...... skating between the two as I navigate life's twisting, winding road...

Friday, June 28, 2013

We Will Walk In Good Company

A walk with someone who understands, relates and feels a kinship toward you is the best walk in the world.

I am a bit confused about something.  I do not believe I've ever had such mixed signals in my life.  

It does my head in.  

Right now, my head is done in.

It is so done in that this may be my shortest entry ever.  

Done in.


Mixed up.



Wednesday, June 26, 2013

The Rain Song

("The Rain Song" - Led Zeppelin)

I used to listen to this song constantly when I was 17 years old.  It wasn't a song that filled me with joy.  It enhanced the sadness that I felt inside.  The year of 17 was hard for me.  Very hard.

As I came home this morning from running errands, this came on the radio.  I sat in driveway listening and remembering.  I was remembering him.

At the age of 17, I was wildly and passionately in love with Kevin.  Oh he was beautiful to look at.  He had flowing chestnut brown hair that cascaded over his shoulders.  It was the most gorgeous hair I had ever seen on a guy.  His very long eyelashes framed his emerald green eyes perfectly.   His eyes were mesmerizing and hypnotic.  He towered over me at 6'5" and I loved every inch of him. 

He was a huge Led Zeppelin fan.  He could sing any of their songs at the drop of a hat and never miss a beat.  His singing voice was smooth and very sexy -- as sexy as a 18 year old's voice could be.   His laugh.. infectious and contagious.  I swear to God that 28 years later I can still hear it.  I will probably always remember it.  He laughed often, and it was part of his charm.

I met him through my step-grandmother's son.  He, at the time, was dating Kevin's sister.  Kevin arrived at my house with his sister Karen.  We hit it off immediately.  We hit it off so well that I ended up breaking up with my boyfriend.  

He took that charm one rainy night and went out with some of his friends.  There were four of them crammed into the bed of a pickup.  The driver of the pickup was drunk.  The truck swerved all over the road judging from the accounts I've heard.   Kevin was seated by the passenger door, and it was that door that bore the brunt of the crash.  The door connected with a telephone pole.  Kevin died instantly.

The phone rang a bit after midnight.  I was asleep and unaware.  I was woken by a knock on my bedroom door.  It was my grandmother coming to tell me that Kevin was gone.  I cried as hard as my 17 year old body could.  My mom tried to console me, but all I kept asking was "Why?"

His funeral was hard.  It wasn't right to see him like that.  I remember him like that, too.  I stood at his coffin and felt lost and alone.  My grandmother had come up and put her arm around my shoulder.  She told me that the best thing for me to do was to kiss him goodbye.  

I did, and I hated it.  His skin was cold against my lips.  It wasn't Kevin.  It just did not feel like him.  It didn't look like him and I was in denial for quite awhile.  I just did not want to believe it.  

I still visit him to this day.  Unfortunately, if you do not know where he's buried, you'd never find him.  Someone stole his marker not long after his burial.  His parents, with whom he did not have a good relationship with, never put a headstone on his grave.  I will never understand that.  Perhaps it's easier for them to forget than it is to remember.

I found his younger brother online a few years ago.  He wanted to know all about his brother because he had been so young when he died.  He didn't remember much.  Talking with him actually allowed my old wounds to heal a bit.  Every once in awhile, the scar gets torn a bit -- like today.

I will always remember him.  He was an important part of my past.  A part that I will always feel a bit of sadness over. 

"Got no time to for spreadin' roots 
the time has come to be gone
And to our health 
we drank a thousand times
it's time to ramble on"
-"Ramble On"  - Led Zeppelin

Monday, June 24, 2013

Little of This.. Little of That

The heat of the day is beyond gross.  I hate every sweaty sticky moment of it.  I am praying we will have a weird turn of event and the sky will blanket the area with white, fluffy and cold snowflakes.  Will it happen?  I highly doubt it.


One of my closest friends is celebrating his birthday on Sunday.   I shopped a tiny bit for him yesterday.  I do hope he enjoys the present I picked up.  It is a barbell for his penis.  As we age, we all need a little help.  It is, of course, a gag gift.  Last year, he got a g-string made of candy.  When I asked him if he would dance while wearing said g-string, he said he ate all of the candy.  I call him a fibber and a bore!  I had dollar bills and everything!

Yesterday at church we had a "Welcome Summer" picnic.  If I would have known that organizing this thing would have meant summer would actually come as a result, I would have thought twice about it!  

Actually it was a good time.  We have had quite a few new faces pop up over the past few weeks.  It was good to take the time to socialize with them and learn a bit about who they are.  It's even better when you find they enjoy your church and want to return!

During the picnic, I shoved people into the sanctuary so I could take their portraits for an upcoming church directory that I am putting together.  It was fun!  I had a blast trying to get people to smile and laugh.  

My next project is this coming Sunday and I'm psyched!  I will be teaching the last Sunday school class before summer vacation, and we will not be learning about the Bible.  Oh no we will not!!

It's ice cream sundae party day!  Yay!!  Oh yeah... ooey, gooey sundaes are on the schedule.    But shhhhh... they do not know it yet!


I just threatened my daughter with devastation.  She's an avid Disney fan, particularly Aladdin/Jasmine.  She is currently sifting through her memorabilia so she can find room for the crap she bought yesterday.  I told her that we should take it all out and put it in the fire pit to have a big ole fashioned bonfire.  She's traumatized now.  


I was just reading through a journal that I keep.  It isn't this one.  This one isn't anywhere near as personal as my other journal.  

I started it two and a half years ago.  It's filled with things that I would never want anyone to know.  I do not share it with anyone.  It is mine and mine alone.  It is filled with things I feel, think about and wonder.  It's about... stuff... 

"It exists.  It must exist.  I feel it constantly, always.  ."

This is a current theme in my journal.  I must have written it a thousand and one times, and it never changes. 

Doubt is one of the things that I detest.  I do not like to doubt myself, however I do it all the time.  There is an underlying level of doubt in that single sentence.  The sentence that I write constantly.  Perhaps I am trying to convince myself or perhaps I am trying to deny it.  One never knows.
How can you tell if something does, in fact, exist?

I'm trying to figure that one out right now.  

Good luck, me.

Thank you, me.. I need it.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Schnickity Shy

Warning:  The information that I am about to share may shock you.  Please make sure that you are in an upright seated position.  If you start feeling woozy, place your head between your knees and breathe slowly. 
Thank you.


I'm a very shy person.  I know, I know.  It's quite hard to believe, isn't it?   It's true.  I was shy when I first entered this world right out of the womb.  Granted, I am not as bad as I once was, but it's still there.  It comes out from time to time to waves its little hand at the world.  Not exactly shy behavior for shy, is it ?

It's fickle.  Its rather confused.  It kicks into gear at times when it shouldn't.  If I care about someone deeply, I have a tendency of being shy while speaking with them.  I do not quite understand that either.  Perhaps I fear saying something that I shouldn't.  Perhaps I just would rather listen to them speak.   Perhaps I am in awe of who they are.

On the occasion that I am tending to a lunch or dinner for a crowd, I am a ball of fire.  My shyness decides to take a hiatus.  I believe it packs its bags and takes off for the Bahamas or something.  I wish to God it would take me there sometime!  

Selfish bastard.

When I am at a lunch or dinner, I talk to everyone and anyone.  In fact, I think that sometimes I talk too much and laugh too loud.  No, I know that I do, but I do enjoy it. 

I give the wrong impression at times.  A friend once said to me, "I wasn't sure if it was okay to talk to you at first.  You seemed like such a bitch."

Harsh words, I suppose, but I do understand them.  If I were to step away from myself, I would probably think the same.  I have a preference for quiet most of the time, unless the situation demands noise, mingling and life.

Its the shyness.  I crawls out of my belly and waggles its tongue at me.  It pisses me off.

It leaves me with feelings of regret.  I wish that I would have said this or said that.  I wish that I would have reached out and touched.  I wish that I would have done all the things that my mind conjures up.  

Maybe one of these days my shyness will take a trip back down to the Bahamas and not come back.  Maybe the plane will crash and burn with my shyness the only occupant.  

There is so much I'd like to say, but this shyness prevents me from speaking those words.  
Words stuck in my throat.
Thank you, shyness.  
You're a peach.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

A Tribute to Mom

The fragrance swirled around her.  She did not perspire sweat.  She perspired a subtle hint of Ambush perfume.  The scent belonged to her.  She owned it.  

If I were to close my eyes, I can still smell it.  The musky fragrance fills my senses and leaves me awashed in feelings of contentment and happiness.  I remember it as if it were my own perfume, but it was hers.

She was a beautiful woman.  She wore little to no makeup on her flawless skin.  Her heavenly blue eyes sparkled and twinkled when she laughed or smiled.  I will always remember those eyes.  I do not have a choice for her eyes are also my own.  I see them in my own reflection as I gaze into the mirror and I am reminded of a woman that, by all accounts, could bring any man to his knees.  Her beauty compared to no other.  

She possessed a red-hot temper that would slowly simmer beneath the surface until she could not contain it any longer.  It would then explode like a bubbling volcano, and it would send us all scurrying away in fear.  Her passion was explosive.  It was full.  It was intense.  

The softer side of her was more apparent than her anger.  It, too, carried a level of passion that touches me still to this day.  Her gentle caresses, loving hugs and the way she cradled me in her arms -- they are the things that I remember best.  

She was, in my eyes, a perfect human being.  She had style.  She had grace.  She had a heart that overflowed with love for those that she cared about.  She was passionate about her family.  Her love was the glue that sustained us as a family, and it was her love that taught us all how to love unconditionally.  

I hope that I grow up to be just like her.  

I hope that I grow up to be just like my mother.

My siblings and I grew up in a home that was smothered in love.  She listened.  She cared.  She consoled.  She loved us unconditionally.  

I loved her strength.  I loved her weaknesses.  I loved her immensely, and I shall always love her to that degree.  She was my mommy.

When I was younger, I always looked for a reason to curl up into her lap.  I wanted to have her scent swirling around me, wrapping me in a blanket and comforting me.  I wanted to have her fingers stroke the side of my hair or rub the small of my back.  I wanted to feel her warmth against me, and I wanted to hear her speak to me softly.  

I still wish for that.  I still wish to be wrapped in her love and to see her blue eyes sparkle.  I want her understanding, her compassion and her presence.  

She is missed.  

Never will there ever be a woman like her.  There isn't a person on this God's earth that possesses the ability to love as she could.  There isn't a person that could ever be as beautiful as her.  

She was my rock.  She was my hero.  She is the role model that I look to when it comes to living my life and raising my family.  She did it so well.  


She was beautiful.

I hope when I grow up that I will be just like her.

I want to be beautiful.

Just like that.


Titular Tuesday

Tuesday is one of my most favorite days during the week.  I am, by almost all counts, alone for a portion of the day.  The younger children are at school and my oldest is at work for a better part of the day.  Today is Tuesday and I can breathe.

As I sit here and breathe, my heart does a bit of flipping around.  I am anxiously awaiting our vacation next month.  We've rented a big ole lake house and we are all inching our way to the front door to leave.  This will mark the first vacation we've taken as a family.  

I won't have to watch my dogs poop on the lawn for 7 days.  I will not have to weed my yard, mow the lawn or do laundry for 7 whole days!  I am longing to sit on the dock and fish until I'm blue in the face.  I am itching to grab a book and paddle out to the middle of the lake in a canoe to escape everyone.  I cannot wait to build a roaring fire at night and just enjoy it while looking out over the lake, or maybe just rack up some balls and shoot some pool.  

Peaceful times -- this is what I am hoping for. 

On another note, I am itching to get another tattoo.  It's been so long since I received my last, and it's time for another.  Unfortunately, I need to get my doctor's permission.  I am not so sure if he is going to give it to me.  I will have to beg and plead with him.  If that fails, I will have no choice but to work his nurse.  Oh I am the Mistress of Manipulation!

Each tattoo that I have signifies a stepping stone in life.  The first one that I received is one that will always hold the most meaning to me.  I had a friend visiting me from England.  While he was here, he wanted to get a tattoo done.  I decided, too, that I would get my first.  It had to, however, stand for something.  I knew it had to be one that would honor him and our relationship.

He gave me a voice.  He made me realize that I was a very special person, and that I was in charge of my present and my future.  He taught me how to love, how to be patient and to be accepting of others.   He was, and still is, a very beautiful human being.  

So my first tattoo was a way of honoring him and the things he taught me.  Every time I look at it, I think of him and remember that I am a pretty damn special person, and not "special" in a helmet, short bus kind of way.  


"..those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint."

This is my most favorite Bible verse.  It is a reminder that as long as I hold onto my faith that I will always be supported and taken care of.  My faith will guide me to the right places, at the right time and to the right people.  My faith will keep me strong, and it will allow me to persevere, even when I feel the weight of the world is much too heavy to bear.

This is my next tattoo.  It will not just be words written on my flesh.  It will be worked into a design and, hopefully, placed upon my back.  

Come on, Doc... don't let me down!