Poetry Friday - Pink

This week when Mona went searching for someone to give the word for Poetry Friday, I jumped up and down shouting, "Pick me, pick me!" And she did. So the word is PINK. And that's all I have to say about that.


Pink Little Girl

Pink petticoated and prim
She was pinker
But I just wasn’t pink enough
And succumbed to my whim
Soft and docile
Just won’t cut it
I want hot and flashy
And burning
And busting
Pink on fire
Pink explosions
Pink desire.

Quiet little girls
With pink and proper dress
Grow up wild and tattooed
Feral beating heart in chest.

Don’t try that valium attitude on me
Don’t expect me to pastel pink out,
Because my brain is loaded
With fireworks pink
Psychedelic paisley pinks
Pink in the nude
Pink with ‘tude
Yeah, I’m pink
Just not the pink you think.
Give me sunset pink
Bleeding across the dark night sky
Give me pink sapphire
Not that pearl necklace
Passive suburban pinkishness
With your little Miss Manners
Gleam in your eye.

Watch the quiet ones
How much they’re held back
Till real pink takes their soul
And the veneer gets cracked.

You can keep your cool pink
Icy pink
With no passion
Or life orgasm
I want the lava pink
Bubbling up from below
I want the guava pink
Tropical heat in the sun
Diving into crystal blue oceans
To seek coral pink
Shining like gems
And pink sunbursts and pink starbursts
And any pink that’s louder than.

Yeah I’m pink
Just not the pink you think.

Pink Dreams

Semi Explicit Material – not for young impressionable eyes

Oh god I had the most glorious epic sex dream with Pink. There were hands and breasts and soft skin and full lips and silky tongues all over the goddam place!

Mona honored me with the choosing of the word for this week and I had a stuck up little word picked out for today. It was primly waiting in the back of my mind, being docile when bam! Yesterday I took a nap and the mental chaos ensued. I was assaulted by this meandering, flash in, flash back sex dream!

There was a beginning of talking – very female of me to have foreplay in my sex dream. She was telling me how hot she was for me and I was mentioning that I had a thing for her since the first time I saw her. Then we were sneaking off together, hiding like the sex rebels we were. She slipped into a white lace teddy and well, I had something similar on. We undressed each other and were laughing throughout, enjoying the soft touch of our fingers grazing each other’s skin.

There was a big bed with white fluffy sheets and us drinking champagne and rolling around like New Year’s celebrators. The kissing. Oh the kissing, the female soft tongue kissing. The smell of feminine skin and the spoon of caress. Legs laced around legs in pretzel formation, holding bodies close together. The dream never let me find fruition.

I was flashing between being there with her and laying alone thinking about having been there with her as I tiptoed through the twolips. The odd sensation of being plunged into two sexual experiences at the same time made me dizzy like a fine bottle of wine. My fingers at the quick, almost taking me there, then flash to Pink touching me and still no finish line.

I believe I will be fantasizing about this for a loooooooong time. Utter ecstasy and frustrated anticipation heightening the desire….If I don’t stop now, my chair will get wet.

So, in honor of my most unforgettable dream, I choose the word pink!
Think pink, think wet, think soft and silky, think tongue, think lips, think hot pink and hot, think wild and punkish, think girlie tutus and princess lace if you must, just think pink!

Due Diligence

“This film has been formatted to fit your TV”. That’s what I read last night as I started watching my new movie. Think about that, to fit MY TV! Those ninja film makers must have broke in my house and snuck by me, because I’m always home, and measured my TV and used some sort of Super Intelligence, high-tech, wifi equipment to reformat that DVD. And I just bought it four days ago, so they had to have been here in the last four days. That’s what I call diligent customer service!

Now let me tell you just how geeky I am. Hubby and I were discussing acquiring some math concept books and starting to do math in the evenings together. But wait there's more! I so miss my math classes in the time I did go to college, that we were talking about how fun it would be to take math courses together at the local university when the children are older. We are bordering on nerd here I think. But the more I’ve been thinking about it the more I want to propose to Hubby that when the twins are in school full time, perhaps I could return to college and study and get me a degree. Right now, I can think of nothing more desirable than to be in a classroom. I guess my battery pack upstairs needs a little jumpstart lately.

Missing is good

When I told Hubby the other day that I miss him and feel like I need to get to know him all over again, he said he didn’t want me to focus on that and feel bad. I told him that I thought the missing is a good thing. Here’s why. Now that I’ve had the chance to miss him, and miss him a lot I might add, I appreciate so much more about him now. This of course, stands to reason and is no great mental epiphany. I am no more astute than yesterday, ho hum. However, a concept understood is not a concept felt. Now I feel the idea and I comprehend it with more than my mind.

I decided that making a list of the things I’ve learned would be good mental exercise and attitude adjuster. So, here are things I learned while missing my Hubby:

1. I learned the little things he does make a HUGE difference in my day. Like cleaning up the babies after a meal, doing the dishes, killing spiders for me, or picking up the baby tornadoes living room toy deposits.

2. I learned that sleeping alone sucks. I used to like spreading out in the bed and then he came along and took over half my bed and I always thought I wanted that big space back. Not so. Feeling someone next to you is so much more pleasant. I would rather wait up late than face an empty bed.

3. I learned that sunsets and movie rentals and shooting stars are just not as fun as when someone is there to see it with you.

4. I learned that I am stronger than I give myself credit for and weaker than I’d like to be. Needing someone is probably the most scary thing I’ve ever done. I’m talking about the needing of the heart, the worry that he’s safe when he drives home late at night, the soul connection that like a tendon stretched itself as far as it would go until we could snap back together.

And now celebration may ensue, last night was the end of late nights. Project is nearly finished but the late nights are now no longer necessary. (This last statement I honestly will have to see to believe. It ain’t over till its over – that’s software for ya.) But for all intents and purposes I get my Hubby back! Hurrah!

Poetry Friday - Morning

I have a million excuses why this entry ain't so good. Instead I'll give the poem and promise a more exerted effort in the week next. Mona said use the word morning, and morning I did use.


Gone

I could lay there wondering
Or maybe I could call
But I understand the error
Of that way
And I won’t.
Cause I heard the words he
Uttered
Between the lines he
Never spoke
When we spent the night together
And in the morning he was gone
I got up and met the day
With the resolve of moving on
Who cares about the years
I gave
Or the times I looked
Another way
To give him space he needed
And all the room to grow
In the end he wouldn’t want me
And I couldn’t make him
And more, I couldn’t take him.
I told myself
It wouldn’t change my dawn.
So in the morning he was gone.

Cable be gone

About a month ago, my husband and I discussed turning off the cable, essentially turning off the TV. We felt the babies were getting too attuned to it when it was on and found ourselves watching for the sake of watching. When tired and the day was done, it was so easy to flip it on and sit down and stay there. Even when we would say, “there’s nothing on.” There was always a show we’d end up watching just to watch, “I guess this one will do.” Ugh, what a disgusting habit.

I’m not anti-TV. There are certain things I do appreciate. Like The Daily Show with John Stewart. A good food show like Iron Chef America. CNN – because we believe a person’s news sources should be diverse, we would watch CNN, read MSNBC and listen to NPR. And then there are those shows that are pure entertainment (ok, The Daily Show really is entertainment too), like BattleStar Galactica and Studio 60 which would keep us watching regularly. Oh and date night. Hubby and I every Saturday night, would put Cops on and snuggle up and enjoy a bowl of popcorn for our in-house date of the week.

However, all that is gone now. For the better of the family and our own minds and creative pursuits, for now, we decided it was time to be done with the TV. We’re not throwing it out or selling it (it ain’t worth much), we’re keeping it for movies of course. But we’ve turned off the cable and that is that.

I remember as a kid my parents took all the TV’s in the house, I think there were two, and unplugged them and put them away in storage. For two years. We thought they were the cruelest monsters ever for depriving us of Bugs Bunny, Real People, Starsky and Hutch, Star Blazers (anyone remember this one?). But in the end, my memories now of those two years, besides telling kids at school I had no idea what they were talking about when they mentioned the latest shows, was that we learned to play. We made up games. We played family games. I read and read and read. So it was a good thing, in spite of their monsterliness.

And now, I’m being a monster to my kids. I don’t think this is permanent. We’ll see. But we needed a break. And in this day of technology, it sure is nice to unplug from some of it just a little. Here’s hoping the kids take to their extra play time with vigor and read and do art. Which is what Hubby and I plan to do, more art, more reading, for me – more writing.

So, good-bye Studio 60. Good-bye John Stewart. Good-bye Officer Ryan on Cops. Good-bye CNN anchor lady who always fidgets on the Saturday morning broadcast. Good-bye Corner Gas gang. Maybe we’ll be seeing some of you on DVD.

A little life together

By Meno's request, here is the rest of the story (abridged):




We like to say Hubby came over one night and just never left. Which is sort of what happened. The following week after our first date, we had lunch a couple of more times. On that weekend, I invited him to an informal party at my apartment with other coworkers, where he declared his intense interest in me. The following Monday, I was laid off in a corporate restructure, start-up mass lay-off event. Woo hoo. After I picked my shattered little dream of ground floor, stock option, newbie startup belief off the floor, I called him Tuesday evening saying I’d like to see him again, just busy trying to land another job. He asked if he could look in on me Wednesday night. Sure thing.

Wednesday I’m beating the pavement and getting nowhere. I get rejected by a receptionist saying there is no job when I know an insider’s friend who’s tipped me off to see a certain person for a certain job. Cludgy enough for ya? Anyways, future Hubby comes by and finds me dejected and scared. After all I’ve got a son to support and rent to pay. He gave me a verbal slap in the face, don’t ever let anyone treat you like that. Her job is to direct you to the person you ask for, that’s her job description. Never let anyone tell you no. He proceeds to pump me full of confidence and job interview skills until its late in the evening and we end up asleep on the couch. When we come to, he says, “let’s go to bed.” My gut said, “It’s ok, he’s a gentleman.” And he was. He stayed with me all week, keeping the gentleman’s distance. Just supporting me and encouraging me. By Friday I had a job offer.

As for me, well this guy was different than most I’d dated. Some had been nice but he was comfortable. I didn’t get all giddy, I just knew. Knew he would always be there for me. Knew he was truly good hearted. And knew we fit like chocolate chip cookie dough and ice cream.

Within a couple of weeks, his lease was up and we just took the leap and moved him into my apartment – the bigger one. We had a whirlwind romance on the living room couch. It was like we’d known each other all our lives. Knowing each other at work helped. But we are so similar and have the same sense of humor and life goals. It just fit. So, about 6 weeks after we started dating, as we were cuddling on the couch, he whipped out a beautiful solitaire diamond ring and said, “Let’s run away somewhere and build a little life together.” So we did. After I got my big wedding, cause I just really wanted a big party with all our friends.

He later told me that when he first arrived at the company, he would hear someone laughing and loved the sound of her voice. So he acted like he was filling his water bottle to pass the cubicle of laughter to see who it was and there I sat. He apparently started filling his water bottle frequently trying to get the muster up to ask me out. Took him two years, silly boy.

It's a Date

Hubby and I met in the States, Nevada to be exact. We were both working for a software company there. We had worked on the same team for about six months and worked at the company for two years before we got together. He was known as Frenchy due to his Quebec origins. Though I liked him as one of the guys at the office, I never really developed a crush on him. I knew him as a gentleman and a brilliant guy. Sometimes when he spoke in meetings my head would spin. I was a newbie then, though I wouldn’t call myself otherwise now, at least I understand more.

So we hit a push at the office and were working late nights in several of the teams. One night I couldn’t find a sitter and had to bring my son to work. I was so pissed about that. Anyways, Hubby was helping a colleague of mine in a nearby cubicle after which they played a game of chess. My son, being bored decided to go see what was up. Hubby was the first guy who ever talked to my son without talking down to him. And I could hear the ease in his voice when he spoke to him. I found it odd that a single guy with no kids of his own was so comfortable around a kid. In my experience, most single guys would either try real hard to be friendly with my son to get my attention – which I could see through in a split second, or they would play with the kid like they were a kid themselves – not bad, but it was easy to see they were in for the fun stuff and not aware of the work, or they just talked down to kids and you could see they didn’t care for children. But this guy, well he got my attention that night. After his game, he came to me and asked how I was doing. We chit chatted a little bit and he mentioned chess, asking if I played. I told him I hadn’t played since I was a kid. He said we should play sometime and I said, well that might be cool.

The very next day, Frenchy came by my cubicle in the guise of seeing my colleague and asked if I’d like to join him for lunch and he could give me a refresher in chess. I said sure, that sounds like fun. So lunchtime rolls around and he shows up at my cubie with keys in hand. I follow him as he tells me he thought we could just run to the nearby Subway shop and play there – good tables for eating and chess at the same time. Hmm, sounds reasonable.

We sit down. We start playing. He explains moves and strategies. Then he starts asking questions like, “Do you have much family? How long have you been in Nevada? How old is your son?” As lunch went on the questions got more personal and that’s when I woke up and realized I was on a date! I don’t know how that fact had slipped by me in the first place, but there I was in the middle of a steak sandwich, getting creamed in a game of chess when my naive little brain woke up. And that’s how he snuck up on me.

Ohhhhh Yeah

Get this, I played chess with Hubby, and I won! I won at chess, I won at chess!

Poetry Friday - Pennies

Well I had two challenges for today. First the traditional word for Friday as posted by Mona and chosen by Is "Is" Is?, which is pennies. The other challenge came from my Hubby as given to me last night, the word: side. So here for all poetic delight, or not as your tastes may go, are two poems.


Pennies

Little wishes every one
Abandoned to the trickling water
Fountain.

Who dropped you there tiny coin?
What was the wish they left?
Lonely little thoughts lying
Copper
Shining
Crowded but
Not speaking
Just waiting to fulfill
A long forgotten
Fancy.

A hope for every sploosh
That each of you made
Then sank to your spot
Where your final rest
Was laid.



Your Path

There is a direction we are going
And we continue to it
But you and I
You and I
We were going there together
Somewhere one was lost
Did you get too far ahead?
Or did I pass you by?

Were there forks to other paths
That we took and never knew
That I could wander this way
And that way would be you?

We once vowed
To stay beside
But I don’t feel you there
And when I call
My voice gets taken in the wind
How can you have gone
When I asked you to be here?
I heard the other day that you
Were still going this way
But I have not found you
And I hate being alone
So much the anger
Gets my throat

I think I see you just ahead
But my heart
Is scared to hope
How light my feet would be
Running toward you
But I see
Just a mirage
A trick of my emotion
That I loved enough
To make you where you weren’t

Where is the path you took?
So I can get back by your side
Then we’d be on track
And the journey would be right.

Domestic Danger Zone

So I have a story I want to tell. I was mulling it over in my chaotic brain yesterday and thought it’s a pretty good one. I can only tell it by proxy, I was not there, but here is what I was told.

My grandmother was sitting in the kitchen of her cute little house that Grandpa built, on their cute little five acre farm in middle America where Grandpa loves to grow his gardens full of watermelon, corn, squash, okra (though who knows why anyone would grow this insipid vegetable), and other delights of the earth. And chickens. And have his faithful dog follow him around all day.

So there she was in her little kitchen in the middle of a lightning storm. Now this house that Grandpa built has an adequately tall lightning rod to the back of it which had protected their little domicile for years. In Grandma’s kitchen, there is a table set between an oven and a refrigerator. Grandma had been working in the kitchen and sat to take a rest while watching the storm out her big picture windows which Grandpa had been so sweet to install in the kitchen to give her a grand view.

Grandpa walked in the kitchen to have a chit chatty conversation with Grandma about the gardens and the weather. Just then Grandma got struck by lightning. Grandpa said it looked like a ball of fire entering the back of her head and shooting out her face straight into the fridge. Well apparently Grandma said nothing but sat there with her mouth open feeling a bit dizzy and well, shocked. Grandpa rushed to her and worriedly began asking if she was ok. He grabbed her and took her into the living room, where she could lay on the couch. She lost her hearing in one ear that day. She laughs about it now, though she will tell you it hurt like the dickens.

It was found that even with the lightning rod she was in quite a bad spot since the appliances being of metal conducted the lightning from the rod into the house and shooting it from one appliance to the other, where Grandma just happened to be sitting in the way. When the storm allayed, Grandpa immediately set about moving Grandma’s appliances and table so that her kitchen could be safer. However, Grandma refuses to go in the kitchen during thunderstorms, to this day.

In the memory kitchen

I have been craving comfort food lately. Maybe its the chill in the air, but I keep day dreaming about pots of stew and the way comfort food fills the kitchen with warm smells and memories. So I'm making homemade macaroni and cheese - not the boxed stuff, uck. And bean and sausage stew. And a giant cauldron of spaghetti sauce to use some now and freeze some for later. And chili dogs. I am eager to sit down to said meals and dig in with the family all at the table.

Everyone associates their own "comfort foods" with some memories of content. Like, soft oatmeal cookies, the kind you get at the store, sometimes with frosting sandwiched between two, reminds me of my Grandma's house because she always had a cookie jar magically full of them whenever we came to visit. And pancakes meant happy, fun days, because Mom was up early quietly tinging pots together to surprise the family with a big breakfast. And how pot roast and spaghetti remind me of warm bellies on cold nights. Mmm.

So what are your comfort foods?

Early morning night owl

Mona’s post about driving to work early in the morning got me thinking about the few times in my life when I was up early. See I’m a night owl. But there have been those rare occasions when I’ve been privileged enough to see the sun rise. These times occurred due to either pregnancy or nursing. So you see, my children gave me the gift of early morning.

One time in particular I love to recall, happened during the pregnancy with the twins. They had a habit of waking at around 2 or 3 am and start practicing their Cirque du Soleil moves. On getting out of bed, I of course had to pee. Who wouldn’t with two little people laying on their bladder? On my way back to bed, I saw something in the sky so grabbed my glasses to see clearer. I squealed, waking my husband. The sky was a light with colors. They were like ribbons in the wind, whirling and twisting and reaching out and recoiling. In hues of blues and greens and purply pinks. I watched in amazement for what seemed hours – minutes really, if that. The northern lights. Aurora borealis. Singly the most beautiful natural occurrence I have ever witnessed. Hubby told me it was rare to see that here in Quebec, and I was so grateful my little babes woke me up for the sky show. I will never forget how my heart was in my throat and how it made me feel so connected to earth watching the sky above. I love natural beauty. Waterfalls. Ancient trees. Rivers. Mountains. Rock faces. Things that all came before me and will continue without me.

Figless

I woke up at 3 am this morning contemplating fig newtons. Don't know why. I hate fig newtons. I do not consider these things cookies. They are just the thing your mom would say "Eat it, it's good for you” about. Which is the equivalent of someone saying, “She’s got a great personality”. Even in adulthood, I have retried many things I used to hate and discovered that I now thoroughly enjoy those things, including asparagus, mushrooms, broccoli. But fig newtons, well they are still icky. What about you, anything you still think is icky?

Spicy Babies

Yesterday I had a big cleaning day. No not a normal I’m going to clean house day. No. That was already done. This was a let’s make mom clean messes day. Well, ok they weren’t specifically thinking that, but I swear somewhere in their little subconscious minds they were. Heh.

First came my morning mess in the kitchen when I walked in to discover that my twins had gotten into a drawer and procured for themselves a Ziploc bag of ground ginger and a Ziploc bag of cayenne. Artistically they spread it all over the floor and marveled at the swirling color of powder. And of course, being my children, they tasted it too. Well I looked at the powdery piles and dust on my floor and babies and after lifting my jaw from the floor, I calmly dusted them off, washed their faces and hands and deposited them in their cribs while I vacuumed the floor. This is the point where a mom has to think, what’s the bright side of this. Well, at least my kitchen smells nice.

Upon waking from her nap, my little daughter decided that she would silently remove her diaper and discover her poo. Oh thank goodness she was confined in her crib. I walked in to find a diaper thrown to the floor and a baby sitting on sheets with little drops of poo here and there, some in her hair. So I calmly removed all her clothes, took her and bathed her and dressed her. Then removed all the sheets, the blankie, the bunny and washed them all, thinking, well I did need to change their sheets today anyway.

If all that wasn’t enough, I created my own problem in the evening. It was post suppertime and I was feeling like some extra baby interaction. I printed out some coloring papers, got out the crayons and went to the babies, sat on the floor and began coloring with them. We had a grand time scribbling on our papers and talking about the names of colors. Distractedly I got up to go attend to my older son leaving the babies. With crayons. Upon return, I discovered little tiny bits of chewed up crayon all over the floor, the babies' clothes, on their mouths and a look of “those taste icky” on their faces. So, I once again removed their clothes, cleaned them up, dressed them for bed and made a second crib deposit for the day while I vacuumed and scrubbed their floor. Here I told myself, good thing the crayons are non-toxic and washable and I did need to wash their floor. Then chuckled to myself that my babies must squeak by now with all the baths and washes they’ve had today.

This morning my kitchen and vacuum smell like a Middle Eastern meal.

Confessions of a Manic Canner

Have I talked about canning? If you asked my husband this, he would smile and chuckle. I cannot seem to stop talking about it. See I have this relationship with food. Not the kind where it solves my problems, or the kind where if I don’t feel good I turn to it. No this is a loving relationship based on sensory experiences of all kind. I adore food, from the picking of it in the grocery store, preparing menus, cutting and prepping, cooking, making new recipes, baking, of course eating and now canning. Ah the smell of fresh produce as you cut into it and release its nature. The feel of it on your tongue, with all its glorious textures. The flavors blended together and making medleys in your mouth. Yep, I appreciate it all.

My kitchen is a place of peace, when I am prepping food I listen to music or my podcasts and I think and sing and dance and enjoy having my children watch and learn. Its one of the few things that I do which I believe I do well. I don’t question my abilities, I just enjoy doing it.

Last year, I canned for the first time in my life. It was a test year. So I canned four jars of pickled beets. And we ate those jars of beets over the winter months and each time we opened one, our mouths watered. So I knew that I could do the canning and I learned that I loved it as much as I love any other food activity.

This year, canning has saved my soul. Through the difficulties of long hours and weekend work that my husband has been stuck with, I have canned. I take my time to cut and peel and think. I have planned lists of items to can, recipes to try. I have stocked up on canning supplies for my year of canning wishes. So far, I have canned pickled beets, pickled vegetables, more pickled vegetables, pickles two different ways, wine jelly and corn cob jelly. On the list this week are plum jelly, apple kiwi jelly, lemon basil jelly and apple basil jelly. And after that is done, well there is a whole long list just waiting for me.

And of course, next year I have planned for new and exciting adventures in canning. I will be purchasing a pressure canner and then I will be able to prepare non-acidic foods like vegetables and fruits without having to pickle them. Plus, if my garden plans go well, I may just be canning my own home-grown produce...mmm.

Everything about canning appeals to my sensory relationship with food. The prepping, of course. The little popping sound when each jar seals is like winning at monopoly every time I hear it. Gazing at the beauty of the jars full of fresh fruits and vegetables in all their glorious colors. And in a month or two, we’ll be opening our first jar and smelling the personification of our desire as our mouths drool.

Poetic Rabbit that I Am

I just couldn't help it, I had another poem in me today.


What Could We Be

Let’s go to the lake
And run on the dock
I like to dive right in
And dig my toes in the cold sand
We could have a treasure hunt
And see how many
Odd little things we could find
We could play hide and seek
Through the trees behind the beach
And the sun is so hot today
We could romp at the playground
And swing and jump in the water
Whenever we want.

Oh to be a kid again
And run carefree

Let’s take a road trip
We could hop in the car and drive
We could go to places
We’ve never seen
While we eat pepperoni
And beef jerky
Drinking soda
Singing road songs
And when the miles drone before us
Weighing down our eyelids
We could stop
And sleep it off.

Oh to be twenty
With a car and a key

Let’s take a hike
Into the quiet of the mountain
We’ll sit in peace
And plan nothing but togetherness
We can listen to the birds
And feel the gentle give
Beneath our feet
Hearing the soft crunch
Of pebbles tumbling
Where we’ve been
I could let my breath out
In a sigh
And you could smile with ease.

Oh to enjoy time
And just being we

cheating on friday

Poor Friday. I couldn't help it. It's not you baby, it's me. Yeah I wrote a poem today, but it didnt mean anything, I was thinking about you the whole time. I don't love Tuesday. I'll write a poem Friday too, c'mon hon.

Mostly

Mostly I need to work on motivation
Mostly I want more than I can accomplish
Mostly I like to try new things
Mostly full
Mostly whole

Never do I cease learning
Never could I harm another
Never would I leave
Never done
Never one

Always I reach for brass rings
Always I fight my insecurity
Always I am meeting
Always going
Always flowing

Sometimes takes place daily
Sometimes comes and goes
Sometimes normal happens
Sometimes scheme
Sometimes dream

Wherever my work begins
Wherever gardens grow
Wherever calls me home
Wherever dare
Wherever there

Here
Am
I


Newsworthy?

As quoted about Bush and his education policy

But education expert Davis Logsdon says that "No Child Left Behind," which requires that students pass standardized tests in order to advance to the next grade, may be flawed at its core: "If that law had been around when President Bush was in school, he would still be in seventh grade."


Oh the irony

Doors for Roadblocks

D-Man posted about books he was reading, one of which was written by blogger Cosmic Crayola and published through a self-publishing medium Lulu. This got me thinking about Lucia’s blog entry on writing and what stops us? Maybe using Lulu could be an answer to some of our roadblocks. Granted this isn’t for everyone, but for me, writing the book and having it in print is more the point than how many books I sell. I think that’s why I love blogging so much. It forces me to write and well, I love writing for the sake of writing. The idea of getting published has long been daunting enough to use as an excuse not to write the books floating around in my head. Maybe that particular excuse has now been shown the door. Hmm.

Mother’s Intuition and Twins

Just a quick note to start, I don’t know if you could tell from Friday’s post, but the darkness I felt on Thursday passed by the next day. It was a quick jaunt through Falling Apart Lane, good to be back on the main drag.

There are times when I have feelings of premonition, déjà vu, or just gut feeling intuition. All of these stem from the same thing I think. I have no scientific or clinical explanation, but we all experience it on some level. We’re pretty complex creatures and though we associate knowledge with the brain, I think there’s more to us than that. I think every part of us remembers things, knows things, feels things. We just filter it through the brain and store the archives there.

My point is that I wanted to tell you about the most incredible experience of intuition I’ve ever had. Here it is.

It was early May. We had just moved into our house. Our little fixer-upper. We were cleaning and cleaning and feeling proud. Now, I knew I was pregnant even though I hadn’t taken any tests. This is no feat of the imagination, a pregnant woman usually knows. The smell of the cleaning products mixed with dirt making you puke is enough to tell you that. So it was, we found out in the first week of owning our own home that we had succeeded in beginning life together. By June we had our first pre-natal visit. By June I was sick as a dog and more tired than I had ever felt. But that was pregnancy.

I started dreaming about the pregnancy. Also not unusual. But these dreams were about twins. A boy and a girl. They were vivid dreams. I would see myself pushing two babies in a double stroller. One with curly brown hair. I could see myself hanging clothes to dry and two little babies playing at my feet. I had several of these dreams and decided to tell my husband. I just had a funny feeling deep down.

When I told him, I said this could be nothing. But honey, you better brace yourself because I just sort of know, the dreams are right. He was astonished. He was a little bit skeptical. But the more the dreams came, the more he believed. For me, however, I began to not believe only for the reason that I did not want to get my hopes up. To have twins, would be such a great thing. Especially if they were boy and girl. Then we would be done, I would have my girl and two babies close in age (my wish list, as I already had a boy) and he would have a son with his name.

In July we asked the doctor to check for more than one heartbeat. She tried but could not locate a second. We doubted the dreams but looked for answers to other burgeoning issues, like the fact that I was barely 3 months pregnant and huge while being sicker and more tired than my previous pregnancy. So we chalked it up to second pregnancy differences.

Then in August after repeated visions of twins at night, we had our next prenatal visit where the doctor mentioned my measurements having been way larger than my actual pregnancy timeline should have been. She thought I got my dates wrong. I assured her I knew for sure since I had been charting. She checked once again for two heartbeats and sure enough, this time we heard it. A rapid little heartbeat on the left side and a heavier, slower heartbeat on the right. I began to cry. My husband looked at me like I was crazy, here I knew all the time and I was the one crying in disbelief and joy.

Later that month we had our first ultra-sound and saw our two beautiful babies. We would later discover through other ultrasounds, that the dreams were dead on, as we were having one boy and one girl. Well that’s my little story of intuition and how I knew I was carrying a boy and a girl at the same time. And by the way, my little girl has curly brown hair!


A sad crikey

This is sad. But also, not surprising. I mean, c'mon. When you play with wild things, you're bound to get hurt at some point. Look at Siegfried and Roy.


Bush and read in same sentence

Ok this guy is the leader of the United States of America, he doesn't have time to take care of people stranded after a hurricane, but his reading list and habits are better than mine? Do you think he counts it as reading the book if he reads the summary on the back?

Poetry Friday - Wrinkle

Mona, being on vacation, left me to my own devices. So as noted below, my Hubby chose the word wrinkle. Read on.


Listen

Old mother tree burned to the ground
Feeding forest floor
But the rings of her life
Were charred and erased
Old spirit woman walks in my mind
Interrupting my dream
Speaks her sage and warning
How waste can creep in
If no doors are opened and
Only sadness let in.
A face of leather and wrinkles
The lines of wisdom
Earned
Like the tiger tooth necklace
Years bided and life watched

Quit the cage around your heart
She says
Let the doves depart

Frost and cold
Tiptoed over the countryside
And the bite in the air
Hastened creatures away
But ancient stag came quietly by
With scars and horns
Showing age and skill
His beard he grows
With pride
Leading his herd
In days of hunger and plenty
Sees me with his questioning eye

Do not sit in one spot too long
He chides
Find the places to walk among

Leaves brown and decay
Where worms and earth
Churn
Sun will warm and burn
Summer giggles
At my tears
Flirty breeze whips through my hair
With his low and sultry voice
He laughs and tickles my ear
Speaks of lust and rousing
To make a virgin blush

Do not hide the passion within
He coos
Let life begin


And now a sillier poem

PermaPress

I need a permanent press life
I’ll take the one here on page four
With the lifetime guarantee
And the self-cleaning floor.
See I have wrinkles I need to iron
And this seems the perfect way
I’ll, I’ll make a check out now
Can you bring it by today?
Yes I’ll opt for stain-free children
And the stress-free husband,
Ooh I like this feature here
With the auto-launder plan!
Let’s throw in a few more options
Like the yearly fun vacation
And the extra time on hand
And nightly marital elation.
Well that should do for now
I’ll call if I need more
Thank you so much for your product
I really like your store!