Someone is listening....

Look up to the sun and notice that it hasn't stopped shining on you. The shadows will pass you by. The warmth on your nose and shoulders is there to make you remember that you are alive. If there were no shadows, you would never notice the soft touch of each sunbeam, formed just for you.

If the stars seem hidden tonight, they are only recharging for the next battle you have to fight. They will come out shining brighter than you have ever seen, shooting through the darkness, following each whispered dream, sparkling and waving to you. Let them speak, count each one from time to time with a thankful heart. Whisper dreams to them, they will listen.

White is falling now, it seems so beautiful at first, until it doesn't stop, burying your hopes for warmth. Notice that lone sparrow, digging through the glistening mounds, he finds a seed and waddles away to enjoy it. He sings in the brutal cold, sharing a sweet celebration for that one small offering. How much stronger should your songs be, with all you have been given? Throw seeds in the snow for all that you have, hear the true songs of happiness again.

The howling winds you notice picking up in your world, came to take away the pain you feel. Hold your hands up and twirl in it like a child. Let go. Hurt, like the burnt amber leaves of fall, will float away in time. New joy will eventually bloom and fill your heart once more.

Waves crashing on the beach seem detrimental to you now. White capped and angry, welling up and crashing when you crave stillness. But always walk patiently on the shore, picking up the jewels life has left. Perfectly painted treasure box shells with the secrets of the sea hidden inside them await to capture your fascination. Rejoice for each pearl of wisdom and acceptance, created just for you to cherish. Don't step over them in hurry.

The volcano erupts in a fiery rage, a temper tantrum staged when the elements are not lined up exactly as planned. Spewing the lava that will forever change the landscape as it escapes and cools. When it finally rests, its beauty is evident and marveled over. Without the fight, it would have died out and lost its passion.





The battle awakens you and teaches us to celebrate life.

Drop it like it's HAWT!

Always. Seems things are always falling around me. I am the epicenter of my own clutzy universe. Last night I took a trip. I got up at 2:30Am to check on my son. One of my delicate feet slipped on a board book about the dinosaurs, the T-rex on the cover stared up at me whilst muffling his laughter and trying to cover his mouth to no avail because of his tiny flailing appendages. It was very scary. I was however impressed with my one footed carpet surfing excursion until the other foot met the the metal bed rail. They were not very friendly to each other and as I lay in a fetal position holding my throbbing toe, I cursed (but in a sexy sweet way acceptable by all FCC regulations). My son lay snoring, taunting my pain.

Now I am walking hunched over because AFTER I realized the pain in my throbbing toe was lessoning, I moved to get up and CRACKWALBASH.... I threw my back out AND simultaneously farted. My wails of pain did not wake my son up, but the fart apparently did. He proclaimed it as "gross" and laughed before falling back to sleep, or maybe it was a dream (at least that is what I will tell him, come on, what mom comes in your room and wakes you with a fart? Inconceivable).

Now seriously, if I throw my back out I want to have the words: "because of the Earth rattling sex" in the same freaking paragraph, wouldn't you?

But such is not my life.

I don't feel sexy walking around like this at all. So I put on a moo-moo dress that is heavily intoxicated with flowers, rubbed on some "extreme" Ben-gay and a wide brimmed hat. No one knows I am not 95. It's a clever cover. But now I have found that my goal has shifted from making it a "clever cover-up outfit" to seeing if the door greeter at Wall-to-the-mart will ask me out.

"Yes, hello kind silver haired sir, I WOULD like a cart,,,, meow".

I would do him in the Flip-Flop aisle in case you were wondering.

And then my back would be cured because of the Earth rattling, Flip-Flop slapping, Wall-to-the-mart silver haired greeter sex.

Yep. That sounds better!

The George Foreman Grill Theory...well not really....

I had a mad craving for steak. FYI, being a poor person and steak don't blend well. I NEVER get steak. "This weekend would be different!!!" I claimed as I drove to Publix for my weekly Ramen noodle jaunt. I shall have my steak and eat it too! (I actually added "damn it" for effect in real life, but left it out here because I know you revere my angelic side so much).

But,,,,,, I WOULD have steak tonight!

Almost.

It sounded hopeful, right?

I scoured the meat aisle for a "cost friendly" cut of steak. I looked around for someone with 1,002 bottles of mustard and 52 boxes of denture cream in their cart to help me out with a coupon, to no avail.

I perked my boobs up and searched for a cute "meat-man", but they were all otherwise engaged.

I was on my own.

I came across "mock" steak which was perfectly red and marbled,,,, and cheap. Very cheap. It tickled my fancy and I cradled it softly as I added it to my shiny, one wheel squealing cart. I sang "feelings" to it to tenderize it.

The "steak" sucked. But as the title points out, this post is NOT about that steak (or is it), but it's really NOT about George Foreman either. Although I assume he is a nice man... It is really not even about the grill! But the grill is my gateway for the post, so here goes.

You see I have a long history with the GF grill. I love it. Mine is very old and bulky and always sparks at me as I unplug it (asshole). I hear they come in shiny red with a bun warmer now and I dream of the day I own that magnificent creature! I got mine from an ex-boyfriend. Best thing he ever left me.

And there is my gateway, clever tain't it?

Every time I use that grill I think of him. The memories flush back and overflow with crap like a toilet on the fritz. It is really hard to enjoy any food after I cook it on that grill, but I try. He was hotter than a dime in the sun on a Pheonix highway. He was the first relationship after my divorce. But he had issues, as we all do.

I took something valuable away from that relationship as I did with all that I have had (which actually are very few). One guy left a DVD player years ago before I was even married. AC/DC t-shirts from another, this computer from someone I dated all of 3 dates (parting gift I assume as I found out the creep was still married). I had a bottle of "Axe" body wash in my shower for months after a break up (Because it smells so damn good and I am pathetic like that when it comes to all things olfactory).

But more than worldly items, an insight to who I am and where I need to go.

I have been alone for quite sometime (1902) because I have not in any way shape or form put myself out there. But also I assume because of my health and financial issues and definately because I spend most of my time with my kids. I wonder when "my" time will come and am sick of people asking "what's wrong with you girlfriend?" as I seem to be the only single person left in the world.

People feel sorry for you if you are alone. I do not want to be set up with the busboy at I-hop thank you very little. Do you assume that is as high as I can dream to net as a boyfriend? The pancake benefits would be nice though.

The other day a VERY young Indian man asked me out. But,,, he said "nothing official" in the request and I still ponder what that meant and also he smelled like an incense stick (but that kind of turned me on, see also "Axe" paragraph above for a point of reference).

Later that same day a gentleman I had helped at my job a year ago came in. He was visiting the town again and said he made a "special" trip to see if I was still working there. He asked me to go to Jacksonville with him to "get away". I don't know if it was "official" or not. He will not be called.

I really am not sure if I am ready for any of this yet. Still. Even after all of these years. I think I am though.. Am I weird for that? Is it strange that I started to stutter like the cheeto's cat when propositioned? Aye-eee-aye-eee-aye--- It's not easy being cheezy.....Is that sexy? One FB friend said yes!! :)





I am not sure when the "weird crocheting catlady down the street" age starts, but I think I have a few years left. In the mean time, pretzel-boy at the mall suggestions from you will be accepted and ridiculed at my discretion, although he was a cute piece of spam I must admit.......

Because I will no longer accept "mock steak" to compensate for the real thing!!!

Ahhhhh.... the steak WAS a metaphor!!!

I am brilliant really....