My Excuse For Not Blogging lately

All my life, I have wished for my own home.

One that I would be able to plant flowers around and still be there to watch them bloom. A house that no-one would tell me what colors I could or could not paint.A house where I was my landlord, and I could tell me what to do and that would be a-okay.

During the first eleven years of single motherhood, my sons and I moved approximately twenty two times. Moving/vacation. I would pack the car with every necessary object that would fit, a few toys, clothes, blankets etc. Never furniture, we always left the salvaged stuff behind. The three person tent would go too and the mini coffee maker. These moves were our camping trips, our vacations.

Hey, let's go to visit Uncle B.- across the country, I'd say.

Taking everything we could fit, camping out under the stars, going to movie theaters in cities we don't know the names of, never seeing our school friends in the theater, strangers on our own stage.

Collecting rocks that look like potatoes in this state, petrified wood from that one. Swimming, soccer balls, soaking in hot springs, seeing buffalo and thinking they were boulders, until we yelled at them, and they began to move toward us, bad idea.

Seashell and rock collection on the 78 Jeep Wagoneer dashboard, purple and blue colored curtains in the back and gun racks with two enormous Super-Soaker 2oo, water guns affixed to them.

What a trip, moving/vacations.

Where have these past two weeks gone?

First semester off in over two years, summers included;

Playing like a school kid on summer vacation; pool party, river trips, reading novels on the hammock, live music under the tent at the crawdad boil, spicy.

and in the evening

going home.

Stinkhorns

I fear I may have buried too many Bad-Guy Voodoo dolls in the compost pile. Look whats rising up out of the flower beds.

Get your Griff-On(part 2 priorities)

Link


Okay, if you can't open the link because I am slightly mentally inadequate, you can copy and paste this-I hope.

http://www.videonewswire.com/event.asp?id=39457®d=y

Priorities

Avi, my favorite son called me a few days ago to tell me about the new roller coaster opening up this week at the theme park. He said a few of his friends were going and he had called my other favorite son and invited him too and they want me to go too. Yes, I am special, so damned special. Being invited is almost as good as being there, but not quite, because I love roller coasters. Front car, no hands, every time.(I also love those boys and all of their friends)

I have to work- I said.

You own your business mom.

Oh yeah, but I have Kramer to take care of.

Tell Tate we are taking you for Mother's day and ask him to please take him that day.

Last night- Hey Tate, I need you to take care of Kramer for me on Monday.

Is that right, why?

The boys are taking me somewhere that day.

I am pretty sure there are few places they could take you where that well behaved puppy isn't welcome.

Yeah but, he's not tall enough to get on the roller coaster.

Oh I see. As long as it's something that important, leave him inside and I guess I can get home early.

He's so understanding.

Farewell to Fallwell

See ya, that's all I want to say.
I had the strangest compulsion to dress like a lesbian today, if there is such a way of dressing. Actually I feel more like a Chollo chick, but I think they are also an ungodly perverse group, so I guess it's okay.
When you think about the laws of the universe, one would think that anyone who preached the ignorant, pious crap that Falwell did would be treated with little respect, but he had a following of millions, he founded Universities and created the "Moral Majority".

Moral-
a: of or relating to principles of right and wrong in behavior : perceptual or psychological rather than tangible or practical in nature or effect.

Majority:1)obsolete : the quality or state of being greater 2 a: the age at which full civil rights are accorded b: the status of one who has attained this age

It may be a bit cliche' but apparently true by it's very definition, "The Moral Majority is Neither"

Also apparent is this thought; the Third Reich by another name could also be called the Moral majority now couldn't they.

When will society ever learn that it is immoral to believe in superiority and separation ? Why is one form of oppression viewed as moral and right while another is viewed as plain old racism and fascism?

I'm hangin with my feminist,jewish, lesbian, chollo girl attitudes today and I am no better or worse than anyone for it.

Marigolds for Mare'

We got our mother some beautiful new flowers for mother's day. Don't worry, we told her they were from all of us.
Hope all had a beautiful mother's day.

Did I ever tell you , You're my heros?

In an interview with Alice Hoffman on her official website, the interviewee asks Ms. Hoffman if she reads the work of other authors and if so, whose works does she enjoy.Alice responded that she doesn't read other people's work because she doesn't want their voice or style to confuse her own inner voice.

Alice Hoffman is one of my favorite authors; I've read every one of her novels. Some I have read more than once. I am an Alice Hoffman wannabe groupie. Ever since, "White Horses", the first paperback I stumbled upon in a thrift store in the mid 80's, I fell under her spell. I am often bewildered by many novelists' ability to create the story; so surreal and intricate. I shake my head, how do they do that?

After reading an Alice Hoffman, Barbara Kingsolver, Tom Robbins and now your works, my blogger friends, I become significantly less able to find my own voice. I am greatly humbled by those of you I read daily. I am getting a bit lost. I have too much going on in my life and I am trying to figure out how to fit two full time jobs and one part time job into one work week this summer. I used to believe the more books I read, the easier it will become for me to learn to write like my favorite authors. Now I am not so sure. I have a writer friend who said that's what she thought too; she's completed two manuscripts and working on her third. Thats another story, hers.

I forgot my sisters birthday. Sort of. I thought today was yesterday. Yesterday she called when I was too busy to answer the phone. When I returned her phone call last night, she was crying and said she'd call me back. I went to sleep, she called me back two times. Today she won't answer her phone. I'm pretty sure it's the Momma drama, my mom moved into her townhouse (my sisters) a few weeks ago. I thought it would be better there than here, for me, that's right.

My sister has called me a few times in the past few weeks to say she didn't know what was worse, our mother or her dog. My mother is completely blind; her husband died last November. They were living in France for the past 3 years and in Ireland for ten years before that. She'd want me to tell you that, she thinks it makes her special. She tells everyone she meets about her glorious lifestyle in EU, away from any family members, children, grandchildren, with very little money and the story of the glamor puss who learns to shop in thrift stores because she has to not because it's chic.

Well, she probably wouldn't tell you that part, the not glamorous part. I might, but it's depressing and I really wanted to talk about the dog. My mom's dog is a large shaggy, sloppy thing. I was never fond of her. Katie, the dog, is getting old. She pees every three seconds, whether she is inside or out. My mom doesn't know how bad it is because she cannot see, but my son told me about it(he's visited EU twice) and it's been going on for a long time. Mom swears this behavior has only been happening since her husband fell ill. I'd beg to differ, but I don't beg.

My sister said she couldn't take much more, she took the dog and my blind mother to the vet., bless her heart.

My mom went on and on about the move from Ireland to France and all the drama this poor dog has been through. She was talking to the door to her right the entire vet visit, the vet was in front of her.She couldn't tell.

She talked non-stop about irrelevant stuff until the vet finally cut her off.

"How long has this been happening?"

Mom:"since Mike died last winter"

Sister shakes her head to indicate NO very strongly and mouths the words NO WAY to the vet; mom cannot see this either.

Long story even longer: Vet opens dog, finds bladder completely full of stones.

Stones must be removed, no room for fluid in there.

Shock and horror when Vet finds a blood filled growth on dog's spleen, surgery looks like a bloodbath.

Sister feels really sad for the dog. She always did find the weirdest animals to get attached to, like the baby skunk at the pet store. She cried over the skunk for a week straight but dad said NO, as in NO WAY. But I think I digress again.

I am guessing that the dog probably didn't make it. I am guessing that my mother cried a lot. I can't stand to see my mother cry.I don't care if they answer the phone.

I will see them all tomorrow, my cousin is graduating from college, on Mother's day weekend. It's my sister's birthday, my cousin's graduation, my grandmother will be there, my mother will be there and I just wanted you all to know that I may not be writing too much for a brief time because I can't stop reading your blogs and maybe that's affecting my inner voice... which just. . may.. overactive. . louder. . and I really must go buy some cards or something.

Pure Prose

If his name wasn't Prose, would he still be the beautiful poet that he is?
I don't have too much to say today so I give the floor to Rick.

After viewing this one, you may wish I hadn't but. . .
Comments seem to be missing, now that I finally figured out how to link. Is Mercury retrograde again?




Link
can't remember who i've sent the link below, just another bit of video we shot in new orleans last month. pass it along, if enough people respond maybe my brother will finally get the help he needs...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7PwbAnnUTw


Rick Prose

New Orleans

Young Hearts be Free Tonight

Tate is taking me to see Rod Stewart tonight, because we are cool like that!
Yeah Baby.

More Flying Lessons

I have completed another notebook full of dreams. I have been carrying it to work with me for a few days so I may reach into it and pull out interesting images from the past year if I come up short on material.Without opening last years journal i know I have been doing alot of flying in the past year, way more than my average. Last week flying over the river as my father warned me of it's dangers and last night:

I am flying above a large river, it is an effort-full flight, like running a long distance.I actually fly like a bird, my arms like wings; sometimes I am in a standing position and I fly by using my arms as if I was treading water, but not last night.
Last night like a bird, extended.

The view below is peaceful and beyond description beautiful. The sky is clear, mountains surrounding and then I approach a suspended bridge across the river.

There are two "bad guys" on the bridge. When I get close enough they plan to grab me, snatch me out of the sky and cause me to suffer.

I am aware of their intentions.

They are aware of my novelty, I CAN Fly.

I put enormous effort into flying up higher into the sky as I get close to them. I manage to miss them, but it's very close.

As I am engaged in pulling away, I hear my voice, "it's hard to fly when you are afraid"

In His Hands

When Adam was nine, he spent the summer with his cousins. They live on a mini farm in the country. The road in front of the field is a busy two lane, busy for the country that is. Speed limit forty-five but most people drive faster than that.

Here's the story, you may have heard it before:

Four kids outside in front of the house, laughing their little heads off. Summertime, carefree, playing with the new addition to the family, a three month old Boxer puppy.
Leon Spinks,Leoni for short,the puppy,takes off running in a game of chase across the street.

Adam, with his tunnel vision focus on leoni, chases after him.

Minivan cruising fifty miles an hour, it all happens so fast.

Yes Leoni made it across the street unharmed, Adam was not so lucky.

His young body was thrown a football field's length from the road.Pegasus, our medivac helicopter lifted his body into the sky to take him to the hospital. While in the helicopter, his heart stopped beating four times. Four times he was resuscitated.

He was in a coma for six weeks. The doctors told his parents he would be a "Vegetable" for the rest of his life. They ALWAYS say that, because they don't know how to admit they don't know anything about the brain.Better to just prepare the parents for the worst, right?

He woke up, his brain began to heal. Adam was fourteen when I met him.He has eyes like aqua-blue marbles when the sunlight shines through them. He's regained the use of his hands but they still cramp and sometimes they just won't work the way he wants them to. Although he mainly travels in a wheelchair, he can walk. That's something no vegetable I know can do. His speech is slower than normal, but he can talk. Adam had a way of beginning to answer me in conversation well before I had completed the gist of my statement. He knew what I was going to say before I said it, he had to make up for his speech delay. Adam had the energy of a saint; sweet, patient and happy.

In the sensory institute, center for healing and integration of acquired brain injuries and a wide variety of spectrum disorders, I spent an hour a day for twelve consecutive days with this young man.

My part time job as an assistant in this cutting edge center is not only a job that feeds my bank account but one that feeds my soul.

Adam reclined on the table that rocks gently from side to side, the light box overhead displayed every visible color in the visual light spectrum. The room was completely darkened he listened to the specially engineered Cds on the headphones.

We played words games sometimes, other times he said he just wanted to rest.
On his last day he asked me to massage his hands while he rested. His hands often cramped while he was on the table.

I held his hand and closed my eyes in the quiet, dark room.

I rose into the clouds. I saw Adam holding on to the hand of God.

"I don't want to he said." Over and over again, Adam pleaded with God.
He wanted to stay.

God responded to Adam, words without any sound or physical source in the clouds, safe from the pain of the physical world.
God told him he had to return, it wasn't time yet.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I witnessed their conversation.

The table stopped rocking. Instead of turning the lights back on slowly as he normally did,Adam held my hand in the darkness a few moments longer.

As I attempted to dry my tears, he turned the light on and sought my eyes with his own.

Eternity.

And then he said, "Thank you".