Blog Archives

>I Need A Mad Scientist……


Hey Friends! Yeah, I’m cheating. Just wanted to put up something to keep you company till the weekend…..

Ahem. ‘K, I really do need a mad scientist. Here’s the thing. For years, I’ve carried around book ideas. No news there, I’ve mentioned that before.

I’m slowly working on two of the said ideas right now. With the prednisone, not much writing has been done, though. Serious lack of sleep makes one mental.

The happy side of the evil-making-waco pills is that my brain is bouncing around at all hours and last night, er, this morning – it HIT something. Something g o o o o o d. Something s h i i i i i n y. Oooooooooo!!!!!!

There’s this one book idea that I’ve had for years and years. Now, I know how to write it. *maniacally happy giggles* BUT!!! I’m being a good girl. I have too much on my plate already, so….I spent about an hour writing down all sorts of details, things I want to cover, how, what I need…..everything I could think of. Then – I closed the notebook. I really need to concentrate on the two things I have going right now.

That is…..unless you know of a mad scientist who could help me out…..? Maybe hook my brain-pan to the ‘puter and simply download everything? *batting eyes and don’t look at how red and glassy they look, I’m fine REALLY!* Help me grow about 8 temporary arms and a couple extra heads so I could type it all at once? It’s not as insane as it sounds and wouldn’t look as bad as you’d think! Non? Ah well, it was worth a shot.

This is kinda how I was feeling today at work after no sleep and getting my new shiny. Heee!

Have a great week and catchya Saturday! (Or Friday night)


>My Tinkerbell Theory (Long-ish, But With A Surprise At The End)


I do believe in fairies, I do! I do!

You ever have those days when it seems like you’re all alone in your quest for your dream? And everything and everyone is pulling at you from all possible directions and, when you finally do get to a quiet, peaceful moment, you’re too tired or too fuzzy to think creatively?

I’m not saying that there aren’t people around me who wish me well in my creative endeavor. It’s just that most of them have a lot going on in their lives and just don’t have the energy. They do want to know how it’s going, but, really, I can’t expect them to get all giddy about getting four thousand words written when they have to spend their evening going to a dozen sporting events, cooking dinner, and making sure everyone’s homework is finished. Some of my friends understand that trying to write something is hard, and they respect that. There are those who believe you can just pull the words out of your head and be published in a few months. I wish! But, really, they don’t understand what it takes, or what it costs.

It’s just not everyone’s thing. Like baseball isn’t mine. Honey is a great ball player and I would go watch some of his games if he played in a league. But come the hottest part of summer, I’d have to think of other ways to be supportive from time to time. Me and summer – we ain’t cool. And Honey would be fine with that. He knows that summer is not my thing.

Not everyone writes. So people don’t generally understand the emotional highs and lows, the ever plaguing doubts and insecurities, and the need to try, even if the dream of becoming published and successful inches farther and farther away every day.

I do have one friend who gets it, but he’s a college student. My co-teacher’s son, William. He’s an aspiring writer who plans to masquerade as a history teacher. The rare moments we get to see each other, there’s not enough time in the world to share our successes and failures and ideas, etc. But it’s good, for a few minutes, to speak the same language, to have the same understanding, you know?

That’s just one of the many, many reasons I’m so thankful to have all of you. Whether you know it or not, you help me. You inspire and encourage me. By commenting and commiserating; by going before and throwing breadcrumbs liberally behind you; and you even take a few minutes to read and offer feedback when I hesitantly put something up that’s writing, not just posting.

And what makes it even more special, is that you offer your time and support regularly, even with just plain ol’ everyday life stuff.

I don’t remember what made me think of Tinkerbell the other day, but when I did, I had this image of all of you. Of us; our little cyber-social world. Most of us are not what I call ‘face-to-face’ friends. We’ll likely never meet (except if you live in my state, it would really be cool!), but we still get to know each other a bit. I miss it when I can’t visit more regularly. I miss you when you’re gone for a while. There have been occasions when people have left permanently, one way or another, and I’ve been genuinely sad.

As I thought about Tinkerbell, I began to wonder. Sure, we blog for all sorts of reasons, but… you think – is there a bit of Tinkerbell inside us all? Inside of me?

I can only answer for myself. And I would have to say yes, I do believe there is a bit of her in me. Or, rather, I’m a little like her….somewhere. I get weary and tired. Especially when it comes to writing and trying to figure out some of the what if’s and the what now’s and so forth. Not to mention the self-sabotaging I do sometimes. And there isn’t anyone who understands. They want to, but, like I said before, it’s just not their thing. I love them for their desire to help and if their support is in the form of clearing the way for me to write uninterrupted and without any fuss because the dishes aren’t washed, then that’s fabulous to me *waving and blowing a kiss to Honey!*

I think that’s part of what makes you guys so special. You do understand. When one of us has fallen down because of rejections, or a block, or illness, or whatever, we clap our hands and remind each other that we do believe, we do believe! We remind each other that there are people out there, somewhere, tethered to a computer in a room, typing, and going through similar things. And that we’re not alone.

Hope is offered. So is understanding. Often, sound advice and creative ideas are, too. Sometimes a laugh, which always helps. {{{{hugs}}}} are priceless.

Pretty soon, even if a solution isn’t in sight, a warm glow fills us and we revive, ready to try again. Just because someone, somewhere, believes…….

So thank you, my friends, for all the times you clap for me. Just know that I’m clapping for you, too. I do believe! I do believe!

So, for all of you who regularly come by and visit, sharing wisdom and laughter and commiseration, this is for you. No rules. Just a thank you. I really, really mean it. It’s yours. Share it with whomever you choose.

BTW, image gotten from a free image source. Way cool site.

>Words: A Letter To Mom


Well, it’s Mother’s Day. For some of us, that’s a complicated day. Yes, I loved my mother and I choose to believe she loved me. I’ve stated in the past that ours was a very complicated relationship. It helps to know that she was sick for a really long time, and I’m not talking about her condition. I’m talking about her depression. And of course the grandmother was the root of much evil, but that’s a story for another day….
My mother had diabetes and the last insulin she was put on was later (after her death) blamed for many deaths. My sister and I discussed whether we should pursue a law suit. In the end, we didn’t want to relive the pain and horror of it all over and over again. And truly, Mom suffered horribly. We had all been through enough, so we let it go. 
Mom entered the hospital for what the doctors told us would be the last time. We’d been here so many times before….I worked second shift then and I cleared it with the head nurse on duty to come after 12am and sit with her. Of course when I arrived, another nurse was on duty and she said I absolutely could not visit at that hour. I told her that. I. was. sitting. with. my. mother. She left me alone.
I sat for just over an hour with Mom. Her breathing was difficult but there was such a feeling of peace about her. She told me I needed to go home and get some sleep. I said I was staying. I am as stubborn as she ever was, and that’s saying something. We sat in a companionable silence most of the time. It was enough. Finally, knowing that I was worrying her, I kissed her on the cheek and told her I loved her and she said she loved me too. Those were the last words we ever spoke to each other while she was alive. Again, another story…..
When I came home from her funeral, still in my dress, I sat down and wrote her a letter. It came out almost exactly as you will see it here. It was the second poem I put on my poetry blog…’s a pretty good summation of our relationship.

I think of the words

I should say
sitting here with you
Please don’t worry
it’ll be okay
knowing they’re all untrue
There is no future
only the past
thoughts lay heavy in my mind
The second hand’s turning
time’s slipping fast
I’ll give you what I can find
Fumbling through the memories
locked deep in my heart
I cry out in despair
So many times
words tore us apart
neither of us seemed to care
We gave plenty of words in anger
and quite a few in blame
too many now that can’t be taken back
Saddened with bitter regret
I lower my head in shame
I’m stunned by the courage we lack
How simple it would have been
to say I understand
forgive the things I do
I wonder if we had
would you have taken my hand
could we ever have said I love you
Still we shared many a laugh
good times lasted for miles
I wish you could come home
I want to go with you
I guess I’ll stay for a while
I’m afraid of being alone
Words really aren’t needed
we know each other too well
the past already forgot
You leave me here
in my sweet private hell
I watch as the second hand stops
RSM 4/20/1994

>RAIN – Why I Love It So


Some time back, I did a post on rain and why I love it. I mentioned the way the earth smells and how the hues of nature are richer, and so forth. But, in the writing of that post, something came out that I hadn’t considered before….

Many people find the sound of rain (not the torrential kind) soothing. ‘K, we all know that. We also know that babies (and puppies) are often comforted by the sound of a ticking clock. Doctors say it’s because the sound reminds them of their mothers’ heartbeat.

Here’s the part I liked about that piece: rain soothes our inner child. We get weary, worn down, tired. Our inner child is neglected, pushed aside so that we can take care of more important matters-work, relationships, hobbies, blah, blah, blah. We burn out… least I do. Especially in the summer.

For me, rain is like a magic tonic for my mind and soul. Everything smells fresh and feels cool. I can find a cozy place and snuggle with a book. Or close my eyes and listen to some music. Maybe watch a good movie.

Gray, cloudy, foggy, rainy days are my portal to other worlds, whether they’re in my daydreams or in familiar and much loved tales.

Like Bastian in The Neverending Story, I want to hide from the world and let a book take me so deeply into itself that I become a part of it. Rain can do that for me. When I listen to rain falling and feel its coolness against my skin, wonder is renewed and a childlike belief that anything really is possible is reborn. If it’s raining outside, you can bet that I’m in a pretty good mood. I am at peace.

 It’s where I find some of my best ideas…..

Is it really the Irish in me, like I always claim? I don’t know. What I do know is that the little kid in me loves to wander around in a rainy day…..

>For Kenny…..A Tribute


Bless the Beasts and the Children, for in this world they have no choice, they have no voice…  by Karen Carpenter
Tiny little paws make permanent prints all over our souls. 
They come into our lives,
on purpose,
by accident, 
as miracles.
The lucky ones are cherished.
We let them in.
We feed them,
bathe them,
keep them safe
and warm
and healthy.
And they give.
They trust.
And love.
And when they leave,
they tear a hole in our hearts.
Broken and devastated,
we honor them
with our tears,
our pain, 
and our recollection
of all the time we shared with them.
This week,
a friend of ours
was left behind.
His cherished companion
crossed over the Rainbow Bridge,
leaving behind sad faces and broken hearts,
as well as sickness and pain.
It isn’t easy, 
letting them go.
Love is a double edged sword.
It heals
and cuts
and heals again.
And one day,
we’ll follow shadowy prints
over a bridge,
through a misty veil…..
and be greeted by 
warm fuzzy kisses, 
excited barks
and happy purrs.
Till that day,
may they always run
over fields that are green
and under skies that are blue.
…..for Kenny
RSM 1/6/2011

>Wednesday Haiku-River Of Stones-Now Showing…..All In One Post, Whew!


Jenn from You Know…that Blog? hosts the weekly Sensational Wednesday Haiku. The theme for this week is Resolutions. Here’s my entry for the week:


I’m following through

setting goals and meeting them
one step at a time


A River of Stones is an international writing project begun by Fiona Robyn and Kaspa. For more detailed information, including how to submit your writings for a chance to be included in the anthology, go here.

The goal is to “pay attention to one thing every day during the month of January and write it down.”

Here are a few of my stones so far…..

a black cloud hovered over me, hiding in my peripherals.
tinting my perception; tainting my mood; creasing my brow

two little children were playing in block center at the end of the day, a boy and a girl. I crept up to them, hands raised like claws, struggling to maintain my fierce facade.  the little girl simply smiled, confident and amused. the little boy laughed and squealed. then suddenly, he jumped up and stood in front of the little girl, arms spread wide. on his face was an expression even fiercer than mine.

he told me NO! YOU CAN’T GET HER! his brow was furrowed but his lips hinted at a smile. this tiny little knight, fearlessly standing his ground to protect his friend from the big bad monster. I was slain by his courage.

a half grown bundle of fur, curled up under the covers, her warm body next to mine. her purrs became soft snores as she turned to lay on her back, exposed and vulnerable. confident and secure, the former orphan is completely at home.


Madeleine from Scribble and Edit is hosting the Now Showing Blogfest in which we’re challenged to convert one or more of the provided prompts from telling to showing.

This is a great writing exercise! Here’s my entry:

Her heart raced and her breathing became shallow as she felt the heat rising in her face, bringing with it the neon scarlet that drew every eye to hers.

If you haven’t already, be sure to check out my giveaway and see if there is anything you’d like to take a chance at winning!!!

>My New Year’s Wish…..


Well. It’s New Year’s Eve.

This is traditionally a time of reflection and of looking ahead…..

Looking back:

This has been a hard year for me in many ways. Not a bad year, mind you. Just hard….

I’ve had to let go of things, of people, of dreams…..

It’s seemed as if every teeny, tiny thing was an epic battle, no exaggerating. I pinky promise.

And my hormones are wreaking havoc on my emotional state. I know what it is, I’m just not ready to face that particular reality. TMI, I know…but I’m looking back here….

One of the hardest things about this year, for me, has been Honey’s jobs. He had been working for a satellite company, which would have him out till whenever, and in all sorts of weather conditions. I hated it and so did he; but we were both thankful that he had a job.

Then, he got a job working with his BFF. He absolutely loves it. And he’s not in the weather. But, where before he had three days off every week, he now only has one. And the hours are just as long….

Still, there have been many wonderful things about the year:

Squirmy was born.
Director’s husband is cancer free.
Roo came into our lives.
My family is healthy and employed.
I’m fortunate enough to love the people I work with and for.
My husband loves his job and works with and for great people, too.
We paid off a lot of debt.
We have a home. And heat. And food.
I began writing. I wrote a book (nano).
And I met all of you….

That’s not too bad, huh?

As for resolutions, I gave those up long ago. They’re exercises in failure.

In February, I decided to write. And I have. It was my only goal for the year.

This coming year, I’m concentrating on The Follow-Through. That encompasses many things for me.

If I can manage to follow-through on at least one thing a day, it will be a success. And success is measured in small victories. I intend to build upon those small victories……I’m going to make success a habit. It only takes twenty-one days for a thing to become a habit, did you know that?

So, for the coming year, I wish for us all the healthy habit of success….

Successful in our relationships….
Successful in our work….
Successful in our creativity….
Successful in our letting go of negative things….
Successful in our endeavor to become better selves….
Successful in our healing….
Successful in our courage….

I’ve not put periods at the ends of any of these sentences because they’re open to interpretation. Healing for me may be different from healing for you….and we all have various things in our lives that require courage….

I am being courageous (more than you know) in hoping these things. I want them for all of you, but hoping them for myself…..that’s a big deal.

And for me, it will be all about The Follow-Through…..and the key will be not focusing on all these things I’ve listed or looking at the big picture. It will be about focusing on one thing at a time; doing it; completing it; and moving to the next thing….and success will simply be the natural by-product….

So, my New Year’s Wish is simply this:

I hope for all of you that this new year will hold many successes, in many forms, and so abundantly that you will have to begin heaping it onto others…..and still have so much left over that you can just wallow in it from time to time….

>A Tale For A Cold, Wintry Night


 …..I lived all alone in a city far from my family. It was winter, almost Christmas, and I had no money for a tree. My TV and VCR had been pawned to buy shoes for work. And work was getting slim…..

My nephew, who’d always loved spending weekends with me, didn’t mind the lack of a TV. We played Connect Four, Monopoly, Othello, Battleship, Trouble, and all kinds of card games. I kept craft supplies and we painted, created, and built. Plus, I still had my stereo….

We also spent lots of time at parks and even splurged on rare trips to the movies. Libraries were always part of our agenda. At least ten or twenty books came home with us every time we visited.

Even when he was twelve, Nephew came for weekends and, by that time, his little sister came some, too. She was much more attached to their mom and hated being away from her for very long…..

Anyway…… was winter and almost Christmas. Nephew and Niece wanted to come spend the weekend and I reminded Sister of my limited funds. She asked if they could please just come and of course, I said yes. In a rare turnabout, she provided for me. She brought groceries, including snacks, and a little table top tree, complete with ornaments and lights. Wow.

It was too cold for the park, but we had a blast playing games, making ornaments and reading books; even cooking and cleaning. Niece felt very grown up helping with laundry and Nephew could actually cook a casserole, and I let him.

Saturday evening rolled around and we were thinking about what to do, when Nephew suggested the Narnia tapes.

A few years previously, I’d stumbled upon a radio theater broadcast of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. It was taped in London and produced by a branch of Focus on the Family. It was stunning. I managed to tape the broadcast and Nephew and I had listened to it many times; Niece had never heard it.

We popped corn, made hot chocolate, dragged all the mattresses and blankets into the living room, lit candles and turned off the lights. When we were all in our jammies and cozy, I started the tape….the music filled the room and Douglas Gresham (Lewis’ step-son) introduced the presentation. No one made a sound; even the crunching of popcorn seemed to be muted.

The soft glow of candlelight and the magical twinkling of colored lights lent an air of believability to the sounds of Lucy entering Narnia, the discovery of Tumnus’ capture, meeting Aslan for the very first time, the great battle…..all of it.

I watched Niece’s eyes grow wide in her beautiful expressive face and I heard her sharp intakes of breath….she was captivated, like her brother and I. I had to play it again as we went to sleep, camped out on the living room floor, swathed in the light of multi-colored stars and the sounds of another world all around us.

When things got better, I went to the website and got the CD versions of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe and The Magician’s Nephew. I’ve listened to them both over the years, mostly at Christmas because that’s when I first heard them.

My nephew asked to borrow the discs a couple years ago, but I didn’t have them anymore. He seemed genuinely disappointed…..

With the release of the movies, I’ve longed to listen to the beautiful adaptations again. The other night, after seeing a trailer on the internet for The Dawn Treader, I made up my mind to get another copy. I’m listening to Wardrobe right now….as I write this.

Well known stage and film actors, a live orchestra, Foley artists, and atmosphere out the wazoo, make these adaptations completely amazing. You know how you read a book and use your own imagination? And, how you see a movie and want to close your eyes and keep the images? Listening to these Cd’s is just like that….a book being brought to life in your head, that sounds like a movie….

When I went looking for a new copy, I found….wait for it…….the whole collection – for the same price I originally paid for just the Wardrobe disc.

Want to know a secret? I bought two sets. One for me, and one for……..


****Edit: Um, sorry if I’ve misled you all! The other set is for something coming up at the end of the month!****

>The Three Little Lost Girls – An Anniversary Tale, Sort Of….


I came home from work today and, as usual, Roo ran to greet me. I put away my backpack containing my laptop, my purse, and the mail, while she twisted her way between my feet. She stood on her hind legs and reached up with her front ones. She wanted to be picked up and cuddled.
Roo is a rescue kitty; she wandered up to Pooh late one night and made her way to us the next day. Honey picked her up on his way home from work, even though he hadn’t originally wanted to.
We already had a rescue kitty, Kitty Boss. She had wandered into the warehouse of the satellite company he worked for, starving and desperate for food. He reluctantly brought her home, too. Both times, he brought them home because I wanted them.

It’s interesting to compare their behaviors and personalities. Roo was rescued at seven weeks and Kitty Boss at seven months. Roo is much more outgoing and fearless-she’s had a secure life/home since she was still a baby. Kitty Boss is more reserved and skittish. She was nearly full grown before stability came to her. She lived in a state of hunger and fear for much longer than Roo and it still shows to anyone outside our little family.

As I picked up and cuddled Roo for a few moments, it occurred to me that this would be her first Christmas. I was excited for her since she’d formerly been homeless and in need of veterinary aid-she had several health issues in the beginning.

I thought of how much joy she’d brought to our family and how Kitty Boss loves her, even when she’s being a pest.

Then it dawned on me. Honey had rescued all three of us: Kitty Boss, Roo, and me.

I had been a lost girl, too. I had accepted my life of aloneness even though I didn’t like it. I was broken and insecure in more ways than I could tell  you in a week.

Honey and I met at work and one day, he just started talking to me. We became friends, then best friends, then…we got married. Not that he’s ever asked me, mind you. He just made up his mind that it was a done deal.

That was nine years ago this coming December 20th. Truly, I’m not the easiest person to put up with sometimes. I still have insecurities and scars that affect me, but Honey is pretty darn terrific at dealing with me.

When there is a sudden noise or unfamiliar voice, Kitty Boss’s eyes widen and you can see her gearing up for flight to the nearest hidey-hole. If there is food on the counter or something shiny on the floor, Roo won’t hesitate to go after it and eat it, even if it’s plastic. I’m an emotional eater; I’m reactionary; I’m a ‘worst case scenario’ thinker…all the time; I’m also impulsive. These things don’t always make for happy-smiley-fun days.

And, yet, here we are, rescued, the three of us, by a guy who probably had no idea what he was getting in to when he brought us home.

We are loved and cared for and even spoiled. He probably wouldn’t give you a nickel for any of us, but he wouldn’t trade us for a million dollars, either.

Kitty Boss has learned to hide less and has taken on a mothering role to Roo. Roo jumps on the cabinets less often and she never gets on the table anymore. I’ve learned about Daddy through Honey’s patience and generosity; I’ve also learned to be a little more optimistic and hopeful about things.

Honey, like my Daddy, is a finder of lost things. Like my Daddy, Honey is kind and patient and gentle (his name actually means ‘healer’). He makes us feel safe and loved and welcome.

As I consider this Christmas, Roo’s first, Kitty Boss’s third, and my ninth, with Honey, I realize how full my heart is. We are very fortunate and I am thankful beyond words.

His lost girls have come a long way….

>A Christmas Tale Blogfest – My Special Christmas Wish…..


This is my entry for the Christmas Tales Blogfest hosted by Ellie Garrett. Be sure to go over and check out all the other entries…..

When I decided to share some Christmas memories in the form of stories, I didn’t know what I was getting in to. I’ve gone off in directions I hadn’t expected and had to dredge up feelings and allow myself to be what I call emotionally naked. Something will pop into my  head and demand to be written and I’m finding I have no idea what’s coming out until it’s there, no matter how hard it is for me. This one is very personal….

I’m going to ask you to do something. Please play the video, softly, then begin reading.

This one  is for my very own, real CindyLoo….

Dear Daddy,

Things are kinda busy here, as You well know. It’s my favorite time of year and I really want to recapture that special magic that it used to have.

Funny, isn’t it, how it’s my favorite thing I got from Mom, my love of Christmas….I wish she could be here but knowing she’s with You makes it alright. Tell her I said hello and that I love her, would You?

I have a blog now and for Christmas, I’m posting stories from (mostly) my childhood. It’s kinda scary, though, the way it’s turning out. Things are coming out of me I hadn’t expected. Like this letter….

I’ve been thinking a lot about Sister lately. She’s pretty much made herself unwanted with everyone else but me. I suppose because I can remember when things were different and she was a different person….

We used to spend whole days shopping at Christmas. Even when we had no money, we’d find ways to get everyone something. And we’d laugh the whole time. Do You remember the time with the race track for Brother? I wrote about that. She was a great Santa. Brother probably doesn’t remember – he was still pretty young.

We always called each other on our birthdays. She never forgot to call….

She was the one who went with me to the doctor and she stayed with me when they told me I was probably going to die without immediate surgery. I was so scared. I wouldn’t have made it without her there. She was the one who drove me home, 11 days later, and we laughed about getting stopped for speeding and me getting taken in because I had lost so much weight and I looked like a junkie…all those IV’s.

She wanted me in the hospital room with her when Niece was born. I’ve never witnessed anything as miraculous as Niece being born. My arms shook from holding her upright during her epidural….and she never cried out in pain. Not once. Even though the epidural didn’t take.

Remember what a mess she was when First Niece was born and she came to live with You? I think that messed her up a lot….along with so many other things.

Nephew has forgotten how she was all he had for so many years. He has a right to be angry about later; but for a long time…she was it.

So much has happened….and I don’t know if it can be fixed. It would have to be You. She won’t listen to anyone else, not even me.

And now…… now, it’s Christmas and I have no idea where she is except lost in the dark.

I guess what I really wanted to say, well, to ask, was….would You send some angels to watch over her? To keep her safe? Would You whisper to her when she sleeps and tell her that I remember? That I know that locked under all the pain and anger and hurt and fear and regret and sorrow and loss….is the self she used to be? And that it’s okay to feel all those feelings and that it’s safe to come back out?

Would You hold her in Your hand and make her feel safe and healed and whole?

And would You do the same for Niece and Nephew?

I miss her. I miss the she she used to be. I miss the we that we once were. But even if we could not be as we as we once were, I would wish that she could be the she You want her to be. That’s my Christmas wish, Daddy.

I will hold all the memories in my heart and cherish them. I will nurture them with all my hope and love till that day the wish becomes reality….

It’s getting late and I need a tissue, so I’m going to end here. Just please, consider my wish….

Thank You, Daddy
I’ll be in touch….
Love and hugs….
And Happy Birthday,