I've started a new group "Way Out There"  http://www.aarp.org/community/groups/WayOutThere

It's under Religion & Beliefs/Paranormal. It's a place to discuss topics that folks may or may not believe in. Examples include: Mayan Calendar, Nostradamus, Edgar Cayce, Polar Shifts, Guardian Angels, Psychic Phenomena, Doppelgangers, UFOs, etc. Membership is open (you don't have to have in invitation to join).

I've been on a lot of other message boards and have encountered a lot of theories. I don't believe all of them, but I find them interesting. SInce I am a fan of science fiction, I like to indulge in "what if" exercises. So, what if these theories were true--how would that change our daily lives?

I tried to post a poem, "The Thinker Sleeps", in the Poetry group here, and the boards went bonkers. I think it posted NINETY times--and most of them were incomplete. It won't let me delete the extras, and I couldn't blank them out either. I was finally able to edit ONE and make it complete (that's the one that doesn't have zero posts). I have reported the problem to AARP. I tried to post this journal once already--and it didn't take, so I'm trying again.

Meanwhile, Ken and I are getting ready for the New Year's Eve party at our ballroom dance studio. This will be our last party as owners. We're bowing out and selling the studio to one of our former instructors. It's been just too hard to manage it remotely (and having the business still there has kept hubby and me apart by necessity). Now my sweet baby love (Ken) can REALLY retire, and come be with me in Germantown--Hooray!

We're still deciding if we want to lease the Tennessee house furnished, or keep it as "home base".  There's so much "stuff" to dispose of!

Wow, I went WAAAAY overboard on the Thanksgiving dinner--we ate at noon and there were only three of us: hubby, me, and a friend. I shopped at the dutch market and ordered a turkey breast and 4 legs--expecting just the little chunk of deboned white meat that I could slice and heat. Instead I got basically the whole carcass with the legs cut off (and of course the 4 legs I ordered separately). I didn't realize that I had the whole carcass until I unwrapped it. I made dressing and pumpkin bread. My friend brought "dirty" mashed potatoes and brownie cheesecake. I bought a pumpkin pie at Safeway (I like theirs better than the dutch market or Giant). We also had steamed veggies: green beans, carrots, zucchini, squash, and pea pods. We bought the veggies raw, some at dutch market and some at Safeway. I'm going to have to freeze packets of them because I'll never eat all them myself! We used the zip'N'steam bags to cook them and I love how those work--you can make corn on the cob in 5 minutes and it tastes so much better than boiled.

Now I have a fridge STUFFED with food and hubby has gone back to Tennessee. And I don't even eat cheesecake. I guess I can take that in to work, but the veggies will last me forever.

I've never been a fan-type personality, even when I was a kid. When everyone else was wild over the Beatles, I was just "well I like THAT song, but not the other one". I liked Star Trek and the X files, but I wouldn't change my schedule to watch them (and remember ST was before VCRs!). But now I am hooked on the new HBO show "True Blood". The first couple of episodes were a little more explicit than I care for, but the characters are so entertaining and I love the vampire story line. They are based on Dead Until Dark , the first book in a series by Charlaine Harris. The books feature Sookie Stackhouse, a telepathic barmaid from Bon Temps, LA, who is thrilled when the first vampire moves to town. Vampires have "come out of the coffin" because of an artificial blood product invented by the Japanese, that lets vampires survive without having to bite humans. I've read (and re-read) all 8 books that are out so far, and am also reading the three other series (totally different subjects) by the same author.  I'm recording all the shows so I can rewatch them before they show up on OnDemand. This is really strange for me. The show has already been contracted for a second season and the author has a contract for 10 books (so we get at least two more). At the moment she has SEVEN books on the NYtimes bestseller list--the power of television (the show is being done by Alan Ball, who did Six Feet Under).

The new fridge is great. Hannah spread a lot of rain, but no damage in this area. It’s all bright and sunny now. And I get to go see my husband soon.  Our studio has it’s annual ballroom dance competition coming up. And the night before we’re having a big band and a World War II group is bringing restored vehicles (jeeps, ambulances) and folks are wearing vintage costumes and uniforms. Should be great fun.

Hubby came up here last weekend and we went and walked the National Mall, from the Smithsonian to the Washington monument and down to the Lincoln Memorial and the Viet Nam War memorials. Boy was it HOT!

Well, the trip back was worse than expected! After being together for a month, I REALLY miss my hubby already. To add insult to injury, I got back from the airport to find that my power had been shut off almost a month ago! The seal on the fridge and freezer section is not only not airtight, but not critter tight. I had to spend the night in a hotel and the apartment complex is trashing the fridge and getting a new one. But not before I had the lovely experience of emptying the hotbox of all the exploded food. Even the plastic icepacks are unusable. It felt like an episode of CSI. It'll be a long time before I eat rice again.

A day later the power is back on, the fridge has been removed and the apartment fumigated. I haven't gotten my appetite back yet though.

My Sweet Baby Love

that glimmer of mischief
and so it begins
blue-grey eyes twinkle
o’er his sweet gopher grin

my love for him rises
quick filling my heart
we kiss cheek to cheek
and the hugging fest starts

I fly in for weekends
he drives up for days
these visits sustain us
but longing still stays

my heart always races
when I hear his voice
while work separates us
a difficult choice

each time we’re together
is precious as gold
for he’s mine forever
to have and to hold

c.2008

Still

in the still

       Still

       STILL

       of the evening

when the earth
         holds it’s breath

and the sky

             h o v e r s

between light
        and dark
somehow neither

        and both
at once

we sit in silence
in the silence
ourselves

still

as time
        s
         t
          r
           e
            t
             c
              h
               e
                s
                  out

c. 2008

Looking Back

The past has passed
its limits clear
looking back to birth
across the years

we see what we saw
and nothing new
our death midst our life
is the only view

If we could only
let go and turn
to view the future
we could learn

life is a cycle that
ever renews
and all is growth if
we but choose

c. 2008 (written 7/13/08 in response to "the Face of the Beast" by Rilke)

The One-legged Dancer  (for "Jorge"-- a person I know)

Oh, the one-legged dancer, he dances so fine
he stomps and he shimmies, he swivels in line
his arms syncopate to his one-footed pace
with love of the dance written clear on his face

his fingers are stubs and his leg scarred with burns
but none of that matters as he dips and turns
his arms syncopate to his one-footed pace
with love of the dance written clear on his face

c. 2008



 

 Lost and Found

I have lost the art of loving
without shame and without fear
without counting what I’m giving
seeking balance year by year

I have lost the skill of feeling
warmth of sun from flower blooms
colors that once had me reeling
fade to gray in shadowed rooms

I have lost the knack of living
every second of each day
sleeping, waking, walking, sitting
blend to one and waste away

what’s the secret to re-finding
skills I’ve lost along the way
will it take a full re-minding
to get back what’s gone astray

baby steps the path will start
bits and bytes can build to words
in the chambers of the heart
notes rekindle songs I’ve heard

overcoming childhood wrongs
starting fresh with each new day
loving, feeling, living strong
we can build a better way

c.2008

Brain Magic

once there was a little girl
who had a magic brain
making pleasure out of naught
and blocking all the pain

small ones have no fighting strength
all they can do is cry
silence is their greatest skill
and hiding lest they die

far too many knew the score
and chose to turn away
we now know our inner strength
and where they are today

living is the best revenge
growing strong and true
they can hurt no others now
and all their sins are through

little girls grow old and gray
but magic still remains
drawing joy from each new day
and letting go of pain

c.2008

Aftermath

what's the when
and where's the who
whatever have they done to you

up is down
and bed is red
why the pounding in your head

drop to floor
and try to stand
crawl the wall hand over hand

fuzzy sight
and ringing ears
other people should be here

reeling walls
and rocking floor
stumble to the bathroom door

throat so swollen
words can't pass
see the monster in the glass

stagger back
and try to scream
try to wake up from this dream

black swelled eyes
and cuts that bleed
the monster in the glass is me

find the phone
and make the call
then slide slowly down the wall

no one moves
that I can see
are they live or dead like me

light fades out
and shock sets in
now the rescue can begin

never speak
of what was done
mem'ries wiped from every one

draw the curtains
lock doors fast
pretend that we are safe at last

ask no questions
tell no lies
playing dumb is being wise

c. 2008

Waiting for Daddy (there's a painting of this one)

she cradles the arm
that was broken and burned
and cradles her belly
while waiting her turn 

the moon thru the glass
spreads a glow on the floor
she stares into space
with her back to the door 

she can't see him coming
but knows he'll be there
the only fair warning's
the creak of the stair 

the gauze curtains mock her
so light on the breeze
as she longs to fly free
o'er the tops of the trees

c. 2008

Deathwatch

Oh, I have brushed too oft with Death
and he is courting me
I know the paths that he will take
his handiwork I see

I know his sign, his ways and tells
the strength of his soft grasp
I know the ease he promises
I know the sleep that lasts

I've seen him take both near and dear
and strangers in my path
with soft embrace of endless sleep
or thunderbolts of wrath

He hovers o'er deep water
and by the narrow ledge
enticing souls to take the plunge
and step over the edge

He dances midst the traffic
and drifts by hospice beds
and I see his chosen marked by hoods
of darkness o'er their heads

He's held me in his arms before
and I've felt his chill breath
then fought my way back from the light
leaving him alone, bereft

And now he wanders through my life
and whispers in my ear
he runs his fingers thru the hair
of those that I hold dear

...

I know this isn't finished
the end is not in sight
though his hold is not diminished
nor is my will to fight

c. 2008