Random Thoughts

A few weeks ago one of my writing buddies challenged the group to words get up early and write at least 300 words. Thus the Spartan 300 club was formed to remind us that victory goes to the well-trained. So for a few days I stayed up after putting the dog out and tried to think of things to write about. Then I got this brilliant idea to make a program for our end of the year extravaganza and the creative juices flowed through me like adrenaline. Seriously I was at the computer for almost 24 hours straight. I couldn't turn my mind off even when my fingers and back cramped. I amassed way more than 300 words so I had plenty to spare for my dry days.  I'm not finished with the program because I'm still waiting for a few people to send me the information I've asked for. Nothing curbs a creative process like asking for permission or waiting. But I understand how that works so I'm trying to be patient. Okay, I haven't been patient at all. I've asked, begged, na...

Had she lived my mother would have been 90 years old today. The fact that I can say that without an ache in my heart or tears running down my face is proof that the pain of mourning does diminish over time. Mom was born in an Army field hospital in Koblenz, Germany. Her father was in the Navy so she moved around a lot which was good training for being the wife of a naval officer. Mom knew how to pack and unpack a household in record time. She knew how to keep things to a minimum, unlike my father who was a self-proclaimed pack rat. Mom was the epitome of a 1950's housewife, though I don't think I'd call her June Cleaver. Before her a virus damaged her brain, my mother was a force to be reckoned with. She was small but fierce. Early on in their marriage my parents must have drawn up job descriptions - Dad worked outside the home, and mom's domain started and stopped at the front door - and they rarely, if ever, veered from their appointed tasks. My mother could cook, s...

"Red is the ultimate cure for sadness." Bill Blass I got up this morning seeing red. Not the I'm mad as hell kind of red. The autumn red of the maple tree we planted last year. By the time the dog walk/pull/sniff was over and we were coming into the final stretch, I noticed the tree. It's been gradually turning from green to red, but this morning it stood proudly in its red coat, as if daring the winds to blow the it away. So I started thinking about red. Maybe because "red is the color for Tuesdays".* Red has always been one of my favorite colors. Not sure why. I just like the way it makes a statement. When I was a little girl I liked to watch my mother get dressed for a party. Around the holidays she wore a red chiffon dress that made her look hot. Even though I was too young to know what hot meant, I knew she was changing from everyday mom to va va voom mom. Before getting dressed, she stood in her slip putting on makeup. Then she took the pin curls from ...

"Today, we gather to be reassured that God hears the lamenting and bitter weeping of Mother America because so many of her children are no more. Let us now seek that assurance in prayer for the healing of our grief stricken hearts, for the souls and sacred memory of those who have been lost. Let us also pray for divine wisdom as our leaders consider the necessary actions for national security, wisdom of the grace of God that as we act, we not become the evil we deplore.”* I was in Mrs. Carden's 6th grade classroom when the news that John Kennedy had been shot was announced over the loudspeaker. A collective gasp escaped the mouths of children too young, too naive to understand what had just happened. I tried to hide my tears on the bus ride home. Neighborhood boys made wise cracks and pointed fingers at nerds like me who cried for something they couldn't comprehend. I wept as the boys postured. I watched in horror as Walter Cronkite reported first Martin Luther King's ...

REMINDER!! INTERNATIONAL WOMAN'S DAY BLOG PARTY SUNDAY, MARCH 8, 2009 "If you look deeply into the palm of your hand you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people." Thich Nhat Hanh One day when I don't have anything else to do but sit around and eat bon bons, I would like to work on my genealogy. I dug out a folder yesterday that contains a lot of stories, pictures and a few versions of my mother's family tree. It's not quite as messed up as the cookbook I poured over looking for one recipe that I KNEW was there, but close. What would my life be like if I ever got it organized? In honor of IWD I'd like to take a moment to acknowledge some of the women who have come before me. Their DNA might be watered down by several generations but I'd like to think their good qualities still runs through my veins. First there was th...

"Pleasure is the flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume." Jean de Boufflers I opened my eyes this morning to the sight of my sweetie standing in front of the mirror tying his tie. I'm not telling any tales if I let on that he is a tiny bit "anal". You know pens and pencils lind up in a row; underwear drawer stacked neatly, briefs never touching T's; grocery coupons cross referenced by use and alphabetical order. This man is all about neatness. (Just like me!) Need I say when it comes to tying his tie it is a task he does not take lightly? Is it just me, or does anyone else out there like to watch a man shave or tie a tie? I'm guessing Dr. Freud would have a field day about the psychological meaning of such. Just so you don't think I'm really weird, I can assure you I don't get any kind of sexy feelings when I watch these procedures. Neither do they make me think of my father in some Greek-like Oedipal way. I just think there is ...

"Mothers, more commonly known as "Mom," are not only the backbone in the nuclear family sturcture so essential in perpetuating the existence of the civilization of mankind as we know it today as well as insuring the developmentally fulfilling future cycle of the human race, both on this planet as well as the realms it will someday reach beyond ... But also ... they kiss booboos too."* At about this time five years ago, I was standing with the rest of my family at my mother's bedside. She was dying. We all knew it, yet weren't quite sure how to let her go. The hospital personnel did what they could to ease our decision. A priest prayerfully guided our thought processes. Only one nurse was a little crabby. Maybe not so much crabby as matter-of-fact. The patient on the respirator on the bed in the cubicle was just that - another patient -not her mother. Still it's hard, even after this much time, not to be resentful. Mom was basically gone to us earlier in...