It's Sunday morning, 5:23 a.m., and I have been up for nearly an hour already. Apparently, my grass is in fear of its life. I say that because it was the only thing knocking FURIOUSLY on the door of my subconcious. Bang bang on the door baby! Knocking loud enough on sleep's door to wake me up ... with a feeling of persistent worry for it. I'm no grass guru or fanatic about it, beyond liking it a little shaggy so as to keep weeds at bay. However, prior to this problem, I was suckered into thinking that I may have been a grass guru, because for all the years that my grass and I have been hanging out together, it has never given me a serious problem. To my dismay, when I got home from Tennessee, I noticed a few patches that looked like they were dying. This caused HIGH ALARM and I wanted to rally the troops!!!! After the initial adrenaline rush of panic, I realized I didn't have any lawn troops, and that I was (and am) truly clueless about what could have caused this die back. I can usually tell when the grass needs watering, but most of the lawn looks fine, with only a few patches looking stressed ... well I guess stressed is an understatement. It, along with my peace of mind, passed from stressed to dead within a week. I hate being clueless about ANYTHING, and I mean anything. I want to understand String Theory, if that tells you to what degree I'm speaking of when I say "anything. " While I remain fascinated by String Theory, I can't honestly discuss it with you in any semblance of true understanding. Let the true worry begin, because I find myself equally clueless about grass. I keep assuring myself that if my grass kicks the bucket, then I will just plant a vegetable garden in the front yard. But, that's my "get on board with life's uncertainties" bullshit talking. I would love to be all Buddha about this, but all I really want is to call a GRASS DOCTOR ... and I don't care if its a doctor who practices VOODOO, WICCAN OR STANDARD methods, I just want my grass healed. My grass, like your dog, welcomes me home after work and I take great pleasure in it being happy. I also take great pleasure in being able to sleep. That's hard to do, when my grass is screaming for its life. Since I no longer believe my city has a knowledgable grass doctor, I am here trying to problem solve ... a task I normally try to avoid. Step one, I googled ... step two, I'm blogging while waiting for Lowe's or Home Depot to open so I can buy a fungicide. If it's not a fungus, step two is to decide if I am underwatering it. My initial suspicion is that it may be getting too much water because of those damned thirsty shrubs ... crap I hate stabbing in the dark. What time does the sun normally rise?
After I do what I can about the grass this morning, I am going back to the park down the street down from me to hunt for treasure. I'm not even kidding about that. Our local paper has been sponsoring a local treasure hunt. They hide $1,000 in a blue box somewhere in the area and leave "X marks the spot" clues about its location in the paper each week. This month that elusive blue box is in the park at the end of my street. And, since I normally collect neighborhood litter every other Sunday morning, I will try to tackle these two tasks at the same time. I suck at grass doctoring, but I'm a professional multi-tasker, and I think litter collection and treasure hunting are nearly the same thing. Besides, who couldn't use an extra (free) thousand bucks to buy a case of fungicide, hire a voodoo doctor or pay for the fence needed to keep kindly neighbor from mowing part of your (or my) grass so low you can see dirt? You know how I hate seeing dirt and the dark before the sun rises.
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
I am enough, but I am no more.
Blame
I wrote such a beautiful book for you
'Bout rainbows and sunshine
And dreams that come true.
But the goat went and ate it
(You knew that he would),
So I wrote you another one
Fast as I could.
Of course it could never be
Nearly as great
As that beautiful book
That the silly goat ate.
So if you don't like
This new book I just wrote --
Blame the goat.
-- Shel Silverstein
Would you miss Lickety Splitter if she felt forced to leave? It's not that I reveal anything more than who I am here, but to have yourself revealed by someone you knew you should never trust, is no less hurtful.
I only wanted a place to write where I would always feel uninhibited. What are my choices now? Stay and hope I'm not boring to all of you but one to whom I wish to be meaningless to? Mundane enough to lose the interest of that one who should know that -- by my giving up the one I loved and continue to love and currently intend to love for eternity (regardless of all that has passed and all that is) -- I gave a gift and that gift should be enough. It should be all that I have to give. I should not have to give the deepest feelings of my soul or the shallow pools of my everyday. My decision to let go of the relationship (but not the love) was a calculated decision of my own volition, my own choice, my own knowing that I wanted more for myself than a lifetime of having to fight for the right to be me and to hold out the hope of finding someone who would sometimes, not always, but sometimes in those rare moments when love of another overrides our own feeling for self, would bestow upon me the greatest gift we can ever give another, an integrity which surpasses our own selfishness.
If you are arriving late to this post and are slightly confused by the nature of the comments below, I'm sorry to say you missed the rest of this blog, which I deleted because I realized it would be slightly mysterious to those of you I welcome readily here. I had lots to say on this subject, which if circumstances were as I suspected, would have been easily understood by its subject. However, I have given my choice and decision lots of thought today, and I say to the former silent reader, READ on if you think you have reason. I envy you not.
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
Annoyance 048
Hey, you there in the dress making industry, I don't know which one of you numbskulls was the first to decide women no longer need or want sleeves in their dresses, all I know is that those masses of makers who followed your lead to the extreme, deserve to jump off the same bridge that I am going to push you off, if I ever find you. (How was that for a nasty little run-on sentence?)
What? You numbskulls don't have 24/7 deep freeze offices where you live, or WINTER? Remember that season called winter?
I know you do, and I know what the real deal is with the bajillion sleeves missing from all those new dresses. I'm just not sure how much the sweater industry has paid you in bribes. Does the word cahoots ring any bells in you sleeve thieves? By bells, I mean alarms, because I'm sounding them!
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
What? You numbskulls don't have 24/7 deep freeze offices where you live, or WINTER? Remember that season called winter?
I know you do, and I know what the real deal is with the bajillion sleeves missing from all those new dresses. I'm just not sure how much the sweater industry has paid you in bribes. Does the word cahoots ring any bells in you sleeve thieves? By bells, I mean alarms, because I'm sounding them!
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Stephen King is my new diet guru ...
Duma Key ... a 600 and 7 page novel by Stephen King has me wrapped around its thick binder. I don't remember when I started this book, maybe Tuesday. Who knows for sure? All I know is that since I started reading it, I have come to resent having to bathe, sleep, work and apparently eat. After work yesterday, I picked up Duma Key where I left off and read from 5:30 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. with a few eye breaks between the hours. Okay fine, I confess to watching the second espisode of The Real World (what an outrageous misnomer) on MTV, because it happened to be on, and I happened to watch the first one -- yeah, I mean THE FIRST ONE, and the first one, and most of the ones in between, because I apparently have nothing better to do with my time and good sense. I was also teased into the latest season because it was filmed in New Orleans, a city which I hold as a sweet in the cookie jar of life. Lawd ... how do I get off on these side thoughts ... back ... get back ... back on track chick.
Anyways, I realized this morning when I felt a little extra room in today's trouser selection, that I have neglected to eat dinner at least two nights in a row ... maybe even three nights. Who knew losing a pound or two could be so unintentional and enjoyable?
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
Anyways, I realized this morning when I felt a little extra room in today's trouser selection, that I have neglected to eat dinner at least two nights in a row ... maybe even three nights. Who knew losing a pound or two could be so unintentional and enjoyable?
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
All and nothing about that long weekend TN vacation ...
It was Tennessee or bust this past weekend ... we didn't bust, we made it, even though the interstate traffic was crawling so slow that I was kicking myself for leaving the GPS unit at home. I had a sugar plum vision of a quiet back road which would could take us all the way to Knoxville. After we passed the time sucking // stop and go portions of the interstate, some lady from Atlanta almost ran us off the road. Ole heifer never even put on a blinker when she casually drifted over into our lane and my side of my friend's car. Seriously lady, you are from Atlanta, you should know by now what a rear view mirror, a side view mirror, and your eyes are made for! Even if you don't, there was nothing in your lane that caused you to steal our spot or peace of mind. Thank goodness my friend has mad driving skills, because we could have seriously ended up careening into a ditch and possibly wrapping around a tree. My friend cursed that lady for a good 5 miles.
After 7 LONG hours because of that holiday traffic, we finally reached our friend's apartment. Barely out of the car good, we were on the go again. Destination > downtown Knoxville to their market square district to tool around during their "First Friday" event. On the way downtown, my friend and her fiance had us laughing like wanna be Buddhas. The fiance is a riot ... he can imitate most anyone's voice, and can turn the most benign event into a hysterial story. We arrive downtown on this happy vibe.
We first hit a wine store, which I found less than interesting, and then left our paid parking to go find free parking (eyebrow raise from the peanut gallery) and wandered aimlessly first through an upscale general store and then the streets. I am more of a people watcher than the type who chooses to wander aimlessly about, so I could have been super happy camped out on the square listening to the live music and watching a dozen or so highly skilled hula hoopers do their thing for an hour or so. But, after 5 minutes of that pleasure, my friend's fiance was experiencing cranky hunger pains which were making my friend cranky so we decided it was best to get her fiance some groceries so the crankiness didn't get out of hand. By the time we ate dinner, the hula hoopers were packing up. I was bummed out about that, because those hula hoopers were a feast for the senses. One lady looked like she was in love with her hoop. Who knew serious hoola hoopers could make hoola hooping look so easy or sensual? Who knew hoola hooping could rise to high art? Don't you just love it when people make hula hooping, ballroom dancing or parachuting out of an airplane look as easy as an aimless walk in the city.
We next went into an art gallery where I found myself in love with some very arty owls. That's right, owls. I am not a collector of owls, but I have a small collection of owls which I love to put out on display near Halloween. My latest find is a white owl made out of tree bark. He's a beauty. The most natural ones are my favorite, but, I am NOT a collector of owls, so don't send me any or tell anyone that I own any. I once bought a vintage metal thermos to use as a vase, I now own about 20 vintage metal thermoses, none of which I bought for myself. Not saying I don't love vintage metal thermoses or the "Halloween" owls or my black bound books cuz I do, but I'm not a collector. Oh, I have digressed, sorry.
Onward to Saturday. After a late breakfast, we headed over to Cade's Cove http://www.nps.gov/grsm/planyourvisit/cadescove.htm. A truly beautiful place, but a place I will FOREVERMORE avoid like the plague during popular holidays such as Independence Day. The cove loop road and the cove sites were crawling with people. Although that was a turnoff for me, this was my first time seeing Cade's Cove, so I tried to block out the fact that riding bumper to bumper around the cove reminded me of being a teenager cruising front beach road in Panama City, Florida, during high summer. That was hard to do though, because even though I didn't see any hot guys coming the other way due to the 11 mile road being a one way/one car lane and my view was meadow, surrounding mountains and wildlife (deer and turkey were prevelant) -- instead of an ocean view on one side with cute boys coming from the opposite direction on the other side, I still felt like I was somewhere that had been invaded, instead of the scenic and restful place we hope the mountains and the beach will be. I have heard other people say they have visited Cade's Cove and that it exceeded their expectations, so my advice would be to GO, but choose a less popular time to go than JULY 4. It is stunningly beautiful and truly worthy of your attention ... your attention and that of those 7 million other people who have visited it.
After escaping the confines of the cove loop road, we headed over to Gatlinburg, which was another FIRST visit for me. Again, filled with tourists. We ate at a restaurant that made a liar out of it's world famous claim. Note, never believe a world famous claim unless you see people hanging out on the sidewalk waiting for a table. Unless of course, you find yourself in Warm Springs, Georgia, and you ask the lady at Paradise Grill what she would recommend ... believe her when she says they are KNOWN for their hamburgers, because their hamburgers will seriously make you look forward to your next visit. Digressing again ....
Onward ... to aimless bullshit walking in a touristy town called Gatlinburg. Did I mention that I detest aimless walking amongst hundreds or even thousands of other people? Apparently this area is the hot spot for fun in the mountains. I am not anti having fun, and people watching, but just walking around with no destination in mind isn't my cup of tea. After about an hour of aimless walking, it was back in the car ... heading back to Knoxville by way of Pigeon Forge, TN. Another town that looks like it will be great to visit and camp out in for a long weekend, if you have children and like lots of people around.
After a full day, we reached Knoxville and bed ... ahhh sweet sleep!
The next day was my kind of day ... Sunday ... laid back ... they went to the movies (Eclipse), and since I am not for Team Vampire or for Team Werewolf (who gives a cross or a stake or a silver bullet about who that girl chooses to do or love?) or a Twilight FANATIC, I went shopping BY MYSELF ... WHOOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOO. Some alone time on day 3!!! Awesome. Later that day, we didn't even leave the apartment, we watched Criminal Minds on TV, snacked on cheese, crackers, dip and apples, and later watched fireworks from the hill across from my friend's apartment. This was my favorite day ... less people, less driving, less riding, less noise, less less less IS MORE, MORE, MORE in my vacation book.
Monday, we headed back down to the deep south .......... ahhhhhhhhhhhh .... did I mention I feel slightly claustraphobic when I visit Teneessee? I love hiking and being in the woods, but being in the mountains for more than a day or so gives me the feeling of being closed in. Too contained. I know that feeling is totally psychological, but once we headed south and were out of the mountains, I felt like my old self .... like my soul had room to breath. Home at last even though we had miles to go.
Why yes, yes it does!
(Disclaimer: Sorry for any boo boos, but I'm not going back to "read" and correct this post right now.)
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
After 7 LONG hours because of that holiday traffic, we finally reached our friend's apartment. Barely out of the car good, we were on the go again. Destination > downtown Knoxville to their market square district to tool around during their "First Friday" event. On the way downtown, my friend and her fiance had us laughing like wanna be Buddhas. The fiance is a riot ... he can imitate most anyone's voice, and can turn the most benign event into a hysterial story. We arrive downtown on this happy vibe.
We first hit a wine store, which I found less than interesting, and then left our paid parking to go find free parking (eyebrow raise from the peanut gallery) and wandered aimlessly first through an upscale general store and then the streets. I am more of a people watcher than the type who chooses to wander aimlessly about, so I could have been super happy camped out on the square listening to the live music and watching a dozen or so highly skilled hula hoopers do their thing for an hour or so. But, after 5 minutes of that pleasure, my friend's fiance was experiencing cranky hunger pains which were making my friend cranky so we decided it was best to get her fiance some groceries so the crankiness didn't get out of hand. By the time we ate dinner, the hula hoopers were packing up. I was bummed out about that, because those hula hoopers were a feast for the senses. One lady looked like she was in love with her hoop. Who knew serious hoola hoopers could make hoola hooping look so easy or sensual? Who knew hoola hooping could rise to high art? Don't you just love it when people make hula hooping, ballroom dancing or parachuting out of an airplane look as easy as an aimless walk in the city.
We next went into an art gallery where I found myself in love with some very arty owls. That's right, owls. I am not a collector of owls, but I have a small collection of owls which I love to put out on display near Halloween. My latest find is a white owl made out of tree bark. He's a beauty. The most natural ones are my favorite, but, I am NOT a collector of owls, so don't send me any or tell anyone that I own any. I once bought a vintage metal thermos to use as a vase, I now own about 20 vintage metal thermoses, none of which I bought for myself. Not saying I don't love vintage metal thermoses or the "Halloween" owls or my black bound books cuz I do, but I'm not a collector. Oh, I have digressed, sorry.
Onward to Saturday. After a late breakfast, we headed over to Cade's Cove http://www.nps.gov/grsm/planyourvisit/cadescove.htm. A truly beautiful place, but a place I will FOREVERMORE avoid like the plague during popular holidays such as Independence Day. The cove loop road and the cove sites were crawling with people. Although that was a turnoff for me, this was my first time seeing Cade's Cove, so I tried to block out the fact that riding bumper to bumper around the cove reminded me of being a teenager cruising front beach road in Panama City, Florida, during high summer. That was hard to do though, because even though I didn't see any hot guys coming the other way due to the 11 mile road being a one way/one car lane and my view was meadow, surrounding mountains and wildlife (deer and turkey were prevelant) -- instead of an ocean view on one side with cute boys coming from the opposite direction on the other side, I still felt like I was somewhere that had been invaded, instead of the scenic and restful place we hope the mountains and the beach will be. I have heard other people say they have visited Cade's Cove and that it exceeded their expectations, so my advice would be to GO, but choose a less popular time to go than JULY 4. It is stunningly beautiful and truly worthy of your attention ... your attention and that of those 7 million other people who have visited it.
After escaping the confines of the cove loop road, we headed over to Gatlinburg, which was another FIRST visit for me. Again, filled with tourists. We ate at a restaurant that made a liar out of it's world famous claim. Note, never believe a world famous claim unless you see people hanging out on the sidewalk waiting for a table. Unless of course, you find yourself in Warm Springs, Georgia, and you ask the lady at Paradise Grill what she would recommend ... believe her when she says they are KNOWN for their hamburgers, because their hamburgers will seriously make you look forward to your next visit. Digressing again ....
Onward ... to aimless bullshit walking in a touristy town called Gatlinburg. Did I mention that I detest aimless walking amongst hundreds or even thousands of other people? Apparently this area is the hot spot for fun in the mountains. I am not anti having fun, and people watching, but just walking around with no destination in mind isn't my cup of tea. After about an hour of aimless walking, it was back in the car ... heading back to Knoxville by way of Pigeon Forge, TN. Another town that looks like it will be great to visit and camp out in for a long weekend, if you have children and like lots of people around.
After a full day, we reached Knoxville and bed ... ahhh sweet sleep!
The next day was my kind of day ... Sunday ... laid back ... they went to the movies (Eclipse), and since I am not for Team Vampire or for Team Werewolf (who gives a cross or a stake or a silver bullet about who that girl chooses to do or love?) or a Twilight FANATIC, I went shopping BY MYSELF ... WHOOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOO. Some alone time on day 3!!! Awesome. Later that day, we didn't even leave the apartment, we watched Criminal Minds on TV, snacked on cheese, crackers, dip and apples, and later watched fireworks from the hill across from my friend's apartment. This was my favorite day ... less people, less driving, less riding, less noise, less less less IS MORE, MORE, MORE in my vacation book.
Monday, we headed back down to the deep south .......... ahhhhhhhhhhhh .... did I mention I feel slightly claustraphobic when I visit Teneessee? I love hiking and being in the woods, but being in the mountains for more than a day or so gives me the feeling of being closed in. Too contained. I know that feeling is totally psychological, but once we headed south and were out of the mountains, I felt like my old self .... like my soul had room to breath. Home at last even though we had miles to go.
O! say does that star-spangled banner yet wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
Why yes, yes it does!
(Disclaimer: Sorry for any boo boos, but I'm not going back to "read" and correct this post right now.)
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
If life were but a dream ...
It's early in the morning as I sit to write this, so what could I possibly have to blog about ... oh yeah, my mini vacation or last night's dream. Which would you like to hear about first? Oh sure, I ask as if I am going to come back and take a poll. Let me be honest, I'm nowhere near that patient, so I will roll with my morning whim.
I love it when I remember even slices of my dreams, and I struggle to hold onto the most interesting ones like others collect precious gemstones. The diamonds are few and far between, so when they drop from my subconscious, I quickly retreat back into the crevices of my sleepy mind ... trying to grab hold of the shiny bits which seem too eager to slip through my grasp. Sometimes, I can successfully pluck them from my techno colored dream world, if I am quick enough to turn them out onto the black and white. I groggily grabbed the first bit of paper I could find and got to scribbling.
I'm in the company of a large group of women, who are all dressed to the formal nines ... most are swimming in ribbons, bows, dainty hats, taffeta, chiffon, lace and beautiful shoes. Most everyone is seated at either one of two rows of long tables. Some ladies are milling about. All are happily chatting as they work on some sort of "wedding" project set before them on the tables. There is one lady to my immediate left who is clearly the leader of the project. I cannot for the life of me remember what the project was, all I know is that she was in charge and a bride was sitting near her. I was happily engaged in the scene before me, and I was simultaneously marveling at my own clothes. I kept thinking to myself ... where did I get this stunning dress that fits me like every dress should. And, my God, where did I get these shoes ... they are to die for. As I wrapped myself in this feeling of divinity, a man approached me ... wanting to know if he could join us. I immediately felt like I knew him, even though I could not recall his name. I welcomed him to the table and his eyes searched for an empty chair. I also looked down the table and spotted only a few open seats. Two at the very opposite end of the table, and one between the instructor and the bride. Smack in between them His eyes silently implored me to follow him .... so I did .... we stepped aside from all the happy activity, and he stopped short ... turning to me with his face inches away from mine. He bent down and whispered ... "I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?" I had no idea what he was sorry for, but I felt such a strong connection to him that I nodded my easy forgiveness. He then took my face in his hand and kissed me ... oh so gently, but with a demanding and purposeful linger. His non intrusive kiss took my breath and I unconsciously backed away from him ... acutely aware that we were under the surveillance of a thousand questioning eyes. He didn't seem to care, and immediately fell into step beside me as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He then asked ... "Is there cake? " To which I said ... "Is there cake? Oh yeah, there's cake," and I led him to a door which he opened. We stepped through the doorway into a room filled with tables and more people ... this time ... both men and women filled the dream ... all happily mingling. On the tables were cakes, cakes and more cakes. The most beautiful cakes I think I have ever seen were everywhere, as were small plates filled with some other scrumptious dessert that looked like it had been kissed by a key lime. This man who I seemed to know and who seemed to know me ... went forth and came back bearing cake. As he came walking back toward me, I was overcome with a great sense of knowing, but I wasn't sure what I knew. As I struggled to figure out what I so acutely knew, I heard an alarm ... and alarm which I unconsciously recognized as my alarm clock suggesting I get up so I could go to work. Hearing the second insistent chime, I was consumed with an urgent desire to hold onto the knowing feeling and the man who seemed to also know ... so I shuffled from the bed to the desk and got busy scribbling a loose version of that dreamy feeling.
And now, here I am, back to reality ... slightly mourning the loss of that dreamy dress, those fabulous shoes, that familiar man and that knowing feeling that held the promise of eternal bliss. Ahhh ... aren't some dreams so grand ... that they put reality to shame. The reality is that I'm still looking for that man, that dress, those shoes and that divine knowing.
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
I love it when I remember even slices of my dreams, and I struggle to hold onto the most interesting ones like others collect precious gemstones. The diamonds are few and far between, so when they drop from my subconscious, I quickly retreat back into the crevices of my sleepy mind ... trying to grab hold of the shiny bits which seem too eager to slip through my grasp. Sometimes, I can successfully pluck them from my techno colored dream world, if I am quick enough to turn them out onto the black and white. I groggily grabbed the first bit of paper I could find and got to scribbling.
I'm in the company of a large group of women, who are all dressed to the formal nines ... most are swimming in ribbons, bows, dainty hats, taffeta, chiffon, lace and beautiful shoes. Most everyone is seated at either one of two rows of long tables. Some ladies are milling about. All are happily chatting as they work on some sort of "wedding" project set before them on the tables. There is one lady to my immediate left who is clearly the leader of the project. I cannot for the life of me remember what the project was, all I know is that she was in charge and a bride was sitting near her. I was happily engaged in the scene before me, and I was simultaneously marveling at my own clothes. I kept thinking to myself ... where did I get this stunning dress that fits me like every dress should. And, my God, where did I get these shoes ... they are to die for. As I wrapped myself in this feeling of divinity, a man approached me ... wanting to know if he could join us. I immediately felt like I knew him, even though I could not recall his name. I welcomed him to the table and his eyes searched for an empty chair. I also looked down the table and spotted only a few open seats. Two at the very opposite end of the table, and one between the instructor and the bride. Smack in between them His eyes silently implored me to follow him .... so I did .... we stepped aside from all the happy activity, and he stopped short ... turning to me with his face inches away from mine. He bent down and whispered ... "I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?" I had no idea what he was sorry for, but I felt such a strong connection to him that I nodded my easy forgiveness. He then took my face in his hand and kissed me ... oh so gently, but with a demanding and purposeful linger. His non intrusive kiss took my breath and I unconsciously backed away from him ... acutely aware that we were under the surveillance of a thousand questioning eyes. He didn't seem to care, and immediately fell into step beside me as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He then asked ... "Is there cake? " To which I said ... "Is there cake? Oh yeah, there's cake," and I led him to a door which he opened. We stepped through the doorway into a room filled with tables and more people ... this time ... both men and women filled the dream ... all happily mingling. On the tables were cakes, cakes and more cakes. The most beautiful cakes I think I have ever seen were everywhere, as were small plates filled with some other scrumptious dessert that looked like it had been kissed by a key lime. This man who I seemed to know and who seemed to know me ... went forth and came back bearing cake. As he came walking back toward me, I was overcome with a great sense of knowing, but I wasn't sure what I knew. As I struggled to figure out what I so acutely knew, I heard an alarm ... and alarm which I unconsciously recognized as my alarm clock suggesting I get up so I could go to work. Hearing the second insistent chime, I was consumed with an urgent desire to hold onto the knowing feeling and the man who seemed to also know ... so I shuffled from the bed to the desk and got busy scribbling a loose version of that dreamy feeling.
And now, here I am, back to reality ... slightly mourning the loss of that dreamy dress, those fabulous shoes, that familiar man and that knowing feeling that held the promise of eternal bliss. Ahhh ... aren't some dreams so grand ... that they put reality to shame. The reality is that I'm still looking for that man, that dress, those shoes and that divine knowing.
House Rules: Any and all passersby, stalkers and the like, can post comments under "lurker comments." They will be screened for hexes, spells, foils, curses, foul smells and cooties before posting.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Are men just nice like that?
I had a little time before my friend picked me up to head out to Tennessee this past Friday morning, so I did a few errands and chores, one of which was mowing the front lawn. It was morning, but warm enough to break a delicate bead of sweat or two. As I was nearly finished, the mailman pulled up across the street, hopped out and headed my way sans mail. Instead of mail, he was holding a tall bottle of sparkling lime water so cold it must have been a prized possession. In front of me, he promptly presented me with the unopened bottle of water, told me how nice my yard looked, and gave me a smile before hopping back on his truck and heading off down the street. Is he just being nice, or is he flirting? My friend says he is flirting with me. If he is flirting, I would say he has a very understated way.
I don't know him especially well, not even his name .... not like I knew my last mailman, John, who would stop by on his way home from time to time and talk for about an hour. I find the new mailman appealing in a strange way ... like he could protect me from unsubs (think Criminal Minds -- I'm addicted to that show) or at least from a roving raccoon. He has that look that says ... I am man, you are woman, and I will protect you and make you like it. I have that look that says ... hey mister mailman ... you look nice and friendly, so I will be nice and friendly. I don't know what else to do other than be nice and friendly. The rest, if anything, he may have in mind is totally up to him. Maybe all he has in mind is sharing water and nice words with me. If so, that's cool, I like water and nice words.
In any event, I just got home from my long weekend trip to see my friend in Tennessee, and my brain is fried from being with four people practically 24/7 over the past four days, and that is about as much thought I can give to that mailman thing other than sorting through my piles of uncollected mail. So, I am bailing on you for now and will try to come back and read you all later tonight, or tomorrow. And of course, if I remember something meaningful about the weekend trip, I will probably share it, I'm annoying like that.
I don't know him especially well, not even his name .... not like I knew my last mailman, John, who would stop by on his way home from time to time and talk for about an hour. I find the new mailman appealing in a strange way ... like he could protect me from unsubs (think Criminal Minds -- I'm addicted to that show) or at least from a roving raccoon. He has that look that says ... I am man, you are woman, and I will protect you and make you like it. I have that look that says ... hey mister mailman ... you look nice and friendly, so I will be nice and friendly. I don't know what else to do other than be nice and friendly. The rest, if anything, he may have in mind is totally up to him. Maybe all he has in mind is sharing water and nice words with me. If so, that's cool, I like water and nice words.
In any event, I just got home from my long weekend trip to see my friend in Tennessee, and my brain is fried from being with four people practically 24/7 over the past four days, and that is about as much thought I can give to that mailman thing other than sorting through my piles of uncollected mail. So, I am bailing on you for now and will try to come back and read you all later tonight, or tomorrow. And of course, if I remember something meaningful about the weekend trip, I will probably share it, I'm annoying like that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
