Glad to wake up...

I was sitting alone on my front porch-swing soaking in the last glorious remnants of the late summer sun when my eyes were drawn to a multitude of children converging onto the streets. No ethnicity was prominent, but the age group was obvious. Streams of teens and preteens wandered aimlessly into the neighborhood. In groups; alone, all seeking  attention, all seeking positive direction.

Compelled to help,  I decided I'd start a club. 

I call the kids together in attempt to find out what it is they like to do. I suggest reading, writing, drawing  and painting. sports, dancing... an endless list, all with no results. As it is with dreams, the specifics have since faded, but the fact that I failed them looms large in my mind. 

I remember feeding them and sending them on their way. I remember the sting of sadness and defeat I felt as they drifted into the distance. I remember being glad to wake up.

What does it mean? Perhaps I'll never know. But even now, I am glad I was only dreaming.

You're Only Old Once

You're only old once

were the words that I read

so I pondered that thought

as I rested in bed

If you're only old once

you should make your days great

not waste them on sadness

not waste them on hate

With a positive attitude

you can keep your heart young

 you can fill it with kindness

to make life more fun

So no more complaining
and don't be a grouch
just get up and dance
 and stay off of that couch

Let's give our best efforts

 and with, age, make a truce

for "You're only old once"

says the great  Dr. Seuss

 

 

haiku

Radiant sun beams
renew the cycle of hope
promising spring

Old School Idioms

                           What???

The other day, I was conversing with my daughter in what I considered to be perfectly normal English. I don't remember the topic, or exactly what I said, but I do remember her outburst of laughter interrupted my thoughts.

"What?" she giggled? 

 "What do you mean what?" I asked in confused exasperation. 

Containing her laughter, she repeated my apparently old school words and flashed me a quizzical look.  "Mom, what does that even mean?"

It'd never occurred to me that I tend to speak idioms that to many are obsolete.

That being said, I decided to  write down some of my favorites, and would ask that you contribute yours.

And please, while your at, pass along some new updated versions, (along with their meanings), so I can work on closing the generational gap. 

Cool As a Cucumber

Like a broken record

Cat nap/forty winks

Blue in the face

 

Hold your horses

Scared the living daylights out of me.

Head In The Clouds

Dead As A Doornail

It'll be a Piece Of Cake

Never bite the hand that feeds you 

Happy as a clam

Cry over spilt milk

Add insult to injury

A bit under the weather

Hit the nail on the head

Let sleeping dogs lie

Off your rocker

Blessing in disguise

Beat around the bush

ball in your court

barking up the wrong tree

curiosity killed the cat

blind as a bat

Hit the sack...... 

Yes, I really do use these, all the time!! ha ha

A Chunk of My Life....

Missing my mom

My mom was dying. She needed an advocate. She needed me.  

So my not so infinite wisdom, I decided that I'd call a "meeting of the minds" to do away with the looming white elephant, and clear the air forever. I call up my sisters. Now mind you, I come from a blended, broken family, and things can be more than a little complicated. So I prepped, I prepared, I practiced, certain I could eliminate insurgence of drama.

Boy, was I ever wrong!!!

That being said, I penned this letter to my sister. An apology of sorts, but more a cleansing of the soul. Deep and personal this is not really a slice of life, it's more like a chunk of my life that I've chosen to share with the world!!

Dear ____________

I've been mulling over our family meeting, and the original intent behind it. I realize, in retrospect, you were probably feeling attacked, and for that, I sincerely apologize. Please know I accept complete responsibility for the idea, and it's failure,

When I asked you girls to participate,  I believed it to be a good thing. I envisioned it as an opportunity to share our thoughts, (good and bad), spew out any residual venom, and move on so we could at least try to heal.

I cannot reiterate enough that lack of communication has forever been the source of discord in this family, and I do mean forever!  Shrouded in secrets, we've been ripped apart at the seams time and time again, and forbidden to acknowledge the pain. It's sad. It's tragic. It's reality that can't be denied.
That being said, what my brilliant plan failed to consider was the depth of the childhood wounds we've each been forced to carry, and the fragile adults we've grown into because of them. Mending decades of wounds by hashing out words in a an hour long meeting is like throwing gauze over a ruptured artery......too little, too late..... and completely ridiculous.

I'm deeply sorry if my intentions were misinterpreted, by you, or by anyone, but I'll never apologize for my reasons behind them. My heart was coming from a good place, and I'm grateful for having had the opportunity to share my thoughts with all of my sisters together in one room. It was, for a moment, like like stepping out of the shadows into the sunlight....

but only for a moment.....

My mom was dying. She needed an advocate. She needed me.  I needed her.

Sto lat

When I think of the best grandpa in the world, hands down, I think of my father-in-law. 

If I were to ask my children for word association, it would go something like this:

Puppies and polkas, music and marigolds, tomatoes and tenderness, snack cakes and soda, cooking and cat food, green grass and garlic, rosemary and restaurants, patient and practical, classy and cool. 

John Mitchell Sr. would be 100 years old today!!

Happy Birthday to a man that lives on in our memories......a man who was Amazing and Adored. 

The knock

Tap, tap, tap.....

She'd heard it before and was adept at ignoring. "Go away", she mumbled to no one in particular, "I've got this under control. Just leave alone." But loud and unrelenting, the knock continued, grating her to the core. In a surge of sudden rage, she flings the door open prepared to unleash her fury.

"Why, she asks scathingly, "would you continue to knock when it's clear I do not wish to answer?"

The stranger moves in closer, as if to study her before she responding to her wrath. His  grey/blue eyes remind her of her dad. A tranquility in his tone envelopes in for a moment, what feels like peace.  "You must learn to trust, he whispered, his steely gray eyes peering into her soul. Let someone in before it's too late."

Hysteria wells up in her belly. "You don't understand", losing her words in a sob, "I can't, because....  I don't know how."

The sun drops quickly behind the horizon leaving her to wrestle her fears in the dark. Her entire life she has spent constructing her walls. How could she let someone in?

Tap, tap, tap.....

Instinctively she knows the stranger's returned. Fighting the feeling of dread that attempts to invade her, she opens the door, focusing  only on the tinge of hope. She knows it will not be easy, but it's time, and God knows it's the only thing she can do.