neither sticks nor stones
or catapulted pavers
can sever one’s soul.
only words spoken
in anger wield that power;
ever guard your tongue.
worthwhile advice yet
spoken much too late to save
me from my nature.
Peace, people!
Author: nananoyz
I'm a semi-retired crazy person with one husband and two cats.
Coulda Been
Studly and I were chilling out at Doright Manor on Saturday evening, binge watching the comedy series Last Man Standing, and the same commercial played at every break.
In this commercial an actress delivered the line, “My name is Cookie ask about me.” No pause, no comma. I took exception to her delivery.
After the fourth time I said, “It sounds like she’s saying her name is Cookie Askaboutme. The line should be, ‘My name is Cookie. Ask about me'” And I said it in a drop dead perfectly sexy voice.
“Isn’t my delivery better?” I asked Studly. Wise man that he is, Studly nodded his head in agreement.
“I coulda been an actress,” I said. “All I needed were good looks and talent.”
Building on that theme I continued, “I coulda been a boxer if I’d had muscles and strength!”
“I coulda been a singer if I’d had a good voice and rhythm.”
“I coulda been a model if I didn’t weigh so damned much.”
Studly just kept nodding his head sagely at each declaration. Finally I prompted him to contribute.
“I coulda been a loser,” he said, “if I weren’t so damned talented.”
What a negative Nellie. I coulda been a rich woman, if I’d married someone with a positive outlook….
Peace, people!
Moon Me
Count me in
When the full moon rises
I’ll change my tune,
Play hard to get
You’ll try to chase me,
But my heart will make
Me too strong for any
Mortal man to catch.
Full Moon Haiku
full moon, golden orb.
black night’s answer to sun’s light.
sisters of heaven. 
fleeting lunar sign
waning body fades to dark,
empty, moon called new.
oh man in the moon,
walk us, watch us, guide us home.
gently hold our hands.
written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt–Full Moon.
Don’t Tell Me
Don’t tell me your
Secrets.
I have plenty of my own.
Don’t tell me your
Rules
I’ll just break them.
Don’t tell me your
Fears
Lest they trigger mine.
Don’t tell me you’re
Sorry
Unless you truly are.
Motion: Bride A-go-go
In response to the Weekly Photo Challenge: Motion
My favorite photo from my time in Antigua, Guatemala, shows my beautiful niece Hanna embracing her official transition from Miss to Mrs.
I heard an old man say….
All that’s beautiful drifts away like water.
Frank Sinatra
Cats in My Life
in response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Menagerie: Do you have animals in your life? If yes, what do they mean to you?
two cats have i:
scout,
my eldest girl
loves with her whole
heart.
i am her favorite, or
so i like to
think.
she chooses to sleep on
my side of the
bed much of the time.
given two laps,
side by side, most often
mine
is the one on which she
snuggles.
but scout keeps
space in her
heart
for strangers and
permits others to
pet and snuggle her
close.
patches,
my younger kitty
seldom allows
affection.
only with
trepidation
does she seek
human contact
so completely
aloof
is she.
but when she
craves affection
i am the
center of her
universe.
her cold nose
bumps against my
arm, code for
pet me, please!
and i am
moved
for she engages
no one else, save
me.
if my life were to
end tomorrow
loving scout
would soon
adapt to my
absence.
but patches, sweet
lonely kitty
would grieve
the loss of
her best
friend.
if i were to
lose either
cat
i would be
inconsolable.
Eternal Love (or the next best thing)
As a modern, open-minded and sexually-awakened (whatever the hell that means) woman, I thought I’d seen just about everything. But nooo! As I was browsing my Facebook page today I came upon this little gem:
Because love never dies: Put your loved one’s ashes in a glass dildo
In 1901 Dr. Duncan “Om” MacDougall began a series of experiments wherein he placed elderly, terminal tuberculosis patients on massive industrial scales, hospital bed and all. MacDougall weighed six subjects before and after death, and concluded from the postmortem weight loss that the human soul weighs 21 grams—hence the name of designer Mark Sturkenboom‘s “memory-box.”
With 21 Grams Sturkenboom has managed to create an opportunity for a truly libidinalmourning experience. The “kit” comes in a sleek, Jobsian case, openable only with a key that doubles as a lovely pendant necklace. Inside you find an atomizer bulb (to spritz your beloved’s perfume), a set of internal speakers to amplify music from the iPhone dock in the back, and a blown-glass dildo containing a tiny urn of ashes—21 grams of ashes, to be precise. Sturkenboom describes the project thusly:
21 Grams is a memory-box that allows a widow to go back to the intimate memories of a lost beloved one. After a passing, the missing of intimacy with that person is only one aspect of the pain and grief.
This forms the base for 21 Grams. The urn offers the possibility to conserve 21 grams of ashes of the diseased and displays an immortal desire. By bringing different nostalgic moments together like the scent of his perfume, ‘their’ music and reviving the moment he gave her her first ring, it opens a window to go back to moments of love and intimacy.She is able to have an intimate night with her sweetheart again.
Before you go all Social Justice Warrior on Sturkenboom for the heteronormativity of “widow,” (for who wouldn’t want to be penetrated by a loved one’s earthly remains, regardless of gender or marital status?!?), the inspiration for 21 Grams” is actually an elderly widow—he sometimes helps her carry her groceries. Sturkenboom noticed the urn containing her husband’s ashes, remarking, “she always speaks with so much love about him but the jar he was in didn’t reflect that at all.”
Sturkenboom has not said whether or not his muse is flattered by his tribute.
Yes, should Studly Doright precede me in death I can take steps to insure that he is with me always. I hope my second husband, Bradley Cooper, is okay with this arrangement.
And if I should precede the Studmeister? Maybe they’d construct a fitting receptacle from my ashes. Too much? Dahling, puhlease!
Peace, People!
Curiosity and the Door
Behind this door lies
Madness, maybe, or magic.
Only time may tell.
Green doorway beckons,
Oft polished tiles pave the way
Stay wary, be wise.
From ether appeared
Long-limbed, staff-carrying Mage.
My breath caught; exhaled.
“Magician, tell me
Secrets from beyond grave’s door.”
“Those must wait,” he said,
“For your own demise,
Your journey beyond life’s pale
Do not hurry there!”
Patience, I have none.
Again I begged the wizard,
“A hint, please of what’s to come!”
Wickedly, he smiled,
“Child, ask me no more!
Twice have I refused your bid
Thrice will serve you not!”
But eager was I
To know secrets dark and deep
Again I bade him,
“Answer me! ‘Tis truth I seek!”
Rakishly grinned he,
“You should have escaped, my dear,
Now face your nightmare!”
Force flew from his hand,
A blinding light soon followed
To my knees I fell
Trembling with fear
Awestruck by his power play.
“Enough,” I cried. “Please!”
“Your pleas fail to halt
The mighty powers I have
Set into motion.”
Now in this casket
I am sealed without a hope
Of ever leaving,
Of ever loving,
But at least I still have a
Wicked way with words.
Curiosity
Killed the cat I’ve heard it said.
And it entombed me.
I snapped these photos in Antigua, Guatemala, at la Casa de Santa Domingo, a hotel built around the ruins of an ancient monastery. Sometimes my imagination has its way with me.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 