when words fail me, which is often, I paint. When words work for me and are available on time, I am surprised.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
We watched the movie, "Cold Mountain" the other night. I had seen it before but I never remember anything about a movie after about an hour has passed since it ended. The old lady hermit says, "Birds got a job, shits got a job, seeds got a job and you got a job."
I do too, three or four of them really and I wish I could write as well as you serious writer bloggers and poets but I can barely remember my alpha bet these days. I read an article in Newsweek magazine this week. It's on menopause. That great unknown of women's health. I am terrified of this "journey" into cronehood. My first boyfriend's mother never got through it, she went nuts, literally. He told me nearly 20 years later, that she ended up being institutionalized. She entered the menopause threshold and never came back. This has haunted me every sweat filled night for the past four years.Newsweek says that menopause leads to verbal memory loss. This statement stuck a nerve with me. On certain days of the month I compose works of literature in my head that impress the heck out of me, other days I can't remember the word for anything. I speak like a deaf person, mostly with my hands. I think in pictures.It's. . . mmmn. . .like this---------Mrs. Munch Finds out the Truth