Mara-Ani, the poetic and chairbound, had waited long in the den of her home for words to pop into her head and translate themselves into a readable form on the screen, but distraction was smothering the impulse. She decided to stand.
And as she stood, she could not believe her eyes. The Net Citizens came forward in a ripple of IM activity, crying out to her in bold fonts — Where you going? You’re one of us — you can’t leave us now.
Cassandra the Seeress, who had known Mara’s heart better than anyone, came forward, and with a calm voice said, “I know you have heard and at last know your own truth and you must needs go. But before you leave us, my sister of the pen, we have a lot of questions. Are you up to answering them?”
Mara bowed her head. What answers would she have for these questions beyond, Heck if I know. What would she say to those who came to her from mid-surf to hear her farewell?
“I’ll try, but you KNOW I have a terrible case of block. What are your questions?”
The Seeress said, “Speak to us of men with 12-inch appendages.”
With a great indrawn breath and twinkle in her eye, Mara said,
“When you are approached by men who boast of 12-inch appendages, pity them, for they are either deluded or pathalogical liars who need to impress some woman, somewhere. Otherwise, they’re just trying to get into your cyber-panties and believe the thought of a home-grown hysterectomy attached to two jiggly things will send you into undeniable lust. Yes, pity them, for with the burgeoning number of 12 inch parts will come the need to outdo the others and soon they will tell you they have subscribed to penis enlargement programs via email and are happy to report they now have expanded themselves to a full and competitive 15. Next question!”
Then JC, quite the loveable snob, came forward.
“Well sugar, I know you aren’t really leaving. You’re too much of an addict for that. But since you’re already talking, speak to us of trailer park dwellers.”
Mara thought for a second, and then said, “When you meet your trailer park brethren, scorn them not, for they cannot be lumped into the same pile. Some have opted for affordable housing, some are armed and dangerous, and others are just waiting to host their own radio talk show and market the barbeque sauce recipe that is now top secret and in their possession.”
And JC responded, “ummmm…if you say so, sugar.”
Then came Matthew.
“Answer this, Mara. When are you coming over?”
And Mara said with a sigh — “Matthew. If I haven’t made the trip from Carolina to Seattle in the next 15 minutes, turn the porch light off. Verily, I say unto you, I ain’t coming over.”
And another came who said, “Speak to us of poetry and love.”
“Oh lord, don’t ask me that. Ok — your poetry is your life and how you live it, what metaphors you see in nature, and the occasional rant. It is your heartbreak, your joy and creative expression. Love, on the other hand, is like chocolate. If you’re on a diet, you should abstain completely, because the sugar free version just doesn’t taste as good.”
“Ok, the sun is sinking low in the sky and I have to go. My sink is full of dirty dishes and the mountain of clothes in the hamper will soon qualify as a national range. Farewell to you, citizens of the net. Long have I dwelled among you, and I will love you forever.”
Cassandra and Joshua watched her name become enclosed by parentheses. Joshua said…I give her 10 minutes. Sassy Cass, always the seeress, said…”thou art being optimistic. I give her 5.”
And they were both right.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
JusJournaling...about journaling.
In 2000, a sweet friend surprised me for my birthday by creating and hosting a blog for me. I was so excited - my very own space on the internet to write about anything that flowed from my brain to the tips of my fingers. I wrote there, in AutumnSongs, religiously. Poured out my heart and soul because - after all, nobody was going to read it. Right?
Wrong. A few stumbled on it, and I actually had comments and not all of them were spam! Wow. That was amazing. But it still felt like my own little corner of the internet, and write I did. Even had a poem of the month, sometimes, posted with the author's permission. I used to be a poetry board participant.
Then AOL journals started, and I decided - well, why not? And I started posting, and was greeted by Lahoma. She was so supportive. I had found my first friend in J-Land.
And now...those doors are closing. I deleted I Have Tea and Simply Me, myself, because I was loathe to let AOL do away with that part of my life. Had to do it myself and move on. Still, even though those journals were moved here, there is this sense of loss...
Maybe I can pick up where I left off with AutumnSongs, writing my heart out, in my own little corner of the internet, complete with music, a pretty background, and hopefully, what pops into my brain will exit through my fingertips. And to get me in the mood, there will be a few posts moved from Autumnsongs to here.
Wrong. A few stumbled on it, and I actually had comments and not all of them were spam! Wow. That was amazing. But it still felt like my own little corner of the internet, and write I did. Even had a poem of the month, sometimes, posted with the author's permission. I used to be a poetry board participant.
Then AOL journals started, and I decided - well, why not? And I started posting, and was greeted by Lahoma. She was so supportive. I had found my first friend in J-Land.
And now...those doors are closing. I deleted I Have Tea and Simply Me, myself, because I was loathe to let AOL do away with that part of my life. Had to do it myself and move on. Still, even though those journals were moved here, there is this sense of loss...
Maybe I can pick up where I left off with AutumnSongs, writing my heart out, in my own little corner of the internet, complete with music, a pretty background, and hopefully, what pops into my brain will exit through my fingertips. And to get me in the mood, there will be a few posts moved from Autumnsongs to here.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Update
Well, the officer has left. He took a report, and unfortunately, since no one got the caller's name and the phone number he called from is not taking calls at this time...I don't know if we'll ever find out who was doing this. In a big way - I hope not. I hope they just drop it and never call back and of course, that they don't find their way down my dirt road.
At the same time, I don't want them to terrorize anybody else and hope the detectives who follow up on the report find the ####### and arrest him.
Thanks, y'all, for being here.
At the same time, I don't want them to terrorize anybody else and hope the detectives who follow up on the report find the ####### and arrest him.
Thanks, y'all, for being here.
I'm Scared.
I'm waiting for a deputy to come, and I need something to do until he/she gets here. So I'm writing.
About 2:00 this afternoon, someone called my house and asked for my son or husband, called them by name. They were offering debt consolidation services, and when Jim told them we weren't interested, the caller said - f*ck you. And has been calling back ever since.
The last call came a few minutes ago. My son did the wrong thing and was cursing the caller...and then the caller said he was going to kill him. I took the phone. The caller was whispering and said, Can I come to your house? I hung up and called 911.
I'm scared. We live down in the woods, on a back road. If they called the house and they know who lives here, don't they know where we live?
About 2:00 this afternoon, someone called my house and asked for my son or husband, called them by name. They were offering debt consolidation services, and when Jim told them we weren't interested, the caller said - f*ck you. And has been calling back ever since.
The last call came a few minutes ago. My son did the wrong thing and was cursing the caller...and then the caller said he was going to kill him. I took the phone. The caller was whispering and said, Can I come to your house? I hung up and called 911.
I'm scared. We live down in the woods, on a back road. If they called the house and they know who lives here, don't they know where we live?
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Repost: Saffron, Sage and Scarlet
It's almost like trying to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow - an elusive feeling, and you find yourself in a cool, crisp wind thinking - where is it? what is it? And you never find it, but oh, listen! It rustles on the wind or crunches under your feet as you walk. You feel it in a vacant, lonely place inside of you, an empty, aching echo that needs filling.
It was late this year. The trees are two weeks behind in turning - so say the ubiquitous they, who are also elusive. But this morning, I sensed it in the second frost of the season, saw a hint of it in the Bradford pears just now beginning to blaze, in the yellowing leaves of wild grapevines, edges curled like old parchment, the history of a fallen season scribed gold in their veins. I decided if I could not find it, I would follow it, mapping a course for places it would have visited first. I headed west, toward peach country, pushed along by a nipping north wind, and as each mile fell behind me, I saw where it had drifted like an autumnal will-o'-the wisp: grass, hoary and glittering in the early sun; a sudden burst of scarlet flaming through the green; saffron and sage punctuating the distant pines as the hills rose and fell with the open road.
I stopped at a roadside market where the vendors were bundled against the first blast of autumn air. The shed was lined with baskets and baskets of heirloom apples - Pink Lady, Winesap, Golden Delicious. Sweet potatoes and pumpkins - mellow and fragrant. It had been here. We shivered together for a while, and for the vendors' time and conversation, I purchased a mixed bag of apples and sweet potatoes, a taste of the elusive season.
And I drove farther into autumn, where houses were sparse and colors were deeper. Not yet, not quite, but I could see the hues begin the burn - a flaming testament to living, a burst of wisdom whispering secrets in the north wind. I'll never catch it, or touch it, but it will ruffle my hair with a chilly hand. It will tease my tongue with its fruity and mellow flavors, and I will lose myself in its colors, melding into saffron, sage and scarlet - a celebration of life.
It was late this year. The trees are two weeks behind in turning - so say the ubiquitous they, who are also elusive. But this morning, I sensed it in the second frost of the season, saw a hint of it in the Bradford pears just now beginning to blaze, in the yellowing leaves of wild grapevines, edges curled like old parchment, the history of a fallen season scribed gold in their veins. I decided if I could not find it, I would follow it, mapping a course for places it would have visited first. I headed west, toward peach country, pushed along by a nipping north wind, and as each mile fell behind me, I saw where it had drifted like an autumnal will-o'-the wisp: grass, hoary and glittering in the early sun; a sudden burst of scarlet flaming through the green; saffron and sage punctuating the distant pines as the hills rose and fell with the open road.
I stopped at a roadside market where the vendors were bundled against the first blast of autumn air. The shed was lined with baskets and baskets of heirloom apples - Pink Lady, Winesap, Golden Delicious. Sweet potatoes and pumpkins - mellow and fragrant. It had been here. We shivered together for a while, and for the vendors' time and conversation, I purchased a mixed bag of apples and sweet potatoes, a taste of the elusive season.
And I drove farther into autumn, where houses were sparse and colors were deeper. Not yet, not quite, but I could see the hues begin the burn - a flaming testament to living, a burst of wisdom whispering secrets in the north wind. I'll never catch it, or touch it, but it will ruffle my hair with a chilly hand. It will tease my tongue with its fruity and mellow flavors, and I will lose myself in its colors, melding into saffron, sage and scarlet - a celebration of life.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Lacy, George and Peanut
A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself. -Josh Billings
It's a beautiful Saturday morning - chilly! and the temps aren't supposed to climb above 60 today. George, my golden/chow mix, is loving it - he's outside playing tackle, as dogs do in the first really chilly mornings, with Spike. But before that, he let me know I had overslept by coming to my bedside. At first, he only stared at me (funny, how you can feel eyes on you, no matter what stage of sleep you're in), and then he spoke.
"Woof." It sounded just like that, quietly. When the first one only made me open one eye, he tried again, a little louder. "WOOF."
"Okay, okay," I told him, crawled out of bed and let him out. He was ecstatic.
My dogs...all of them. They know Mama has the treats, a kind word, and a scratch behind the ears. The latest addition to the family is Peanut (Baby), a Jack Russell-Chihuaha mix. She's even more bossy than Lacy, demanding her treat or to be picked up for a cuddle. And she moonwalks. She's the first dog we've had who walks backwards, and she's the only dog who thinks she's a doberman instead of a tiny little thing. Ferocious, that one is. A burglar wouldn't stand a chance against her, as I am sure she would knock him down and eat him alive.
When my kids grew up and didn't need Mom in quite the same way, the house suddenly filled with canine babies. They have been a great source of comfort, amusement - and joy!
Well, I started out with good intentions on this post, but think I will close it for now. For sure, though, my little "family" gives love fully and unconditionally. And they'll even remind you that they require a pretty fall morning in which to romp.
Enjoy the weather, everybody, and have a great weekend.
It's a beautiful Saturday morning - chilly! and the temps aren't supposed to climb above 60 today. George, my golden/chow mix, is loving it - he's outside playing tackle, as dogs do in the first really chilly mornings, with Spike. But before that, he let me know I had overslept by coming to my bedside. At first, he only stared at me (funny, how you can feel eyes on you, no matter what stage of sleep you're in), and then he spoke.
"Woof." It sounded just like that, quietly. When the first one only made me open one eye, he tried again, a little louder. "WOOF."
"Okay, okay," I told him, crawled out of bed and let him out. He was ecstatic.
My dogs...all of them. They know Mama has the treats, a kind word, and a scratch behind the ears. The latest addition to the family is Peanut (Baby), a Jack Russell-Chihuaha mix. She's even more bossy than Lacy, demanding her treat or to be picked up for a cuddle. And she moonwalks. She's the first dog we've had who walks backwards, and she's the only dog who thinks she's a doberman instead of a tiny little thing. Ferocious, that one is. A burglar wouldn't stand a chance against her, as I am sure she would knock him down and eat him alive.
When my kids grew up and didn't need Mom in quite the same way, the house suddenly filled with canine babies. They have been a great source of comfort, amusement - and joy!
Well, I started out with good intentions on this post, but think I will close it for now. For sure, though, my little "family" gives love fully and unconditionally. And they'll even remind you that they require a pretty fall morning in which to romp.
Enjoy the weather, everybody, and have a great weekend.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Jessica Michelle
There is a young lady who makes me count myself lucky that she came into our lives...my daughter-in-law, Jessica. She's a young mother who greets life with enthusiasm. This year for the first time, my lawn was decorated with hay bales, pumpkins, and there are even ghosts hanging from the mimosa tree in the side yard. She did it all by herself, for her son and yeah, for herself, too. She's excited because she's cooking her first Thanksgiving dinner this year, and is already hard at work on the menu. Seeing her enthusiasm makes me remember my own.
She is the only woman I've ever met who can go grocery shopping with coupons and come home with sixty dollars worth of items that she got for less than twenty. And the woman can COOK! She makes Zuppa Tuscano even better than Olive Garden, if you can imagine that.
Jess has started a new blog here, and I hope you can drop by to welcome her at http://handmadethoughts2.blogspot.com/
I understand she'll be sharing recipes for her soups, home made breads, etc. :-)
She is the only woman I've ever met who can go grocery shopping with coupons and come home with sixty dollars worth of items that she got for less than twenty. And the woman can COOK! She makes Zuppa Tuscano even better than Olive Garden, if you can imagine that.
Jess has started a new blog here, and I hope you can drop by to welcome her at http://handmadethoughts2.blogspot.com/
I understand she'll be sharing recipes for her soups, home made breads, etc. :-)
Friday, October 10, 2008
Eternal Optimista
Well, if it isn't one thing, it's another. I spent last week in Durham with my daughter. She developed infection in her c-section surgery site and was in the hospital until last Friday. She came home with a WoundVac because they can't close the incision - it has to heal from the inside out. And so, Home Health comes to her three days a week to pack the wound and tape it up. She has a long way to go...I wish I could have transferred her care and brought her home with me where someone could be with her all the time, but she chose to stay in Durham.
I wish, too, that I could go back this weekend, but there's so much going on around here...Dad is considering having a total glossectomy - tongue removal - and has an appointment with a surgeon on Tuesday. Mom needs me around here...and I have to tell you - my house is a total wreck this week. I don't even know where my laundry is.
I got an email from Dr. H, my favorite psychologist, last week in response to a forwarded email that was a litany of looking on the sunny side. He wrote back - Oh, thou eternal optimista!
I had to laugh at that. BUT - he's one of those coworkers that either makes you shake your head or smile.
Optimista. Well, he might be right...I'm counting my blessings and realizing what a lucky woman I am to have been blessed with my daughter's returning health and my father's spirit. I ask once more for your prayers for both of them.
And now to take a night for myself and get caught up on all of your journals. I don't know how y'all feel about it yet, but blogspot seems to be great!
I wish, too, that I could go back this weekend, but there's so much going on around here...Dad is considering having a total glossectomy - tongue removal - and has an appointment with a surgeon on Tuesday. Mom needs me around here...and I have to tell you - my house is a total wreck this week. I don't even know where my laundry is.
I got an email from Dr. H, my favorite psychologist, last week in response to a forwarded email that was a litany of looking on the sunny side. He wrote back - Oh, thou eternal optimista!
I had to laugh at that. BUT - he's one of those coworkers that either makes you shake your head or smile.
Optimista. Well, he might be right...I'm counting my blessings and realizing what a lucky woman I am to have been blessed with my daughter's returning health and my father's spirit. I ask once more for your prayers for both of them.
And now to take a night for myself and get caught up on all of your journals. I don't know how y'all feel about it yet, but blogspot seems to be great!
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
Well Good Grief~
After all the years on AOL, they are shutting the doors on our blogs. So here I am...Who knows, this might be a lot better.
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