Shhh!

Yesteday in the Home Organization section at Lowe's, there was a tiny Latino man with a cart that needed to get past me and my cart. We smiled and manuvered past the obstacles in the aisle. Then he decided what he needed was on the other side of me - again the cart dance with smiling and nodding.

On his way out, he leaned over and said in a conspiratal whisper: You have cute legs.

My surprised and loud response: These ole things?

He shook his head, put his finger to his lips, closed his eyes, and shhh'd me! I didnt know what to make of that and so said nothing. Perhaps my mouth was slightly agape - I'm not sure. I was still looking in the direction where he and his cart rolled around the corner, only to see his head reappear around the end cap and repeat the whole shhhhing gesture. Then he winked and disappeared.

It was the most comical, ridiculous exchange. But I must admit, I was truly flattered. Several times I caught myself smiling and perhaps believing the biking/treadmill routine was finally paying off.

But shhhh! dont tell anyone. It's a secret that only the mysterious little man and I share.

. . gentle into that good night . . .

Sometime between going to bed at 12 am and waking at 6 this morning, my panties gave out. No really. They up and died. They used to be microfiber hiphugging jobbies that shrunk after a washing into what looked like Carters underwear for children. Carter's brand slogan just happens to be: 'if they could just stay little for a little while longer.'

"Little' no kidding. This tiny pair fit last night, but this morning . . . I could pull them up over my head and still have coverage in all the imporant places. Gramma's bloomers from her large days were smaller, and sorry Gramma, but that's saying a lot.

So goodbye sad, limp and shapeless skivvies. You always made me feel supported and protected, from begining to . . . end. I'm sorry your demise was so sudden and soon soon.


Ummmmmm . . . .


. . . . amen??

Geez I dont know how to end this. I've never stood over a dead pair of panties in a waste basket before.

I Had a Dream

It was such a happy dream that when I woke up in the middle of it, I went back to sleep in the exact same sleeping position and concentrated only about the dream to see if it would pick up where it left off. And it did!

I woke up rested and buoyant. But I cant remember a thing about that dream. And it's bugging the heck out of me!

Just because it rhymes, dont make it poetry

I have written some really, REALLY bad and overly dramatic poetry over the last 25 years. But I kept this drippy tripe because, well, it kind of saved me. It was therapeutic to write about teenage angst, evolving ideas about love, and a marriage that sucked at the heels of my soul like a killer riptide.

While unpacking boxes I found two pieces about Sam, the first husband. They were written 10 years apart and I think there is a worthy comparison here - just not sure what it is.

1995
I gave. I gave. I gave it all.
You wanted short. I was too tall.
I'd break my legs to be that small,
then would you be happy?

A smile, a hug or laugh or two
would have been the greatest gift from you.
Funny how my heart was true
but not content or happy.



2006
My countenance was a reed
waving, bending, from storms recovering.
Then unhappy 'he' pulled me down
with heavy words and blows to my sinuous fiber.
Each day I could stretch a little.
And each day a little less, and less,
until my head drooped, back bent forward,
low to the earth where his feet trod.

What was motion? And freedom?
With no air to stir me I could not remember.
Root rot choked my last autonomous bits.

Then from the nadir I noticed the wind,
and riding with it the scent of peppery pine oils.
Whisperings in trees spoke urgently to me,
lowly, inconsequential me! and I listened,
awakened to the knowledge of my very own self.
I demanded my body rise above the choke-hold
and ascend to the bliss of forgotten powers.

I am burden-less. My roots wiggle without his permission
and I wave, and I bend when I want to.
I remember how glorious it is to be just me.


See? It's all drivel. But damn it felt good afterwards.