Happy Halloween

My weekend has been a fun one. Though the time changing set me off my wakeup schedule.
I actually slept longer than I normally do today. Must have needed the rest.

I'm sipping some hot raspberry tea and its gooo--ood.

Went over to Lisa's house at about 5 yesterday. We made home-made pizza. She invited Dad and my brother to come over too. I had a party to go to at 9 and knew that I wouldn't have time to go home and change, so I wore my gypsy outfit over--didn't don the coined head scarf until I left though.

First thing Ben does is go get a witch hat Lisa had for on her coat rack for decoration purposes...so I became a witch for their 'party.' He dressed up like Woody from Toy Story 2. If I ever download the photo program for blogger, I'll post a picture of him. William isn't too keen on costumes.

When the first trick or treaters came to the door at 6:30, I realized why she asked us over...so I could give out candy. Ben was my helper. I had fun with the kids. What amazed me were the amount of teens who didn't even don a constume. I gave them one piece of candy--at first I wasn't going to give them any...I mean, come on...how hard is it to dress up. But I relented. I noticed a trend this year--homicidal maniacs.

I saw one fairy princess, one musketeer, one vampire and.... one witch... when the witch appeared I told her there was only room in this town for one witch (meaning me) and she didn't get the joke...nor did Lisa. She asked why? lol...

Ben wasn't afraid of the scary masks. Maybe because when they walked off I shook my fist at them and said, "We're not afraid of your scary monster face." After each trick or treater left, he would say, "Where's more..where's more?"

Lisa and William joined us, after we had been outside for an hour. The last set of tricksters arrived at about 8. Two little tykes--the fairy and the vampire and they were escorted by a guy in a big rubber old man mask. The head was bald on top but had long white flowing hair from the sides and back. It was a very scary face. Ben ran to Lisa and she held him. The guy took it off and man, he was a young hottie. I gave the kids candy and turned to him and noticed he didn't have a bag. Lisa asked if he was their escort. He smiled and nodded.

As they left, he turned around and said, "Happy Halloween Pretty ladies."

Lisa and I sang out, "Happy Halloween."

He said, "OMG, you sound like angels. Sweet voices from sweet ladies."

We laughed and overheard him talking to the driver of their vehicle, "Did you hear that...those ladies sound like angels..."

I figured that I would leave on that one. The nephews didn't want me to leave though...I had been flying around on their Harry Potter broom and they had the most fun watching me goof off.

But a party awaited the presence of a Gypsy...

On a more Somber note..

...can I get more somber than that last post????

Yes

I

Can....


Grandmother told me she voted for John Kerry...because "He'll stop that war. Those poor boys are dying over there and he'll bring them home."

I disagree...but didn't argue with her. Too late for that. John Kerry has yet to impress me with his rambles during this campaign.

So I'll officially put my political choice out there...though I wish we had better choices. I'm sticking with the devil I know... George W. Bush.

Miss TLC

Dad bought another van yesterday. The old one is worn out. I worry about him on long distant jobs. Its a nice van... someone asked me what kind was it..I said, "Blue and Silver." Didn't really know the make until today... A Pontiac Montana. He's excited.

Before I went for coffee he told me that if someone calls and asks, to say he's the manager and not the owner of the studio. He's doing the early retirement. But when Dad tells me something, he tells it to me 5 times and gives scenarios. I go along with it...if I try to tell him I understand the first time, he gets mad.

So when I came back with the coffee, he goes over it one more time. I asked, "What if someone asks me who the owner is?


"Tell them its you."

I stared at him for a while. We've never sat down and discuss what to do about the studio once he fully retires. My instinct was to run...I found myself taking a few steps away. He laughed and said, "Where you going? Come back here."

Dad's plan has been to officially retire in Jan. Turn the business over to me, but stay on and help me manage it. He'll still do photography. How do I feel about this? I feel as if I'm being put in a cage now. The business will be mine but not really...he'll still want to do things his way. I know him. He'll say one thing for now...but the first time I have a different idea or plan to do something that he doesn't agree with...we'll butt heads.

When I first moved home, the plan was to be here until I got on my feet again after being so sick for so long. Then I met Charles and Dad started the studio. And so began my career. In 1993, I thought I would marry C and open my own business in Wilmington, but that didn't happen. When Al moved to Charlotte, I thought I would live there. I had several job opportunties but, as fate would have it I didn't move there.

Dad had a heart attack in 1997. And has come to rely on me to keep this place going. I know without me, he would never make it--and I'm not talking about career wise.

I never thought I would be here so long--in this town. Though the town has grown, it still holds the same attitude its had since I've been a teenager. I'm a dove, living in a murder of crows.

I feel as if I am the Nine of Pentacles--a secure woman with a career, living on a lovely estate--yet longing to be free.

The duties of a care-taker will forever be on my shoulders. I think the day I'll truly be free will be on my death bed.

Monday is...

.............N-day ...the start of my novel writing project for Monday. I've created a blog to post each days work in.

www.thelamplighter.blogspot.com

If the link's wrong...you can find the blog listed on my profile. I've got my notes ready. and the opening image set in my mind. Wish me luck.

Update on My Poetry Book

Date: Fri, 29 Oct 2004 14:58:30 -0400
To: Sherrie Parnell
From: "Lily"
Subject: A Sip of Sherrie

Dear Sherrie

You are now with the text production department, and your book will follow the schedule outlined on the AQ web page: http://www.publishamerica.com/AQ/#12.I

'm sorry I can't give you a date of any kind at this time, and your proofer might be several months more before they contact you, but after that the pace will pick up.

Thanks for your time,
Lily

The Grudge

What a movie!!! The perfect Halloween flick!

Went tonight and for once was grateful that a zillion teens were there to distract me somewhat.
The movie was one of the scariest movies I've seen in a long time. I had chills running up and down my necks and back.

As I write...the lights are blaring and.... I am not going into any dark places.

I recommend that you see it if....you can handle being frightened.

Blind Dates R Us

Before I start my stories, I want to mention the "Blind Date Patrol." A set of women I know who keep an eye out for women who have just broken off a relationship. They swoop down and suddenly the woman is whisked off on a blind date---a blind date from hell... the problem is ..these women know how to present their 'packages.' They make these guys sound like gems. Add in the 'unsure' factor--you know, that feeling of uncertainity that comes right after breakups. And you've got the perfect combination for falling into their trap.

I fell... several times. One of the ladies--Dale (thank heavens she's moved to NY)...she was good at marketing her 'nice guys.' Don't get me wrong...there were a few dates I enjoyed and actually had fun on. But I stress the word few...

On these dates, I've encountered a man who got a sample of viagra just for the blind date--I bolted fast, one guy who had a lisp that wasn't mentioned before hand--it didn't cause a problem until he asked, "So who is Sh-air-wee Pah-well?" as I buttered my baked potato at dinner. Since I was looking down and not watching him, my ears and mind heard Elmer Fudd...and I started a laugh that slipped from the deepest part of me...I replied "Who the Hell knows?" and thus a silence fell until the bill arrived. There was the 'white witch--wizard' guy who told me he was part demi-god and alien...the guy who was so digusting that I ate squid so he would be repulsed enough not to want a goodnight kiss...and of course the conspiracy theory guy who thinks Texile plants are a myth in NC. (I live a forth of a mile from one).

Now I've blotched a few of them. Once I went to dinner with a guy who reminded me of John Lennon with waist-length hair. Handsome enough...seemed smart-though a bit stuck on talking about his ex-gf. Things went well until we went to see a movie...before it started, I excused myself to use the restroom. I met him a few mins later in front of some arcade games. He said, "you've got something on your shoe." I looked down and saw that about 6 feet of toliet tissue had hitched a ride to the bottom of my shoe. Laughing, I kicked my foot and it felt off. But I saw his face..and realized he didn't find it funny. Never heard from him after that date.

But the one I really blotched up was with a local attorney who's married now. Oh he is a hottie... fine and so sexy...though younger than me. It took me a month to convince one of the girls that worked at his firm to set us up on a date. Everything went well...fine dining, dancing and he invited me to his place for a night cap...then as we sipped wine he said, "So are you gonna be my naughty little girl and let daddy spank you?"

"But I'm older than you are!" Zapp! The mood was killed. Sorry but I can't call a smooth babyfaced man 'Daddy.'

Its been a while since I've been on a blind date per say. Though I've been to dinner parties and found a 'man' waiting for me. That doesn't classify as a blind date. And I could escape easily if the chemistry isn't there.

I was going to write these stories in detail but realized that as I write, I relive and I don't think I want to relive them...

Halloween Horror Stories

Someone asked me to write some short scary stories for Halloween.
I think I'll write about some blind dates...they were scarier than any spooky ghost story I've written.

Sleepy Lazy Wet Day!

All the stuff I'm working on today is very tedious...and the gray skies aren't helping keep me awake. I could lie down on the floor and sleep soundly.

oh before I forget, I haven't been on yahoo messenger much this week. Too many prying eyes hanging around here lately, so I've not logged on. Send an email if you want to chat and I'll let you know if I can. We're starting to get more clients milling around now that our 'season' has started. By season, I mean holiday photos.

Well, Survivor is getting better. I'll not throw in the towel but I do think it jumped the shark with the all-star games. They'll need to do something in the upcoming seasons to revive it. Maybe Jeff will wear some speedos once in a while... or better ....oil himself down and put on a lime green thong. I'm all for that!

THis post got lost yesterday

No Lunar Eclipse Seen in Lumberton

No eclipse.. I was ready to fight some clouds... They were a thick blanket over the moon. Damn the cloud coverage.

But I gave it a college try...

Before I went outside John said, "watch out for werewolves."
I said, "If you hear a blood curling scream..."
He interrupted with "I'll stay in my room."

My neighbor called my brother and told him someone was in our yard. lol ME
John told him that I was looking for the moon, Mr. S told him to tell me to go online and watch the webcams ...

I stomped around the yard for a while. Looking for any sign of life beyond the clouds but found none. Eventually I got bored, so I went to my brother's window and scratched on it... did a howl like sound... the neighbor's dogs went boinkers... and outside lights came on around me. Since I didn't want someone calling the sheriff's department, I went inside.

Didn't even scare my brother (he was watching the Red stomp Red)..darn it!! But I did scare some birds and stirr up the dogs.

I've been battling a headache all day and the hospital keeps sending us a fax!
They've called 9 times in the last 30 mins. Our number is one digit different than one of the heart doctors here in town. I probably get at least one patient a week calling to either make an appointment or cancel one. I don't screw around with them. Not like I did with Ford's service department's calls.

The PC line used to be our telemarketing line. Naturally we don't do that anymore, so it's been turned into the PC line. It is one digit different that Ford's Service department. I used to work in the room the line's located at. I bet the phone rang a zillion times a day for Ford. Some guy wanting me to order a part! I always told them they had the wrong number but you wouldn't believe the guys who would call back, still thinking I was Ford.

Once a very drunk guy called wanting to order a muffler for a Mustang. I told him he had the wrong number to dial a 9 instead of an 8. He called back... and called back and called back...when he got pissed at me, I said "Look you're dialing the number not me. Don't cuss me out because you're fingers won't work."

He said, "Stupid bitch, I'm pressing redial..my fingers do work."

I hung up. What a stupid asshole! He called back and I said, "Sure we'll order that muffler. Check back in 3 days."

Never did find out if he got that muffler.

Oddly Enough....

"She seems like she's always seemed. This is one of the hardest-working women you're ever going to meet. She doesn't mind working and doing prison stuff, like regular chores."

--"Survivor" producer MARK BURNETT after visiting MARTHA STEWART in prison, quoted in the New York Daily News.

Song of The Belly Dancer

There is a tempo in my heart,

the sound of drums beating.

With eyes closed, I embrace

the rhythm of my soul.

 

I do not fight it, this urge

to dance under a veil of mist.

My hips drop low and thrust up,

arms moving in a come hither slither.

 

As I live this magical dance,

I release the Goddess within,

undulanting in sensuality~

the dance of veils.

 

There is no ending, no finale

to this dance within my soul.

I breathe air and exhale mist,

wrapped in chiffon and coins.

 

Do not hate me for the dance,

praise me for the ability

to release confidence within

and freedom of being a Goddess.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A simple poem about the joys belly dancing brings to my soul.

 

I know I mention Al alot. It's not that I'm still in love with him...it's that he was a big impact on my life for over 4 years. We had similiar life experiences, sorrows and dreams of the future. Unlike my previous ex-fiance`, our relationship was intensely soulful, and not very physical at times.

Isn't it amazing what a person brings to a relationship? Charles opened my eyes sexually. He was a carnal addict. There weren't too many stones left unturned. In me, he had a partner who was willing to explore, yet he couldn't stay faithful. It was as if I had made him into a Sex God with my constant petting of his ego (though his package was very small), he thought he was every woman's desire. When I finally couldn't take it anymore and broke up with him, he went out and tried to sow his 'seeds,' only to find that none of the other's thought his skill was as superb as I did. (well love can be blind).

And then there was Al. I learned that I can't rescue people. That everyone has to find peace inside themselves and learn to live with their demons. But mainly I learned that love can't solve every problem. The person who said "love conquers all" was lying. It doesn't!

There are times when I miss him. When I'm reading at night in a quiet house... we used to read together, sitting on his couch. Usually my leg was over his or he was leaning forward with me rubbing his back lightly as we read. Every once in a while, we would pause, smile and he would say, "I'm glad you're here Sher Bare." There was a closeness that is hard to define...and now as I look back I am wistful.

I know that in the incoming days, I'll be thinking of Al and of our past and thoughts will creep in ...those "What if ..." kind. But I know that I'll not act on them and I'll remind myself that the reason they're slipping in is because the anniversery of my miscarriage approaches. And no matter how hard I try not to think about it... the sadness will slip around my heart. I refuse to stifle the sadness and pretend the reason I'm sad doesn't exist. One thing I learned from Al was how to embrace my demons.

World Serious (Series)

I'm rooting for the Red Sox. I think it would be poetic if they win tonight during the Lunar Eclipse...maybe with a red moon in their honor!

It was bound to happen sooner or later...I ran into a few of the old crowd yesterday as I walked to my truck after work. Al's friends! Doug, Steve, Rusty and Mike...though Mike never really hung out with us. He used to show up at Peckers (the old watering hole) and have a beer and go home before 10 pm.

They were going to have a few beers at the new B W Grille. The parking lot where I park my truck faces it. I was walking down the sidewalk, humming a tune ("she talks to angels" by the Black Crowes), when I heard someone shout, "There's Sher-Bare."

It was Steve, the only shouter in the bunch. The others would have stopped and waited until I got closer to catch my attention. Not Steve--he's a NYC Tough guy who used to trade 'fight' stories with Al. He's a good guy though. Of all Al's friends (excluding Mike), he's the only one who never trashed Al to me after we broke up.

Steve ran to greet me. Gave me a big bear hug, told me I was still beautiful (I think I could wear burlap and have rags tied in my hair and he would still say that) and asked if I wanted to go in with them for a drink.

To be honest, if I hadn't of been tired and ready to get home I might have went in. But then again, I would have had to of put up with Doug or Rusty hitting on me. And I wasn't in the mood to think of witty retorts. About a year after I broke up with Al, I was somewhere and they were there. Both guys kept telling me I should go out with them. That they would be better for me than Al... when that was said by one of them... I think Doug, I snorted. It was uncontrollable. And with that declaration, I realized that few truths were due.

From 1994 until 2000, I had witnessed both guys treat girls much nicer than me like dirt. I watched them call from Peckers and make up some excuse as to why they wouldn't be home until midnight. I watched them leave with girls and then hurry home to their 'sweethearts.' Heard their private intimate deals that no real gentleman gives away and most importantly I knew their views on women and how women should be treated. So I let it be known what I thought of their policies on the fairer sex and blasted them for being self-centered pigs.

Which...made them want me more for a while.

Over the years now, I've lost interest in hanging out with them. Now, I'll confess that I've had fun playing pool with them or watching some sporting event. But as for hanging out and unwinding...no thanks. I can do that at home with a good book or a session of belly dancing.

So when Steve and I got over to where the guys were waiting, I said my hellos and gave out hugs. Ignored the way D and R looked me over. Made small talk until a silence fell..then I bide them adieu. As I was walking away, Mike said "I'm guessing you aren't interested in having a drink with a guy who's parents white-washed him a few years ago."

I stopped and had to laugh... Rusty, Doug and Steve had walked away. Mike was referring to a comment I made a few years ago when I still went to Peckers (which is now called Scooby's).

He was talking to Rusty about something. I stood close by watching the NBA playoffs. Can't remember exactly what year it was or even who was playing. He was telling Rusty that he was a born a poor black man and wasn't educated ... (Mike has light brown hair, blue eyes and is paler than I am). I realized he was stealing Steve Martin's line from The Jerk.

I interrupted, "Too bad they didn't whitewash you when you were five so you could have gotten an education..."

Poor Mike wasn't used to my humor and stared at me for a moment. Rusty said, "Don't mind Sherrie...she makes jokes like that all the time."

I saluted him with my beer and walked off.

And now... here he was subltly asking me to join him in a drink. My answer...

"Sorry Mike, I need to get home. Maybe another time when the Zoo Crew isn't around."

He surprised me by saying..."I tried to whitewash them once."

I smiled, "Mike, even under the most pleasant facades a person's real colors shine through. And their facade isn't pleasant."

With that comment, I smiled and did "See-ya Pal" wave from the little Rascals movie. As I drove away, I caught a glimpse of Mike walking into the restaurant. I didn't regret the declination of his offer. A minute later I was mentally going through my supper menu choices, as I drove home, jamming out with the Black Crowes.

Blogger is nuts

I posted a few posts earlier and they haven't shown up ...

so ... pppppbbbbbbbtttttttt to you blogspot.

The Red Sox will win tonight during a Lunar Eclipse...

I guess I'll go to a Halloween party on Sat. Though I did promise to go over to my sister's and help the nephews give out candy first.

Hmmm... will have to come up with a costume. Belly dancer-harem girl, witch or gypsy!

Choices...choices...

W.C just came in. Remember he owns the men's shop next door. He had a guy with him. I'm sitting at the PC, formating a file so I can print it. The door bell chimes and I hear W.C.'s voice.

 

"Sher-rrrrrrrrrie, do you have any white-out?" He and the guy crowd around the PC.

 

"Hmmm, no. It makes a mess on the monitor."

 

"Doesn't anyone use typewriters anymore?" He wailed as he and the guy walked away.

 

And it hit me... a damn good funny joke was wasted!

A Birthday Greeting Card sent with Love

One of my favorite online friends is Lorraine. In fact, she's the reason I stayed in yahoo groups after I was hacked in 2001. After I lost all my groups (clubs back then) and other important info, I was a discouraged sherrie fairy.

I remember posting on one of the erotica message boards that I had been hacked and my clubs deleted. I apologized for it happening. She posted "there you are. Do you have any idea how many people are looking for you? We're worried."

So I emailed her back, saying I wasn't going to restart them. I was devastated--felt violated. But she encouraged me to recreate them, telling me that I offered a warm haven for writers who need nurturing and encouragement. So I did..and we became close.

She's gone through a lot over the years, just like I have. She lost a grandchild almost immediately after it was born--so she could understand my loss of child. We laugh. We cry and we make jokes. But when it comes down to one of us needing a shoulder--we're always there. She tells me things I don't like, but she does it with love. That's what true friends do.

Lorraine is my Blood Sister. I love her dearly.

Yesterday I got a snail mailed birthday card from her. I chose to let the boys open it at the 'party.' As I said earlier they like to open cards more than presents. When the time came William opened Lorraine's card. On the front it had a woman in fur--an image reminiscence to the 50's pin-up art--the cheesecake series.

He handed the card to his mom and said, "What's it say, Mommy?".

She read the front: "You make many people happy."

Then opened it and gasped loudly. She gave me a shocked look, so I took the card away from her. Inside it said, "You Slut!" ...I can't remember the rest, because I fell over laughing. It was so...so... Lorraine!

William said, "What's it say Aunt Sherrie?"

I wiped tears from my eyes and said, "It says Aunt Sherrie is Silly. Happy Birthday."

He jumped on me. "William's silly too." and began to tickle me.

Naturally my Mother and Sister were not amused, but then like Cartman says on Southpark..they've "got sand in their vaginas" and are easily irritated. I explained who Lorraine was.

"She's another writer who lives in NJ and works at a Food Magazine as an Editor."

That appeased them. But the truth is... she's my blood sister and knows how to pick out the perfect birthday card. lol

I've spent most of the day, pretending to work while I emailed back and forth with a friend about bookcases of all things!

 

We had my belated birthday party last night. It was fun. I saved most of my birthday cards that arrived via snail mail for the boys to open. They seem to have more fun opening the cards than my presents. I mainly got $$$ which is always groovy!

 

Ben sat in my lap after we ate, waiting for the cake to arrive. Lisa took a picture but I'll have to wait until I can re-download the picture feature for blogger. Its not that great of a picture of me. I had a headache, hardly any make up on and my hair was doing a funky thing. But Ben... well he takes a good picture anytime.

 

Poor William hates to hear people sing Happy Birthday. He ran away to the bathroom and missed the blowing out of candles. Ben blew out more than I did.

 

I was kinda glad to see everyone go though. My head was killing me and I had ideas about my novel, running rampant. I worked on it for over an hour--detailing characters and writing down ideas for the plot. I'll start the actual writing Nov 1. Not one sentence sooner. Maybe I'll start a blog for it. Wouldn't it be niffy to read the story as I write it?

Quote for Tuesday

 

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters, compared to what lies within us."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson -

24-Hour Short Story Contest

(The contest was Sat. I wrote this story in a few hours. The topic was a woman walking along a river with black water with a burlap sack that had something in it. The setting was autumn and a storm was approaching. The word count couldn't be more than 1100.)

Sack of Wishes

Red, orange and yellow leaves swirled on the undulant river, contrasting against its black water. Distant rumblings along with a bitter wind promised a pre-season winter storm. Haley shivered, walking faster and trying to ignore the muffled diatribe emitting from the burlap sack in her arms. Its weight was a burden. But she didn't falter.

Today was her birthday. The hands of age created an autumn landscape across her face. Haley's life hadn't been easy. She was one of those types of people where opportunity landed on every doorstep except her own. She wasn't a complex person. Her most intricate aspect was a talent for laying blame on everyone except herself, when it came to the failures in life.

It took forty years to figure out why her life was wrong. And not much longer to figure out what she should do about it. The answer was to confront the person who's been responsible for making her dreams come true and get an explanation as to why they never matured into reality. Haley waited until she reached a landmark birthday and then set a trap which netted her prize--the one she carried in her arms.

The burlap sack was getting heavier. She mustered up her strength, pausing to get a better grip on it. For the moment no sounds escaped the sack. It had become a dead weight. Her destination was around the bend. She would make it somehow, even if she had to crawl, dragging the bag behind her. The storm moved closer and she wanted to be home before it arrived.

Sunlight danced across the black river. Around the bend was a small cove hidden behind a colossal oak that had fallen into the river during the bizarre storm of '54 that swept across the area leaving chaos in its wake. Haley was born that night, as thunder roared. This cove was her favorite childhood hideaway spot. As a child she played there, pretending it was her kingdom.

Finally Haley was at her destination. The cove held a calm that soothed her worries away. She paused to watch the black whirlpools on the river's surface. On a limb of the fallen oak sat a bull frog, looking as if it had been expecting her. She dropped the weighty burlap sack on the riverbank, ignoring the expletives that hissed in rapid fire. The enemy wasn't very happy to be trussed up. Before she opened the bag, Haley found a sharp rock that was big enough to maim and easy to control. She quickly untied the ropes at the sack's closure and jumped back as the contents struggled to escape from the dark scratchy folds.

In a defensive stance with rock raised, Haley poised, watching the small figure crawl out of the sack. It looked frail, but she wasn't fooled by its delicate appearance. Fairies were notorious for their power of endurance. This one sat on the damp ground before Haley was no exception. It was the Birthday Fairy--the very fairy that granted birthday wishes.

Her face was made of smooth porcelain. Gold spun from her head in soft cascading curls. A yellow dress woven from flower petals made a halo around her body. Her gossamer wings stretched and then relaxed. If Haley's resentment hadn't of been so intense she would have stood in awe, enchanted by the stunning vision. The fairy looked like a shiny coin in the midst of autumn's orange-reds. An expression of confusion and ire marred her features, as she searched the bag.

"Looking for this?" Haley pulled a sparkling wand from her pocket and dangled it above the fairy's head.

"That's mine. What's the meaning of this, Haley? How did you find me?" The fairy's voice sounded like wind chimes singing in a soft breeze. But her expression was as thunderous as the storm that approached.

Haley was temporarily stunned. "You know my name?"

"Of course I do. And Happy Birthday! Fifty looks good on you." The fairy beamed at Haley, proud that she remembered her age. After all, she had millions of birthdays to remember for just that day.

Smiling back, Haley said, "Why thank you." Then she caught a cunning look flash across the fairy's face and quickly put up her defenses. "We're not here to make small talk, Miss Birthday Fairy. We're here to make the wrong right."

The fairy sat on a rock to examine her wings. "Being enclosed within that sack has bent my wings. This will slow me down. No birthday wish for you this year, Haley."

"You'll be fine. Fairy wings have regenerating abilities. I did some research at the library. I believe in the old fairy myths. They hold answers. When it's time to make a birthday wish, you appear in one of the candle flames. I watched for the brightest glow and stuffed the candle in the sack."

"I'm impressed. But I don't have time for this. I've got to finish today's birthday wishes. After all they only come once a year." The fairy rose, brushing sand from her dress. She held out her hand. "Please give me my wand and I'll forget this happened."

"Sorry but I can't. Not until you grant me all my past birthday wishes that didn't come true." Haley pointed the wand at her, as she raised the rock above the fairy's head. "Or I'll crack your head with this rock and throw you into a whirlpool. Even fairies can't survive that."

"Getting every wish granted can be a dangerous thing, Haley. Mankind isn't wise or strong enough to handle all they desire. If dreams are easily obtained, you will never work hard to earn their rewards."

"I want my wishes granted now." Years of frustration made Haley unreasonable. She made a menacing gesture with the rock. "I'll bash you."

The fairy sighed. "Do you see that frog on the tree? That's Jasper Combs who wished to be a frog prince every year of his life. Believe me; you don't want all your silly wishes to come true." She could see the determination in Haley's eyes. She wasn't going to back down and time was slipping away. "Very well. Pick one only. I promise to grant it no matter what it is."

Haley knew when to compromise. She dropped the rock and made her wish. "I want to live a fairy tale life."

In the midst of the storm's arrival, the fairy's laughter rose above the storm's fury. Rain pelted the glossy cover of the fairy tale book that rested on the riverbank.

I'm back online at home... and am working my butt off this today.

 

Hey thanks to all who sent Birthday cards, e-greeting cards and presents for my birthday... much love to you guys.

Blue Screen of Death

.......................................last night after 1 am, I was online for a little while. And... I got the blue screen of death.. a fatal error. I think it came from a Microsoft XP patch I downloaded. I was rebooting and there it was...death of my PC.

 

A wonderful birthday present to myself---NOT! I had to wait until this morning to call Dell support. I spent from 8 am to 11 am today with a Dell rep and had to reformat the PC.

 

Yes I lost everything...photos of my nephews, my flowers, my family... my poetry (thank heavens I post online), my completed and edited version of my Irish Pirate Novel, pictures of My soldier and also IM's I had saved from when Dan was alive and we used to chat on AOL. They're gone. I'm more upset about that than anything. They were priceless memories I can never regain.

 

So am I wiser on my birthday... hell yes... always make backups of your files.

Novel Ideals

What amazes me about my muse is when she strikes! Tuesday night, I went through my junk drawer in my bedstead table and found a folder of 'ideas.' I had a few outlined plots drawn up but none really hit me. 

 

If you've read in my Penned in Pink blog, you'll find first lines of stories I say I'll never write. In that group is one line that has stayed with me ever since I read it. Its the one about the old lady and the snail--and how the snail would win a race.

 

That my friends is the opening of my novel. Who is this woman? Where was she going? With the snail in the picture, we know the story has to be in late spring or the summer. Obviously she's old and has some form of old age illness or condition that makes her creep along. Arthritis? A hip injury?

 

In my mind I see a frail blue-haired lady in a powder blue house dress with a white cardigan, because she's cold year round. She's walking with a cane, stooped over from osteoporosis. Her feet are shod in black orthopedic shoes with laces. She's wearing thick support stockings that hide veined legs.

 

But who is this woman? Is she married? Widowed? A spinster? I'm thinking a widow with no kids. Stern and determined not to let old age keep her from her daily walk. She's a sticker for routine and doesn't like the teenagers of today. Maybe because they tease her when they skateboard past her on the street.

 

Is she a predominate character? I don't think so... I think she's an opening act...that will make guest appearances.

 

So now I have the opening image to write, when the time comes... the first part of my plot.

 

Now.. I was chatting with Sara and she asked what did I plan to write about. I told her I wasn't sure...maybe a love story or a thriller or a murder/mystery with a supernatural twist... she suggested I put all in the story.

 

This morning as I showered, I let my mind wander over different things and it settled on the old lady's walk... what if she stumbles over something... maybe some of those nasty teenagers on their loud skateboards causes her to stumble off the sidewalk into a yard... a house that is vacant but not rundown.. and there in a bush is a leg... just a leg... I don't see a body--only a leg.. a man's leg with a blue tennis shoe and red sock.

 

While I shampooed my hair, an argument between me and mom came to mind. It was a silly one about my cupboard and her itemized list of the contents... don't ask.. long story...and I thought of a mom and teenage daughter... arguing and how they might live across the street from the vacant house and get involved in the mystery of the leg.

 

Will they be based on my mom and I? No... I think the mom will be one of those throw backs from the 70's...much like I am. And the daughter will be a straight forward type who says, "Oh MOM!!" an awful lot.

 

I'm sure their personalities will emerge as I work today. lol

 

Bond, Christopher Bond

Yesterday Ledena came by. She's our lab lady. In tow was her son Christopher. He's 5 and claims to be my only boyfriend. So sorry all you hopefuls out there... I'm spoken for.

He loves to talk to me. I'm silly and well, like to tease him.

 

We talked about his harley davidson boots. I'm allowed to borrow them if I ever get an orange dress.  So I'm off to buy one this week. lol

 

Then we discussed Christopher's super powers. He has a sword that shoots out of his right eye and he can burn things red but it has to be in the dark or it doesn't work. 

Which made me think of James Bond. So I said:

 

"You're like James Bond. He has a car that turns into a plane and flies. And a watch that has a magnet in it. He's got an ink pen that shots a laser..."

 

I stopped because Christopher is shaking his head.

 

"What do you mean NO? Haven't you heard of James Bond? He's a secret spy."

 

"No man can do that Sherrie." He was very adamant and gave me a look that was almost pitying...as if I had been duped by the James Bond Myth.

 

"Yes he can. I've seen it on TV."

 

"No man can." He was very grave.

 

"Well, you can shoot red lights from your eyes and have a sword that shots out. If you can do that, so can James Bond !!!"

 

"That's how I know ...because I can't do that. I made it up." He took my hand and kissed it. "Forgive me?"

 

lol... I dread seeing this child grow up... there won't be a woman in 100 miles that won't be affected by his charm.

Professional me

 

 

I was able to improve on the photos yesterday. It,s times like those when I realize that I really am a Master Photo Retoucher in the old way of retouching--back in the day when we had to use photo dyes, specialized pencils, oils and acrylics.  When my hands did the work instead of a mouse and clone tool. When I had to draw by hand an eye or an ear...some day I should post some of my old work as example.

 

 

"You start by writing to live.You end by writing so as not to die."

~Carlos Fuentes~

 

 

I think this quote is very true and expresses the reason I write.

Its a good thing I am ahead of my work, because I've spent the day taking messages for Dad (who had a daycare to take pictures at).  I've finished all my easy jobs and the ones I have left are tedious and attention-grabbers. Every time I get to jamming on one of them, the phone rings and thus my concentration is knarled.

 

To top it off, Dad had a photo lab from Fayetteville to print two over-sized photos that a Church is going to use and the lab printed the photos too light!!! I'm talking Indian toned skin made into pasty white. Now he should have turned that order down but he brought it to me and asked what could I do to make it better!!!!

 

When he told me he was getting that lab to do the printing, I foretold that they would blotch it because they don't know what the hell they're doing. He ignored me like he always does and most cases I am right on the money about the situation. Guess who has to figure out how to improve the photos? They need them this weekend.

 

I guess before I go home, I'll have to do some color enhancement and see if I can take chicken shit and make it into chicken salad!

 

Oh yea... Sherrie's in a rare bad mood!

Writer's Mode

I'm getting ready to go into writer's mode. Those of you I chat with or send frequent emails...well, I hope you understand if I seem distracted or withdrawn. I'm doing the Nanowrimo project...that means 50K words in 30 days... last year I had a story in my head... I saw it and I wrote it... and I think it turned out fairly well. But this year... well I don't... at least not like I did with the Irish Pirate novel. I've got some characters in mind and some scenarios but I need to develop them into people I can see in my head.

 

So what does this mean??? It means that I retreat into my private imaginary world and work on character profiles, figure out the setting and location for the story...etc and so forth.

 

Last year I had one person...whom I don't really talk to much anymore...get mad at me for not being attentive to her emails or IM's. So I'm warning some of you now... I will be distracted during NOVEMBER and don't take it personally.

 

 

Quinzaines...a lesson short form poetry

Gather round, chickadees... today is Quinzaine poetry day...

"Quinze" in French means fifteen. A quinzaine is an unrhymed verse of fifteen syllables distributed in three lines. The first line makes a statement and the next two lines ask a question relating to the statement.
Here is the pattern:

Line 1: Statement of 7 syllables
Line 2: Beginning of question with 5 syllables
Line 3: End of question with 3 syllables

A few of mine:

In a room, a candle burns.
Does it long to be
a bright star?
~~*~~

Moments fly away on breeze.
When the wind stops will
time stand still?
~~*~~

It occurred to me that when an acccomplished poet who masters poetry and can actually do adequate closed form styles--that doing them can be a Palor Trick...something to entertain the masses and also a way of Grandstanding~showing off. lol....

Hey look at what I can do...

11 pm

...........Fort Bragg is active tonight. Or at least the sky overhead is. Since around 9 pm, I've heard flocks of helicopters...hmm do helicopters flock or would they be more like a gander? They're flowing overhead now, so low you can see their soft bellies.

 

Earlier I had the TV on...loud. They roared above it, which frightened me a little. I'm alone tonight and the sound seemed haunting. I've turned off the TV and there is only silence... well, except my hip belt. Its got a zillion coins dangling on it and I keep saying I'll go dance in a minute, which turns into hours.

 

Just think...those guys out there are training right now...and will be sent into war. God Bless them.

The Flame of Autumn

The flame of autumn under a lapis sky
burns the hollows of my soul, blue etched fire.
I cannot remember an autumn that was so rich
in gold and embers, casting a glow on the ground.

You are the evening star, so distant.
Every sparkle a winking eye daring me to wish.
Autmn highlights gleem in your hair.
You cast starlight, the blood of hope in your veins.

Once again autumn has arrived and I smile;
The soft fur of a doe blending with foliage,
the cry of a hawk as it flies over red-tipped trees,
and the burning of morning fog off the landscape.

The days are fiery and beautiful, autumn-born fruit.
But the nights fire heaven in a way only lovers know.
You stargaze down as I look up. The memory of our kiss
and autumn's first leaf, flaming to the ground.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~
First poem in a week... my muse is to be complimented. lol

Let's see...

.......................its been a quiet day so far. Dad went to F-ville to a photo lab. The phone hasn't rang much and I haven't had many walk-ins. Well, except one guy who thinks he can take a blow torch and melt glass away from a photo. I told him it wouldn't work. That I could copy through the glass. But like he said...what do I know about blow torches???

I told him to call me if it works... I don't expect to hear from him. lol

 

Walked over the the bakery and cursed the new restaurant for making the air smell so yummy. Got a bottle of water and a gingerbread man cookie. Ate his legs so he wouldn't run away.

 

My brother is going to Florida with my cousin today. He'll be gone until sometime Thurs. That means I'll have the house to myself tonight and Wed--something of a rarity of late.

What to do..what to do... (is that my wicked inner self whispering in my ear... should I listen????)

 

Since I'm about a week ahead of my work, I think I'll try to write a few poems today. Its been over a week and my muse will get lazy if I don't kick her.

Postal Clerk Prototype 932DRF-621 Patent Pending

In the Lumberton Post Office a new prototype of Window Clerk is being tested--a postal employee that actually smiles and makes jokes. According to the local Postmaster, the concept is innovative and approached with some skepticalism from the local population.

When asked what their opinion of the new Window Clerk, most of the interviewees ask to remain anonymous due to the fear that their mail would end up in Cleveland. But a few brave souls weren't afraid to speak their minds. One lady said that for sure Hell has frozen over, because when she asked for an odd number of stamps, the window clerk smiled and said it wasn't a problem. When she paid, he counted back her change in song!

A Window Clerk with a sense of humor is something this blogger found amusing.

mmhmm

............today when I put on one of my daily bras ---the stern ones lol... when I put it on, I had to use the second hook. Wow... blew me away! Then a sudden fear arrived...what if my boobs were shrinking...so I ran to the mirror and looked... phew... they weren't... I was D same cup size as always ...lol.

 

 

Brimstone and Fire Religion

(an old journal post--that I'm posting here. I was in a debate earlier today about the church invasion downtown. 99% of these new churches are splits from other churches. It seems that instead of working out problems, they are divorcing each other and creating new churches.)

 

I grew up attending a Fire and Brimstone Southern Baptist Church. I lived an eighth of a mile away from it. I could see it from the yard.  In fact, we (My step-sisters, Lisa and me) cleaned it on Saturdays, until I was 12.  My job was dusting the pews and making sure the hymn books were in place.

When Dad left us, I was 5. A year or so later, Mom remarried a man old enough to be her father. He had three teenage daughters at home. Almost like the Brady Bunch but different. Those years we spent living on the farm while Ellis (my step-father) was alive were some of the happiest times of my life. It was during these years that prayer and the importance of believing in God were instilled in my brain.

I loved going to Church. My Sunday school teachers were good people who made the lessons understandable. The Preachers that we had all were a bit intimidating to a degree. They were prone to running around when the Spirit moved them. Many folks shouted Amen's and some would even do their own form of Spiritual dancing. I would watch and think to myself that one day when I was older that I would be jumping around singing the Lord's praises too.

I sang in the children's choir and then in the youth choir. I felt God in me when I sang. I could sing sweeter than any angel. Above Heaven is where song would take me.  I eventually went on to direct the children's choir when I was 13. I did this until I reached 18. The only reason I stopped was because the church hired a music director. I kept singing in the young adult choir. I felt closest to God when I sang.

Working with the children in the Church, also made me feel God. I taught the 5 and 6 year old kids for about 3 years. I started when I was 15. I tried to explain how God was in everything that we do and think and feel. We just have to take notice. With my artistic skills, we drew and painted and made all kinds of unique things to help them understand the lessons we studied.

Then after, high school I started working full time at a nursing home plus attended Pembroke State University (UNC-P) full time. I had to give up my Sunday school class and cut back some of my attendance. That was the year that I found out that Churches are institutions where if one's lucky, God lives in.

I always thought that everyone around me were dedicated Godly Christians. Yes, we had a few token backsliders, as all churches do. But the summer of 1982, my Godly Church had a big scandal with the Preacher and a few of the older college age girls. On top of it, folks thought that the music director wasn't making the choir sing as good as his paycheck sang. They declared that I did a better job with the children's choir. I wasn't there to help most of the time due to working Sundays and also it wasn't his fault that the ones singing weren't angelic sounding.

People that were once good Christians in my eyes were suddenly spiteful and mean gossips. The church split with many of our members fighting and not speaking to each other. Even my own relatives were spitting our vile and rude comments about other members. My uncle and his family moved to another church as many others did too.

I remember going to Sunday school and preaching during this time and feeling the tension in the air. I tried to sing and didn't reach the above Heaven status that I had always felt since childhood. I realized as I sang, with tears in my eyes that God wasn't in our church anymore. The Devil had slipped in during the arguments and discord. I quit going to church.

A month or so later, I moved to Greenville and began going to ECU. I tried churches but could never find God in them. I could never recapture that feeling I was so used to in any of the churches and still can't find it today. Over the last 15 years, the studio has worked with different churches in putting together church directories. In 90%, we got caught in crossfire from the divisions within the church. Now as I drive by different churches, I can't help but wonder what evils lurk in the walls. Maybe I'm being pessimistic. But its how I feel

I used to worry about not attending church. But now, I don't. God is where you are if you believe.

Raise your hands...

..........................if you believe that we bloggers will start having problems posting and editing now that Google is in charge?

 

(Both of mine are up!)

Story to Tell?

 

 

I guess within all of us are stories to tell. I've been doing some soul searching today, wondering if I have enough words to fill a 50 K + story. Is there a story within me that needs to be written? Is it creative and not the usual run of normal stories that we find daily on the bookshelves? Will I be able to write it with the emotion and dedication a good writer succeeds in doing?

 

Here at work, I have a folder I keep little nothings in. Stuff like thank you notes from customers, addresses and some other correspondence. I was looking for a letter a photo finishing company sent to me in 97, offering me a job. Not to send a delayed answer but to see if they had a website online. (I need a new source for g-paper prints).

 

In my search I came across an email that I had printed on Aug 13, 2001. It was from Robert--the soldier I so dearly loved. I don't remember stuffing it in the folder. And seeing it sent a wave of sadness over me. Here I thought I was okay, especially after taking that silly quiz.  I realize that there are some loves I won't ever truly forget.

 

In this email, he express his fears of the future...of what would happen to us down the road...how he was afraid of loving me, afraid that he would end up as just another character in one of my stories.

 

A character in one of my stories... how sad to think that...to fear that. I remember fervently reassuring him that he would never be 'another' character in a story. That he was more than that... and he was! I think he's the last man I've ever really totally unconditionally loved... but time has a way of mending loss--even if we think we can never get over loving someone...in many ways we do, though we refuse to believe it. We somehow bury the pain and continue to live.

 

Now as time has softened the blow of his departure...I can't promise that he won't end up as a character in one of my stories. He just may. If I had of known then, that maybe he would, I would have reassured him that yes, he will end up as a character but not to worry...I put a lot of time and love into my writing and he should be honored that I would put him on such a revered plane.

A Test About Being over Your last Relationship

This quiz was on my hotmail homepage... so I took it! I boldfaced my answers...Now you try...

Are you too close to your last relationship? Wondering if you're
over your ex? Take this quick quiz to find out if your past
relationships have been left behind for good.

1. How are you handling your last break-up?
A- Still have a shrine to your ex in your bedroom. (Score = 1)
B- Finally stopped writing that letter every week telling him/her
you've changed. (Score = 2)
C- Still get a pang at the sound of your ex's name. (Score = 3)
D- Hold fond memories of your time together, but are ready to start
something new. (Score = 4)
E- Are in danger of having a restraining order issued against you.
(Score = -1)

2. When it comes to love, you are:
A- Hopeless -- "I'll never find anyone as good as my ex." (Score = 1)
B-Resigned -- "It never works out. Just look at my track record."
(Score = 2)
C- Cautiously optimistic -- "I suppose it could happen." (Score = 3)
D-Positive -- "Eventually we're going to find each other." (Score = 4)
E- Bitter -- "What else could I be after my last relationship?" (Score = -1)

3. When you meet someone new, you:
A- Brush them off because they have the same name as your ex. (Score = 1)
B- Reject them for having similar interests or physical attributes to
your ex. (Score = 2)
C- Wonder if you're ready to date again. (Score = 3)
D- Stay philosophical-- meeting someone is pretty harmless whether
you're ready to date or not. (Score = 4)
E- Wish they were your ex. (Score = -1)

4. Your New Year's resolution was to:
A-Find someone just like your ex. (Score = 1)
B- Get rid of the memorabilia from your past relationships. (Score =2)
C- Attempt to finally leave the past in the past. (Score = 3)
D- Find someone you can really build a relationship with. (Score = 4)
E- Camp out in front of your ex's house until s/he takes you back.
(Score = -1)

5. Based on your last relationship, what movie best describes your
feeling about love:
A-"Bridge On the River Kwai" -- Love, like war, is hell.(Score = 1)
B- "Fight Club" -- It was a battle royale. (Score = 2)
C- "Freaky Friday" -- It was a little weird. (Score = 3)
D- "You've Got Mail" -- If I date enough, I'm bound to find the right
person. (Score = 4)
E- "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" --Love is scary and bloody. (Score= -1)

Less than 0: The only thing you're over is the top. It might be time
to seek professional help to get you past your past.

0-5: Ooph. You're still smarting from your last relationship. Until
you leave it behind, you won't be in a position to find a better
match.

6-10: The past is living in your present. Why not shed the baggage
you brought with you and find a new suitcase to fill?

11-15: You're almost over your last break-up. Take a deep breath,
toss out the last of the photos and search for a new sweetie here.

16-20: You've successfully recovered from your last relationship and
are ready to love again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
My score is 17. But my answers to some of the questions weren't on there. lol

unity?

There's a big debate locally that's been going on for as long as I can remember...its about unity of the races in Robeson County. We're divided almost evenly among blacks, whites, Lumbee Indians and now Mexicans. I'm sure its like this in other places too. I'm sad to say that there is a lot of racism in our area.

 

A while ago, I went for coffee at the bakery. About 3 stores down from it is the DMV-License Plate Agency. A little old Indian lady fell right in front of the door. I was at the door of the bakery and heard her cry out. As I ran over to her, I heard car doors open and slam shut, and feet hitting the pavement. There were at least ten others coming to her aid besides me. Even the guy working on the fire hyrant across the street came running. It was an Indian guy and a black lady who helped her up. I brushed the dirt off her skirt as another white lady helped the black lady look for signs of injury. I stepped back and watched as she was helped inside the LPA to sit on a bench and regain her composure. All around me were people of all races asking, "Is she all right? Did she get hurt? Should we call an ambulance?" 

 

Since the situation was under control, I went back to my task of getting coffee. You know, it struck me that I had witnessed a poignant moment--we can unify the races when it really matters. It all comes down to what kind of person you are.

Honey I'm hooooommeeeeee

 

 

I had a great trip! Everyone needs to getaway once in a while. I'll probably write more about it later. Right now I've got something else on my mind.

Avon Calling

My Grandmother Genevia sold Avon for almost 30 years. She believed in it. She was a door-to-door saleswoman until 1988, when she had a heart attack. After that, she didn't sell it. And when she died horribly from an auto wreck in 1995, her living room was covered in boxes of Avon. There were 63 boxes stacked taller than me. It was my duty to go through them. ( I still haven't gone through about 10 boxes) I found all kinds of stuff....awards dating back to 1968, makeup-perfume-novelties dating back to 1965. A mother load of Avon.

But what to do with it! I knew some of it was valuable. But how much was some of this stuff worth??? So I naturally turned to my Avon Lady. She didn't know. She called her superior, who didn't know. I called the local headquarters. They didn't know. I called the 800 number on the brochure. They gave me a number to call. Then that number gave me another number to call...and so on. I spent a month trying to find out where I could get information on vintage Avon.

Then luck struck in the form of a receptionist whom I was re-directed to on one of my Avon calling excursions. She knew of a Collector's Book and also of a collector's mailing list. Gave the the info and I almost wept. She was by far the kindest person I had dealt with. I called our local bookstore and they ordered it for me.

The makeup and perfume had no shelf life according to the info I gathered. Most of it was dated in the late 70's to mid 80's. The collectable stuff was mainly the bottles, plates and things like that. Luck was with me...Downtown Lumberton has a yard sale every Memorial and Labor Day Monday. People rent spaces for a small price and sell their junk. I sold the old makeup, soap, lotion, perfume (not the collectable decanters) and other stuff. Man, I made a mint! I outplayed, outwitted and outsolded everyone! Vendors were coming to me to get change for $20's and $100's. I was proclaimed Queen of the Yard Sale and afterwards a parade was given in my honor. (ok...being dramatic lol).

It took me a few months to sort through the boxes of collectables and put them in categories. 99% of the jewelry wasn't collectable, so I made a sign for the window that read 'Vintage Avon...Inquire within." A customer gave me a jewelry case type counter with a class top and class sides. I put the jewelry in there and locked the case. In fact I still have jewelry in it. Though its getting to the last nitty gritty.

Then out of the blue Juanita, the local head of Avon dropped in. This was in 96, a year after Grandma had died. My friend Dale was helping us still. She and Dad were working on putting together a wedding album. I was upstairs spraying photos. When I came down I could see Juanita in the mirror at the front from where I stood at my back counter. (She used to be my avon lady before she was promoted. I never cared for her because she was pushy.)

Dad said, "We can't sell Avon. We're not licensed. And we'll get sued."

"What?" I frowned. Then Juanita piped in.

"If you pay $20 you will be a licensed Avon lady and can sell your old Avon." (She had been after me for years to start selling.)

"That's crazy. This stuff is paid for already and its old." Dad had taken down the sign and gave it to me. I stood staring at both of them. Dale was working on the couch.

I walked to the back. My mind roaring and I could hear Juanita talking about how much trouble she could get us into, etc. I blew. I totally blew up! I marched up to the front and interrupted her and Dad's conversation. (My words below may not be word for word but they are close).

"Let me tell you something, Juanita. My Grandmother sold Avon for almost 30 yrs. She loved Avon, she lived Avon...she breathed it. She bought boxes of the stuff. Invested a lot of her money into it and sold from her own supply. When she died we found 63 boxes in her living room...63. I am the one who's been dealing with what to do about them.

I called Betty (my avon lady). I called you and I called the number for the office in New York. NONE of you helped me. None of you tried to find out what I should do with it. I spent a whole month trying to find out what the value on some of this stuff is. A receptionist advised me, after lord knows how many calls. A receptionist!"

Now you're telling me I can't sell the Avon that's already paid for. This isn't new Avon. It's vintage. Me selling it here is no different that selling it at a yard sale or flea market. I'm not going to pay you to sell it. I'll call every one of those stupid numbers again before I do that. I'll give the stuff away before I become a saleswoman so I can sell Avon that's already been paid for--Avon that's out-of-date."

During my tirade, Dad's mouth fell open. He stepped back from me. Juanita sat there, staring and working her jaws as if she were holding back a few things. And Dale froze over her work, eyes wide open. Because I never get angry. I always handle situations with calmness, sweetness and a smile. To Dad and Dale...I was suddenly a stranger. Like my usual bursts of anger, it was over fast and I turned away before Juanita could say anything, went back to my work. I couldn't hear her and Dad talking but I could tell by his voice he was agreeing with her. That he was telling her to not mind me--I was still distraught over my Grandmother's death. (I was but that wasn't the reason I was angry).

When she left, Dale came back to see if I was ok. I was planning my counter-attack. So I called Betty to find out who was over Juanita. She said she would call the lady and...low and behold the lady called me. Juanita was WRONG. I didn't need to become a salesperson to sell vintage Avon. Juanita never came by again. Nor did she call to apolgize.

There is a purpose to this story...I'm slowly getting there. My Grandmother believed in Avon. I grew up on its perfume, its jewelry and as an adult I still use some of it. Recently I found out that the Perfect Wear Eyeliner is discontinued. I've never known Avon to discontinue an item and not replace it with a better product.

So I wrote a letter, asking why they discontinued it and if it would be re-issued. (My Avon lady didn't know--ha, not surprising). I was told in a reply to my email that the Perfect Wear line was not being made and that there were none in stock and no plans to make more. I wrote back and asked what product line was replacing it. According to them, there is none.

I've spent 10 years wearing this eyeliner. I've tried at least 6 other brands and none last as long, none do not smear on my eyelid and below my eye--Only Perfect Wear. It stays on, lasts long and never irritates my eyes. And Avon has killed it. So I wrote back, mourning and explaining this to Avon. They sent me a short reply saying they were sorry I was unhappy but there was no more Perfect Wear and never will be.

Well, they lost a customer! Maybe I'm a small fish to lose. I do know this--I don't believe in Avon anymore. I'm still holding a grudge from their aloofness in 1996. I'm angry that I have to waste time and money finding a product that is to replace a product that no one in 10 years has ever succeeded in doing. I should send a bill to Avon, once my search is over. Hell, I just may do that.

Survivor

.....................................has jumped the shark! Well, that's my humble opinion. No surprises! I knew they were going to change the tribes. I knew Bubba was going to get kicked out. And I knew Jeff Probst was going to wear the same clothes. I thought I would forever long to live in his dimples but last night...I flipped the channel over to Spike TV and watched most of an old CSI episode.

 

They need another Johnny Rotten to liven things up a bit.

The Fortune Cookie Rule

 

After dance last night, my brother and I went to our favorite Chinese restaurant. Delicious as always. When the fortune cookies arrived, I was finishing up a bowl of Hot and Sour soup. My brother reaches for the cookie closest to him, then puts it back and grabs the other, exclaiming "Hey, this one has two cookies in it."

 

I protested, "Hey! You can't do that. You're suppose to take the first one you touch. Don't go fondling the cookies. Jeez!"

 

"I didn't know there were fortune cookie rules. So I broke one. Big Deal. But this one has two in it. I've never seen one with two."

 

"Well, its my rule. You imprint your essence on the cookie when you touch it."

 

 He snorted out, "Yeah right!"

 

So I grabbed his cookie and opened it. "Let me read what YOUR fortune says."

 

It was: "The hard times will begin to fade, joy will take their place."

 

I laughed, "See the Redskins will do better. Or ...the Yankees will win and you will win your bet."

 

"Yeah Right! You kill me, Sher Bear. You can apply that to yourself too, you know."

 

"What does my fortune say?"  I asked, leaning forward trying to read it in his hand.

 

He laughed, "Hey I think this really is your reading." Then he read it. "It is up to you to create your own adventures today!"

 

"See...you have my fortune cookie. I'm off on an adventure this weekend."

 

"Then whose cookie is this one." He pointed to the second one in the wrapper.

 

"Hmm..." I looked at his crutches leaning against the table. "Your crutches."

 

He snorted a short laugh. "I knew you were going to say that." He pulled the fortune out of the cookie and started laughing. He tried to read it but couldn't so I took it from him.

 

"He who climbs a ladder must begin at the first step."

 

I don't like how the images of the boys posted here. I may delete them tonight or in the am and try a larger resolution. But they are cute, aren't they?

William and Ben Fall 2004

My Nephews Ben and William

I ask the world questions and am answered with questions.

The circuitous meanderings grows old, like the dying grass of summer.

Life never gives me straight talk, the sun's rays blocked by clouds.

My only hope is that all this leads to a beautiful sunrise eventually.

 

Double Letters

 

 

I noticed Monday that Ben's speech therapy is beginning to work. He's succeeded in dropping the double D that's not in my name. He was calling me Sheddie. Now its Sher-dee. I noticed he can't say puppet. He says Pushpit. I thought me meant for me to completely close my sock drawer but what he meant was that he wanted to play puppets--with my socks. So we made sock pushpits and did a few song and dance numbers.

 

For some reason when I'm sitting in the den with the boys, they have to sit on me. No matter where I sit--couch, recliner or over-stuffed chair they are sitting on me. I don't mind but Ben tends to use the parts that stick out as handles to pull himself up ont my lap--the parts that stick out are my breasts. When William sees Ben on the throne of Sher-dee's lap, he has to join. What do they do...they fight but who gets it in the nose with an elbow from one or both? Moi! They kiss me and say they're sorry but still... a blow to the nose is no(se) fun.  I told them that if they keep it up, my nose is going to get knocked off and then my glasses will fall down on my chin and I won't be able to see. I demonstrate of course, which they find hilarious. Kids!

 

 

 

 

My Horror Scope for today:

 

Whatever -- or whoever -- you want will be impossible to stop thinking about now, so don't even try. You may want to distract yourself for a few hours with a little something called work, though.

 

lol I'm laughing here... cuz its soooo true

www.nanowrimo.org

 

National Novel Writing Month is November. I've been debating about doing it again this year... writing a 50 K word novel in one month last year was very taxing. But I did it. The question is do I have a 50 K + word story inside me.

 

I think I will do some writing exercises this week during my spare time to see if I can stand the pressure.. yea... that's the ticket...

Each Act
Jigme Lingpa

When the eagle soars in the endless blue,
its shadow races after, far below.
Yet space does not divide; bird and
shadow are linked. So too each act --
each choice and consequence.

Recycle your soda cans and stop thinking you have to be Gandhi.

18th Century Tibet

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I get a daily 'dig' and this one is blog worthy.

Sneezing, cinnamon and handbags

This morning I dropped by to attend a ribbon cutting ceremony before going to work. It was one of those fast deals where everyone scattered after sipping a thimble sized cup of punch and nibbling a chicken salad sandwich sans the crust.

I had about 30 mins to kill before work, so I stopped at a dime store to see if they had any 'big dolls with hair.' My cousin Lee's oldest girl Jordan will be 4 this weekend and wants a "big baby doll with hair that I can brush." Man they are hard to find! But I found some in the store and decided to come back after work when I had more time to inspect each one and figure out which was the one for Jordan.

As I was walking through the store (why is the toy section of any store at the very back?) I passed a Christmas display--Santas, Snowmen, Angels, Trees...the whole North Pole... and a big display of cinnamon scented pine cones...which sent me into a series of sneezing. I'm not talking 1 or 2 sneezes, I'm talking 10 or more. Non-stop eye-watering, nose dripping, breath stealing sneezing! I couldn't find a tissue in my handbag. The tissues were on the other side of the store and I knew I would never make it without wiping my eyes and blowing my nose.

I was on the verge of using my sleeve to wipe my nose like some street urchin when a little black lady appeared and said, "Oh you poor chile. Let me see if I got a Kleenex?"

I tried to say thank you but sneezed. Through watery eyes, I watched her open the biggest handbag I've ever seen and move stuff around until she pulled out a small box of tissue. She offered it to me and I quickly snatched out two and blew my nose. She patted my arm and told me to take some more. I thanked her and quickly beat a trail out of the store.

Now after taking an allergy pill, my sinuses, eyes and nose are happy. As I sit here thinking about what happen I realize that I will never again make fun of a person with a huge handbag...because you never know when one may come to your rescue.

I was thinking about writing earlier, how I haven't written a poem since the weekend...how I need to write something. Then it hit me, I have written and do so almost daily (not including IM's and email). This blog is a notebook and I write here often. I took a few moments to look over the posts and realized in almost every one I write there is a sniplet of a story usually with a point to be made. The subconscious writer inside me can't help but perform, even when I rant or ramble.

I think that the day the writer inside me dies and there are no words left, even for a weblog post then that will truly be the day my soul dies.

the photo program

I'm amazed at how long some of the posts in my Sher Ku blog take to show up.

I posted this morning at 9 pm and they didn't show up until after 10.

 

 

 

 

Book Covers

I went for a bottle of water a while ago. Forgot to bring one from home this am. While I was out I decided to walk over to one of the mail drop boxes and post a letter. After I did that I decided to drop by the jewelry store and see Mary--the proprietor. Haven't stopped in to gossip in a while.

The store wasn't crowded so I went in. There was a guy who works at the courthouse, talking to Mary. He has the biggest ego in town. He's an attractive man but his smile doesn't reach his eyes. For the last 10 years, I haven't existed. He can be in the same store downtown when I'm in there... like at WC's and ignore me...even as the people he's talking to are including me in the conversation. Since I've never been attracted to him and think of him as "DickHead," its never bothered me.

I spoke to Mary and felt the guy eye-rating me. Something he's never done before. I went over to the silver case to see what new charms she had. Yes, I have a charm bracelet that I wear on occasion. She and Dickhead were talking and laughing . Then she got a phone call and excused herself from the conversation. She went to the back of the store and I stood a case down from Dick. He said, "How are you doing today?"

I looked around. To be sure he wasn't talking to me!

"You in the red...I'm talking to you." He did mean me.

"Um... doing ok but the day's young." I smiled politely at his laugh that didn't reach his eyes. Then asked, "umm... and you?"

"Doing terrific. Mary's trying to sell me a watch that I don't need."

"Yes, you have to watch out for Mary. She's sneaky." I was beginning to feel slightly strange. Not sure what to say and wishing I hadn't stopped in. So I edged further down the display case.

"WC's store is closed today." Dick said, trying to continue our conversation.

"Yes I know. WC asked me to print the sign that's on their door." I was ready to leave but felt I would wait until Mary came back from her call, so I could tell her I would be back later.

"Can I ask you a question?" Dickhead wanted to ask me a question.

"Tuesday is question day. Ask me tomorrow." For some reason he was irritating me. I felt uncomfortable with his attention. Almost as if I too close to a web and there was a huge hunger spider waiting.

"Funny lady. Wes thinks a lot of you. Did you know that?" Like I said, his laugh never reaches his eyes.

"Yes. He's one of my best friends. His parents look out for me too. They are great people."

"Have you thought about stopping by the B W Grille for an afterwork drink today?"

"Ummm no. I usually am ready to jet home once the clock tells me its that time of day. Why?" What a strange question!

"Oh, I thought I would buy you a drink this afternoon. I stop in on the way home for a drink. Nice place to unwind. You should give it a try." He eye-rated me again.

"Maybe I will one day when I feel the urge. Thanks for the heads up." Closer and closer to the door I skulked.

"I'm trying to figure out what's different about you." The eye-rating continued.

"It's autumn. My leaves are changing. Well, I've got to run back to the studio. Tell Mary I'll slip in here when I've got more free time. Well, take care." I was gone before he could say another word.

Since I've started dancing again, working hard at it..finding a confidence in my dancing that is carrying over to my everyday life... it is very obvious physically. My body is getting more toned, even my walk is different. I had to get some new clothes because my old stuff was hanging on me. So yes, I'm changing... and yes I'm different...to me its a subtle change.

Whatever it is Dickhead's noticed me after 10 years. But the skinny is...I'm thinking that Wes told him I belly dance. Its a running joke between us that I'm a pole-dancing cootchie mamma. Friday, I stopped in the store to pick-up a package that UPS left there and Dickhead was in there talking to Wes, who kidded me about owing me $$ for a lap dance.

Sorry Mr. Dickhead... me no suckee... me no dancee. I'm not shallow...no more that the average person. There are times when I wasn't attracted to someone but most of the time its attitude or personality that turns me off. Shallow Dicks are the biggest turnoffs of all. Just because my cover's changed a little..doesn't mean the contents have, Mr. DickHead.

To Robert

hey Hon... love your Sher Ku's!
See you have a haiku heart... I believe you'll always have poetic words in your soul...no matter what form they appear in.

Nip Tuck

 

 

I am now a devout fan. I rented the first season DVD set and what a show!!! I had a marathon of it this weekend. And the bright spot for those of you who may be dying to experiement the nip tuck sensation is that the premiere will be replayed on (Sunday) Oct 17 at 10 pm.  How lucky can you get!!!

Jack Handey is my Soul Mate

"I wish everybody would have to have an electric thing implanted in our heads that gave us a shock whenever we did something to disobey the president. Then somehow I get myself elected president."  Jack Handey (Saturday Night Live)

I love this guy's humor. Its insanely warped. Much like mine at times, though I do my best to keep it under wraps...well most of the time.

My pussy willow...I love how it reaches to heaven.

The Weight of October

 

There is a tiredness that comes from feeling so much;

Every grain of salt living in the ocean's mist,

The wind ruffling the feathers of a sea gull in flight,

The shadows that hide in the minuscule crow's feet of my eyes.

 

I feel an invisible hand on the swell of my left breast,

seeking to find my faintly beating heart.

Its weight so light, it feels as if it will crush me--invisibility does that.

You would think its burden to be feathery, not overwhelming.

 

There are moments when words fail a poet,

when paint and canvas do not motivate an artist,

times when music falls on deaf ears, the magic lost.

I cannot for the life of me find beauty in my surroundings.

 

The subtle shades of summer fade into autumn fire.

I feel its death in the air through the slight shift in temperature.

October is here with its colorful floor show,

the spotlight on fire and gold with frosty coatings--beauty sublime.

 

October and its chilly hand fingers my soul, heavy stone of autumn.

I will lie underneath a maple tree, letting the leaves cover me

until I am a new hue of autumn, vibrant in ruby and maize.

Maybe if i become an extension of its beauty, I'll feel this tiredness leave me.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sometimes I am overwhelmed with my life. Oh most can't tell. I somehow maintain a smile and a laugh. My hair and makeup crisply fresh and masking my inner strife.

Mainly this happens in October. So looms another birthday, the almost end of the year and a reminder that I haven't done all I wanted to do this year. I feel as if I am in a beautiful enclosed garden with grapevines and flowers...stone benches that encourage me to sit around and enjoy the beauty of my world. But instead of doing that, all I can focus on is a bird flying overhead, so free...and I long to take flight.

 

Boy am I rambling today or what. But last night I felt the pressure of hopelessness crush me and did the only thing a poet can do...that is write it out. Today I feel much better. I am wearing my true face, not the one I hide behind when I am in turmoil. I think that's a good thing...being able to relax and maybe finding some joy in the day in whatever form it arrives in.

Say Monkey

Lisa surprised me and dad by bringing the boys over to have pictures made at noon.

They looked so grown in their crisp clean clothes. And they listened to instructions.

William was so proud of himself.

 

 Both boys giggled when Dad said, "Say Monkey" and they said "Monkey" ..then Dad said, "Who called me a Monkey." Willaim raised his hand and said, "William did."  Ben said, "Me too. Me too."

 

Lisa took a few shots with them. I wish I had been dressed to take some. I am wearing a denim shirt with jeans today. My hair is straight and I don't have much make-up on. Maybe I'll bring them over one day to take some photos of just us.

 

When I we print the photos, I'll have to scan some and post them here. I love my boys. lol

Thursday

.............all day long at that!

And its Survivor night... and CSI and Without a Trace.

I'm thinking Eliza or Julie will get the boot and Brady will get the boot if the guys lose.
My theory and I'm sticking to it.

I don't watch many regular TV shows. Survivor, CSI, sometimes Without a Trace and...Reno 911.
And now another show I've discovered Nip Tuck.

Since I am printing orders and have a few mins to spare and there isn't much else on my mind, I'll write why I like each.

Survivor--Jeff Probst. He's soo smarmy and handsome. Those dimples --I'll say it again..."I want to live in one and vacation in the other." It's a reality show I know. Many people make fun of reality tv and to be honest I do too. But after all this time, Survivor hasn't lost its edge. I was worried after the all-star's season because I felt the 'pros' playing the game were not pros at all, making stupid choices and letting the Rob-Amber unit run the show. But as usual, Mark B has thrown some curves to put Survivor back on my chart of tops. Thank You Mark ...and thank you Jeff Probst for being so hot. lol

CSI--I'm a detective at heart. And a fan of gore! Oh baby, I love a mystery. CSI takes a case or two an episode and makes them so interesting. There are a bunch of cool characters to. Grissom, the mysterious head of CSI. Brass, the chief of police whose wit is as sharp as his shooting. Warwick with his sexy green eyes and a gambling addict who manages to keep on top of his addiction, Catherine--ex-exotic dancer and second in command, who has fought to be a career woman and mother. Nick, the cool one. Sara, who has to struggle with the attraction she and Grissom have. Then there is the Lab Guy...Greg. His hair over the seasons has gone through some interesting changes. Though the show at times pushes the envelope with the gore, it is still entertaining and a challenge to figure out. There's enough character exchange in each episode as not to take away from the story line...leaving just enough to whet your appetite.

Without a Trace--this one's on the bottom of my list. It has its moments and to be honest, I don't watch all the episodes. I usually practice my mystic belly dance if the show isn't interesting.

Reno-911--This show is all improv! A play-off on the Cops show. These guys are so funny. According to the creators (my source the commentaries on the first season DVD) they don't script it. They make up a scene and then get into character and play off each other. Now that takes great talent.

Nip Tuck--I've only seen a few episodes (I've been watching the first season on DVD and plan to catch season 2 re-runs). Its disturbing, full of sex and carnalness, moral decisions made wrongly and thus payment is very harsh. They push the envelope and I love it. Bold, crisp and definitely a show you won't forget right away. My favorite character is Christian-- he's a whore dog but and oh so sexy. I won't go into the explicitness of what I could do to him... lol

Well, I've succeeded in filling the time as I print...now back to retouching