No April Fool’s joke here, just a song that’s older than I am! And yes, there was music way back then.
Tag: Daily Post
Hooray for Hollywood
If you were involved in a movie, would you rather be the director, producer, or lead actor? (Note: You cannot be the writer)
Scene one, Take five:
This time, relax into the kiss.
That’s right.
Make him think you trust him.
Cut!
Don’t maul him, caress him.
Let’s go again.
Take six:
Look into her eyes.
Taste her femininity.
Inhale her scent.
Cut!
I said inhale! Not debauch!
Again, people! Where’s the subtlety?
Take seven:
Touch his lips with your fingertips.
Good.
Lean in.
Beautiful.
Hold that kiss.
Just so.
Join hands.
Sigh into him.
Holy cow, this is good stuff.
That’s a wrap people.
Codes By Which To Live Haiku
In response to The Daily Post’s prompt:
I. Do unto others
As you would have others do
Unto you my child.
“The Golden Rule” Norman Rockwell, 1942
II. Be kind, consider
Every living person
Equal unto you. 
III. Keep your heart open
To the possibilities
Your soul aware.
IV. Allow your self to
Love unconditionally
Live without regret.
Peace, People!
To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
When our first son was very young, perhaps not yet two, he and I were snuggled under the covers on a cold, snowy morning. Studly Doright had left for work, so little Doright and I were catching a few precious zzzz’s.
As we basked in that delicious laziness that comes with sleeping in, little Doright asked sleepily, “Mommy, who is that man?”
I said, “What man, sweetie?”
“That one, Mommy, in the curtains.”
I saw nothing, but my heartbeat sped up just the same. Who knows who or what little Doright saw.
On another occasion I awakened from a nightmare in which Studly was chasing little Doright and me with a knife. I’d just finished reading Stephen King’s The Shining, so that dream was something of a logical consequence. However, from his crib in the room next to ours I heard little Doright crying, “Daddy, don’t hurt us! Daddy stop!”
Whoa! That was a surreal moment! Written in response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt.
I’ll Sea You There
In response to The Daily Post’s daily prompt: if you could live anyplace else on earth where would it be? There is no doubt where I’d go.
I. Give me salt and sea
Let me wake to ocean’s roar
Guide my steps in sand.
II. Relentless waves shrug
Nudging shells onto soft sand
Here are her treasures.
III. Sunset on ocean
Mist caressing horizon
Capturing the light.
Peace, People!
What Love Is
Written in response to the Daily Post’s prompt, “What is Love?”
A marathon watching of the first season of “Married at First Sight” might be helpful in answering the question I Want to Know What Love Is. The A&E channel’s series matches three couples based on the recommendations of a team of marriage experts after a regimen of interviews.
The couples meet for the first time when the bride and groom face each other at the altar. Yep. They meet and immediately are wed.
For a period of five weeks the couples live together and get to know each other. At the end of that period they decide whether they want to stay married or divorce.
I’m watching the season finale as I type this. As anyone who has ever watched reality TV knows there is a great deal of creative editing involved, including multiple cliff hangers and red herrings. Every time I think about changing channels there’s a hint that something big is waiting just around the next corner. There have been multiple corners.
What I’m struck by, though, is the lack of what feels like love. Oh, I see glimpses of it occasionally, and the participants talk about love a lot. But more than anything I hear that they are afraid. Afraid of being hurt. Afraid of making the wrong decision. Afraid of hurting the other person. Can the presence of fear inhibit love?
One thing that comes across in the series is the need for open communication. All three couples excel at that. No doubt the initial interview process weeded out the less communicative particpants. Can great communication foster love?
Initially, two of the three couples had strong physical attractions to their spouse-to-be. The third couple had mixed reactions–he thought she was hot, she thought he was not. Does love grow from physical attraction?
Jamie and Doug-No attraction in the beginning
Two of the three couples consummated their marriage on their wedding nights. You can probably guess which two after reading the previous paragraph. Is love sex?
Cortney and Jason
Monet and Vaughn
Both of these couples had the whole honeymoon experience 😉
None of the couples had smooth sailing in their first five weeks of marriage. Cohabitation with a complete stranger can bring out the best and the worst in people. Expectations were dashed. Limits were explored. Maybe love was growing.
As the decisions loom I’m more anxious than the participants. Would Studly and I have thrived given the circumstances these couples have faced? I’d like to believe we’d have made it. I’d like to believe that we’d have had that initial spark when he first saw me at the altar and that we’d have had the skills to talk through all of the obstacles.
The truth is love is different for everyone. Every relationship explores its own idea of love. What’s right for Studly and me, what makes us strong as a couple might be wrong for another couple.
Remember these cartoons? This seems to fit.
And the results from the show are in:
In spite of their initial lack of attraction, Jaimie and Doug chose to remain married. I was surprised! Cortney and Jason opted to remain married, as well. While Monet and Vaughn elected to divorce.
Of course I just realized that this was all so last season and I could have looked up the results on the internet. Face palm.
Peace, (and love) People.
Teacher, Teacher!
I wrote this in response to The Daily Post’s prompt We can be taught.
Teacher, Teacher
When I taught years ago
There were days when
The mornings were hectic
Spent bent over student desks
discovering algorithms
And manipulating simple
Machines and describing
Force in terms of Newtons
On spring scales that broke
Routinely.
There were days when I
Daydreamed an alternate
Career for myself as a greeter at
Wal-mart, feeling that any
Job would be better than that
Of an elementary school
Educator who spent every waking
Moment prepping, grading, or
Worrying over pre-teen angst.
There were days when I
Felt like a master educator
Full of energy and capable
Of single-handedly saving
An entire generation from
The abyss of ignorance
Armed only with a piece of
Chalk and an eraser.
There were days when my
Classroom management
Skills went out the window
And I’d find myself standing
Rigid, in the midst of chaos
In fear of losing my ever-loving
Mind.
There were days when the
Rewards were huge, when a
Group of reluctant learners
Experienced that aha!
Moment and called out,
Teacher! Teacher!
There were also days mired
In test preparation, drill and
Kill, and drill some more and I’d
Watch the lights flicker out in
Some students’ eyes.
There were days when all my
Heart desired was an opportunity
To use the restroom before my
Poor bladder exploded.
There were days when our
Classroom buzzed with the
Excitement of creativity.
And days when I thought my
Heart would burst with love.
Those are the days I miss.
Orange You Cute?
I’m not a photographer, so I’ve never offered my take on The Daily Post’s Photo Challenge before. Today’s challenge, though, was “Orange,” and as I looked through the orange posts and all of the glowing words about the color it occurred to me that orange just isn’t my thing.
I can’t wear orange. It looks hideous on me, and as a result I don’t decorate in shades of orange. But surely, I thought, I must have some orange in this house. So I went on a treasure hunt.
Here are my findings:
A bag of Cheetos, Studly’s chip of choice.
A can of Febreze.
A small side table in a guest bathroom atop which sits an orange sunset photo taken in Jamaica.
A magnetic clip. I’ll use it to seal the Cheetos bag once it’s been opened.
A feathered cat toy.
And a carton of orange juice.
Orange you glad I’m through?
Peace, People!
Three Doors, One Choice
Today’s prompt from The Daily Post: You’re having a nightmare, and must choose between three doors. Pick one and tell what you find on the other side.
In darkness I navigate the narrow maze.
Behind me I hear the labored breathing
Of an unknown predator. I cannot stop.
Two left turns, hands pressed flat against
Rough walls of stone. Abruptly stumbling
I find myself facing three towering doors.
Slim candles in sconces flicker, offering
Little clue as to which door provides for
My salvation from the rampaging beast.
Door one is painted red. The deep, hue
Of blood. Orange flames shoot across a
Wooden lintel, daring me to cross below.
Angels grace the second door accented
Against an aerial array of cumulonimbus
Clouds in a sky of heavenly aquamarine.
As the beast draws near I observe the third
Door. Ancient and carved with Celtic runes
Beckoning me to throw caution to the gods.
The choice seems simple: Forsake doors one
And three. Door two seemed a haven, but then
Out of darkness roared an unearthly demon.
With some hesitation I step inside the door
Most mysteriously carved. Fevered drumming
Was my reward. The third door held strong.
Otherworldly chanting to the steady beat of a
Bodhran reverberates within my chest, pulls me
Onward relentlessly toward the echoing sound.
An ethereal luminescence illuminates my steps
Into a forest populated entirely by wee folks
Who gently guide me into a circle enchanted.
A faerie dressed in finest silks alights beside me
And gracefully bids me sit within the mystical
Ring. A guest of honor for their celebratory meal.
“What brings you here?” Faerie asks. I feel certain
She reigns as deva within this forest primeval.
“A beast chased me into your realm,” I explain.
“Three doors you had from which to choose: One
Hell, another Heaven, yet you selected the third.
It isn’t often that mortals wager their lives on us.”
“I had little time to decide my fate with a monster
Close behind. Hell I rejected. Heaven seemed too
Safe. I could not resist the call of the unknown.”
Then we danced and drank far into the night. The
Faerie folk sang songs that resonated in the very
Depths of my soul. My heart expanded with love.
I awakened with tears on my cheeks and a smile
Teasing the corners of my lips. A lovely dream
Born from a nightmare. Beauty from the beast.
Plead the Fifth–in response to The Daily Post’s Writing Prompt
Flashbulb lightning
Residual flash
Temporary
Celebrity.
Shouted interrogatory
Penetrates dark,
Manufactured
Histrionics.
Hurried exchange
Hissed advice,
Prevaricate!
Obfuscate!
Stricken beauty
Softly demurs
Fabricate?
Never!
Amendment pled
Stricken eyes
Motivation?
Vanity.
I’ve never shied away from telling my true age. Never pled the fifth. For many years I loved hearing people exclaim, “You don’t look ___!” Now, I believe all my years, like chickens, have come home to roost. And they’re having a wonderful time creating havoc with my looks.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 