- Sight. Sound. Scent.
I love watching the blue bird in my feeder. He is the color of the Caribbean.
I love the sound of the Mourning Dove. Haunting. Sweet. Pure. Poetry.
I love the scent of the rain before the rain.
- Fireflies or lightning bugs
They are called fire-flies….but hubby, from England, calls them torch-flies. I love that. Sooo cute.
Fun. Magical. Eating bologna sandwiches. Mom baking cinnamon rolls. Drinking Orange Kool-Aid. Running thru a sprinkler in Carol’s yard. Writing poetry on pink carpet. Mammoth White Petunias. Railroad tracks. David Cassidy. Love. Love. Love. So much Love.
Books on my shelves:
Ariel by Plath. Fire by Anais Nin. James Joyce. Bird by Bird. Rose by Li-Young Lee. Sheila Packa. A View By the Lake by Beryl Singleton Bissell. Virginia Woolf. Dickenson. Bly. Gluck. Berg. Evening. The Hours. Book of Sisters. The Bible. Etc….
- Items on my work table right now:
Books of poetry, a word-master, coffee cups stained with dark lipstick, tablets with scribbles, purple fingernail polish, a cell phone, & silver loop earrings.
- Food Obsession:
Chocolate Chip Cookies. I can NEVER resist a chocolate chip cookie. EVER. Never.
I mean, it’s like biting into my beautiful childhood, man.
And I have chocolate smeared all over my face right now.
And I have a fat ass right now.
Three favorite movie lines:
“I have a mind for business and a bod for sin. Anything wrong with that?” –Working Girl
“They’re called boobs, Frank.” –Erin Brockovich.
“I’d rather die free than live a slave.” –Spartacus
- Insert random shit here:
I’ve been forgetting things. I’m like, going craAaAzy or something. This is what happens to a girl who is grieving & sobbing all the time.
For example, I say to Saint Shirley, “You know what I want for Mother’s Day. A nice pedicure for my ugly good for nothin’ toes.”
Saint Shirley retorts, “It’s not Mother’s Day—It’s Father’s Day!”
Or—-I make chocolate chip cookies (Yes, More for my fat ass) for my girlfriend’s party.
They taste a bit different, but no prob. I bring them to the grad party anyway. Kim (the other Kim) takes a bite. “Oh, these are different,” she says, smiling-ever-so-sweetly.
I get home. And there are the three eggs (I did not add to recipe) sitting on my counter. Oops a daisy.
Or—-I walk up to the counter at MacDonald’s.
“I’m so sorry (I always say I’m sorry) This is Coke,” I utter. I wanted Diet Coke.”
The pimply kid stares at me with a puzzled DUH face.
“But you poured it yourself, Miss.
Ooops. So0000OO sorry.
Being with family devouring a saucy spaghetti dinner. Wrapped in a large quilt watching nonsensical Lifetime movies. Lounging in bed during the morning hour with hot coffee discussing the world & kids w/ hubby (And I cry a lot about Kay). Reading a kick-ass book. Oooh, and sipping Merlot with hot dips & good friends
Song From my Decade… YEAH!
What about you, reader? Tell me something random & fun. Give me a distraction!