My Intuitive Self

Quiet, I can’t hear her
Her soft voice plays like a song in my head
She is there daily
reminding me that I am not dead

She speaks of the joys I fantasize of
She whispers of the sights I wish to see
Taunts me with ideas that seem so far-fetched
All the while the things she says, call to me

She knows me so well, better than I know myself
Aware of my errors in judgement long before I do
Caring for my soul before I even know it’s hurt
Tries to warn me of impending dooms that loom

I wish she would speak up more, even speak louder
Where does she go when it is silent in my mind?
Has she moved to my heart
Her absence in me makes me blind

She loves me more than I do
I wish she was around more
Throwing ideas at me with flashing lights,
blow horns and slamming doors

Without her I am lost
A small body traveling in a vast sea
She guides this vulnerable spirit
my Intuitive self sets me free


Dog lessons

Rivers work

Oh I’m learning so much from being a dog owner, it’s fantastic.  I am learning to accept  certain types of reality that never even would have occurred to me before.  Like, “beware of random dark things on the carpet.”  Before it would have  been candy, a brown marble, chewed up black Barbie boot or a ball of fuzz from a brown sweater. There was no fear when picking it up with my bare hands.  Now that I am a dog owner, all I can say is …. Dingle Berry! 

Before when we spent countless hours preparing the most delectable feast for a group of twelve, it would never have occurred to me to worry about the meat placement on the counter.  Now I don’t think twice about  pushing the meat in its wonderful glory, to the back of the counter.  Before i had no idea that the dog could actually walk on his two back legs. I had no idea that this was even a possibility.  The same goes for the Gingerbread house that took 4 hours to make.  Who knew are dog even had a sweet tooth?  And even though he never begs us for food and he hardly even appears to be remotely interested in eating anything until we actually scoop out his food.  Why is he so fascinated with the trash can in the kitchen and the contents in it?  Coming home to a kitchen that looks as if the trash decided to jump out of its can and have some sort of party on the floor, always makes me feel so special.  And then there is the guilty dog looking at you with his pathetic eyes.  “You must forgive me,  I am so cute…” 

Which leads me to the other new dog fear, the dog fart!   Every time River eats something he is not supposed to, exactly 24 hours later to be precise, he gets those awful, horrid, dog farts!  I want to throw myself into an outhouse because that smell would actually be better.  Then I have to worry about the soon to be loose bowl issue.  And repeatedly kick him outside to poop.  It’s like having a toddler who’s potty training all over again.  And heaven help me if I leave the dog outside to long or he will just do what he did the last time and just walk right through the screen door.

The Roller Skate Toilet

I went roller skating today, at the local roller rink, it was really fun. Being on skates again ( not inline but Quads) made me feel like a kid. I even have the blisters on the balls of both of my feet, just like I did as a kid. But, here is the one difference, the bathroom situation. I went in to use the restroom, which is always a dangerous situation while skating on tile or near wet time. I rolled precariously into the stall and shut the door. Just as the kid in the stall next to me slipped in her skates on the tile and fell half in the toilet and half of her took out the toilet paper dispenser off the wall. Laughing at the poor kid, I locked my door and got ready to sit down. As I lowered my butt to the impending toilet seat, I was shocked at how far I had to go before I reached it. Then as I was sitting comfortably and doing what nature calls for. I realized that my ankles, which sat so uncomfortably in my rented skates were now officially higher than my ass. The toilet was one that I think you would normally find in a preschool. It was about 3 inches off the ground. Now, this normally would not be a problem. I would normally stand up when finished and move on with my day. But, it is now that I realize that I need to be able to support my weight with my feet, to be able to stand up. And yet my feet are stuck in these ugly moveable forces. All I keep picturing is me trying to get up and my legs just sliding out in front of me and ending up like that poor kid in the next stall. This is even more of a difficult task than I thought, because my jeans are down past my knees and they are not helping the situation. I had to sit there for a minute to figure out a plan of attack, anything to avoid some sort of toilet bowl head injury. Don’t ask me how I did it, but I did manage to stand up without injury or falls.  But, it was touch and go there for a minute. Never a dull moment in LoLa- land.


I am thankful for the spring in my step and the curl in my hair
The people I have met and the things we have shared

I am thankful for the love I have known and the time we have spent
for the care that we have shown as the time came and went

I am thankful for my fully bodied figure and my big strong bones
for my fast typing fingers and for my laughter and moans.

I am thankful for the sweetness of life and the joys that I’ve seen
for living without strife and my wonderful complex dreams

I am thankful for the children I adore, my thoughts are of them
I love to watch them sore as this life of theirs begins

I am thankful for my parents, siblings and friends
and I’m thankful for you and the joy that you send

Happy Thanksgiving!

Two girls with cups

I think these chicks are very talented and I love this video.  I hope you enjoy it aswell.


The Lyrics

 If we had’ve known that people were going to actually watch it we might have put on some nicer clothes, Heloise still can’t watch it all the way through, but we’re chuffed it’s gone down well. 
In response to some questions … lyrics are:
I got my ticket for the long way round
Two bottles of whiskey for the way 
And I sure would like some sweet company
I’m leaving tomorrow what d’ya say?
When I’m gone/when I’m gone
When I’m gone/ when I’m gone
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone
You’re gonna miss me by my hair you’re gonna miss me everywhere
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone
I got my ticket for the long way round
The one with the prettiest views
Its got mountains its got rivers
Its got sites’ll (should be woods, whatever you like) give you shivers
But it sure would be prettier with you
chorus x2 
third chorus is a bit different ..
You’re gonna miss me by my walk you’re gonna miss by my talk
And I know you will miss me when I’m gone. 

Mall Massages

Seriously, Have any of you seen those people who are giving massages in the middle of malls.  They have about 3 different massage tables or chairs and they offer rub downs to people who are walking by, shopping.  I think it’s a great idea, really I do.  especially for those men out there, who hate to shop but will still go with their significant others, just to be with them or hold their bags or something.  I am sure for them being out of their comfort zones and being used as some sort of baggage cart, can be quite taxing.  But, today I saw an older man probably in his 70’s getting a butt massage at one of these tables.  A Butt Massage!  I am not even sure that when I am in the comfort of my Massage Therapists, quiet, serene room, that I have a butt massage performed on me?  Don’t get me wrong, I am totally onboard with “Buttocks Rub down”, but; in the mall?  Do you really think you could relax enough with a bunch of strangers and their kids walking by, staring at your ass?  I think every single muscle in my body including those in my butt would be so tense through the entire rub down that I would be in more pain when I was leaving, then I had when I got there.  But, to each their own, right?  I say, “Go get-em old man!  Damn the man, or the shoppers in this scenario.   Good for you, for not being embarrassed!”  Personally I don’t think I could do it.  But, you go boy.

No good in the kitchen

I am just no good in the kitchen.  When someone asks me to help them with something while they are cooking, I will literally go into a cold sweat!  “Excuse me?  You want me to what to those onions? Cut them?  Um, with a knife? really? Do you think I can be trusted?”  Once I was unable to attend a graduation but could be at the party afterwards.  The people asked me to set up the food and get it ready.  I was in the bathroom stressing about it for about an hour before hand.  It took me 10 minutes and the help from a sweet aunt to get the oven turned on.  When I was in cooking class in Highschool I was the only one to throw water on a grease fire.  Yep! That was me.  Once I made pizza for my family, pepperoni pizza to be exact.  I had no idea that there was paper stuff on the outside of the pepperoni!  I thought it was part of the meat.   Once during a big deal meal I was in charge of the deviled eggs.  The recipe called for 1 tsp salt.  I put in 1 tbsp salt.  People were spitting those things out left and right. 

Don’t even get me started about electric stoves vs. gas stoves.  Me and electric stoves have NEVER gotten along.  I think it’s because i never know if the damn things are on.  There is no visual flame to remind me that it’s hot.  I have destroyed countless burners and teapots by turning on the wrong burner and waiting for food to start cooking.  All the while the empty teapot in the back,  that is sitting on the heating burner, is being scorched beyond repair.  I don’t know what it is, maybe I get to excited by all the things that heat and clean, that I just can’t function.  Maybe I get intimidated by all the scary things like food processors and  pasta makers.  What ever it is, I am completely out of my element while in the kitchen, unless of course I am doing the damn dishes.

Learning to Fly

Thank you so much for the nomination and the award. I really do appreciate it.

This birds young, not broken
An old soul stuck in a youthful form
It’s will not yet spoken
Wings strong enough to whether any storm.

Been grounded now for quite some time
With clipped wings and shackled claws
A life of comfort has all been fine
Very little excitement, even fewer falls.

Comforts die and the wings get restless
As any bird it dreams of more
A need for the winds touch on all its feathers
To soar from waterfalls to valley floors

Dreaming of gliding from mountain peeks
This grounded bird must learn to fly
If it wants to learn from all it seeks
Jump off this earth and devour the sky

All these things would be so fun
While soaring at great heights
This bird wants to puncture the sun
And be a predator at night.

Let this bird live it’s life, anew
Don’t cage it in, don’t kill it’s soul
You may want it next to you
But, you must learn to let it go

The Annual

Any woman who cares a bit about herself has to do the same annoying thing every year, the annual exam!  Oh what fun the annual exams are.  Not only do you get to look forward to a near perfect stranger getting a little too familiar with your vagina. You also have to know about 3 months ahead of time when you think you will or won’t be on your period.  And of course as the day of the Annual “pain in the Va Jay Jay” nears you start to focus more on your appearance down there.   I mean you don’t want the doctor to have to use a weed whacker just to find your vagina. 

It’s always an uneasy drive to the doctor’s office.  It’s one of those appointments that you have to do but hate to do.  To make things even worse you have to get to the apt. early to fill out forms because it’s been a year since you saw this doctor.  And once you finish your paperwork the doctor is ALWAYS late meeting with you.  So, you get to sit in your uncomfortable knowledge of the violation that is about to happen to you, even longer!  You finally get called into the procedures room and the first thing they want you to do is weigh yourself in the hallway.  As if you aren’t freaked out enough, now you can be secure in knowing that everyone else there knows how fat you are! 

After waiting for what feels like an hour in the stiff, ugly, grandma-floral robe, they make you put on with the opening in the front, the doctor finally shows up; let the misery commence.  First there is the breast exam where your naked boob is exposed to the cold air and pushed and needed like a piece of dough.  All of this done in order to find any cancerous bumps.  Then the doc proceeds to the really fun part!  A shiver travels up your back as you catch a glimpse of the Silver torture device they use to crank your vagina open with.  It always reminds me of some sort of drawbridge, but it actually works more like a pair of scissors.  You lay perfectly still because your body feels like it is being opened from the inside and your scared that if there are any sudden movements, this mid evil torture device is gonna stab you from the inside and pop out your body. 

After the violation has finished your allowed to sit up and the doctor proceeds to tell you all the good and bad things about body parts you didn’t even know you had.  ultimately finishing with, “well your still alive” and then walks out the door.  Sitting cold alone in the crappy sheet robe with my boobs hanging out, I wonder why I feel used?  “Is this when we have the cigarette?”  I Joke.  No one answers.  Thank God. Just another day in LoLa- Land.

Body Hair

What is the deal with body hair and our fascination with getting rid of most of it.  Who was it that decided that leg hair and armpit hair for woman was not part of societies norm?  Who decided that men should have hair on their heads. And that their chest hair and leg hair are ok, but back and butt hair are not?  Who decided that my vagina should not keep the hair that naturally grows on it.   That to be presentable, I must at least be able to wear a bikini in public and not worry about any strays popping out.  Why is it that we are ok with arm hair or finger hair?  I mean who’s to say those fingers couldn’t start to look quite a mess.  Hell,  We even trim the brows, the stash, the nose hairs.  To add insult to Injury (literally) we then spend all this money to do these painful acts to ourselves.  Why?  Why do we bleach, shave, wax, peel, and cut these elements off of our body.  Weren’t they on us for a reason?  Whether it’s to keep us warm, keep our eyes clear of dirt, or even help us hear better.  Why are we all so hell-bent on getting rid of it?  Wasn’t there a reason we originally had the hair in the first place? 
I propose a solution to our problems.  If you are really so concerned that you are willing to perform such torture on yourself, like going to a spa and having some woman who barely speaks english, look at your “holiest of holies” as she temporarily un-clothes it for the next few weeks .  Instead of this embarrassing experience why not try something a bit cheaper?  I would like to suggest the blow torch method.  It smells bad, this is for sure, but it is quick and can be painless if done right.  Next time you have some pesky, unwanted, unruly hair, just pull out your torch and burn the crap out of it.  As long as you don’t burn yourself, the hair will be gone and the skin will be soft and smooth. Don’t worry the smell will disappear after a few minutes.

Previous Older Entries

Coloring Project – The Frog


2010 Summer Reading List

Sookie Stackhouse, the complete stories A touch of Dead
Finger Prints & Facelifts
His First Wife, Gracce Octavia
The promise of happiness, Justin Cratwright
Silk & Shadows
The Honey Thief
The marriage
Ya ya Sisterhood book # 3
The Other Boleyn Girl
Wishful Drinking, Carrie Fisher
3 book flower series by Nora Roberts
The Kept woman
Twlight book # 4
twlight book #3

Coloring Project – The Swan