Scaling Walls

a ladder might have made climbing easier, but ladders are for wussies.

so i backed up and took a run at the wall, jumping up to hang my fingers on the lip.

scrabbling feet searched for a hold, catching a fractured brick just right only to have

pieces of mortar crumble into rubble beneath my feet.

dropping down i crouched, defeated by the scale.

by now a crowd had gathered egging me on
“try!” “you can do it!” some cheered; others jeered.

renewed determination coursed through my brain trickling down to trembling limbs.

once again i made the run, leaping with all my might.

chin knocked wobbly, i fell back in the dust, chest heaving, eyes watering.

a wee face peeked over from the other side. “can i give you a hand lady?”

“sure, child,” i said, taking his hand and stepping over the barrier.

  

Say What You Mean–A Joke Y’all

A Texas Aggie goes in to see his doctor and says, “Doc, I want to be castrated.”

The doctor looks at the Aggie and says, “Surely you don’t want that. It’s a very serious operation and once you go through it it can’t be undone.”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, Doc,” says the Aggie.

The doctor does his best to talk the Aggie out of the surgery, but he refuses to budge. 

Finally the doctor says, “Well, if you’re sure, I’ll perform the surgery. But it’s against my better judgement.”

So the Aggie has his operation, and the next day he is up and walking very slowly, legs apart, down the hospital corridor with his IV stand in tow. Heading towards him is another patient, who is walking exactly the same way.
 “Hey there,” says the Aggie, “It looks as if you’ve just had the same operation as me.”

“Well,” said the patient, “I finally decided to be circumcised.” 

The Aggie snapped his fingers and said, said, “Circumcised! THAT’S the word!”

Courtesy of Sickipedia.org: http://www.sickipedia.org/sex-and-shit/castration#ixzz3zLgF1Ovf

I Hear Music

Sometimes in the early morning
after my man has left for work,
but before I have left our bed,
I hear a melody playing behind
my eyelids, soft yet insistent.

Instantly, though, once I open
my eyes, the sweet strains are
dissipated, music diffused all
throughout the greater cosmos,
and in vain I seek the source.

Creeping stealthily from covers
I tiptoe through our quiet home
pausing with held breath hoping
to surprise the makers of music,
but at hide and seek they excel.

The tiny musicians, for they must
be faeries, or related small folk,
lurk just outside of my eyesight’s
range, giggling giddily of that I
am sure; mischief is their nature.

So I return to bed, to the comfort
of my blankets and snuggle down in
a cloud of cool cotton and fleece.
My breaths lengthen, my eyes close,
and the music begins playing again.

  

I actually do hear phantom music, and have my entire life. Until I mentioned it to someone else I just assumed everyone heard it. While that used to freak me out, now I just accept the music as a quirky blessing. It’d be nice, though, if I could get a number one hit out of it.

Peace, people!

The Wire

This is an important story. Please read more of Jan Wilberg’s work at redswrap.wordpress.com.

Jan Wilberg's avatarRed's Wrap

It wasn’t a coat hanger. It was a wire.

The theory was that by inserting the wire through the cervix, moving it around a bit and then removing it, an infection would result and the pregnancy would be aborted. It worked. It was March 1967.

Afterward, after I watched the ‘doctor’ wash his hands with one of those little soaps wrapped in white paper, after he tilted the bedside lamp just so and after he said, “That should do it,” I got dressed, left the motel with the flashing vacancy sign, made my way to the bus station in downtown Detroit, and rode in the dark in the eerie silence of a mostly empty Greyhound all the way back to Mt. Pleasant, the tiny Michigan town where I was a freshman in college. Curled up next to the window under my black pea coat, I wondered how long it would…

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Scolded

justifiably angry
broken heart
pieces scattered
irretrievably lost
dissolved dreams
visions mattered
unerringly paired
soul’s mate
conscience scolded
tearfully rejoined
love’s patience
now rewarded.

  

Musical Oasis 

After driving over 1100 miles I reached our daughter’s home in Rapids City, IL, a small town situated on the banks of the mighty Mississippi. I always think I’ll come up with a better adjective for this father of American rivers, but nothing suits it quite as well.

I guess we could say HUGE, but thanks to the current presidential elections the H word is so overworked. And it fails the alliteration test, so there’s that.

Last night I stayed at a dump of an inn in Nashville, Tennessee. I might’ve slept for three hours. But earlier in the evening I did get to go visit with my cousin, singer/songwriter Effron White who hosted a songwriter’s round at the Millennium Maxwell House. It was the first time in a decade that we were able to hang out.

The evening’s company and entertainment more than made up for a poor night’s rest. In fact, since I couldn’t sleep I just played all the songs back in my head. 

 

Effron and me and some groovy catsup.
 
 
I’m not even going to try and tag these guys. They were a talented bunch.
 

More photos from the evening. I was blown away by the level of talent in the room.

  
    
    

  
 Check out one of Effron’s songs as performed by Phil Lancaster. I just love the French introduction! 

http://youtu.be/A1YVPWqsJc0
Peace, people!

Round is a Shape

I am woefully out of shape. Most likely this is a direct result of a severe aversion to exercise and a fondness for Krispy Kreme donuts.

Rather than do anything to remedy my lack of physical fitness, I just turned to Pinterest to sum up my feelings. Sharing one’s feelings is healthy, right?

  
  
   
    
 

i want to look like jennifer aniston:
firm legs, tight butt, an angel’s smile.

  
instead i’m closer to chris christie
in looks and girth and style.

  
peace, people!

Mind your own

I found a strange appendage, long and large and warty

Hanging ’round my business, sorting dirty laundry.

“Who goes there?” I cried, fearing some loathsome beast. 

Don’t mind me, the creature smiled, I’m having a great feast.

You do know, it continued, your life is quite a mess,

Of politics, and feelings hurt, and choices, not the best

When at your age you should be content to sip your lemonade.

Your hair, your style–too bold, and your ways, unstaid.

Slow down, you’re old; and your actions too frenetic.

And face it, girl you should by now be feeling apologetic.

Why waste what time you’ve got on earth writing all the time,

When sad to say you haven’t gained the necessary skill of rhyme.

The creature paused to take a breath, and finally I saw

It was just a pathetic nose above a gaping maw.

“Scat, you boogery old snot locker,” I said.

“Keep out of my business. Worry over yours, instead. 

And like any good bully, away that nose did skulk

To lick his wounds and have himself a good self-righteous sulk.

Peace, people!

 

On The Road My Friends

At some point this morning I will have departed from Doright Manor to take a trip of epic, dare I say Odyssean, proportions. Having packed my bags with everything from winter boots and a parka to capris pants and flip flops I should surely be prepared for any eventuality.

My first destination is a point north of Nashville, Tennessee, for an overnight stay. From there I’m bound for our daughter’s home in Rapids City, Illinois, where I will be baby sitter-in-chief for my daughter’s three children while the parents go to cavort in the bright sun of a Mexican beach.

  
  
After a week in Illinois I’ll head south to the Texas panhandle, the place that no matter where on earth I roam will always be home. I’ll stay with the lovely Saint Helen who gave birth to Studly Doright and hopefully get to commune with the rest of the panhandle-dwelling Noyes bunch. 

  
Once they’ve chased me out of town with torches and pitchforks I’m off to Dallas to spend a night with our son if we can get our schedules to sync. Then it’s on to Houston, that most intimidating city, for a couple of nights with the oldest of my two younger brothers and his wife. They’re taking me and Studly’s eldest (she’d say prettiest) sister to a big event. I’m sure I’ll blog about it afterwards. If I’m still capable, that is. 

  
  
I have another event in mind for the Houston stay, but I’ll save that for another post, as well. 

When my brother finally kicks me out of his home I’ll begin working my way back to Doright Manor. Somewhere on that stretch of road is a wonderful little outlet mall that’s been calling my name for awhile now.

  
I’ve been writing like a mad woman to stock my blog with pieces to post daily during my trip. I’m sure there will be times I can post something from the road, but just in case I can’t, the blog must, and will, go on! 

Any prayers, blessings, positive thoughts, etc., offered up for my safe travels will be greatly appreciated. And as always, peace, people.