Scout immortalized on cheesburger

http://mine.icanhascheezburger.com/view.aspx?ciid=1413173

Late Night Weekday

Listening to insects singing
Pulse is pumping
Washer thumping
Unrhythmic click of dryer turning
Esophogus and stomach burning
Eyes are bleary
I can’t see
Blurry scrawl
Gassy me
Quiet the mind
Move the pen
Don’t let the voice of work break in
Is this finished?
It must be.
It is time for bed for me.

The Cedar Chest

I was asked by a friend to talk about my mom’s cedar chest for an article a friend is writing in Austin Family Magazine (November Edition). This was my reply.

My mom was a single mom of three girls. Our only keepsakes were photographs that were stored in a large shoebox and hauled from house to house.  The photos told the story of the time before my mother left my father, the time when we lived with our grandparents while she tried to extract herself from that painful relationship, and the time we lived in Austin growing up in the 70’s and 80’s.

 

One constant of our childhood was the cedar chest.  My mom’s cedar chest is a large chest about 3 feet wide, 5 feet long and 4 feet high.  She purchased it for $21 at an auction in Virginia.  The grandfather who had built the chest had died and the family was having an estate auction.  My mom did not escape her marriage with much, but the cedar chest was one item that traveled with us from apartment to apartment to house to house.

 

What was actually in the cedar chest was often a mystery as it served many purposes.  We didn’t have a table to eat off of or a chest of drawers to store our clothes in, but we had the cedar chest.  Often it was covered with plants.  For a while, our hamster’s cage lived on the cedar chest.

 

Every move was made more exciting because the cedar chest would be emptied. The blankets and woolens would be moved to regular cardboard boxes.  During these times the cedar chest became a prime hiding spot while playing hide and seek. Two children could easily fit.

 

Occasionally, the top of the cedar chest would be cleared off and I would have the opportunity to dig through it with my sisters.  I remember how much I loved the smell. It was never long before someone was inside shutting the lid.

 

I think our cedar chest was a symbol of constancy in an otherwise sometimes chaotic environment.  I know it is the only piece of furniture my sisters and I are all attached to from our childhood.

 

Often childhood memories are attached to people, places, things and smells.  The cedar chest was Mom. It was her most treasured possession. She still has it.  The cedar chest went with us everywhere we moved; it was the constant in our changing environment.  We did not have many special things in our family.  As a thing that held treasures it was always a mystery waiting to be discovered and what a smell! Nothing compares to the smell of cedar.

I love Juno

Oh I love Juno in its simplicity and cleverness.  I wish I had the clarity of mind to create something so simple yet fun and clear and beautiful.

How are these people tapped with inspiration. Mine is dulled. Right now, I can’t even think. I’m stuck in my obligations. I am not creating anything.  I miss having good ideas. I miss thinking of new ways to approach old problems.

I want to just open again and breathe in the rhythm of words and alliteration that slides.  I know that peace and stillness are where creativity lie…I can’t resort to the escapism of yesterday.

Lies

Petulant deceptions
Relatively harmless in their scope
but annoying nonetheless

You lie like a child
stealing a toy, your stuffed pockets bulge
Did you really get what you wanted?

When confronted, you acuse
When facts are presented you yell in defensiveness
A grown man’s tantrum

Tell me how to ask the questions the right way
and stop with petulent deceptions

La fruta fresca ….deliciousa!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                      What I need’s a superhero!

Saturday

Saturday and Scooter and Shaggy are steeping themselves in television while I procrastinate and try to create something meaningful. 

Avoiding the JOY of domestic bliss, a.k.a laundry, I have already done yoga and meditated. The projects I am neglecting pop into my head, but it’s the day before Mother’s Day and I feel like I should have the whole weekend off.  Too bad spousal unit is out at the farm again.

They’re building forts in my bedroom as if it’s raining outside, but it’s beautiful…although a little steamy. I’ve turned the AC off and opened the window. The birds are really squawking outside.  The Carolina Jasmine drifts on the warm breeze.

Shaggy has created three superheroes, 2 plays about a boy, and one solar car. He’s very busy. I hate to break the flow, but if I don’t do anything today nothing will get done. Such is life.

Symbols of my yard

Stepping on My Skin

Any woman who has experienced PMS, any child who has been in the back seat with a sibling on a long trip, any man desiring his cave….

Where does it stop
Where does it begin
Who is at fault when you’re stepping on my skin
Endless chatter
An annoying grin
Whistling
Talking
You are stepping on my skin
I choose five
You choose ten
Around and around until it ends
I withdraw in retreat
My nerves are thin
Who is at fault when you’re stepping on my skin