Miracles do happen: Sherrie Parnell Gets Married.

Now that's a headline I doubt will ever happen!

Earlier while at the bakery getting my strong coffee, I saw Martha and Jerry. He kissed my hand and thanked me for not charging him for copying that picture of Robert and how great it looked.
I curtsied and said, "my pleasure."

Then he asked if I was married. I told him no. He said, "I'll dance at your wedding."

I fell over laughing. "If I ever get married the Headlines will read 'Miracles do Happen: Sherrie Parnell Gets Married.' They'll close up the town in celebration. Hey, even Super Walmart will close. Women will weep with joy because the main competition will be gone. Men will weep too because they're safe with me married."

I would have went on but I caught the looks of bewilderment on Jerry, Martha and Miss Gail's faces. So I stopped mid-thought.

Jerry spoke for them all. "You're the sweetest, kindest and funniest lady we know. Anyone who wins your heart well...they've won gold."

It's compliments like that, which humble me into being wordless.

Today is...

.....................well, today! Can't believe September is almost over. Jeez! Where does time run away to? Ever since that big noodle incident in Feb, I've been disoriented with my watch. Hey I was not to blame, ok? So stop asking!

Moments of insanity are so cool. lol

I hurt my leg yesterday doing camels (a belly dance move) or so I thought. As I think back, I couldn't have done as much damage to my leg as I did with that particular move. My leg killed all the way from my left glut to my calf and around my knee. The whole leg was swollen by the time I got home. So I took a bubble bath and then went to bed to read. I put my leg up so the swelling would go down and as I read, I fell asleep. At 8 pm! I must have turned the light out sometime during the night. I barely remember hobbling to the bathroom at 2 am. And what time did I wake up this morning? Sometime after 8 am! I slept 12 hours! But my leg feels so much better except around my knee cap. As I got a shower this morning, I remember trying to do twist kicks, something I suck at, because I spin when I should kick. I think that's what hurt my leg. So this morning to prove my theory I practiced camels and ta da... no strain on my leg. Too chicken to try twist kicks though.

October Waits

Deal September its last card,
before it fades at the stroke of midnight.
The remnants of a Harvest moon
hide behind the wispy fringe of a cloud.

October waits in the wings,
with its fiery colors of red and yellow.
It will lay claim to the land
with its kiss of frost.

I am ready to wear the
robes of another birthday,
another year lost in the folds
of time, the hem tattered.

In the distance, I hear the sounds
of a Spanish guitar playing soft,
The song of my soul in each chord.
Time tangos with my October heart.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
October is almost here! Time flies.

On Sale in the Bargain Bin

 

Russ the guy who owns the town's 'Christian Bookstore' was in here a few mins ago.

He used to be beside us and then across from us but moved closer to I-95 about a year or so ago. Anyway, he came to get the key for the building across the street (our landlord owns it too).  He had to get something out that he had forgotten was there.

 

Anyhow, when he brought the key back he said, "Sherrie I kinda of miss you coming into the store weekly and asking if we had any Christianity on sale. The stores around us don't have colorful personalites. You should stop by sometime and see us."

 

I said, "Why? You never have Chrisitanity on sale."

 

lol I had forgotten how I used to play jokes on them. Go into the store to get copies made and ask if Jesus can help me. Once I asked for Noah, because it was raining. lol... some of the clerks there laughed but not always. I learned Religion and Humor don't mix well if you're surrounded by Bible thumpers.

A Quote to Live By

"This world is but a canvas to our imaginations."
- Henry David Thoreau -

All the World

All the world knows a poet.
Words walk off paper
into the mind and heart.
Yet you do not read me,
the open book my soul writes
in ink of blue and violet.

Your eyes wander over the moon
that's growing fat with night's secrets.
Do you see the dark side
with its craters stuffed with dreams?

I write with a compulsion
I do not begin to understand.
Words rain down like rapid tears,
and I struggle to fit them into verse.
Read fast, my love, for the ink fades
as time is not kind to paper, so frail.

Still your eyes seek the moon.
Lips move as if in silent prayer.
Do you pray to a forgotten moon Goddess
for the power of patience, the prowess of prose?

All the world pities a poet
whose words never ring true
though the attempt at verse is thus,
a rivulet of vanity dipping across paper.
But still I write for you, lover of the moon
in hopes that your eyes will someday find me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Poetry and the reasons it exist are many.

Naps...gotta love 'em

The boys are here tonight. Although I didn't feel like having them around. But... they did make me laugh and act goofy.

The other night...can't remember which one... Mom was here and so were the boys. William got mad at Mom for some reason... maybe because he had to get a bath or turn off the TV...anyway, he said, 'Nana I hope a monster gets you.'

I laughed my ass off. That's the worse thing he could think to wish upon her. I love it. How innocent and so charming his 'curse' was! When he heard me laughing, he yelled "I hope a monster pulls your ears off, Aunt Sherrie...and...and puts 'em in his pocket."

I didn't reply...just continued to laugh.

But tonight, I went to bed when they did at 8 and slept until 11. The wind woke me up. We're getting a little of the weather from Jeanne but not as bad as the western part of the state. So I woke up with a poem on my lips and wrote it out very quickly. Like I've said before, sometimes one shouldn't argue with their Muse...just go with the flow.

My Soul is Tired

My Soul is tired, resting at my feet
heavy with the words of ancient poetry
knitted like a shroud over it.

Dark is its red clay, almost black
with the losses of love and desire
that have spilled from my wine glass.

I dibble passion on the tablecloth of time,
yet few notice the stain that I leave.
My soul absorbs the condensation.

I try to lift my soul from its lowly place,
but its heavy weight doesn't budge.
No amount of fairy dust makes it lighter.

Night descends upon me, black as a sea.
Will I drown in the darkness, no light shining
as the ground splits open, devouring my soul?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Funny how heavy poetry can feel.

In my head today....

....................I keep hearing this:



"...hip bump, 2, 3, 4...hip bump, 2, 3, 4...hip bump 2, 3, 4...hip bump, 2, 3, 4...other side..."

"now double time...bumpbumpbumpbumpbumpbumpbumpbump"

~~~~~~ I guess its a good tune to work to! Beats the one I had going Saturday... "have you ever been mellowed!"

If I Were to Die Today

If I were to die today,
do not lay flowers on my grave.
Place them in a vase to gaze upon,
for a flower blooming is beautiful to behold.

If I were to die today,
do not ask why, for life is short
to waste on questions that are redundant.
Read a poem instead, find me in the words.

If I were to die today,
close your eyes and let the air embrace you,
for I am there in essence breathing.
Do not weep, do not mourn... live life as if I am alive.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Another Neruda inspired poem. Though his is better.

Saturday

.....I've succeeded in goofing off for two hours at work.
I've been dealing with nothing but tedious photos this week. It's about to drive me insane I think.
A lady called a few hours ago to ask a question about a Polaroid photo. It seems its "facing sideways and can you turn it to face me?" I told her I didn't understand her question so she s-l-o-o-o-w-l-y repeated it. lol She brought it in a few mins ago. It's a profile shot and she wants a full facial. I can't do that but she thought it was worth a go.

I should answer some email, but I don't have the discipline today that it takes to make adverbs and adjectives conjugate.

Well, its officially time to start turning things off in here. So I'll bid this blog day.

Legs

.................Yesterday before lunch I was on the phone talking to Mary. She owns a picture framing shop. I've mentioned her before. She's about the only woman I know in real life who I can say anything and she can relate or at least understand it.

I heard her door chime sound and then a beep. I asked, "Do you need to go?"

"No, its just UPS."

"OOOoooh? Fine legs?"

"Don't know. Let me look." I then heard her tell him, "Move back from the counter, so I can see your legs. The lady I'm talking to on the phone wants to know if they're fine."

I laughed. The guy spoke, "Pecan Brown, baby." He was referring to his legs and....I knew that voice.

"Mary ask if his name is Jones."

"Hey, are you Jones?"

"Yeah." He answered. He's a Native American Indian who does our route too.

I told Mary, "Tell him its the TLC lady."

So she did.... he said, "She better watch flirting with UPS men over the phone. Her daddy might find out and whoop her."

After he left, Mary said, "If your daddy can't stop you from belly dancing on a Pole in Fayetteville, he sure can't stop you from flirting."

lol
Amen!

Letter to the Outback Restaurant

Dear Outback,

I love your restaurant. It is the greatest ever. I love the menu, especially the pasta dishes. I love the wide variety of appetizers. I love the staff--always friendly and helpful. I love how clean the place always is. I love the way the birthday song is so short...(my birthday is Oct. 23 and I plan to stop in). I love the outback so much that if it were a man I would ask it to marry me.

The only thing I can suggest to make your restaurant the most superb, supreme and all-consuming God of the Dining Experience is if you offered your desserts in spoonfuls. Because I never have room enough to try any of the delicious looking cakes and pies. If you offered spoonfuls for a reasonable amount, I bet you would sell more desserts.

For example, after an appetizer, salad and steak not many can find a way to fit a dessert in to an already packed stomach. But I bet if you had dessert spoons that people would find a way to get one or two spoonfuls down of delicious treacly tastees. You could sell the spoons for 50 cents or even a $1.00, if the spoon is large.

Thank you for your time,
Sherrie Parnell

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We'll see if I get a reply!

Wind Through the Magnolia

A wind wafts through the magnolia tree,
waxen leaves bump together
like finger cymbals of a gypsy dancer,
viridian hued skirts cascading.

Limbs rap against the window,
tapping in vain for attention.
The night air drifts through the curtains,
scents of pine and mint invade.

Once again, I am in your arms,
lost in the smell of salt water and rose,
the taste of grapes, honey and wheat.
My thighs your valley~my breasts your feast.

We become a sea, parting in foam and rock;
a mountain of red clay and hot embers.
Your embrace the wine that reddens my blood,
your kiss the soul I seek to love.

You read my thoughts and dip your pen
into my inkhorn drawing inspiration
from the vivid world only we create
with dark powers of love and desire.

Nightly, as the wind seduces the magnolia,
we become a book of exotic poetry,
the dew and honey of tangible words;
a deep sea of verse, hope and sweet love.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This is an ode to Pablo Neruda. His poetry to me is like none other. I find that when my soul is uneasy, if I read his poems of love and desire--even the ones of despair and sadness, I am transported to his world of words. Nothing on the earth matters as I read him. He moves me much like a lover would and I embrace the range of emotions I obtain. There are times when I look at the Spanish translations that are in the book as well and I find I am jealous that I can't slip into them, even though the English versions are beside them.

A silly thought came to me yesterday out of the blue...I should learn to speak and read Spanish so that I can touch Neurda on a new level. What a thought! There may be a poem here!

Jeez...

A month left of being 41!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Let me add a few more !'s
!!!!!
I don't feel like I'm in my 40's. I feel like I did at 26 or so.
Though I found some gray today that's been lurking.

I've been thinking about Dad's question from yesterday....
about me working at a 'gentlemen's club' dancing...lol
you know I must be looking fine if his first reaction was that I am a Pole dancer. lol

As I was finishing up my work yesterday, my sister called. She, the nephews, my mom and brother were at the house. Mom was doing some housework and Lisa was there with the kids. She couldn't get the DVD to work. The DVD wasn't recognized or something like that. I laughed because I don't know a thing about how to fix the problem. I told her to keep pressing buttons until it started, because that's what I do when I get that same error message. Then I got to thinking that maybe I was giving bad advice, so I told her I was coming on home.

When I got there, everyone was eating. Mom had made spaghetti, so I grabbed a plate. Lisa had a VHS tape of a Halloween show from Disney. Ben was eating on the couch, a serving tray balanced on his lap. He moved toys out of the way and patted the cushion beside him, saying "Sit Sheddie, sit."

Lisa said he starts speech therapy next week. I'll miss him saying "Sheddie."

I asked if he was my little buddy. He said, "mommy's buddy." I was like...no way...

But after dinner though, while William was doing his homework...as an incentive we told him he could watch the new Scooby Doo movie once he was done...I worked on the DVD remote. I think Lisa didn't press the right button to turn it on, because it worked fine with me. I turned the TV onto mute, so that William wouldn't know the DVD was working fine.

Ben crawls into my lap, even though his mom was sitting right there. Holds my fingers and says, "Scoo doo, Sheddie. Fight da monsters." I gave him a million kisses on his head. He let me. Didn't wipe them off. Then I asked if he was my buddy.

"No mommy's buddy."

"Whose lap are you sitting on?"

"Sheddie's."

"Zackly!"

Damn Crickets

Crickets outside my window
interrupt a maribou lined dream
of sandalwood and musk,
your recipe of scent.
A crescent moon grows
on the first night of autumn.
Somehow I find beauty
in the way it nibbles
at a cloud, midnight snack.
You're somewhere, I know.
Maybe looking at the sky
cursing crickets that interrupt
your dreams of a crooked halo
and fishnet stockings,
my recipe of sin.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As I drifted off to sleep last night, I heard crickets.

Clarification on Midnight at The Oasis

Beth's comment made me realize I sounded misleading. lol...sorry B.

The song was written by David Nichtern who collaborated with the Dead on a few songs.
It was recorded in 1974 by Maria Muldaur on lyrics with music by the Jerry (Garcia) and the Great American String Band. (he was a member of the band)

It wasn't a Dead project but...to me Jerry was the backbone of the Dead and I associate everything that he's done with the Grateful Dead.

My apologies Beth

A Better Mood

Comedy soothes the savage soul. I watched the first DVD of the Reno 911 series that's on the Comedy channel. I laughed my ass off. I swear they kill me. I've seen most of the shows but not all of them. I feel lots better spiritually.

Belly danced for an hour tonight with my new purple hip scarf. Its so lovely..lots of intricate bead work. It looks noisy but isn't. Not like the navy one I have. Concentrated on hip work tonight. No veils. The veil work we've been doing is complicated and I keep getting my head stuck in the veil. My arms are short I think. Maybe I should hang by my arms from something for a few hours a day, so they'll grow.

As I danced I pictured myself seducing a sultan...after a catfight with the other harem girls. lol
Singing..."Midnight at the O-a-sis... send your camel to bed... I'll be your belly dancer, romancer and you can be my she--ik... You don't need no harem honey, when I"m by your side..." (how many of you know this is a Grateful Dead song???)

I'm off to take a shower and hit the hay...got an early day at work.

Groan and Bear it!

..............................................Dad is driving me crazy today with his debates. He's had 4 different men in here who all have debated about Bush, Kerry, Iraq and a few other political items.
The problem is ...Dad's an opinionated ass. BUT...he changes sides...sometimes in the same sentence. I'm so sick of hearing about his views. I have to listen to this crap every day.

I've got my fan going but when they heat up, voices drown out the drone of my fan.

I've sat here for hours with a mental scream going on.

My Horror Scope for today

A fabulous book or a captivating movie may inspire you to begin pursuing your own artistic activities. Your aesthetic sense is very high today, SHERRIE, and you may be channeling your inspiration from some source outside of yourself. Don't question it, just go with it. Grab a paintbrush and paint, don't think. Analysis is the death of the creative process.

(title added--Sept 22--You Say)

You Say


Your eyes told me the truth
even as your lips disagreed.
Heaven is a mirage for fools,
I know this yet believed
your declarations of Heaven's rapture.
Every word you uttered reeked of brimstone,
yet sounded like the magic of harps playing
upon my listening ears.
Your eyes cannot lie to me,
I see the reflection of an abyss,
the dark corners you hide from me.
There are glimpses of a monster
but you do paint a pretty picture
with words.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
a rare occasion--a poem with no title from me.Its sort of like an orphan...no name, no place to go... doesn't fit it. Maybe I'll care enough to name it later.

****Sept 22.
I care too much about my writing to let a poem go untitled. To me it shows that a person cares very little for their creations when a poem or story isn't titled. I care for mine...even those that don't fit in to my ususal outlook on life.

Tuesday

I think today is someone's birthday...but I don't know whose????!!!!???
Oh well, if I get a whack over the head I'll know why.

Went to Walmart-ville before work... had to find a gold pen to write on photos with and get some soap. I use Ivory..always have..always will. The strange thing about Walmart is that I didn't run into anyone I knew... I always see someone. But not today... I wonder if they were hiding? Does Walmart have Mannequins? I saw a bunch today.

On the drive to work, I saw a bunch of policeman and deputy sheriff patrol cars. Were they some sort of sign? Maybe telling me I shouldn't cop out on something....But what.... ???

I'm in a funky mood today...part sunshine~part shadows. I thought my trip over the weekend would bring me a refreshed attitude but I still find myself slipping into my Scorpio isolation mode. Its a slow slip but still a slip... Sara pointed it out this morning in an IM ...she caught me on messenger as I was writing up my poems and putting them in this blog. She said I seemed to be slowly withdrawing from everyone... Am I, everyone?

Black Hat

On my head sits a black hat.
Its brim round, curling slightly upwards.

Hidden inside is chestnut hair,
shades of ash, copper and almond.

A black hat that hides much.

If I take if off, will my ideas and
beliefs tumble down along with my hair?

Are my thoughts and dreams
engraved on every strand?

I pull the brim low over my eyes,
for they reveal much too.

If my hair can't share its secrets,
neither can the blues of my eyes.

~~ ~~
an ode to one of my many hats

A Little Boy

A little boy laughs
and my world stops.
I am living in his eyes,
blue and sparkling
like sunlight on water.
When he puts his hands
on my cheeks and says
he loves me,
my world starts
spinning again.

~~ ~~ ~~

Ben sat on my lap last night as we looked through the 'wish' book.
We found a picture of a "Little People" Noah's Ark play set.
He was eating some Toy Story fruit snacks shaped like Buzz Lightyear, Woody and other characters' head. He shared with me--though they suck I ate them. As we talked about the picture of the ark, he gave me a Woody head. I placed it over the head of a zebra and said, "Look Ben, Woody's a zebra." Which started a new game. He laughed so hard.

Then suddenly... he put both hands on my cheeks, held my face with his sticky fruity hands and said, 'Sheddie, I love you."

There are occasions when a moment freezes in time--this was one.

Story

A story lives
on the tip
of my pen.

I am
afraid to
write

for fear
that the
ink
will flood
its streets.

"cool"

Ben's picked up the word from me. Lisa said he's said it a million times over the weekend. Mom said she heard it almost as much tonight...and I heard it enough to make me laugh.

A Christmas catalog came in the mail today. Ben 'cooled' every train, race car, spiderman, scooby doo, baseball and bat he saw. I was smart and dog-eared the pages. IS that a word? dog-eared? He kept going back and forth. I told him we would have to write a letter to Santa.

William has a song book..a silly song book. The songs are song to some old classics like 'twinkle twinkle" "its raining its pouring" "Take me out to the ball park" They're funny. I sing them. Maybe that's why they're funny. lol

Angels

I heard them a moment ago,
their wings fluttered softly.
But an evil thought scared them away.
I want to dance naked with you
under the smile of a crescent moon;
lick its shape on your thighs.
Demons of lust and moondust,
you and I, something angels can't understand
...or abide.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Old Men....

.........................went to the post office after driving my brother home at around 2 today. He had to work and got done early. Called and said he needed a ride home.

Anyway, I stopped at the Post Office to get the mail and also pick up a package waiting for the studio. They've remodeled the inside a bit--added a new automatic self-service stamp center. By the door is a poster that is motion activated and a voice spills info on the new system. I was walking behind an old Native American man when he set the voice off. He stopped short and turned around to look behind him.

"Are you talking to me?" He looked soooo puzzled.

Mind you my lips weren't moving and the voice was in front of him, not behind him. "Um, No sir. I'm not. Must be your conscience speaking to you."

In a state of confusion, he left the PO.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As I was driving back to work, I got behind a man driving a beat-up car with handicapped stickers everywhere. I think they were holding it together. He parked in the back parking lot where I park. I actually parked about 8 spaces from him. There are these curve bumpers that keep you from parking on the sidewalk, except he parked in the one that didn't have one of them. His front end covered the sidewalk. I had to step off into the gutter by the curve. He was getting out of the car (Another old Native American male) and said....

"Did I park too far up?"

Stepping back onto the sidewalk, I replied "Not if people aren't using the sidewalk."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

..."But he has to love me"...

No, he doesn't... nor does she!

What's up with people who don't understand that just because they are in love with someone doesn't mean that person loves them back?

I've been there with unrequited love both on the giving and receiving line and its not a fun place to be. But come on...when a person tells you for the 100th time that they don't feel the same way, you are only setting yourself up for heartache in the long run.

No matter how much you love someone, it won't change their heart if that heart doesn't belong to you. Poetry, songs, gifts, relocating, getting close to the person's friends and family, and even getting pregnant won't change the fact. Continuing to pursue someone will drive them completely out of your life and may even make them hate you.

The only thing that you can do is find a way to carry on with the love you feel and face the facts as they are. Daily slaps in the face are no fun.

~ ~ ~~
I give this speech almost monthly to a friend who won't let go of an ex-boyfriend. Sometimes I think I should just kick her in the ass...and tell her to wake up and stop wasting her life on dreams that were never hers to begin with.

Grandma Scrotum says...

.................................................
"Do not use your vagina as a coin purse. It makes running for the bus difficult, and paying for it darn near impossible."

No wonder I keep finding coins on the ground.

A Quote to Start the Week

"Spooning leads to Forking."
~Charo on the Surreal Life, Season 3

Pale Green Curtains

Pale green curtains wave within a gentle breeze
that is green with envy, because you touch
the nape of my neck softer than it does.
I sigh a zephyr, twilight fading into an embrace.
We travel this road before us, sails full and billowy.
No expectations along our path,
yet we know the roadside--the heather and reed-lined ditches.
You whisper my name,
a breath so quiet that in the breezy air it leaves a letter trail
of words not spoken, words that need no voice in the dew of night.
Desire is a deep shade of ruby,
embracing rose petals with poems etched by romantics on their surface.
We are not afraid of ruby desire, nor its blush that leaves us flushed.
Pale green curtains wave at us softly from the window,
as the only breeze flowing is the breath of air between our skin.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I've learned that desire can be a soft breeze from a warm touch.

Storms

.....................................we had them yesterday! Rain, wind and lightning! The eletricity at the house was knocked out for a few hours. When it first happened William asked me to light a candle so the power would come back and he could play Mario Kart. When I told him it didn't work that way, he asked that I get a flashlight and try that. Couldn't help but laugh at him. I told him to watch for big yellow trucks--that's who fixes the power. So he did... he and Ben sat by the front door and watched the road. Ben got a big kick out of a ground dove taking a bath in the mud puddle in front of the house.

Once it was restored things were back to normal.

My plans for today have changed. I'm going to Greenville to visit a friend. Should leave here by 3:30...be there before 7. Not sure what kind of weather I'll hit. Its cloudy and sprinkly here. Greenville's forcaste is rain. Haven't been there in ages... I really am happy to get away for a while, even if its only for a night.

Taking a Break

Taking a moment away from this stupid picture I'm trying to make new again.
I dreamt about work last night--that I was sitting in front of the PC, pecking away at a damaged background. I should have been dreaming about a handsome man, naked and offering me some grapes or figs. Nooooooo I have to dream about work.

We've got rain again and tornado warnings! The wind is up and it keeps making the door pop open just enough to send the door chime into a ding.

I was asked to go see Male Strippers tonight at Cagney's in Fayetteville. A friend's brother-in-law is getting married next week and his fiance asked her to bring along some friends if she doesn't want to feel old. The fiance is like 23. Ledena is 36. I thought to myself how uncouth but Ledena said the girl was like that--spoke without really thinking of how she sounds. I don't think I want to be around someone I might knock out if she offends me, so I declined. The last one I went to was hokey anyway. The guys had glitter sprayed on their bodies. Sorry but I prefer sweaty oiled half-naked real men grinding on me instead of glitter accentuated pretty boys.
I have some funny male stripper stories from the 80's. Maybe tomorrow I'll write about them.

So what am I doing tonight instead? My friend Doug is bringing Miss Emily over. She's 4 and asked to visit Miss Sherrie so we can talk about her dance class, Barbie, Survivor and shopping. I've got the nephews tonight, so they should have fun playing after I give her a little attention. She's a smart little girl. I'm interested on her thoughts on Survivor.

Tomorrow I work..slave slave slave.... and then its home. I may go out for a while--play some pool. Depends on whether its rainy. If not I'll do some painting. I've got a portrait painted in my mind--if I paint it one more time, I'll not get it on canvas. That's the way I am. If I mentally paint a portrait--I don't attempt to paint it.

I sent my novel to PA this week. Wish me luck. It will take a few weeks before they get to it. Its taking so long to get my poetry book done, I know if I don't send it in now that it will never be ready by Spring. It is a summer themed book and needs to be read while lounging on the beach.

Ok, back to work...chop chop.

Quote For Friday

"It takes less time to do things right that to explain why you did it wrong."

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow -

Burger King Blowup Doll

I saw something tonight that was really freaky...
the new Burger King commerical with the guy in bed with a Burger King Blowup doll serving him breakfast.... what a funky plastic face. That grin is pure evil!

Would I buy a Burger King Blowup Doll if they were available?
Nopers...I'm already a Queen. Don't need to be crowned by a blowup king.

Well...

...the verdict is in...I still want to live in Jeff Probst's dimples. Something soOOooo hot about his smarmy attitude.

As for the show...well, Survivor still has to prove to me that it's not jumped the shark. Maybe after next week's episode I'll know.

One thing I have to wonder...after the last two --Survivor Pearl Islands and All-Stars, the incoming castaways should take a wild guess that they won't have fire... yet no one (except that really fine guy) seems to have practiced making it before being tossed into the wilds!!!!!

Whatsupwiththat??

Go Kinston Indians

...they are a minor league baseball team outside of Greenville.

Kinston Indians

They won the Carolina League Crown last night. An old dear friend of mine, Jeff Diamond is their Public Address Announcer. His excitement is contagious.

So..congrats to the K-tribe for a well-played series.

Oak

Oak, so rooted
limbs strong;
I could climb
your branches to heaven
and kiss you in starlight.

Desire, a foundation of earth
rich and fertile
leaves us in the shade of trees,
the bark rough and layered.

The acorn,
a seed from which pleasures grow,
tender sprouts at your roots.
The wonders of green earth
embrace us.

Under brown-tinted leaves,
awaits the strength of your trunk.
You bow under the weight of
our limbs entwined,
strong-rooted oak.

Holy Cow!!!!!!

I had something on my mind to write about and as the gray post box was slooowly opening, I took a sip of hot coffee that I jut got from the bakery and.... yeoooooow... its so strong 10 chest hairs popped up. It was a fresh pot too????

When Martha (the one whose son was murdered) worked there, she used to make the coffee. She would pour fresh unbrewed ground coffee on top of the used ones from the previous pot. Talk about strong. I caught her doing it and chastised her soundly. Then came back to the studio, created a fake Electrolysis company letterhead and billed the bakery for chest hair removal of Sherrie Parnell. For a while, they had it taped to one of the display counters.

Now... looks like I need to send Ms Gail another one.

Today so Far

Last night I was in bed by 9! William spent the night. We watched the new Scooby Doo movie... groovie cooltopia! We read a book and then he went to sleep at 8. I read for a while and felt my eyes getting heavy, so I figured I would take a short nap...

Slept to 4 am.. stayed awake for about 20 mins and fell asleep until 8. Had to take my brother to see our Opthalmalogist Dr. Masters. He's got glaucoma and had to get more meds for it. Let me tell you the office women love him. "Hi Johnny... How are you Johnny? Hey Donna, Johnny's here." He's Mr Complimentary Man. "You look nice today. How do you get your hair so shiny? ...or "Green looks nice on you today. I'm envious." After about 5 mins of compliments, the ladies say, "Oh, Hi Sherrie" After the appointment he walks out of the office with a bag of samples...lol... flattery does get you places or at least medical samples.

While he was at the doc office, I went over to Walmart-ville. Needed a few things and goofed off in the book section. Sometimes I can find a good short story collection. I'm looking at a collection of Christian books that are displayed in the center of the aisle. I figured I might find something for my Granny for Christmas. I looked up and there above the top of the poster were a pair of the lightest blue eyes staring at me, topped off with a tuff of wild blonde hair. I stared up at them for a moment, looking over my glasses at the eyes. Then one of the blue eyes winked and then they disappeared. I didn't get a look at who the eyes belonged too. A mystery that I really don't care to solve. Sometimes, it's best to enjoy the moment.

Slumbering Giant

You sleep peacefully beside me
and all I can hear
is my name, a tagline
between each of your breaths.
So happily you slumber,
a giant of steel.
Yet you pull me into your arms,
gentle as silk on skin.
A midnight embrace
that soothes my soul.
If I close my eyes
and allow myself to obey
your silent command
to fall asleep in your arms,
will I find myself
dreaming the same dream
as you are, man of secret smiles?
I'll snuggle close and find out.

You of An Ancient Soul

You of an ancient soul,
have you blood left
after penning a verse
of sheer essence and spice?

Do others not see
the way you tear off
pieces of your heart
to use as parchment?

You etch stars in the sky,
drown the sea with your depth.
Every word a drop of blood
from your poetry veins.

You of an ancient soul.

Mr Sun's Peek-a-Boo Game

 

I'm feeling better today. Thanks R-man for the hug.

 

The sun keeps teasing me. Mainly gray again, but at least there's no rain.

My left shoulder is killing me though.The muscle on my neck right beside the collar bone is all swollen. Looks like a huge tumor.

 

On Dec 16, 1994 I was walking through the plaza (its a little spot that has a fountain with a lot of brickwork everywhere. I was taking a short cut to see Mary, my bestfriend and also my framer. She was downtown then, right across from the library in a little building. In my hand I had a few watercolors I had painted and wanted her to frame for Christmas. To keep them safe, I had them in plastic photo bag. I remember I had on a pair of black pants, a royal blue sweater and some stupid velvet ballet type shoes that I had let the Shoe store guy across the street talk me into buying (they were on sale). They had Christmas designs on them. Cute but really not practical for fast walking.

 

I was almost at the bottom of the 4 steps going up from the plaza onto the highway, when a guy dashed out of the bushes and scared me so badly that I tried to move fast, while taking a step. But the toe of my right foot caught a stone that lined the floor of the plaza area, sending me into a funky out of the control walk up the stairs. I should have let myself fall at the bottom instead of trying to correct my over-step. I stumbled at the top and landed hard on my left arm...which held the plastic bag causing me to slide a yard and almost spill over onto incoming traffic.

 

The guy came running over, apologizing. I told him I was okay and that he shouldn't skulk around. He left and I went to Mary's all shaken up. It wasn't until a few hours later that my arm started hurting. But I kept on restoring photos--I was doing them by hand the old fashioned way then. When I went home I put ice my wrist because it was hurting too. By morning I couldn't raise my arm. But..did I go to the doctor ...no. I had clients waiting for me when we opened. I wore a button up shirt with a tank under it. I put my hand in my shirt Napoleon style.  I spent all day in agony and it was a client who told Dad off for not allowing me to go to the doctor.

 

This was during the time that I not only did the restorations. I logged in orders from the lab. I cut negs and placed studio, wedding and copy orders to the lab. (Our film is split 70 mm--100 feet in a canister). I did sales and answered the phones. Place all our framing and photography supply orders. I knew everything there was to know about this place then. I was dating Charles--in fact it would be a month later that we would break up forever.  I put in 70 hours a week. Lived and breathed this business. I think that's partly why I miscarried. I was doing too much for too many years.

 

It took me several years to slowly get Dad to take on more duties.

 

Damn.. got off track. So I relunctantly went to urgent care and was told I had a contusion to my shoulder. To go home and stay put for two days. They gave me a sling and meds.

But I didn't listen to them. It was Dec 16 th... 8 days to Christmas Eve. Some of my deadlines were due NOW... so I spent the night at the studio, taking half of my pain meds and trying to paint. I had several commissioned oils that year--last minute ones and knew I needed to get them done. I made my deadlines but on Christmas Day I slept--missed all the opening of Christmas presents.

 

Me and my aches...lol...

Another Rainy Night

Will the rains ever stop????? I'll be floating to San Jose soon, if the river spills over again.
I came online to reply to some email I've neglected and found I don't feel like being cheery and...well, me.

Autumn is around the corner and I can feel myself withdrawing into a self-imposed isolation.
October will be here soon. The days growing darker, the nights even more darker.
I need to recharge in spirit, before the impending holidays and their stress on my system.

Ah... I can hear rain hitting the tin awning over the window outside. Should be soothing but it isn't.

Spider solitaire sits on my task bar, no web in sight though. A webless spider...

I feel my aches tonight.... my carpal tunnel syndrome is making my right hand stiff. I have to keep backspacing to erase a misplaced letter. My left ankle keeps popping--I have sprung it at least 6 times in my life. The shoulder that had a contusion in 1994 is swollen. I think from concentrating on too much arm exercising via belly dance. Snake arms are a chore to master--I'm out of practice. But the ache that has gotten me down tonight is the one on the left side of my womb--where I had the most miserable problem of inflamation after my miscarriage in 98.

It makes my heart ache. All my life I've managed to carry my grief on the inside, so that no one can guess its there. From the age of 5 I've felt as if I've had to watch over my siblings and then as I grew older, I realized I was the one who had to be Mom's little helper. Groomed in the southern way to be a care-taker for the family. One that never has let them down. I shoulder burdens, its a task I am very good at. I think alot of you online who read me know this--I've probably been there for you many times.

But when it comes to myself, I am as reliable as a chair with the seat broken through. Ha, how many of you have heard me say that! A few I imagine.

Everyday I feel a loss so great that it takes all I can muster to keep the knife from slicing through to my surface. But I manage it. I thank God nightly for having nephews, so that the memory of a baby girl doesn't slap me in the face every time I'm around them. I embrace their fondess for baseball and their love of Spiderman, because it takes away the wistfulness of tea parties and braids with pink ribbons. Something I know I'll never have in this lifetime.

I've sat here and pinged away at the keyboard in spurts with long pauses as I try to look at the monitor through a haze of moisture. What is the purpose of this prattle? I really don't know. Maybe because this place is a good place to cry on invisible shoulders because I find it so hard to do so in real life.

Scattered

 

 

Autumn will soon be here,
crisp and cool like a breeze over the ocean.
Summer has taken pieces of me and scattered them,
like broken shells over the shoreline.
So much of my soul stretched for miles.

But this is life, isn't it?
The awakening of new reasons to live,
and the slumber of old reasons to die.
How can one person possibly know how
to continue living in the midst dying?

Questions always with few answers.
Surely the poet in me has some ideal
of what the soul needs to stay alive.
Yet I don't know and probably never will.
Some questions are safer left unattended to.

If I look over the pieces of me, scattered
maybe I can find my own answers to why
my soul has to dance over waves to feel alive,
why my eyes see colors in the sky not found on palettes
and why I still believe in love that never dies.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This gray and rainy day reflects in my words.

Happy Birthday Ben

It's hard to believe that little boy is now 3. I remember going to the hospital and Randy (his dad) taking me over to the nursery window and getting the nurse to hold him up. Lisa was in recovery after having a c-section and her tubes tied. There was Ben, naked as a jaybird and not happy at all. He was long ..about 20 inches and weighed 9 lbs. A big boy.

After I waved at him, Randy and I went back to the waiting room where the TV was broadcasting the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. The news station was discussing the impact on the stock market. Randy and his parents couldn't understand why?????? I remember sitting there thinking..."IDIOTS." Mom was at work. She had been there with Lisa first thing. Finally the nurse came and told us Lisa was in a room. I can't remember where Randy and his parents were, but I was the one who helped Lisa get in her room. I was the one that went to the nurses' station and raised Hell because her pain medicine hadn't arrived. I was the one who got her some cranberry juice.... I was the one who got to hold Ben right after they brought him to her.

Such a pretty baby.. head round and smooth. Skin pink and so soft. Randy came in around this time and I gave Ben over to him. A while later they came and took him away.

He stayed in the hospital a day extra because of a spot on his lungs. They thought it was fluid. I remember I couldn't go into the isolation room with Lisa because I wasn't a Mom, Father or Grandparent.

He was a good baby once he got home. I kept him a lot for the first 3 months. Poor Lisa and Mom had to deal with William, the high maintenence child. Ben and I had many late night talks. He cooed and I yakked away.

We still have our talks but now they're about cars, bears, firetrucks and spiderman.

The Artist in me...

...is screaming right now. I just had a first-time customer in here whom I want to paint.
He's an elderly afro-american with a lovely milk chocolate complexion and pure white hair. A head full of it. His moustache is thick and as white as his hair..but what got me the most was his eyelashes... they are pure white too. Long and pure white..the longest I have ever seen on a man. I wonder if I can do it... paint him. He left a picture for me to copy..well two of them. One of his wife and one of him. I just may have to try... or my muse of paint will turpentine me.

My Panthers

....didn't play so well last night. Maybe I should have painted "Go Panthers!" on my 'mams.'

Inspirations...a good quote to live by

"Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead."

- Louisa May Alcott -

Offerings

The last fig of summer dries on the tree,
wrinkled like the sheets of time,
teasing a memory.
An autumn sun sets off the horizon
of your dark eyes, coals glowing.
I offer you the moon tied in a blue ribbon,
but you prefer the low hanging clouds
to scoop up in your hands.
Once I rested there in your palm,
moonlight a halo over my head,
its rays braiding my hair.
I cannot understand why you prefer clouds
that filter the coals of your eyes
to the moonlight that illuminates
the heavens and its secrets.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I found it best not to question my muse when she urges me to quickly write.

Survivor

I'm not a reality show junkie like some people are. I watch Survivor and sometimes the Surreal Life. Oh and the first Joe Smoe show....very funny. Ok.. and I did watch the Scifi show ...damn, can't remember the name of it...

I think the question I'm asking myself is...Has Survivor jumped the Shark?
For those who don't know what I mean by jumping the Shark...think back to Happy Days...and how quickly the show went downhill once the Fonze jumped the Shark!

I used to love Survivor...mainly because its a mental show as much as a physical show. I love mental challenges that's why it appeals to me. Okay... to be completely honest... I have a thing for Jeff Probst. He's a hottie...I even had dreams about him and me on a deserted island.

But the All-Star Survivor... really left a bad taste in my mouth. The best of the best! NOT! The Best of the ones they could talk into doing it again. What really got me was how they let Rob run the show! And Ethan... poor Ethan--he tried so hard and kept f&cking up. I have yet to figure out what the big deal is over Rupurt--yea he's a hippie..so am I but he never has impressed me with mental skills. Anyway... I'll stop that rant before the Rupurt lovers come after me.

I noticed on a commerical about Survivor that they have 18 castaways instead of the usual 16! Another reason I think they've jumped the shark. I bet your immunity idol that it won't be the only change.

Once I wanted to live in one of Jeff Probst's dimples and vacation in the other one, but now... now I don't even stop my remote control surfing when I see him in a commerical. Poor Jeff, no longer is he the reason my panties are wet... I wonder how he'll feel about this once he realizes I'm not looking at the website on CBS and that when I see him on a commerical, I flip the channel. Will he be devastated? Give up his smarmy smirks for a deep and saddened look of sighs and mummurs of why? I hope he can adjust and still do a good job on the show...

Maybe...just maybe once it starts, I'll get into it.. if not...well, I guess somehow the show will go on.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Monday Sadness

I saw Martha and Jerry at the bakery earlier. They had a picture of Robert (the boy who was murdered) and wanted copies of it. Jerry started crying, saying "That's my boy. He was a good boy...why did they kill him?" I tried not to cry though my heart was shattered by his apparent grief. I wish I had an answer. Miss Gail started picking on me to get his mind off Robert, but no matter what the topic was, Jerry still introduced Robert into it. I wish those boys who killed Robert had to witness his parents' grief 24/7.

The Breakfast Goddess

I had dinner at the IHOP recently, which reminded me about the time when Al proclaimed me the Breakfast Goddess. You see, I have a secret recipe for French Toast. While he lived in the Charlotte area, I would make it for him every Sunday when I visited on the weekend. He loved it. Told all his friends about how good my French Toast was...soon they started showing up for breakfast and all agreed that Sher Bare was the Breakfast Goddess.

All was fine until the Bojangles Lady found out about it. Don't know if the Bojangles restaurant chain is all over the US, but here in the Carolinas it is very popular, serving biscuits and chicken all day long. The Bojangles Lady called herself the Biscuit Goddess. Though there are lots of Goddesses in mythology, there can only be one in reality. So a war was declared.

Never did find out who let it slip that I was the Breakfast Goddess. Al had his suspicions but I wasn't convinced. The paper trail was destroyed and the investigation is now cold.

We had our fair share of smear campaigns that not only hurt our images but also caused much grief to the French Toast and Biscuit Eaters of the Carolinas. An independent squadron of French Toast Supports took matters into their own hands with swipes at the Biscuit Goddess--no I didn't endorse them. But was accused of playing unfairly. So to save face and be graceful as I tend to be, I stepped down and let the Biscuit Goddess wear her crown of flour. Even I know that the best isn't always the right choice.

So all was well in the Biscuit Eating Kingdom until recently when some memos showed up online about my secret French Toast recipe....now battle lines are being drawn again...and I have to know readers....

are you with me? or against me?

Write Tonight

I do not want to write of love tonight,
its soft hands touching my hair.
Words seem like minutes,
falling fast into hours of paragraphs.
Do not look for love in my words.
The twisting on your lashes on my skin
as you kiss me does not require an ode.
The night is too dark for love,
too sweltering in the shadows to cool a caress.
I will write about doves so white
that in moonlight they cast a blue glow,
as they coo in their sleep, dreaming of morning.
Love is an overused word, sometimes a weapon
to bend will and spirit.
Tonight, I shall strike it from my vocabulary,
even as you bind me with your kisses forever.

~ ~ ~
Heavily Pablo Neruda influenced poem

Is today over?

What an action packed day!

First, hung out with the nephews while Lisa shopped.

Then slipped off to belly dance, when Mom got here to get stuff ready for Ben's party.

Went to the Post Office and got the mail, talked to ole Mark the gay guy who looks straighter than straights. He's so funny. He always says if he ever goes straight, he's coming for me. I always reply, " You'll have to catch me first."

Next was work... slow tedious work... had a client trying to fix Dad up with a friend of hers. I laughed because Dad gets it all the time. I always say I'm secretly married when someone asks if I need a boyfriend. Most of the time it works...and if it doesn't the person gets the hint.

Left work early because I knew Mom was here, working on getting the party stuff organized even though it was Lisa's idea to have a party at my house. Sure enough... Mom was freaking out because she had less than 40 mins to get things done. So I took over the decorations and present wrapping while she moved lawn chairs under the carport.

When the boys got here and it was all fun and games. We played baseball. I pitched. William actually hit the ball a few times. We're working on the rules of the game...like run 3 bases to home instead of 10 or running around the house. Then we played catch me if you can and I can tell I'm getting my lungs back in shape... I didn't falter and caught William most of the time. He's learning evasive manuevers.

Then we ate... burgers and hotdogs. William made me sit beside him at the table. Sat beside Mom's John and I was glad to be honest... he gets my jokes. Lisa's in-laws don't ...Mom does sometimes and Dad...well if Dad isn't the one telling the joke, he's not interested. So we ate... William kept whispering things in my ear like, "Are we having a party today? Are you happy, Aunt Sherrie? Is that ketchup on your bread? Where's your chicken?"

After the meal, first Ben blew out the candles, because William was in the den playing pokeman stadium. Then he realized he missed the show, so we had to do it again. And... after that, it was chaos..aka...present opening time! The place was littered with toys, clothes and wrapping paper. But it was fun.

Everyone was gone by 6:30, so I changed and went to an outdoor party which had a live local Beach Music band. There were a bunch of Al's friends around. One guy--Doug--likes to shag (shagging is a dance in NC--not a fornicating act...lol) with me. I've been trying to teach him since 1996, but he doesn't do well leading--so I take over. I whorl him around and do the fancy footwork. He gets mad and pouts, after the songs over. But tonight, I threw a wrench in the monkey works by subconsciously adding a kick with a hip bump to my shag technique. Doug threw his hands up and proclaimed that I was sabotaging the dance. lol... what a ninny. I apologized but he wasn't interested. So I mingled and danced some more with a few guys I knew there. Gossiped a bit with the girls and left early due to the roads being so bad and having to drive over them through the swamps without much lighting.

Got home at about 10ish and realized I wasn't tired, so I practiced sensual belly dance and then got online to write some, if my muse will kindly stop combing her hair.

Today

I was thinking how ironic it is that we are celebrating Ben's birthday today...while others mourn the memories of Sept. 11's losses.

To Green Eyes...a Letter

The first leaf of autumn falls now,
Pale olive tainted brown with death.
Mid-afternoon winds softly howl,
Stealing summer’s lingering breath.

I wonder where you are, Green Eyes.
You have missed summer’s foamy seas
And the orange and pinks of the skies,
When at sunset my day flees.

You once told me to watch the night,
And to Venus whisper my love.
Were there messages in starlight
That you sent to God up above?

Green Eyes, my Green eyes, you have my soul.
How can I fight your memory?
Oh my heart will never be whole.
My lost summer days now wintry
And barren is love’s grassy knoll.

Slowly autumn is creeping in,
The days now dusty and shorter.
Frost will decorate the pumpkin
And the vines die on the arbor.

Do you remember our sweet spring?
We danced naked under moonlight,
Our joy pulling at night’s heartstring.
We never thought beyond the night.

I lived on moonbeams and your kiss,
Writing poetry on your lips.
Instead of drinking deep from bliss,
I should have taken little sips.

Since you’ve left time has flown away.
Summer bleeds into autumn skies.
Alone I dance in love’s ballet
And pray you’re somewhere safe, Green Eyes.
Maybe we’ll meet again someday.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A double Rondel poem

Sunshine so far

Finally...the sun shines. We're in flood stages and it's not pretty.

 

I'm having one of those days where my printer and I are locked in a battle and its winning the war. Hewlett Packard really is the devil. A client swears she needs a photo retouched and copied by Sat at 11 and has yet to show up with it. I made no firm promise. Half the time when I get these calls, the person tries to downplay the damage on the photo, so I'll say..."Sure I'll get it done in a New York minute."  Yet they take a Robeson County hour to get it here.

 

Been writing an erotic saga the last few days. I got the first part done and have the second part started, but a creative plunder has occurred...I keep getting flashes of a dream I had this morning before waking. I was climbing over wet rocky terrain, trying to get to the ocean. The rocks were slippery and in the crevices were broken shells and hermit crabs, trying to pinch my toes. I had my toe rings on and I remember looking down at them and thinking, "I shouldn't have worn these."  Where was I coming from, I wonder? What happened to my shoes and why was I not bleeding from the sharp ridges on the rocks?

 

My muse... funny how she works. By giving me another image, she's misdirecting my desire to write something I have been finding joy in creating.

 

And on top of all this, my mental CD player is playing Belly Dance music, as I work on the tedious task of dust spotting, I'm doing mental hip bumps to the drum solos.

 

I think I'll publically execute my muse if she tosses in drum solos and hip bumps with rock climbing.

A Rondel Poetry Exercise

September Sky

I painted a September sky
In hues of pewter gray and blue;
A mere reflection of a sigh
That only lovers can construe.

A deep sea stretches between us,
One that long deep kisses can’t bridge.
Our winds are strong and boisterous,
Punishing love with cruel ravage.

Grave September knows no mercy,
Its bitter clouds knitted tightly.
Waters boil and foam in love’s sea.
Soon memories will become treacly.

If I paint the sky September gold,
Will we remember sultry nights,
And whispered sighs on thighs, so bold
All part of erotic delights?
We still have October to mold.

William's on Today and Tomorrow

Nephew William spent last night with me. He's sorting through the meaning of Today and Tomorrow...and meduim. Can't forget medium.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Upon greeting me:

"Aunt Sherrie, today is Wednesday. Tomorrow is Thursday."

"So what's the day after tomorrow?"

"uhmm..Today."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We played with one of his pokemon video games. It has three levels: easy-normal-hard.

"William, click on easy--normal's too hard."

"No Aunt Sherrie, it's Medium."

(Going along with him) "Click on easy anyway. Medium is harder."

"No, No...NO Aunt Sherrie, medium is easy."

"No silly, easy is easy. Medium is harder..."

"No its not...hard is hard."

"William, easy is easy. Medium is hard but not as hard as hard is, so click on easy...NOW."

He clicks on normal...aka...medium. Plays for five seconds then declares:

"Aunt Sherrie, medium is hard. Let's play easy today. We'll do medium tomorrow."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the kitchen sometime later, I'm doing the dishes and he's hugging me from behind.

"Aunt Sherrie, are you happy today?"

I turned and hugged him, then stooped to his level so he could see my brightly smiling face.

"Do I look happy, William?"

"" umm hmm... you're happy!"

"Yes, I'm happy...very happy today."

"You'll be happy tomorrow too, Aunt Sherrie!"

With him around, I think he's right.

Do we always remember what we read?

I've been reading the sequel to the Relic by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child

Last night, I got to the last 1/16th of the book and realized I had read it before!
But why didn't I realize it some 424 pages before!!!!! Didn't I read it thoroughly the last time?
Did I toss out the memory of the book to replace with something else--maybe a better book?
I hope not. This book has been entertaining in its own right. If I replaced the memory with anything, I hope it was with a good kiss--the kind that makes my toes curl.

Another Blog Bites the Dust

I deleted the southern belle photo blog.
The pictures wouldn't show...so the purpose of the blog was destroyed.

When Strangers Meet

I bumped into an old lover this morning at the bank. We both were so surprised to see each other that neither of us spoke for a few moments...just stood and stared.

Then he said, "Sherrie" in a very quiet voice but to me it spoke in volumes.

I said hi and asked about his family--he's divorced with two sons who are in college now. Vern has always been a proud father and spoke for a few moments on how each of the guys were doing. I asked if his home got hit over the weekend--he's from the Charleston SC area and he said that he had a lot of trees down and his power was out for a few days. The reason he was in the area was to borrow some equipment from his uncle to move the trees from his yard.

What do you say when you really want to say what's on your mind? I met him at a Chamber of Commerce Affair. We clicked immediately and he gave me his card and asked that I call him. I had just broken up with Al and really didn't want a heavy relationship. I knew that this guy traveled around Ga, SC, NC and Va, so he wouldn't be at my door everyday. And we had fun.

But his problem was that he was a worrier about tomorrow. I had learned the hard way that tomorrow is never what we hope it will be. So why bother with worry--enjoy today. On our first date, after dinner we stopped at his apartment and we were laughing. Suddenly he said, "dammit, I knew this would happen. I knew I would like you too much. Now what am I going to do!!!!! I've got sons who are at that fun age--teenagers who are active and love golf and skiing like I do. Now, I'll be thinking of you when I'm with them. Dammit! Why do you have to be so cool? Why can't you be like the normal women around here? BORING! Fuck, Sherrie...what am I going to do?"

I remember staring at him, sitting on the floor across from me. I was sitting in a chair, legs crossed with the slit of my sundress showing more leg that I would have dared in church. I was swirling my glass of wine as I listened. His speech sent me into a Scorpio rage...I set the glass down, uncrossed my legs and leaned forward and said "See...that's the problem with people like you. You worry about tomorrow when its this moment that needs attention. Damn, I hear it all the time from my friends when they're on that first date with a fun guy...they're thinking what if we start dating steady, will my family like him, will I have to quit my job if we get married, where will we live--his house or mine... Would you please for just this night not think of what's going to happen when its over...would you please..." he interrupted me with a kiss. And for a while, he tried to do that... think of the now when we were together.

I know I had a heart to heal but I wasn't unrealistic in my expectations of him--he wasn't going to heal my heart--time would. For a while... we had fun. We laughed and sipped wine, talking about silly things. We embraced under candlelight ... and I could forget Al for a while...I could forget my loss of child and I could enjoy the arms of a man whose passions reveled mine.

But one day I got an email from him... his company was in trouble and his job wasn't secure, but he missed me and soon ...he would see me. But he didn't. A week later, his apartment was emptied and his email address (under his company name)... deleted.

As I stood in the here and now... I knew that too much time had passed. So I said "Well, take care" and turned to leave. He said, "Sherrie ...wait."

I turned wondering what he was going to say...was he going to explain his sudden silence and the fact he moved without a good-by in early 2000. Was he going to explain the years away...knowing that he came to Lumberton once a month and never bothered to at least say hi!!!

He reached over and tied a ribbon on the sleeve of my peasant blouse that was untied. I had planned on stopping by the bakery for coffee asking Miss Gail to tie it for me. His fingers trembled and I felt him brush my arm with them, as he tied the white ribbon. His familiarity was almost an ache, not one of regret but one of long forgotten pain.

When he finished, he surveyed his handiwork and said, "There...all fixed." I realized then that I was all fixed and that instant of old pain was really a momentary shadow. I smiled and said, "Thanks, Vern... take care." And I left.