Sunday, September 23, 2007

The Hallelujahs

We live in a very small town, close to a very big town. To say that it is predominantly Hispanic is the understatement of the universe. So everyone pretty much knows everyone else, and so on. Down the street a little ways is one whole block of Morales. Mr. & Mrs. Morales bought the lot years ago, and now their four boys all live on it. It is like a Hispanic version of “keeping up with the joneses”. When one brother builds a gazebo, all the others have to have one. The only problem is they haven’t really kept up with the property and it has become quite the eyesore.

But here is the real story.

Across the street from the Morales brothers is a small church. And when I say small, I mean TINY. Literally no more than 1,000 square feet. So on Wednesday night, and Sunday morning and night, the “Hallelujahs”, as they have come to be known in town, have their little church service. Evidently the Morales do not share the same religious views as the Hallelujahs, and the sound of their hymns echoing across the street three times a week is somewhat enraging. So after taking the Hallelujahs to court fruitlessly several times over the last few years, they have found their own way to combat the “glorious noise”. Although I had heard of the “war” I had never witnessed it until tonight. I was headed to pick up some grub from the Mexican food diner down the street, and I had my windows down, as it was such a lovely night. From the Hallelujah side, I heard some vaguely familiar church tune, and from the Morales side (as I politely waved to three of the four outside under their gazebo, drinking beer) I heard blasting from an old school boom box propped up by a brick on the gate, good ole rock’n’roll. Every time the Hallelujahs are there, so are the Morales, and their boom box, and Metallica, or whomever happens to be on BOB FM at the time…



Where I grew up, if you had even the semblance of breast tissue, you wore a bra. Only completely white trash girls didn’t wear a bra…period. Now, there were some exceptions, backless evening gowns, tanks with built in bras etc, but there still could not be any signs of movement…or nipple action. I slept in a sports bra for most of my life just in case I had to get up and be seen (fire, tornado, late night visitor) in the middle of the night.

The only place you really saw “bra-less wonders” were in…oohh… maybe the 7-11 on a Saturday morning….you know the ones with orange hair and black roots, flannel pants, and a t-shirt. Flopping about as they got their morning cigarette fix.

So to get to my point…

I have now come across a circle of friends who view “bra-less-ness” differently than I do. They believe that if you have, and I quote “perky” breasts, you should show em off…GO BRA-LESS. I would have NEVER been seen in public in a t-shirt or tank top with no bra, but because of peer pressure, I have to admit, I have run into a few take out food places lately obviously bra-less.

THEN, the other day, I was watching a Whoopi Goldberg interview, and just happened to catch her saying that she NEVER wears a bra. She tried her first few days on the view, but just couldn’t do it. THE WOMAN IS ON NATIONAL TELEVISION AND DOESN’T WEAR A BRA. To her credit, I have never noticed, so I guess that is a good thing. Anyway…I was just wondering, am I way off on this?

Wednesday, September 19, 2007


Ok...first I have to explain that we don't live "in-town" but we don't really live "out-of town". There are no restrictions (of any kind really) no building restrictions, no animal restrictions....nada. It isnt the best part of town, come to think of it though, there is no "good" part of our little zipcode. Luckily, Amy set the house up really well when she bought it and we have nice BIG iron gates.

Ok so now to the "rest of the story" (thank you Paul Harvey)

So all of this to say that our neighbors across the street have quite the brood. They have at least 5 dogs, which even though they see us come and go 4 times a day STILL insist on running to the gate and barking up a storm everytime we come and go (something inside me just wants to run up and bark right back some days), 7 chickens, 2 roosters (which seem to be on some sort of indonesian time, as they NEVER actually crow in the morning) and geese. LOTS OF GEESE. About a month ago, Amy and I were out of town for the weekend, and when we got back, our neighbor Bill was outside. Amy stopped to say hi, and came back with quite a story. Evidently on that friday night, something climbed their fence (6 foot chain link) and ATE, not just killed, ATE 15 of their geese. Their "guard dogs" (or guard roosters for that matter) never made a peep, and their weren't a lot of footprints .One poor little goosling survived, but wouldnt have made it long, so Bill finished it off and buried the only body he had. The carnage was evidently quite impressive, and neighbor Bill decided he would hang out on the patio with his shotgun the next night. Fast forward to Saturday morning...the rest of the geese gone, AND the one he had buried..not pretty (Bill went in for a sandwich and fell asleep about 1:30). In a fit of probably not so wise judgement, the next week, our neighbors got 30 more geese... and the next weekend, same story. After the first 10 went Friday night, Bill decided he would put some ibuprofen in hamburger meet and hang it from the tree to "poison the bastard". Amy, with her vast amounts of medical knowledge (really), informed me that while ibuprofen would give him a "wicked stomach ache", and probably make what ever it was "shit like a goose" (I was quick to point out that she meant "shit geese") but that it wouldnt kill it. Sure enough, after that weekend,l 30 more geese gone...the only thing left was one big 'ole goose foot, in front of our mailbox. Oh boy...

So here's my question....what in the world can climb a 6 foot fence, without a sound, and kill and EAT 60 geese in two weeks?

Ever heard the Chupacabra tales?

P.S. In case you are wondering....yes, they have more geese....

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Why I love this woman...

I began my romance with Edna St. Vincent Millay through an actual romance with a brilliant poet in her own rite..(who shall remain nameless)...the first time I saw her sit on the patio with a glass of wine in her hand and perfectly recite Renascence I was mesmerized. Both by the poet before me, and the poet before her, who had birthed those words. From then on, it went from a love to an is the normal transition of these things for me. The more I read, the more my heart ached....the more I connected with her words, the more i felt they were my own. I spent hours reading, memorizing and applying her verse, until it became "useful" in my daily life. I have yet to find a time in my world that is not perfectly and completely conveyed in just one line from Edna St. Vincent Millay's pen.

Here are some of my current favorites~


My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah my foes, and oh, my friends--,
It gives a lovely light!


Death devours all lovely things:
Lesbia with her sparrow
Shares the darkness, --presently
Every bed is narrow.

Unremembered as old rain
Dries the sheer libation;
And the little petulant hand
Is an annotation.

After all, my earstwhile dear,
My no longer cherished,
Need we say it was not love,
Just because it perished?


"Wolf!" cried my cunning heart
At every sheep it spied,
And roused the countryside.

"Wolf!" "Wolf!" ---and up would start
Good neighbors, bringing spade,
and pitchfork to my aid,

At length my cry was known:
Therein lay my release.
I met the wolf alone
And was devoured in peace.

(this was the first one I really hit a nerve for me, it is still my favorite)

And what are you that, wanting you,
I should be kept awake
as many nights as there are days
with weeping for your sake?

And what are you that missing you,
as many days as crawl
I should be listening to the wind
and looking at the wall?

I know a man that's a braver man
and twenty men as kind,
and what are you, that you should be
the one man in my mind?

Yet women's ways are witless ways,
as any sage will tell--
And what am I, that I should love
So wisely and so well?

This was the in the top of my graduation announcements for fit me perfect

...The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake,
Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road
A gateless garden, and an open path:
My feet to follow, and my heart to hold.

This was my Christmas Card last year..

"Not Truth, but Faith it is that keeps the world alive"

Thursday, August 30, 2007


Why is it that at the moment I know that an entire uncomfortable situation can be averted by simply keeping my mouth shut, my tongue turns into that annoying dog from down the street that just wont stay in his own yard...?

The Fates and Their Ant Farm

Funny how the best laid plans can fly out the window with a single look. how a lonely heart can go from so very empty to so very full in only a glance. how your face can literally ache from smiling so much. i hope it lasts. i hope it feels the same tomorrow as it does today. a connection, of the heart and soul and mind. seems so perfect. like two halves who've been wandering around their whole lives and then finally come together like opposite ends of a magnet. chemistry. easy easy conversation. agreement on everything substantial. how strange the fates. what games they play with us their ant farm. every so patiently watching from outside the glass. turning the tables and creating the moments that shape our forever. or lack there of.


Friendship is such a fine line between love and jealousy. magnetic personalities draw people together so hard and fast sometimes i find myself in the middle of someone, with out ever having taken the time to see them...really see. how do you know when to let the walls down. when to be honest and trusting exposing your skeleton (s) and risking judgement and denial. how far do you go, do you push your luck or play it safe and on the surface. do soulmates souls stay connected even when the minds do not. how is it possible to love completely and not know completely. is it jealous to want what they have, but not neccessarily want them to not have it too? overwhelming emotion, not expressable through vocabulary, when i cant even get my mind around that much joy ... how am i supposed to explain it to you, when i cant fully realize it myself.
my line is smudged, allowing love and friendship and need and want and jealously to all run together. and create the current that is you. boundaries...oh, right...never been one of my strong points.

The Brainwash

It is dark in the living room, in a chair, in the corner. The timepiece above the television displays 3:38 am. When something haunts me, hunts me, it helps to not go to sleep. You see, at night, during sleep, that’s when the dreams gain entrance. That minute chance at bliss that was subdued all through the day is allowed it’s moment at night, in the dark, when no one can hear it scream. Then it happens, like the breaking of a dam the thoughts arrive, flooding through the gates as soon as the conscious mind exits preparing the way for the dream.
The dream picks its victims carefully and precisely, knowing full well which inner folds to seduce to gain entry, it seeps though, seemingly innocent, unaware, yet fully intent on its purpose. It floods the cavity, filling the space left by the conscious, allowing the heart a play day, a opportunity to expound on the whims that the brain does not allow. The heart warms and welcomes the love, the lust allowing it to evanesce into the being, the wishes and hopes surge in along with past loves, future wants, and current passions filling the shell with completeness. The play continues without at curtain call, the puppets moving to my own direction, choreographing their every feeling, thought and outcome. Slowly the dawn must break, sending the party away as the clock on the mantle chimes, slowly vaporizing and exiting a la Cinderella back through the eyes, the lips, the fingertips, skirting out leaving just fast enough for the conscious mind to catch a glimpse, to find the slipper, to feel, to see enough, to know what it missed, what it desires, and what is absolutely out of reach, just enough to wash the brain, and break the heart


FAITH is such an interesting phenomenon, though used mostly in a religious context, I am finding more and more that it is just as meaningful in every aspect of our lives.
To have the faith in yourself to trust your path, your intuition, and you muse, both creatively and personally is something that is not easily found nor followed. I want to have faith in the fates, be they themselves, or a higher being or simply our own hearts and desires, that what is meant to be will truly be, that everything really does happen for a reason and that there is a plan for me, my life, my work, and my love. I want to have the faith that what I do is meaningful to others, whether they know it or not, that I am making a difference in their lives be it substantial or small, that my actions speak volumes about my soul, my heart, and my mind. I want to have the faith to take risks, creatively, personally and financially, in order to better myself and those around me. I want to have the faith that I have purpose, in my life and in the lives of others, and that my purpose is inherently good.

The Dance

The dance begins with that small look, a glimmer, a twitch of an eyebrow...Then moves onto a nod, an outstretched hand. The hope of a new beginning. Starting with large distance and proper manners, polite noises and bitten tongues, slowly as it evolves things get faster and more dizzying, the chance to turn back is behind, and forward is your only choice. You think you know exactly what you are stepping into, the time, steps, rhythm....But things are not what they seem, and your view gets tighter in, no more the luxury of the wide angle lens. You feel yourself aching to follow, to be led, the space is nonexistent, you are two halves of one whole, with the line where one starts and the other ends indistinguishable. You find yourself no longer able to carry your own weight, but being supported by the owner of your heart. You fight hard to regain your step, but it has been sacrificed, and long out of your control. As much as you want to hate it, you cant help but love, and feel love, no matter the circumstances, procedure, protocol. As you are swallowed into it, you know that you will never escape, and that you should be far more bothered by that, but you cant help but relish in the total dependency, and the safety of its embrace. You may drift away now and then, but it will always bring you back, where you belong.