When I drink too much
Wine
One of two things
Happen:
Unfortunately I
Cannot
Remember
Even
One.
May God bless and
Keep each of you,
Dear readers.
Peace, people!
Month: April 2015
Tuesday Poem
Tuesday’s child,
Full of grace
Excluded from
Beauty,
Saved from
Woe, by two
Dozen hours
Or so.
Fickle time
Declares which
Gifts might be
Bestowed,
Based on a stroke
Of luck or the
Hands of a
Clock.
Tick tock.
As a child this poem always bothered me. It seemed to put poor Wednesday at a disadvantage from birth, while Sunday got all the good stuff. Hardly fair! Always interested in justice, that’s me. Oh, I was born on a Friday in case anyone’s keeping tabs.
Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of grace, Wednesday’s child is full of woe, Thursday’s child has far to go, Friday’s child is loving and giving, Saturday’s child works hard for a living, But the child who is born on the Sabbath day Is fair and wise and good in every way.
Peace, People!
New-to-me
Places I’ve never been
Are my favorite destinations
I cannot wait to place my
Feet on new-to-me land.
Don’t get me wrong;
I’d have been a terrible
Pioneer.
Scared of snakes,
Petrified of the unknown,
Reluctant to venture
Outside the camp’s
Boundaries.
Still, there is a large
Part of me that needs the
Thrill of driving on
New-to-me roads, of
Treading on new-to-me
Sidewalks, of eating
New-to-me foods.
Like an overgrown
Child on a raucous
Rollercoaster,
For the very first time:
Hands in the air
Stomach in my throat
Wheeeee! 
Antigua, here I come.
Peace, People!
Monday Poem
Please spare me your Monday hate
Your “weekend’s over” ire.
Approximately one-seventh of one’s
Life is spent on Mondays.
One-seventh!
Disparaging Mondays is akin to
Putting down the first (or second, or third, etc.)
Decade of one’s existence.
Let’s revisit our relationship with
Monday. Put a crown on it,
Cloak it in ermine-trimmed velvet and
Parade it through the halls of your
Life.
Name a rum drink in Monday’s honor:
“Monchata!” 
Now let’s celebrate!
Holy Grail Trail
When did purchasing a simple thing like traveler’s checks turn out to be the equivalent of searching for the holy grail? Banks, for the most part no longer offer them. AAA doesn’t sell them. I had a lead from one bank that there was a rumor that another bank might still sell them. Nope. I could order checks from American Express, but they might or might not arrive before I depart on Wednesday.
I guess I’ll be traveling with cash then. I just remember the days when one could walk into one’s bank and buy the darned things. Did I hallucinate?
Only Two Remain
duke blue devils
wisconsin badgers
one team will win
one team will lose
after all, nobody’s
perfect.
just ask the
kentucky wildcats.
Going, Going, Almost Gone
I suffer from a condition I’ve labelled calendar dyslexia. Calendar dyslexia results in dates and times being confused, reversed, and even forgotten.
For a couple of months now I’ve been planning my trip to Antigua, Guatemala. My airline reservations have been made and printed, and I have the documents neatly filed in a folder proudly stamped: “Guatemala!”
I’ve told everyone I know that I’m going to leave on Thursday, April 9. I’ve planned to pack for a trip that leaves on Thursday, April 9. A week ago I pulled out my itinerary to see what time my flight departs. Imagine my surprise when I read that my flight is scheduled for 7:10 a.m. on Wednesday, April 8.
After experiencing a brief out of body moment, I texted my brother to find out when I’d told him to expect me. Thank goodness I’d copied him on my original itinerary, so he wasn’t caught off guard.
All was discovered well in advance of the trip, so no harm, no foul. This time.
You see, calendar dyslexia has affected me on numerous occasions. Once I was visiting my son and his family in Keller, Texas. I’d told him I was flying home on Thursday. My daughter happened to call on Wednesday morning and asked when I’d be flying back to Illinois. I told her, Thursday the 12th. She got really quiet and said, “Mom, today’s the 12th.”
“No,” I argued. “Tomorrow’s the 12th.”
I didn’t have a smart phone at the time, but I ran upstairs and dug out my itinerary. Sure enough, my flight was to leave on Wednesday. In less than three hours.
I got off the phone with daughter and called son. Since I was babysitting his beautiful children I couldn’t just hop in a cab and head to the airport. He was at his office in Dallas and had to make haste to get home. In the meantime I bathed, dressed, got the kids ready to go and packed. We raced to the airport and I arrived just minutes before my flight.
There was no way I would make it. Except that someone was looking out for me (fools and drunks, you know) and the flight was delayed.
I’d provide other examples, but perhaps I’ll save them. My self-esteem can handle only so much humiliation at one time.
Easter Sunday Poem
Where are the children
Dressed in Easter finery?
Babies grown and gone.
Once there were pretty
Baskets filled, overflowing
With colorful eggs
And sweet chocolate bunnies.
Now we enjoy brunch
With pitchers of mimosas
No children in sight.
No giggles, no smiles
Just videos across miles
Better than nothing,
But my poor heart
Aches with emptiness and love
Miss you, children.
Notice Jason’s mullet–he thought he needed the haircut to be a better wrestler. Ashley didn’t want anyone to see her snaggle-toothed smile, thus the firmly closed lips.
My beautiful almost grown up children during their year together as students at The University of Kansas. Now they’re both parents. Sigh.
Peace, People!
Love-less Poem
April is National Poetry Writing Month, and today’s task called for me to write a love poem without using the word “love” or employing any of the phrases associated with love poems.
His butt looks kind of perfect
Wrapped in that turquoise
Towel.
I mean it’s not a work of
Art or anything, but it’s the
Part of him I watch when
He leaves our bed to
Shower.
His eyes could be a deeper
Shade of green,
I suppose,
Though I doubt they could
Twinkle any more than they
Already do.
He never brings me
Breakfast in bed, and
Seldom sends me
Flowers.
I should probably
Divorce him over those
Lapses, but he cries at
Sappy movies, and
Would probably
Cry if I left.
I know I would if the
Situation were
Reversed.
Easter
I won’t pretend to be a religious scholar. Plenty of folks do that with mixed results and dubious credibility.
But I do know that love and forgiveness are at the heart of the teachings of Jesus, and that even in his torment on the cross He called for His Father to forgive those who were crucifying His son.
Wow.
Peace, love, and forgiveness, People!
Praying for Eyebrowz 