Thursday, August 27, 2009

private concert

(somehow, the post lost this lovely image- a painting by artist Paul Keysar, so I have reposted. Please do check out his work. Link below.)

lights... stars... flashes, fireflies

fountains of applause

single guitar, but full soul, beauty, love

one man band

for me

led zepplin merged with ocean blue

andre segovia

every instrument represented

within one.

cool metal chair easing the muscle cares of the day

cool blue notes easing the cares of my heart and mind

fingers flying, like one constant everchanging caress


someone else's lightning lighting the north night sky

like paparazzi bulbs

from some lost Hollywood

before the mid century

insects playing their Samba whistle,

their bossa nova

stars twinkling before their super nova

western sky a redline, along the treeline

some Hollywood skyline


the stars the lights

but the music

fills my soul and my embodiment

played near to me, near to my heart, just for me.

my true love





in beauty



Image above:

Cloudy Night by Paul Keysar

Thursday, August 20, 2009


No, I've not fallen off the face of the Earth just YET...

Just been in the storm before the storm before the culmination of so much...

Hope to be back before fall, after the burial service next week.

Ink Drawing

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Squashed flatter 'n a Bug

That's me. And no reanimation in sight. And yet, here I am, dead on my feet and scurrying around anyhow, as there's no way around it.

I took an all day class today; 8.5 hours at once. It was silly, but I didn't somehow realize until a day ago or so that I needed to read the entire textbook (and learn it) before I attended. And did I have time, even when I did realize? Not even a smidge. So I started late last night. And finished a bit before 3. AM. Boy did it bring back memories of cramming. I used to be the queen of cramming, when I only had myself to worry about the next day, and didn't realize that sleep deprivation is equivalent to being intoxicated. I didn't sleep well... keep dreaming that I was in the class, and woke about every 10-20 minutes... which is fine because it let me get up before the alarm at 620, and so my hubby could slumber undisturbed.

Why is it that as a wife and mother, even when I'm doing something "for myself", I cannot completely detach from duty? It was unnecessary for me to do laundry, housework and make breakfast for sleeping family before I left for the day. I mean, what do they really care? I would be better served to actually style my hair for once, to iron my shirt instead of splashing it with water or spraying it with wrinkle releaser. And yet...

And yet there is so much to do that will not get done, though it must. Tomorrow, I hope to catch up. Somehow. And Friday is an eighth birthday for my sweet little one, and a day spent with some friends, evening with family, (don't forget the not yet incarnate gluten free birthday cake)and somehow we should be ready to leave for the beach for 8 days the following morning. Not so bad. I guess. Except... except... I am the one readying everything. And everyone. Including the cat. The house. The garden. The special foods to transport for food allergic and gluten avoiding us. Why not do all this tomorrow too? Because.... because... more laundry, housework, so many emails, phone calls, contractors, repairmen, family who need help and information that pertains to their travel here in a few short weeks, and are waiting for my response, arrangements which will not be able to be done for a week, but cannot wait until we get back.

When we get back, finally, after an embarrassing number of years (hem) the bathroom will be tackled. The shower will work. The plywood backing which was NEVER code will be replaced with water appropriate board. The cracked floor will be replaced. The tub will no longer leak. The toilet will not sit in the middle of everything, but have it's own little 3/4 wall. We will have a master bathroom. Will will no longer need to run past the upstairs picture window to shower or de-shower to and from the kid's tiny bathroom. I'm sure the neighbors will either be delighted or disappointed. I hope they don't let me know. ;)

Then, with much much much much much more readying, the family will come. Every closet needs attention. Every room. Every weed. *sigh* Some will stay here with us. There will be big family gatherings, here, and in Annapolis, in Arlington. With the hope of honoring Dad.

Having a burial so long after the funeral, aside from obvious logistical and other difficulties one likely would choose not to think about, presents other challenges. It keeps things in a sort of hard real unyielding limbo state. I'm not complaining. It's just a different kind of hard. I feel Dad is around, is around me at times. I feel so lucky. I never felt that with my Mom. I always wish I had.

I really hope to post some things I've written. EVERYTHING feels incomplete; even the posts I write and have written. I have a poem of sorts, but no illustration, I have pictures (which I cannot access). It's okay, though. I also have enough. Of everything. Everything I need. And lots of stuff I probably don't! It's all good. I just hope I feel this same okayway tomorrow... when I'm hopefully no longer "intoxicated", when sleep has come and gone, and maybe, just maybe by the end of tomorrow, all my boxes will have (the correct) checkmarks in them.


Image above actually a cute bookmark:
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This work by is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.