Inspirational 55

On bended elbow

she waits

for ideas – nee, inspiration

on a day for which

inspiration seems to have

taken a breather.

Alas!

No need to fear,

a 55 with mind-expansion appears

and growth

becomes

a fact.

Unless, of course, your elbow would take on the shape of a giant Aubergine.

Then, all bets are off.

_____________________________________

This Friday 55 is uniquely inspired by G-Man. It's all his fault.

Want to play along? Write a short, fictional story in 55 words. Leave him a trail of breadcrumbs on his posts. He'll come say hi.

It's Dare - 160

Hold your breath.

Now touch your tongue to your nose.

Are your eyes closed?

Closed tight?

Can you do it?

Of course you can

but will you?

Are you brave enough?

Dare ya.

Dance of the 7 veils

If I snap my fingers, 

filled with cymbals

will you follow?

Is there someone out there

that leads you

draws you

tempts you

awake?

Like a silhouette in the snow

a pond in the frost

or the sun peeking out.

Someplace,  home calls you.

Your mother's voice when the lights come on

Your fathers glare when perfect fails

Do-overs that last for hours and hours

and leave you knowing

you'll never be

IT.

But you sustain,

holding tightly to a dream

and a wish

for a better time, a better place

a warmer heart to hold yours.

Better times are coming

and when they go again

you will still be

warm

safe

loved

HERE.

Shaky 55

She held her breath

Wondering if she would survive

Holding on as the world shook

And the plants fell.

The sky sounded like it came down.

Crashing noises

As dust fell from ceiling tiles.

When the world gathered itself

And caught its breath

The only thing she could ask now...

“Was that another big truck?”

 ___________________________________________

I was honored to host exchange students, who my daughter now 

considers her best friends, from Japan. Two of our three girls are safe, 

but one is still missing, one of the over 18,00 missing and presumed dead. 

Japan, our hearts are with you.

Apologies in 160

më vjen keq

прабач це

съжалявам

抱歉

nagdaramdam

n chwith

désolé

scusa

sentimos

извините

regret

Fyrirgefðu

Sentímolo

申し訳ありません

Atvainojiet

Przepraszam

Ne pare rau

----------------------------------

It takes a big person to admit a mistake

and a stupid person a lifetime to apologies for it.

But one must try.

Mi dispiace tanto per quello che ho fatto, Monkey Man.

What sparkles and comes in a little blue box? - an ode to 55

A bit smaller than she would have thought

But not anything to be ashamed of

The flash of brilliance

Wowed everyone nearby -

Except for him.

As she held out her hand

And showed off her prize -

Words escaped him.

He opened his mouth

But closed it instantly.

Stared at

The 

Tiffany's

Mercedes

Keyring.

Mr Know It All

Play along - and visit all the others who have fun on Friday.

Magic Happens (at least in Hollywood)

After discovering a "chick flicks" section at the small coastal store, I had to share my favorite girlie scene from a movie. (By the way, I posted this more than two year ago, in a completely different section of my life - one I like to file under "If you'd like, you can pretend this never happened" - but I love this silly scene).

Stranger Than Fiction: Harold works as a tax collector, Ana as a baker. She is the light and fluffy and kind-hearted soul to his linear and OCD, number crunching and rather cold personality. Earlier, she'd given him a cookie and he refused it because, as a tax collector, he's not allowed to receive gifts. He offends her by paying her for the cookie when she was just trying to be kind.

Harold Crick: [runs to Ana with a box of 10 paper bags in it] I'm glad I caught you. I wanted to give you these.
Ana Pascal: Wait, you can give presents, but not receive them? That sounds awfully inconsistent, Mr. Crick.
Harold: Yes, but...
Ana: Wait, I know, I'll purchase them! Yeah, I'll purchase them.
[reaches into her bag to grab her wallet]
Harold: No, no, no, no.
Ana: [with wallet in hand, stops to actually look at the box] What are they?
Harold: [quietly] Flours.
Ana: What?
Harold: I brought you flours.
Ana: Wait, you carried them all the way here?
Harold: Miss Pascal, I've been odd. I know I've been odd, and I know that there are many forces at work telling me to bring these down here to you, but I brought these for you because... I want you.
Ana: [a bit taken aback, and ready to be really offended] Excuse me?
Harold: I want you.
Ana: You want me?
Harold: In no uncertain terms.
Ana: [realizing that he's really not being a creep and just a guy who's not used to saying what he feels] But isn't there some... I don't know... rule about fraternization...
Harold: Auditor / Auditee protocols, yes, but I don't care.
Ana: Why not?
Harold: Because I want you.
Ana: [contemplates him for a second, and looks back at the box] Can you carry those a little bit further?
Harold: Okay.

Speaking of gifts: coolest gift ever. Flours. Now there's a guy who was paying attention...

Anniversary

Has it really been a year?

Maybe that's why I see you when I tun around, find myself watching the streetcar for your familiar face, wandering the aisles of your favorite haunts, wondering if the days could really turn into months and then a year.

This anniversary is melancholy. I walk the steps you used to take, wishing for your laughter on the phone, your playful (and HORRIBLE) jokes, a seanie-ism to share.

A year ago this week, I watched you say goodbye to so many that love you. You said your last words to me, to Sara, to your boy you adored. I got to hear stories of your adventures, watch your son wake up from a long, deep hibernation, prepare you for what you feared the most - and longed for so deeply.

Time moves, even now, and I hear your footsteps, see you dancing in the hall.


When sunlight streams in, your shadow glides through the warmth. When I see a flash of light, you come and go from the room in an instant - but I know that you were there. Can smell your Chanel #5, if only for a moment.

Happy Anniversary of another day we shared for many, many years. Happy Anniversary to the memories of Sunriver, bad hair days and quilts that turned into forts.

Yes, I miss you - but I know you're close whenever I need you. What mischief are you up to today?

Amore

Time

stands

still.

Wondering

if this

is real

or if it’s just my

imagination.

But I believe

what I know

in my heart as the truth.

I think thou dost

protest a bit too much.

____________________________

How many 160s have such a cute subject?

MM seems to think he is immune to the allure of a cute one

But I know better, have seen him fall before.

If not for a kind samaritan, calling animal control

The brute would have had a puppy to play with.

Maybe next time...

___________________

 

CLICK HERE TO PLAY

Like a text message,
the Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces)
Keep on schedule - post Sunday 

he'll read them all and ignore his kids - and the brute. 

___________________

Days in a row

I try to remind myself that everything is out of my control. I only live-work-hang out here while I'm welcome, I don't get to be in charge.

Sometimes someone reminds me in a very unpleasant way that this is totally the case, too. You know - and I have to go back to the place in my heart that shouts back "I'm only here for the t-shirt". If only that were true...

137 again

I love the changing of the seasons. It reminds me, in a way, of the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, a sight I've always wanted to see.

Those that have done their duty - quietly guarding my world in a leafy canopy - are ready for the sudden drop in temperature and leaves.

The rain comes early here in my city and brings the realization that, although there will be plenty more sunny days, the nights have cooled and the air conditioning will be off now. Windows open to the sound of the rain, the sound of the breeze in the trees outside my garden gate.

It makes me live the wonderful moments of summer again (kind of few and far between this year, but they are there nonetheless) and it makes me look forward to getting out the fire pit on a rainy night. Having a nice, quiet evening curled up on my four poster with a quilt and a book and the smell of oak burning just outside my bedroom door. Candles lit to warm me.


Sometimes music will play in the background - a little Segovia, a little Talking Heads, maybe even some Franz Ferdinand, a new favorite. Peaceful times, happy times, and they are mine alone to savor. I bet everyone has a favorite song for a night like this. Are you ready to brush it off and bring it out?

You may wonder at the title of my blog. It has great significance and is rather silly, all in the same breath. It means I have made a major decision, a step in the right direction, and have decided to focus a larger portion of my energy on something important to me. After all, what kind of dream life fulfills everyone but yourself? This little number is a daily reminder of the efforts I make on behalf of me. It makes me realize that wishing for something is only half the trick. Wanting it but putting off the work it takes to get there is futile. So, today, I'm doing what it takes to get where I want to be. The words flow like the rain, always present, just sometimes not visible to the naked eye.


Have you every seen a cloud form? Watched a blue sky turn grey and stormy in a matter of moments? Felt the hair on your neck standing up from the electricity in the air? Today, I wish you that energy, the power of the clouds and the sky, and I hope it brings you clarity.


A good rain washes away the muck.

 

_______________________________________

This is a repost of something I wrote over a year and a half ago. Small wonder that most of the things I was wishing for actually did come true - once I stopped worrying about it so much.

 

But then, what happens when you get what you wished for and it's not anything like you thought it was at all?

 

Drat. Bck to the drawing board...