an explanation.

i didn't do poetry thursday this week.
i thought about it...
i contemplated it...
and i realized
i don't really
care
that much about food...
i mean, i do,
but i also don't.

i like what other people write and say
and portray
about food...
i have just never, ever written anything
about it and honestly could not
pull anything up that felt real to me
when i tried...

so,
a picture of string beans straight from my garden
instead...
and an apology for the upcoming dark pictures...
it is cloudy here and heh, whatever,
they are ALWAYS dark anyway...
its not the camera, or the clouds, its me
:)


i'm borrowing acumamakiki's usual
friday i'm in love idea
(because it is also something i love)
(heh)
for today...

--my husband bought me this

i have wanted an mp3 player forever
and am hoping this will inspire more
voluntary exercise on my part...heh.

--my sister in law dropped off these books
for me yesterday which i can start reading
as soon as i finish the last 20 or so pages
of 100 years of solitude
--the aforementioned but now loving even more stella panacci cd

--this site that saltwater princess/bridget recommended and that i
was subsequently lost in for hours the other night...

--surprising myself by giving this movie a chance and liking it...
mainly because of this character...

--the fact that i just found out they are making a movie for one
of my favorite kids books, "bridge to terabithia" and my new
favorite actress is in it!

--a new magazine in the mailbox

--a picture that i don't cringe when i look at...heh...

just a kid swappy goodness...

i joined a swap called "just a kid"
and the idea was to send fun stuff,
toys, candy, etc
plus stuff the other person was interested in...
i received mine yesterday
from the brilliant mary ann
at follow your bliss

here is a shot of the pretty stamps
that were decorating the package,
and below, the cool set of vintage golden books
which i adore
and have been able to put to immediate use
:)

below is some of mary ann's art which is rich
and gorgeous and my pathetic photography does not
capture the way it truly should...

mmmmm...
the candy.......
i am now well addicted to jelly bellys...
heehee

and the toys!
teehee...
games and bubbles and jelly-like yoyos
and slinkys and a car shaped deck of cards...
so much fun!

i only hope that mary ann will be as happy with what
comes in her mailbox, as i was with what came in mine!
so much fun!

a-maz-ing

this is a direct order.
i know i don't do it often,
but this time i must insist,
for your own good,
that you immediately
go to this site
and check out this girl's
amazing voice
and poetic lyrics.

she played here tonight
and i just happened to be going by
where she was...
i knew instantly that i was going to
have
to buy that cd,
so rather than fight the uncontrollable,
i bought it
and am listening/loving it right now.

check it out,
you will not be disappointed.

at ease.

sexy poetry thursday...

i don't talk about sex.
i cringe when others do.
i am bad at that kind of thing...
it has to be forced from my psyche,
wrenched out of my fist,
pried from my catholic upbringing...

so.

this was written
the night we met...
please,
don't judge me.

july 17/94

furious with wanting you
to possess you
encompass you
grinding my teeth
nails clenched in my hand
your sweat stinging my eyes
salt on salt
i beg to understand
the anger
the bitterness
i taste smoke on your fingers
smell the scent of it
on my own hand
tidal wave anger
breaks me down
again

(the anger has nothing to do with the person
in the poem other than to say he was
indirectly in the path of it, but never the
cause of it)

more poetry thursday here

sunday scribblings: with baggage.

My district manager sent me an email that said,
"Bring only a carry on bag. There is a strike at
one of the airports and we don't want anyone
to have to pick up their luggage."

Of course, I was late for my flight.

Once there, I realized the little plane was
already full of passengers and I was the last one.
Having never flown before, I was uncertain
of the procedures, the routines, the rules
and regulations. I was scared and sad and
not wanting to leave my husband and kids
for a week.

They said I could not take my "carry on".
It was too big. I argued with them. They
insisted it was too big. I tried to tell them
that damn it, my district manager sent me
an email and said I had to take my bag on
the plane...I had to!

They brought out the machine that
was supposed to show me that my bag
was, in fact, too big. I cried and snapped,
"Take the damn bag, take it, take it...
if I can't get it at the airport, I will just
attend all the manager meetings in the
clothes I have on!"

The girl in the security room asked me
to put my bag on the conveyer.

I broke down. "Bag? What bag?
I don't have a bag! Your people took
my bag because they said it was too
big! Even though my district manager
sent me an e-..." "Your purse."
"oh."

I could see my husband through
the glass, through my tears of fear
and frustration. He looked sad and
helpless. They ushered me through the
gate and onto the plane.

PART TWO

I had made it.

I flew on the first plane unscathed.

I easily and quickly retreived
my "carry on" even though the airport
was on strike. I tearfully explained
to my district manager the predicament
I had put myself in and she laughed.
During the rest of the manager meetings,
she was known to ask if anyone had seen me,
was I in some state of flux, crying in the corner
somewhere? I took it as a sign that she
liked me.

PART THREE
(in which, we fly home)

I get on the plane, confident and unconcerned.
I am a seasoned flier now. I am early and
prepared. I stop at my row. I check my
ticket.

There is a man sitting in my seat.

There is a man sitting in my seat
who is pointedly ignoring me.

I continue to stand, looking up at row numbers,
looking down at my ticket, up at row numbers,
down at my ticket.

A woman in the next row tries to help me out.
The man sitting in my seat finally looks over
and asks if I would mind switching my seat for his
because his legs are longer than mine
and my seat was next to the door.

Fine.

The stewardess comes along and goes
through all of the rules and expectations
that come along with the responsibility
of sitting by the door.

The man reads a magazine during this.

When the stewardess walks away, I turn
to the man and say, "Do you make a habit
of that?"

"Of what?" He is obviously confused.

"When someone is giving you pertinent
information that involves everyone on this
airplane, you choose to ignore it, and read
a magazine!"

He looks a little surprised. And sheepish.

He assures me that he knows how to open
the door, that he has flown before. He
thinks that I do not believe him so he
repeats all of what the stewardess has
just told me and I know that he is right,
because I had taken notes, as she was talking.

I calm down.

And realize that I have swallowed
the gum that was supposed to stop my
ears from hurting.

I want to go home.