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Confidentially speaking

A Confidant: a close friend or associate to whom secrets are confided or with whom private matters and problems are discussed.

We all know one, most of us have one or two. They’re the best friend type. That seemingly loyal person you can always lean on in your time of need, since they seem to never tire of being that rock for you.

Unfortunately sometimes, hidden within that confidant exterior, therein lies a snake. The UNconfidant. This person can come in many varying shades and hues. They may be a family member. They could be someone from your social life. They may be someone you work with.  You may or may not have been acquainted with this person for many years, them having earned your trust through a friendship or business association. Sometimes they hide behind religion or other sources.

The UNconfidant will work diligently to finagle information from you. He not only shares your private information freely with others, but will use it against you should it promise to further his own self. He will literally burn a streak in the carpet to reach the destination where he may begin wagging his tongue. Meanwhile, the source is clueless as to the intentions of the slithering UNconfidant.

Be careful, friends – this person may be right under your nose, much closer than you would ever think. The weak need them – the lonely yearn for them – and only the wise can spot them.

Just sittin’ on the outside, lookin’ in….

Posted by  |  May 20, 2010 | Categories: Life Struggles, Opinion, Thoughts | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Go… and Be Happy.

I often wish I’d started blogging a while back. Then again, if I had, it would’ve been the most boring drawn-out process of arriving at the point I’m at now – which is happy. Yes, money is more than tight, referencing yesterday’s rant… but I am happy.

About a year and a half ago, I wrote a few blogs on another site. This site isn’t public and I’m thinking of closing it down soon, so I wanted a ‘storage bin’ to house a couple of them. I’m thinking my current blog would be a good storage choice. Rereading them just now, I once again stumbled upon what I was so desperately searching for from the very beginning…

The Quest for Happiness.

Guess I need a refresher course every now and again… So, go ahead – make the jump. But above all………. be happy.


Friday, April 10, 2009
A Good Life
Category: Life

Life is good.

Simple words, aren’t they?  Actually these three words can branch out in so many directions and mean so many things.  Right now I’m partial to what they symbolize to me.

Which is, the ultimate realization that I am happily independent.  It’s taken me a while to say that with some enthusiasm, but man oh man – what a great feeling it is to finally get to know, and actually like, your own self.

And finally being able to say…. ‘I did it’.  While smiling.

The forever analyst that I am, I’d find myself constantly searching for the flaws in my own character that might have led up to or even caused the ending of my old life.  It took me a while to realize that until I embraced my own self, gave myself some actual worth, that I would in fact be alone in my new life.  You absolutely are how others see you.  Might be sad – but this is fact.

Being off work on a holiday, getting up and having the day with which to do exactly as you please, no one to answer to…. though a rarity, how glorious is that?  There are so many people confined in a tempestuous or otherwise unhappy relationship that dictates their every move, even on a day off from work.  Actually, days off are usually even more trying if you’re in a relationship that’s gone south.  I sincerely remember.

This morning I do my usual cleanup of self and house – then cook 2 eggs, 3 pieces of bacon, 1 piece of toast lightly buttered, add grape jam – and oh, can’t forget the OJ with lots’ o pulp.  Savoring every bite sitting on my porch while looking out at all the new greenery, I thought to myself…. ‘only breakfast at the beach could top this right now’.  Mr. Huge Hovering Devil Bee who’s positioned himself directly above the railing to watch me eat doesn’t even bother me.

The most simplistic things in life really are the most important.  The sunrises, sunsets…. the birds building and mating in the Spring (in my hanging basket, no less).  A good breakfast.  Looking forward to the imminent thunderstorm.  Crossing the bridge and gazing at the ‘diamonds on the water’; locking them into memory.  I told a friend recently that I’ve gotten pretty good at driving a straight line on the bridge while my head is turned completely towards the lake. LOL  In any case, the love and appreciation for these things will only come once you are truly satisfied and content with your own self worth.  I am forever thankful for being at that point in my life.


Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Setting the REAL record straight
 Category: Romance and Relationships

Every so often I get the urge to write a blog. Although the urge isn’t really there today, I more just feel the need to. Jot down some things that have been weighing on my mind, all related to the colorful year I’ve had so far. A year that’s made me feel failure-esque for the most part.

To try and understand how there can be so many fake people in the world is a daily struggle. What does it take anymore to be REAL? Out of two relationships I’ve had this year, both have failed. I’m not saying that I’m totally blameless. What I am saying is that both of these individuals happened to not be ‘real’.

Though a world different in all other areas, both individuals had this one little trait in common. Neither were genuine – neither were real. They both were masters of disguising theirselves as someone they were not. Whether it’s covering up something of grave importance (case #1) or leading someone to believe you lead a life that doesn’t really exist, along with hidden anger issues (case #2) – the simple fact remains… YOU AREN’T BEING REAL.

I realize it’s better to know sooner rather than later. At the time, it did make me wonder why I even bothered to put myself out there. Was there something about me that attracted this type of masqueraded personality? Was I really that gullible? Or did I want to be loved so badly that I was turning my head to the obvious? After much thought, I’ve decided to suspend the search for the answer – instead moving forward with slightly more ware on life this time.

Recently I’ve reconnected with someone who has showed me that there are still real people in the world. This person has also dealt with a not-real someone in their own life for many years. It’s been helpful and healing to share our experiences, and realize that we aren’t so alone in our quest to find someone out there that is genuine. Although we’re still in the early stages of a relationship, I can say that through him, I am slowly learning to trust again. That guard is still somewhat in place – as I’m sure his is too. We’d both be fools not to, right?


Posted by  |  May 19, 2010 | Categories: Emotions, Life Struggles, Love, Relationships, Thoughts, Writing | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Passerby

That’s right. If you don’t want an earful of bitching this morning, just ‘pass her by’.

I try not to bitch about money because it seems almost everyone I know is currently struggling. But there comes a time when you need to get stuff off your chest, and this is one of those days. I am so very weary of struggling. Dealing with a paycheck that not only hasn’t gone up in years… but has actually decreased thanks to the recent tax hike. Not being able to make a trip to the grocery store because I need gas in my car. Spare me any of that ‘be thankful you have a job’ crap – I’ve said many times before that I am thankful and always list that in my blessing count blogs. It just gets really old having to scrimp and scrape to get by when my next paycheck is almost a full two weeks away. Hell I’m still playing catchup from being sick, with the doctor visit and meds. I literally can’t afford to get sick.

Bad thing is, I don’t see any solution in the near future. Well, that’s not true. I am in control of my own self. If I don’t control anything else in life, I do control me. So I know what I need to do. I need to take myself out and get a part-time job at Lowes. That’s exactly what I need to do. Say buh-bye to my social life, suck it up and work two jobs. Shit.

Posted by  |  May 18, 2010 | Categories: Rants | Leave a comment

Water

I don’t much believe in coincidence. I think it’s a rare if ever instance where something happens that doesn’t have meaning behind it. Now I know that’s just my opinion, but ya have to admit that way of thinking does make life a bit more interesting. Keeps the ole’ brain active. Anywho, that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

It’s raining to beat the band this morning. Thunderstorms arrived late yesterday, and the rain has been torrential at times. It’s supposed to continue throughout the day today, and the area’s in bad need of it so I say bring it on.

Water.

You could never have convinced me a year ago that this ole’ girl would turn country – but that’s exactly what has happened. Although I still love my alternative, I have my radio set to the two local country stations 24/7. Hell I even sleep to it.

Back to coincidence. So I’m driving in to work this morning in the torrential rain and the song Water by Brad Paisley comes on. Here’s a guy who must heart the wet stuff just as much as I do. You’ve seriously got to watch this video… not only is it a terrific song but it’s probably the most ‘fun’ video I’ve ever seen!!

Watch it here!!

**Brad Paisley is seriously hot in it too… OMG… he SO reminds me of my own guy… WOW**

Yeah when that summer sun starts to beatin’ down
And you don’t know what to do
Grab your swimming trunks
Ice up that old igloo
Drive until the map turns blue

This is a song I can go to my happy place with. Come along song, and travel with me to my happy place. You can come too, Bradley. JK, I’ll bring your stunt-double instead, the best guy in the universe.

All you really need this time of year
Is a pair of shades
And ice cold beer
And a place to sit somewhere near
Water.

Posted by  |  May 17, 2010 | Categories: Music, Ocean, Thoughts | Leave a comment

Older… not necessarily wiser

The older I get, the more instances occur where I notice myself doing something foolish or embarrassing.

About a week ago, I had to go to the post office to get some stamps. The post office in my little town is actually located in the very back of a little Hallmark shop. I easily parked near the front, went in and did my business. As I got back to my car, I looked down and noticed there were very small chips of white paint coming off near the middle trim of my drivers door. I thought, damn, this car really is getting some age on it! I’d washed it not much more than a month prior, but failed to notice these little flaws. Still disbelieving, I crouched down and ran my fingers over and over the spots on my door. I clicked my keyfob to unlock my door, and didn’t pay much attention to the fact it didn’t initially unlock (sometimes I do have to click it two or three times, battery needs replacing). Crouched down again and ran my fingers over the little spots of chipped paint. Then I stood up again to unlock the door – damn, why isn’t it unlocking? I look down and notice that even the molding near the window is a more discolored black than I remember. WTH? Disparaged at this point over the appearance of my car, I click once more to unlock.

The lightbulb in my head finally came on. Oh God, this wasn’t my car. Same make, same model, same year, same color… but I am in fact standing here rubbing molesting someone else’s car. Panic-stricken, I look around and immediately take heed of the fact that I was parked another row over.

This isn’t the first time I’ve done this – but in my defense it’s been at least several months. The last time, it wasn’t even my model of car (it was white though).

I stopped at the grocery store before going in to work this morning. Whenever I’m able, I get my discount card out for scanning and have my wallet ready. As the lady in front of me finishes up, the cashier thanks her and promptly turns to me to greet me and take my card. I hand it to her, and notice a longer-than-should-be pause. She says “I’ll let you hang onto that for now”. I was handing her my bleeping ATM card. I’ll have to say she was super-gracious about it and didn’t try to (further) embarrass me.

Then there’s my speeding ticket of ’09 where I handed the officer my ATM card instead of my license. Of course that was likely a direct result of him sliding in sideways behind me to barracade me in a front parking spot at Walmart, like I had just robbed a bank or something. The common criminal that I am. I’ll have to say that cop very much deserved his severe lisp.

How about this one. I’ll ask a store clerk where something is, and they’ll point it out to me. It will NOT be visible to me. We can be almost right at it – they point to the area, describe what it’s in front of/beside of, then finally look at me in disbelief – no, I don’t see it. It’s just one of Murphy’s laws. I keep saying Ima stop asking where a certain thing is at because I always feel like an ass in the end. Anybody else have this (consistently) happen to them??

One thing’s for sure. The future should prove to be very entertaining… for others.  🙂

Posted by  |  May 14, 2010 | Categories: Humor, Thoughts | Leave a comment

The Seashell

Call it beach fever, call it what you will. I’m yearning to see the ocean. The poem I posted a couple days ago A Seraphim’s Calling is one of my favorites – even though the author is unknown, it will always remain so. I’ve often wished I had one of my very own poems detailing my love for the ocean. My own tribute in a sense, to the sea.

I don’t tackle writing poetry anymore. I did write a few things when I was younger, but I never did really see anything special in any of them. I’d usually wind up stumped, halted in midstream, left with only half or part of ‘something’ – something that may have been nothing anyway. Why bother doing something that frustrates you, right? Well, I was looking at a few shells on my desk at work, thinking man, are they ever out of their element…

The 'inspirational' shells on my desk...

…and this one actually came fairly easy. Hope you like it. Obviously it doesn’t pay for me to think too long on any one subject – there’s just no telling where it’ll land me. 😉

The Shell

If I were to be but a shell
opalescent tan and blue
I’d have slivers of magenta
representing of me too.

My edges would be ultra smooth
my body voluptuous curving
my insides would be polished gleam
just as such deserving

If I were to be but a shell
my thoughts they would be few
just the magic of forever
consumed in all the new

I’d wander up upon a beach
where no one else dare walk
barren, fertile, and unknown
no piers, no nets, no docks

If I were to be but a shell
I’d roll on with the tide
to swim along with dolphins
in waves we would collide

In the moonlight I would lie
so motionless and still
biding time until the morn’
when sunlight brings new thrill

If I were to be but a shell
I’d drift on out to sea
along with all my comrades
to experience the free.

©Bonnie Melton, 2010


Posted by  |  May 12, 2010 | Categories: Ocean, Poetry | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Bitch Session #853

I know there’s been enough of the sappy talk as of lately, with me being so in love and all. But what the hell, it’s my blog, and it’s what I want to write about. Right?

And as if right on cue… a Rascal Flatts song starts playing on the radio.

First off, gotta get a bitch session in about how sick I seriously still am. Instead of moving forward, I’m inching backward. Been up since early hours of the am with what I now officially know to be a sinus infection. Feels something like a damn brain aneurysm every time I blow my super-plugged-up nose, and the pain is excruciating. Gotta call the doc this morning. I only hope for his sake he doesn’t request me to come back in there for another visit co-payment, because I will seriously blow if that happens. Hell I just want to be semi-well for my daughter’s college graduation Saturday, which is now just 3 short days away.

Ah, nice… Diamond Rio now plays – What a Beautiful Mess I’m In. Take a big breath Bon. Breathe in deep through that stopped-up nose, all the way down through those rattly lungs of yours. And Don’t Forget To Smile Big.

My guy comes over last night with more meds for his sickly little girlfriend. I was the recipient of stroking and petting all night long while I was so miserable. He constantly massaged my forehead and face, legs and back, never tiring. With each new day I love him more, it amazes me still. Everything about him is so very precious. I could never have asked for a man as good as he, and yes – I do realize how very lucky I am.

In closing, I have to share a link to my Mother’s blog this morning, because for one I love her writing – and two, it is very much what it says… Deep.  Go to Linda’s Blog

Posted by  |  May 11, 2010 | Categories: Health, Love, Music, Rants | Leave a comment

Post Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day this year was nothing short of weird, a word I know I’ve grossly overused lately.

It seemed meaningless, empty… since I neither got to see my daughter or my Mother. Aww don’t get me wrong, I’m not grasping for pity. My daughter had to work a double shift yesterday, so she’s taking me out tonight. The reason I didn’t see my Mother is because of this kickass virus I’ve got (still). Knowing how sick I was, she actually requested I wait and maybe do it Tuesday.

It still got me to thinking, Mothers that don’t have anyone around every Mother’s day, what must that be like? I can only imagine it to be a very desolate feeling year after year.

I went to bed at promptly at 10 last night but after about 2am I got very little sleep, and the fleeting bit I got was filled with crazy dreams. I’m ready to shake this ‘sick’ off already and get back to my old self. Unfortunately it’s not happening as fast as I’d like it to.

Posted by  |  May 10, 2010 | Categories: Holidays | Leave a comment

A Seraphim’s calling

Thought I’d share one of my most favorite, though not inherently famous, poems. I actually don’t know who wrote this, but know that I have taken the liberty of correcting a few grammatical instances. I’ve tried multiple times to research the author online, to no avail.

I believe the reason the poem means so much to me because of the obvious love the author has for the sea.

So, what is a seraphim? A seraph (Heb. שׂרף, pl. שׂרפים Seraphim, lat. seraph[us], pl. seraphi[m]) is one of a class of celestial beings mentioned once in the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament, in Isaiah. Later Jewish imagery perceived them as having human form, and in that way they passed into the ranks of Christian angels. In the Christian angelic hierarchy, seraphim represent the highest rank of angels. (Thanks, Wikipedia.)

The highest-ranking angels. This person really does love the ocean.

Beautiful Blue, a seraphim call
Gentle as the rain, like the breeze through green palms
Translucent, glowing, glistening in the Sun
Sweet kisses of light, whispers of things to come
Shy and courageous, fearless and fearing
Warm and cold, rough and endearing
Painfully tender, softly screaming
Lost then found, dull then gleaming
Passionate months of high and low tides
Midsummer night dreams, tumbling joyrides
The scent of Earth, detailed as grains of sand
Vast is the universe as nature is grand
Iridescent turquoise, deep and mysterious
Crystal clear shining, silly then serious
Powerful as an earthquake, like two lovers on the beach
Peaceful and kind, strong but easily weak
Calling out to you with every wave
Crashing into dark echoing caves
Soul searching, constant friction
Like rainbows in waterfalls
Beautiful Blue, a seraphim call…
~Unknown


Posted by  |  May 9, 2010 | Categories: Ocean, Poetry | 1 Comment

The Sore Throat Virus

It’s a rarity that I feel so horrible the thought of writing a blog sickens me, but that’s been the case these past few days. I’ve been dealing with a real ass-kicker of a virus. I haven’t been sick in a very very long time, which is something I like to brag about and even bask in – but alas that tenure is OVER. Enter Sandman…errr, the Sore Throat Virus. Or should I call it the Razorblade Throat Virus. Yeah, that works better.

I woke up in the wee hours of Thursday morning in a cold clammy sweat, and immediately took note of the fact that I could not swallow. Now I’ve dealt with a sore throat many times in my life, including a few times this spring with the high pollen count. But this one was somehow different. Let’s just say after forty-two years you should know your body well enough to know when something’s amiss. I went on to work and grudgingly performed my duties, but I felt this crud progressing as the day went on. The girls in my office were getting tired of hearing me groan and complain, I know. But ya know – if you feel shitty, you just feel shitty. Everybody deals with it in their own way.

By the time I got off yesterday, I literally tore outta there to get home – not passing go, not collecting $200. My guy and I had cancelled our plans for the night earlier, so I just tried to rest on the bed for a while. By the time nightfall hit on Thursday night, you-know-what hit. The godforbidden diarrhea D word. To the bathroom, over and over. Then came chills so bad no amount of blankets on me would make them go away. Although I don’t have a thermometer, I knew that spelled fever. Laid on the couch like a zombie through three hours of tv – which is totally not me. I rarely SIT on my couch, much less lay on it – and I also watch very little tv. Trying to sleep Thursday night was the worst – my throat had gotten past the point of not being able to swallow. Each time I had to do it, was literally like swallowing razors… so it made me cry every time I swallowed. I was up hour on the hour gargling with warm salt water.

FF to Friday morning. I knew I had no choice other than to make that dreaded call in to work. I’m never out and everyone knows this – but this still doesn’t help cure that little feeling inside of what are people thinking of me. I’ve never been able to change that, and sometimes hate myself for it. Early Friday about 4 am, I shined a flashlight down my throat. I was totally grossed out by what I saw in the mirror, and at that moment I knew I had to see a doc. My tonsils were so enlarged and inflamed that they were each the size of a gumball. It’s no wonder I couldn’t effing swallow! Got to the doc at eleven, which he immediately said WOW when he saw my throat, then informed me it looked ‘guilty’ of strep. He almost bypassed the rapid test and just treated me with penicillin, but then decided to go ahead and do the test when I overheard he and his nurse talking in the corrider outside the room.

Nurse: I think it’s viral.
Doc: No, all the signs of strep are present: the swelling, redness, fever…
Nurse : okay… but I was right on the last one, let’s see if I’m right on this one…

Sure enough, the rapid test came back negative, the doc was wrong. I know he was hatin’ life on that one.  Hell I hate to say it but I almost wanted it to be strep, since I’d already talked the doc into the hip-shot of penicillin that makes you feel immediately better. So… since it wasn’t strep and was viral, I got to bounce drag my ass outta there with nothing but an rx of numbing mouthwash. Hoo–WAH. I came home and changed, called work, my mother, my guy and texted my babygirl. Next thing you know, here comes K over with a bagfull of medicines. You name it, throat lozenges, Chloraseptic spray, Ibuprofen and Coriceden nighttime rest meds – sooo sweet. Knocked myself out after he left (literally) and slept a little over three hours. Knocked myself out again Friday night with the nighttime cold med and here I am, ten hours of sleep later… feeling a little better. Mindset is better, if nothing else. Throat still sore, but it’s not like the razor blade feeling from days past.

I think there’s hope after all.

Posted by  |  May 8, 2010 | Categories: Health | Leave a comment

Post Cinco

Not good to wake up the morning after Cinco de Mayo sick. Not from alcohol, either – throat is almost swollen shut and had chills the latter half of the night. Crap, I guess there goes my longass tenure of wellness that I so often brag about.

After choking on my own phlegm a couple times while trying to doze back off (I know ewww) I got up this morning and megaloaded up on vitamin C’s. Ima fight it with every fiber of my being – which right now all of my fibers seem to be sore.

We went out to the local Mexican eatery last night, and I’ve never seen such a crowd there. Then again I don’t remember ever going out for Mexican on Cinco de Mayo before, either. I think every person in our little lake town had the exact same idea, at the exact same time. It was pretty funny to see the people continually walking up spewing in and all of them have the same look on their face – shock. Couldn’t stir ’em with a stick. (For you non-Southerners out there… that means mega-crowded.) It was a great meal though, and I made a happy plate. We also made a pitcher of margaritas happy. 😆

Ugghh I hate being sick. Kick in already, Vit C’s.

Posted by  |  May 6, 2010 | Categories: Health, Holidays | Leave a comment

Cinco de Marizona

Spanish for ‘fifth of May’, Cinco de Mayo is a non-obligatory federal holiday that commemorates the Mexican army’s defeat over French forces over unlikely odds at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862.

With all the illegal immigration crap going on right now, especially in our great State of Arizona, this year I find the ‘holiday’ somewhat amusing. Jan Brewer (governor of AZ) has just declared that the Cinco de Mayo festivities will no longer take place in the state of Arizona. Well… Laugh My Effing Ass Off.

I am not opposed to immigrants. Geez people, I myself am an immigrant from a different continent. I have brothers who are of Peruvian decent. But guess what – we’re all fucking legal.  How many times do I have to say it. It’s the effing ILLEGALS!?! To which my very own taxes are now being rerouted to in order to keep them up. It’s no wonder the tax man wants to collect $1200 from me for the fiscal year of 2009.

Guess what – we’re all in trouble anyway. Damage done is already irreparable. Approximately 23 million illegals (let’s not forget to keep that ticker going) are currently living in the United States. That’s right – I said MILLION. And currently.  http://immigrationcounters.com/

It’s a joke to think even a small percentage of this overwhelming population can speak anything other than their native spanish language. If you’ve been out in public even semi-recently, you know better. Push one for English, two for Spa – this spells one thing for me… rage. But pay no mind, the damage has already been done. No more can we say English as a prerequisite ‘would save America TONS of money… and Mexico, it would lend your country additional aptitude as well’. We all know intellect breeds money, which they are so desperate in need of. Nah. Too bad, so sad. The tables have already been turned, and for quite some time now.

I could write on this topic all night long, but have likely voiced my opinion on the subject here previously anyways so I’ll spare you. So back to the original topic, which is Cinco de Mayo. Will the Bonster be partaking in this years festivities??

Absolutely. 😉  Ima call it Cinco de Bon. Nice little jingle to it, I think…

Posted by  |  May 5, 2010 | Categories: Holidays, Political | Leave a comment

A beautiful heart…

K found him on a jobsite, lying on his back. He picked him up, turned him over, and inspected him for injury. The little guy appeared to be okay… his little head and arms moved ever so slowly, but he was alive. He kept him safe until the workday’s end and decided to take him home. He made a little temporary aquarium with about 1″ of dirt and mulch, water, and made a little igloo for him to hide in from a half a naval orange peel he cut with a little ‘door’.

My boyfriend had found a endangered box turtle. This little thing is tiny – only a tad bigger than his own thumbprint. He likely would never have survived, as he was stuck on his back beside a fence in the middle of nothing but red dust.

When I drove up Saturday, he directed me over to his birdbath to ‘meet’ him. Little Autobot had been placed in the birdbath, along with his little ‘hut’ to hide in. He proudly told me he had just eaten for the first time, a large worm K had just caught and put in the container for him. So far he’s been ‘catching’ his protein for him (worms and insects).

Sunday we drove over to PetSmart, since he wanted to secure Autobot a more permanent home. He found a nice little aquarium along with a watering stone, a permanent hut (igloo made from a coconut) and some food for when insects or other veggies aren’t available.

This is yet another reason I have found to love him even more, which I didn’t think was possible. I’m continually being reminded of the enormous and beautiful heart this man has.

Posted by  |  May 4, 2010 | Categories: Animals, Love | Leave a comment

Dreamin’ again

I probably got 4 hours total last night, and that might be a stretch. Bad dreams don’t bother me so much, unless they’re mega-realistic. Last night’s was one of those.

We were meeting up with relatives for my daughter’s upcoming college graduation dinner. With the two sides of the family getting together again for the first in a very long time, it was already stressful. But then there was Mammaw – this is my grandmother who passed away almost a decade ago. She was standing beside Mom, looking beautiful, elegant. Actually everyone there looked their absolute best, the men in suits, women in dresses, makeup on point. But Mammaw looked ravishing, as she appears in most dreams I have of her. She was wearing a red and black dress. Mom had such a worried look on her face. She told me, ‘I think Mammaw just had a stroke again. All the symptoms are there, but she won’t even hear of going to the doctor’. Apparently she didn’t want to ruin Julia’s grad dinner. I then tried to talk her into going, telling her I’d take her myself right then. She never spoke to me, just had this dreamy far away look in her eyes. It brings me to tears to even recollect it. The dream ended there.

Boy do I miss her. She would have been the life of this ‘party’. Correction – Mammaw and my stepdad would’ve had to share the limelight on that one. Big O. It’s for sure this would’ve been one of his most proud moments – the ‘apple of his eye’ graduating college.

I know they’ll both accompany us in our spirit. But somehow… I think they’ll both be privy to see it as well. It’s just something that I feel.

Posted by  |  May 3, 2010 | Categories: Dreams, Family | Leave a comment

Home

I came home the other day to a flyer stuck halfway through my front door. It was a friendly reminder of how my lease is up for renewal – again. It’s really hard for me to believe that I’ve been living here for two years now.

Before I moved here, I was a frequent visitor of this little town surrounded by a lake. Somehow, I always ended up here when I found myself in the midst of turmoil. It was the first and only place I would mindlessly drive to. It quickly became as natural as a mother’s love, pure instinct – to drive several miles down the road to the lake. I’ve always been drawn to water, and that’s the only explanation I have for it.

I’ve sat in front of this lake in each of the four seasons. Sometimes only wearing a tank and shorts, barefoot – other times heavily clad in my winter garb, scarf wrapped tightly around my numb face. Just about all of the weather events have seen me there as well, with the exception of snow.

This lake.

I’ve dreamt in front of it, cried in front of it, and slept in front of it. I’ve been approached by cops who likely thought I was a parked drunk, who when faced with my puffy mascara-stained eyes, chose to leave me alone for bigger and better subjects. I used to wish so hard that someone would come after me; pull up beside me, park and knock on the window… get in and speak softly, talk things out reasonably. Even though that someone was well aware of the place I went, eventually it became clear that wish would never even once come true.

It’s no wonder that I ended up here. For one last final time, this little lake town was the first and only place I came to when faced with starting a new life – the place where I was destined to start over. My very own little treehouse in the sky. No, it doesn’t overlook the lake, but I can walk to it down a trail through the woods. At night on my balcony, I can hear the soft hum of boats cruising it. And maybe one day, God willing, I’ll be lucky enough to captain a boat of my very own across it.

Yes, I’ll be resigning another lease. My little third floor condo that backs up to the forest suits me perfectly, and I’m nowhere near ready to give it up just yet. If and when the time ever comes to move again, I already know my emotions will flow like the ocean. Because this is, and was, my first and only pick. And, it was the right one – imagine that. 🙂

Posted by  |  May 1, 2010 | Categories: Emotions, Home | Leave a comment

Write on…

I don’t believe in tooting your own horn – I consider it the epitome of boastfulness. For this reason, there are times when I avoid talking about a subject that even hints at the fact I think I’ve done well at something. If asked, I will talk about it – but even then I’m uncomfortable discussing anything that may be self-beneficial or even deserving of an ‘atta girl’. Not that there’s much in this area to discuss anyway, even if I wanted to.

See? I’m doing it already. To even write that paragraph was hard as hell, and for whatever reason it still doesn’t read right to me.

Now that that’s been said and out of the way– I received a very touching email from a friend the other night. She had caught up on a couple of my blogs and wrote to give me the most sincere compliments on my writing. I answered her with the most humble of thank-yous that I could muster up, though truth be told, I felt very undeserving. One thing I do know, and shared with her – is that writing is most definitely my passion. I realize that no one is perfect at any one thing they do, and categories exist for a reason. There are professionals, there are novices and there are amateurs – with me falling into the latter.

I won’t say this is the first time I’ve heard such a compliment, because it’s not. I will say it always makes me smile. What I’ve done is form a little folder inside my brain that houses these sweet little admirations, which I revisit and peruse every so often when I’m feeling less confident in myself. Truth is, I just love to write – and currently this blog is my outlet. It quenches, for the time being, my thirst to write on a daily basis. To all persons out there who have this same passion, I think you’ll agree with me – it is truly a ‘thirst’. Having a career in writing (getting paid) has always been a dream of mine, it’s just always seemed a little far past my reach. Of course, I realize that one must possess dreams in order to ever achieve.

One of my very favorite books is called On Writing – A Memoir of the Craft, written by none other than Stephen King. The book is special to me in that it not only details specific formulas/dos and don’ts for writing in itself, but also provides an early biography of King’s childhood. Once finished, I will never forget that omnificent feeling of I could do this… I really could do this. Now I don’t care who ya are… that’s powerful stuff – from an awesomely powerful book.

“A little talent is a good thing to have if you want to be a writer. But the only real requirement is the ability to remember every scar.”  ~Stephen King

Posted by  |  April 30, 2010 | Categories: Writing | Leave a comment

Hey, who moved my cheese??

I was told a long long time ago that I was a person that didn’t deal well with change. Suffice to say I’ve kicked that little issue. Oh hell – have I? With all the changes these past two years have held, guess I could say I’ve been forced to deal with change a little better. Rather, I like to think it all started a little over five years ago when I was forced to change jobs after an almost 12-year tenure. That one was a biggie.

I guess I am a little set in my ways. Just a little. But I’m also obsessive about some things. A lot. We were discussing the ‘obsessive’ in us at work the other day (okay primarily the obsessive in me). Ah, our little habits…our own eccentricities.

Hmm, if my boyfriend reads this he might not want to be my boyfriend anymore – but I’m banking on the fact that he’s already onto most of my little quirks.

I have my own personal parking spaces. Umm, at home and at work. No, it doesn’t have my name on it. At home, second one from the end. At work, perfectly centered with the front door. I get perturbed when someone takes My Spot at home – no one bothers me at work. At home when I take my trash out, I compact the air out of it – every single time. And the bag that goes back in the can will be freshly installed minus any additional air between bag and can. At all. In fact, I hate extra amounts of air in any bag – I always compress the air out of all bags I deal with (even when changing cat litter) whenever possible.

I am married to my camera. I will hold anyone and everyone up in order to get my shot – and I will get my shot. I go back to the door after I’ve locked it to ‘make sure’ and, if inside – recheck it; if outside, I give it exactly two hard tugs to make sure it won’t open. Every single time.

I am, after all, of human species. Keeping with typical Piscean fashion, I can be classified as a lazy perfectionist – a most terrible of combinations. I suffer from anxiety and calm, depression and elation, and anger and love – all at the same time. I’m odd, I’m different – and naturally me. But after all, eccentricity is a first cousin to originality…

Posted by  |  April 29, 2010 | Categories: Humor, Miscellaneous, Rants, Thoughts | Leave a comment

Pressure’s on

My poor baby girl is so stressed right now, and I feel so bad for her. She has to submit a 15 to 20-page thesis as the last of her assignments before final exams (due Thursday) (tomorrow) and she’s really pushed the time limit on it. The very tightly-wound up little ball of stress came over yesterday and I cooked dinner for us, and halfway through dinner she was laughing and cutting up again. She told me about this party she went to that was primarily Latino, so after dinner we watched a stint of Katt Williams on Latinos – and ended up laughing our asses off. (Trust me, the Latinos were laughing their asses off too, he’s friggin hilarious.) It’s gotta be so tough having everything pile up right at graduation time, and although I haven’t been through that type of stress – I do understand it. She texted me at roughly 2:30am and again at 4:50am, still awake and unable to sleep. I wish I could do something to make it all easier, but isn’t that what we as parents always wish for?

My guy is taking her and I out for Japanese Thursday night and I’m looking forward to that. I told her it’ll be a celebration of sorts – hopefully by then a good portion of the weight will have been lifted and we’ll all enjoy ourselves. Gave her a wake-up call just a bit ago and she’s already in tears – hasn’t had any sleep and stress central. It’s literally ripping my heart out…

Life’s so hard sometimes. The old saying when it rains, it pours is really true. When shit goes down it seems to all go down at one time. Hang in there like I know you will, baby girl… you’ll get it done. And you’ll see it’ll all be worth it.

Posted by  |  April 28, 2010 | Categories: Family, Life Struggles | Leave a comment

Back when

I miss back when… Tim McGraw sings of it. I ran across this much-quoted little poem last night that entertained me – thought I’d keep it going. Remember the days before computers?

A computer was something on TV
from a science fiction show
A window was something you hated to clean…
And RAM was the cousin of a goat…

MEG was the name of your girlfriend
And GIG was your middle finger upright
Now they all mean different things
And that really MEGA bytes

An application was for employment
A program was a TV show
A cursor used profanity
A keyboard was a piano

Memory was something that you lost with age
A CD was a bank account
And if you unzipped anything in public
You’d be in jail for a while

Log on was adding wood to the fire
Hard drive was a long trip on the road
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived
And a backup happened to your commode

Cut you did with a pocket knife
Paste you did with glue
A web was a spider’s home
And a virus was the flu

I guess I’ll stick to my pad and paper
And the memory in my head
I hear nobody’s been killed in a computer crash
But when it happens they wish they were dead

Posted by  |  April 27, 2010 | Categories: Humor, Poetry | Leave a comment

The Squirrel Whisperer

To some, squirrels are menacing little creatures who monopolize your bird seed and tear up your flowers by burying their nuts in your beds. I’ve seen people take drastic measures to reduce the squirrel population – including that of my own father-in-law. He used to set trap cages in his back yard, then take them on a 20-mile or so trek via car and release them to new territory. Somehow though, he always ended up with ‘new’ ones. lol

Well, they aren’t menacing to my Mother. She has this certain understanding and sense when it comes to them – this is why I call her The Squirrel Whisperer.

I don’t know when it all started, actually. She’s always loved animals, besides her pets I mean. That of the wild. Birds and bunny rabbits – and squirrels. I remember several years back when she called up on a early Saturday afternoon. “Something is in my fireplace” she said. I went over there, and during the course of the afternoon it became apparent that there sure WAS something in there. It was a squirrel – holding on tight doing a spread-eagle on the rounded flute!! It was the funniest most pathetic sight I ever did see. Fast-forward through many attempts to free the creature, to no avail. They ended up calling this rodent-control/removal service (that assured them they would do everything humanely possible to save the animal). To make an already long story short, you’d have thought the guy was killing the squirrel. Of all the screaming, it was terrible. All the sudden, one big YANK o’ the hook and here comes the soot-stained squirrel running out from the fireplace, straight out the storm door which we had propped open. Out he goes in true Christmas Vacation fashion, leaving Mom and I standing there –  one of us holding a broom, and the other holding a blanket to shoo the squirrel towards the door like some wanna-be matador. We’ve laughed about this ‘rescue’ many times.

In her own back yard that I call little Utopia, therein resides a bird/squirrel/bunny sanctuary. Obviously all these animals talk to each other, because word has gotten out that this is THE backyard to come to. There are feeders, houses, birdbaths, little benches, flower gardens, and plenty of mature trees. If I was a bird or squirrel, I’d surely pick Mom’s back yard to live and I’ve told her so on many occasions. She just smiles.

Unfortunately Mom’s come in contact with some little orphans – in particular, one that she calls Junior. A couple of years back, there was an adult squirrel smashed out in the road. Not long after that there was a baby squirrel laying on a tree branch in her back yard, crying. Now if you’ve ever heard a squirrel cry, whether baby or adult, it’s heart-wrenching. It sounds just like a baby’s cry! Even though many things come naturally to an animal (building nests, flying, mating, hunting) a squirrel’s nest-building skills aren’t one of them. The little orphans are pretty much clueless as to how to build their home if they aren’t lessoned by a parent. After a little time, they’ll throw together a makeshift nest – though not carefully constructed enough to last. It usually always ends up back where it originated – the ground.

The first time Junior’s nest fell he was still a young lad, and he laid up on the branch and cried for a couple of days. After that he went a long stretch of time without a nest, and Mom worried about him so. Months later, he built again. Just last week after major storms, Junior’s mess of a nest was once again on the ground.

So what does his Mom do?

She gathers the nest up, puts it in a new wrought-iron basket and attaches it as high up in the tree as she can get it (barring a broken neck) near where he originally had it placed. This little squirrel loves his Mom. I see the way he looks at her when she takes pictures of him. Mom has told me when she pulls in the driveway, the little thing comes running from the back yard, up the driveway towards the car.

These little animals are lucky to have a Mom like her. And, I know how they feel. 🙂

Click here for Mom’s blog today.

Posted by  |  April 26, 2010 | Categories: Animals, Family, Humor | 2 Comments