous, embarrassing; yet ours…world of politics

The more things change, the more they stay the same – POLITICS

A house divided against itself, cannot stand – POLITICS

Actions speak louder than words – POLITICS

Those who do not learn from history, are doomed to repeat it – POLITICS

If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em – POLITICS

Money talks – POLITICS

Stupid is as stupid does – POLITICS

Birds of a feather flock together – POLITICS

Talk is cheap – POLITICS

The ends justify the means – POLITICS

There’s one born every minute – POLITICS

The truth is stranger than fiction – POLITICS

Two wrongs don’t make a right – POLITICS

Cut off your nose to spite your face – POLITICS

Feeding frenzy – POLITICS

Out of sight, out of mind – POLITICS

The blind leading the blind – POLITICS

The status quo – POLITICS

It takes one to know one – POLITICS

A good man/woman  is hard to find – POLITICS

…and trust me, I could go on


But another pattern of behavior ‘frosts my ass’ too.   And you’ll likely notice that many of the above can be applied to what is below

I think I’ll call it the Tolerance/Intolerance Side Show to the circus that is Political Correctness:

Protesting to rename highways, parks, etc., and trying to remove monuments that celebrate confederate Generals because they fought a fight you don’t agree with

Yet…organizing campaigns to rename those same said highways, parks, etc. for people that answered the call for civil rights decades after the fact. The same protesters, I might add, who themselves never cried out for the removal from written history, all who made their lives hell

Removing the Confederate flag from all state and federal facilities because some see it as a symbol of hatred, when in fact, it was a battle flag designed to differentiate it from the Union flag and therefore has historical value; nothing more

Yet, not protesting when a world renowned symbol of the United States, The Empire State Building, is used to herald the achievements or celebrate holidays of the very countries that would like nothing more than to see the United States cease to exist

Removing something as iconic as The Duke’s of Hazard from TV Land because the car had a Confederate flag on it, even though not a single word of a single episode, ever suggested bigotry or racism or intolerance

Yet, if you’re a fan of TV Land programs, have you noticed George Jefferson says the word Honky in just about every episode?


And there are some behaviors that are not so easily categorized, yet the influence of today’s PC madness is evident in the overwhelming number of those who ascribe to these beliefs relating to color:

Listening as people of color tell me that I’ll never understand, could never relate, to what it’s like to be a person of color

True.  Yet at the same time, those said same people of color, tell me they know exactly what it is to be white, because being white means only one thing; privilege

[I get it, in theory.  But I can just as easily say that I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be a bird. It’s irrelevant.  And, another truth is that, unless you’ve walked the back roads of my life…your right to this claim is false.  So let’s stick to the truth that none of us can know what it’s like to be in another man’s shoes, unless we’ve walked in them, and call it a day.]

Sanitizing our history books to shield our kids from the worst in our country’s history, including the path of our growth (that we are still on by the way)

Yet making sure we do include a focus of study that tries to maximize a culture of them vs us, with little regard for how far we’ve come, nor teachings on the strides made in the last 200 years…as though nothing has changed


The worst of it comes out in the various ways we bite each other’s ankles…and to what end?

For instance:

Demonizing the rich for having too much

Denigrating the poor for having too little and needing more

Expecting the government to give more and more

Blaming the government for sticking it’s nose in our business

Tolerance for groups that separate and segregate

Intolerance for groups that point it out

Fighting for women’s equality

Crying that chivalry is dead

Calling for change through peaceful protest for the injustices seen in all facets of the human struggle, especially those affecting minorities

Yet some especially touched by these injustices hide behind a guise of protest for change, take it as the opportunity to loot for personal gain and destroy entire neighborhoods, then scream racism when motives are questioned


Are we so intolerant or jealous of each other’s success that we have to denigrate and belittle?
Are we so comfortable in our misery, we feel we must maintain it at all costs?
Have we forgotten what it’s like to celebrate each other to the point that every gain should be looked at as a loss because it didn’t happen 200 years ago?  100 years ago?  50?  Yesterday?

When all we have to show for the 3 centuries we’ve been a country are broken teeth and bloody socks…why the hell do we even try?


Is this to be our legacy…?

Welcome to the United States

The land of equal opportunity damning

Damned if we do

And by God

Damned if we don’t


Is the only way to prove I’m not a racist to agree with everything a person of color says and thinks?

Why?  Why can I not just agree and disagree with anyone and everyone based on what I believe and be done with it!

Conversely, is the only way to be true to your heritage as a person of color to pretend success doesn’t matter lest your peers think you an Uncle Tom or some other stupid shit?

That’s ridiculous on its face and damned insulting to every person who’s ever made more of themselves than those around them!  REGARDLESS of your heritage.

Is the only way I can prove I’m a strong woman to think and act like a man?

Shit, I’d rather be a cat (I almost said dog, but cats get away with more!)


We are better than this!

We…men, women, black, white, red, yellow, brown, HUMAN…are better than this!

This began as a reflection in the wading pool that is this political swamp, but resulted in getting caught in the current of political correctness, and nearly drowning in the tidal wave of whatthefuckarewethinking!

Enough already!

Just

Enough


I end it here…I am 55 tomorrow.
I am seeing the country I love implode because of an agenda I have no interest in adopting as my own.

I am proud to be an American.
I am proud to be a Christian.
I am proud to hold the values I hold and don’t feel the need to label them one way or the other.
I am proud to be a woman.
I hold no pride in being white…I have ZERO say in that.
Nor do I maintain guilt because of it.
I am proud to champion anyone who leaves the world a better place.
I don’t see the race or religion.
I could care two-shits for the land that you hailed from as long as you take good care of the one you are living in.
I will celebrate your achievements, but none so much as your paying forward that which you can to those that cannot.

I am a member of one race – the human one – and unless you expect me to give that up – I’ll always welcome you at my table

THIS…IS WHAT I WILL ALWAYS BE

I’ve been framed!

This week, Ailsa of Where’s My Backpack fame, gave the theme FRAME for her Travel Theme Photo Challenge.

I like this theme because even interesting or good photos can be elevated to something a bit more special in how they are framed.

Let’s see if I have proven this point somewhat…

Reflections – I could have stuck to just taking photos of the stained glass windows and stone work at Canterbury Cathedral, like most people do.  But I thought seeing them in the reflecting font was so much more interesting.
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This house is interesting enough on its own to be sure, but I loved seeing it reflected in the puddle in the road. It added just enough to make it ‘more’.
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There’s more to windows than just seeing out of them too…when used as mirrors to frame something interesting…it can be quite wonderful.
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I can’t say I would always advise looking backwards as a way to move on in life, but in photography…why not?
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Man-made structures can be a fun subject matter when you find them framed this way. Makes one wonder if the architects were in cahoots with Mother Nature doesn’t it?
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And of course, in grand old cities, there always seem to be the old framed by the new, which of coure, makes for another type of frame job!
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There is nothing like catching beautiful creatures of land and air, framed in their natural environments is there?
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I especially love when I can catch the moon, in daytime or night, framed softly by something earthbound. Definitely one of my favorite framing jobs!
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To say nature is a wonder is an understatement. It’s so much more than that. Ever changing, season in a and season out, always there for any who wish to see. Whether naked or adorned by something man-made; it’s nature’s frame that is the star.
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Cheers🙂

In The Pink

A Photo a Week Challenge:  Pretty in Pink

I’ve never been a girly-girl so pink has very little space in my closet.  It’s not because I don’t like it.  I do.  But I never think of myself in pink.  My husband says I don’t look good in pink.  I disagree because I happen to think everyone looks good in pink.  It’s one of those colors that brings out life’s natural blush and who doesn’t look good in blush?

I’ve always made a point of putting my boys in pink.  Yup, I was one of those mothers.  I wasn’t keen on teaching them that blue is for boys and pink for girls.  That there are differences in the sexes sure, but color choice isn’t one of them.  And damned if they don’t look great in pink!

Still, pictures of people in pink I do not have.  Nary a one.  A shame it is too.  But one thing I do have is nature in pink.  Lots of it.  Light, medium, dark – you name it, nature’s got it.  So, while I may not be able to show you how gorgeous a couple’a handsome dudes are in pink, and because nature lovers will leave pink all over the page…how about I leave you with a little man-made Pinkishness?

Wow…I’d say London’s Museum of Natural History looks darn good in pink!

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One Word Photo Challenge: Winter

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Night time cherry tree – Massachusetts

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Ice flow off the mountain – Vermont

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Blue spruce – Vermont

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Turkey gathering – Vermont

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Turkey tree – Vermont

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Late afternoon snowfall – Vermont

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Rare snow event – Virginia

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Ice fishing – Vermont

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Lake Willoughby – Vermont

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Frozen berries – Massachusetts

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The final descent – Vermont

King of the Mountain - Alaska

King of the Mountain – Alaska

I guess you could say I love winter and I’m glad it’s almost here

Cheers🙂

One Word Photo Challenge: Winter