Twice in twenty years...

It isn't about the flowers. Or any other gift.
It's about the effort.
It's about letting her know you value her.

Slow dance with her... in the kitchen, on the porch.
Even if you can't dance you can hold her tenderly
and sway with the music. Then tell her she smells nice.
Even if she isn't wearing perfume.

Tell her she's pretty when she isn't dressed up.

Leave a note on her pillow. Write, "I love you."

Bring her a flower when there is no special occasion.

Don't take it for granted that she knows how you feel
just because you're still around.
She wants to hear it. She wants to see it.

Do you like her laugh, her eyes, her hair, her legs?
Tell her.

If you don't love her enough to keep letting her know it...
leave.
Break her heart once, not every day for the rest of her life.

Empty words...

are worse than no words.

Storm troopers...

waves rise
in salute.
stand at attention.
then roll to rest,
making room
for the next advance.

only...

no one cries
like you do.
no heart aches
like yours.

Sparky and Skywritings...

Found a terrific blog from Freddie's blog roll...
she has such good taste, ya know.

The blog is called Skywritings and it is put together
by a patriotic pilot with a PhD. Beautiful writing.
And, gentlemen... for those with a preference,
she is a redhead.
Go read. You won't be disappointed.


SPARKY UPDATE:

The little booger is five months old. Half black lab/half chow.
He loves running free in the yard, has a pretty good understanding
of playing ball and returning it, sleeps beside his water bowl and
often responds correctly to the "sit" command. Often, not always.

I've heard him whine just a few times and, so far, he has not barked.
He was introduced to Putz, but Putz was not amused.
They didn't fight but, Putz tried to claw through the window.
I tried again a bit later and all was much calmer, so I think they'll
be ok eventually.

The worst thing so far is he ...bounces.
Wants to jump alllllllll the time.
And, lick. Criminy... puppy slobber. Everywhere.
Oh, yeah... he destroyed the Sunday paper. In the yard.

I realized that it has been seventeen years since I've had a puppy
around here. I forgot just how much energy they expend.
If he doesn't give me a stroke from exertion, it looks like this is
going to be ok.

let yourself be...

I just try to be.
I be, therefore I am
me.

From the Window Seat...

coral in the ocean.
a head of cauliflower on a plate.
foamy ocean waves.
a pile of mashed potatoes.
whipped cream on a sundae.
meringue on a lemon pie.
shaving foam in the palm of your hand.
a distant city of ice.
snow drifts. snow banks.
slush covered in gray exhaust fumes.
an atom bomb explosion.
desert dust storm.
a layer of sting-rays floating past.
clouds...

Boneman's new blog...

Poor Berry. He lost his Walking on Alligators blog.
Not one to give up, however, he quickly set up a new blog:

Grabbing the Bull by the Horns ...go visit, please.

It won't take him long to put up plenty of posts that will
awe you with his artistry, humor and opinions. Trust me.


Another item: Lurkers

Since I only average about thirty-five hits a day here, it's
easy and fun for me to check my sitemeter to see who has
been visiting when and from where.
I've been noticing some repeats, but they have yet to comment.
Not that that's a big deal... I'm just a curious sort. So, if these folks
would care to reveal themselves, either in comments or email, I
would love to know who they are and what keeps them coming back.

A partial list:
*Someone from Robert Bosch Corp.
*Someone using RoadRunner out of Memphis, NY via ChromedCurses.
*usg.edu out of Athens, Georgia via These Moments.
*Someone from French Village, Nova Scotia.
*Someone from Corning Fiber Corp. New York.

I hope to hear from you and anyone else who quietly comes by
to read.
To all those who leave comments regularly or once in a while...
I luv ya!

p.s. HB... you're a Hoosier, but you get here from an ISP in Connecticut?

What Was I Thinking???...

I need to have my head examined. Thoroughly.

All of my adult life I've had a house full of pets.
The past year and a half has been rough because I've lost
so many of them. Three cats... Pissy, Felix and Bubba...
to old age. One cat... Patch... ran away.
And, of course, my sweet, old dog Corky.

After Corky died, the only critter left was Bubba. I felt bad
about him being alone in the house all day, but I did not look
for another cat right away. I needed grieving time.

BUT... about three weeks after Corky died, one of my co-workers
approached me with an offer. Her mother had a two year old male
cat that she could not keep, for complicated but legitimate reasons.
After some serious pondering... well, maybe twenty-four hours...
I agreed to go meet the cat (Tiki) and see how I felt about him.

Of course, he was loveable, sweet and cute. I took him home.
First thing I did was change his name. He is not a 'Tiki'.
He's about the size of a cement block with short legs... and klutzy.
By the end of his first day here, I started calling him 'Putz'.
It fits and he doesn't seem to care.

So, after Bubba died, Putz is left as the sole critter in the house.
This time, though, I'm thinking this is not a bad thing. He was the
only pet in the household he came from. This could be ok.
I tell myself, with only one cat and no dog, life will be easier for me.
No worries about animal care if I want to go away for a few days.

Are you getting an idea where this is going?

Another of my co-workers (I'm beginning to dislike these people)
lives with a couple and their two youngsters. They have a puppy.
These people have lost almost all interest in the puppy. They leave it
tied outside, under a tree... in the Florida heat!
The poor thing isn't even getting fed regularly. And, it is also starved
for attention. Of course. They're not even sure how old it is. Could
be anywhere from four to six months.

I saw a picture of it today on co-worker's cell phone.
Solid black, short hair. Cute as all get-out. But...
not house-broken, yet.

I have a fenced yard. A garage. A big doghouse.
Today I bought puppy food and a knuckle bone.

I'm going to pick him up after work Friday... on a trial basis.

They call him Scruffy.
I'm thinking... Sparky.

Emily, Dorothy and Marjorie...

In a post from a few months ago, I asked readers to leave
suggestions/requests/ideas to boot my muse.
One of the requests came from Straight White Guy, Eric
asking which poets/authors have inspired my poetry.
The names came easily, but my lazy ass moves slowly.

The writers I relate to most often are:
Emily Dickinson, Dorothy Parker and Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings.
Another good link for Rawlings is here.

What I admire about their work is their talent for brevity.
Their ability to be succinct and clear in their expression of
humor, sadness, love and wonder is what I strive for in my
own writing. Long, meandering tomes often bore and confuse me
to the point of abandoning the page, unfinished.
These writers knew what they wanted to say, honed their words
beautifully... and stopped. Perfect.

Reading most of their biographies led me to also admire their
attitudes and life styles. All were independent thinkers,
strong-willed and outspoken.

Dickinson was not published much during her lifetime. She became
reclusive during the last third of her life, presumably because of
one or more failed romances. She requested that all her writings
be destroyed after her death, but her sister-in-law ignored her
wishes and began seeking a publisher for the volumes of poetry
found neatly bound in an old trunk. Thank goodness.

Parker and Rawlings enjoyed fame and popularity during their
lifetimes. Differing from the genteel persona of Dickinson, these
two were more often considered bawdy, indelicate women
of the world. Fearless rebel types, at times, yet their writing
beautifully expressed feelings and experiences familiar to many
people. Their words struck common chords using raw descriptions.

To meld the best of these three in my life as well as in my words...
a worthwhile goal.

A poem I didn't write...

but, wish I had.

Found it in a book called, Kiss Me Like A Stranger, by Gene Wilder.

"After A While"
Veronica A. Shoffstall

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn that
love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn that even sunshine burns
if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure,
that you really are strong
and you really do have worth.
and you learn
and you learn
with every good-bye you learn.


good stuff, eh?

Void...

removed.
beyond want.
outside need.
struggle dead.
cushioned corner.
numb peace.
concede fate.
disappear.

Body Language...

don't need you
anymore,
don't want you
anymore,
he meant.
actions told
words not said.

babble, babble, babble...

Creativity is at an ebb... a very low ebb.

Kinda feel like I'm riding one of those Tilt-A-Whirls
at the county fair, what with all that's been happening
in my small world.

My weekend away was... well, different than expected.
Not terrible by any means, but disappointing.

New owners at work are flexing their testosterone-control.
Employee morale is taking a nose-dive.
Business has slowed, so the usual worries about lay-offs are
breeding all kinds of rumors, even though we know that
manufacturing is cyclical.
One of the recently retired employees passed away after
battling cancer. Such a nice man, only 58.
Then one of my co-workers was fired, although justifiably so.
Yesterday, we were informed that a new manager had been
found dead in his home. Completely stunned by that news.

Of course, losing my baby Bubba has added to the emotional
roller-coaster.

However, T1G put up a post at rsm's blog letting us know what
we are allowed to send Scott while he is in basic.
That is now at the top of my list of things to do.

I have two posts in draft. It will be a coin-toss as to which one
gets posted first, but one is a response to a request from Eric
from a few months ago. The other is more of a rant.

Anyway, here's hoping all of you have a good day...
time for me to get ready for work.