Garbage Day

So, So, Soo many summer items
come in a box,
slip n slides, fans, raspberries
chlorine defense shampoo,
coconut scented products,
to tame
yer locks,
and protect your doo,
cupcake holders, to go boxes

corndogs, pizza, &; bunny Mac
flashlights bolted,
in anti-theft box
freeing them?
You -the package,
Redfaced, bereft, plasticine, cardboard, a lost hour,
My recycle bin tells the tale
of a month of summer past
If you’ve bought
bottled water,
this is where the lecture will begin”
you may want to start
looking for a new earth
to galavant, this time
innovatively, not wastefully
perhaps, free?
of “garbage Sin?”

Outfitted for Life

Proper footwear is to people
what claws are to a cat;
that which enables your grip on life;
naturally- on the hunt,
we flex, we dig,
our eyes become wide,
like vampires under the moonlight
our feral side revealed,
A scenic stretch of beach
laden with barnacles
can slice ribbons of bloody flesh
on tender feet,
always wear the right shoes
for today’s travels

Lonliness is meant to be…….

Loneliness is, movingly powerful in a way that stifles you to inaction…because your heart feels trampled by life or lack of the life you thought you would have at present. What’s oddly settling, even poetic about lonliness is it spurs action.. Like BO on a hot day…all that is toxic pours out of you- like too much caffeine from your pits on a 90 degree day, in essence it calls attention to itself. Today admit the moment you feel secure as sure as you admit that perhaps now on a Friday with no plans on the horizon….you feel a bit lonesome?
Grab hold of what you love and nurture it like you do a baby….it can be a rock in your garden or a favorite book-just admire it and love it for a moment. Just don’t give in like the new moms sucked into postpartum paralysis. Answer the call, bake REAL butter cookies and hand them out to neighbors just because. Go dance if you feel the need, sing out loud, go back to the grave and cry…..Whether it’s Jimmie Hendrix, or your brother,…oh wait a minute-this is about you-not me, cause I for one am NOT feeling a sense of loss or friendship, cause, you’re here with me-right? right?…’s soo quiet. I know you feel me…. okay agreed, let’s both make a gourmet dinner and light candles and put on something fabulous tonight. It’s okay if it’s just a fragrance or a ruffled tux or a fifties style dress, don’t go rent a tuxedo or anything, even though I would LOVE that! Do wear the reddist lipstick you can find, the color of the fire of loneliness, do it for us-and no one else. Also, I am looking you in the eye with serious green eyes right now-promise me, to smile when you plate up tasty treats for us. Or your husband, your wife, your dog. and maybe you’re neighbor the one you don’t know even though you have lived their for ten years, they may want to join you? Don’t cry unless they are real tears; tears of joy or tears cause you are still thinking about that Roger Ebert film “Life Itself.” Just for me, today, and to face loneliness dead on- have a quiet moment to honor real shit, like loneliness-or our blogging life, an how it isn’t fake, it makes us know we are all connected-that all is good in our big world. Honor that, I feel like we’re friends,the blip of recognition should rise up into like blood after you’ve been upside down and sit up again. The hole where the lonely place started….. will feel smaller today and you will feel just that much bigger!

Bursting at the seams or bursting….it seems?

it’s summer so as usual I don’t sign the kids up for camps cause, I’m a rebel…cheapskate, masochist? Oh well, they’re stuck with me. I want them to grab hold of the spontaneous whims that surge forth in their pea sized idea-filled, adolescent brains- answer the call that childhood summers afford them. Nothing makes me happier than when they pick up a pocket knife and whittle a stick, learn to bake a pie, like those fifties moms who raised us; sew on a button, box their sibling until the’re bloody, you know, recreate my own childhood without the absent father and the chain smoking household. I mean let’s be honest, PG-13 when we were kids had boobs and all, but kids today in regards to everything un-sex related, will be cluelessly boring.

My tender moment this summer, despite my anti-gun rants, was actually my son and his buddy-packing their pellet guns in their guitar cases, heading for the creek to terrify squirrels in the name of boyhood fun. I didn’t even yell “watch out for that ONE house where they sell heroin… or the other one where those dudes are prostituting teen girls, I just said, “have fun bring, your cell phone!” I savor moments like I enjoyed, unmonitored, treated like furniture, to be seen and not heard, but damn we have character today. We shot Bee bee guns on the pond, had secret excursions with the weird red haired kid that lived next door, desperately trying to peek at my girl parts yes cause they didn’t already know everything from twerking to full screen every day overtly sexual EVERYTHING from cereal to sports to Disney channel, they needed to get a peek back then. I knew very well back when where there were boys and there were girls…there was some mystery- or was he a harmless perve. At least back then, you could tell the difference. In the overly sexualized, sex craved media world we live in today it’s a toss up whose a perve or a swinger or just keeping up with the times?
Anyway…. and I had to get home for Three’s company so the next door kid needn’t worry if I googled to inquire his predator status today. I was unworried-or too into my Shirley Temple movies practicing my tap dancing behind closed doors….rather than practicing humping the air or doing the pussy dip they do now.
This summer I have even heard my kids sing!…a complete song, separate from songs on the radio-they have time to sit and wonder, what it feels like to be bored, to have to think up an activity without my help, to sit under the shade of their back yard tree and hear what their own voice sounds like. And I don’t mean to be preachy, but it felt good.
What I seem to forget about factoring in is- me. How they come find me in the quiet moments writing on my blog, and tell me how “selfish” I am, “always on the computer!” Ever wondered why my drafts are so first draft, unedited, on the fly, hurried? yeah they find me. And then I say sweetly, “this is important” which fails miserably every time.
Seattle is a lonely place for us grown ups. I will tell you flat out, at the age where kids are able to talk back and call you “retard,” as mine do, the reality sours when it hits you I had a career that I left. They are it now…. they “are” my hobbies, my preoccupation, and for the Seattle culture that surround me, the uber competitive peers, they are apparently my ticket to wealth and great fame? Why else would they be testing in to fancy schools going from swim team, to lacrosse to Elite soccer in a week’s time? Despite all those pictures of Facebook friends cheersing to their happy gathering of middle aged parents, all cocktails and smiles and kid-less for an hour….. our kids and spouses are the greatest most pure source of entertainment we have, because-quite frankly-not only do they really, deeply, intimately KNOW us, they are available.
Remember parents at home this summer- it is perfectly okay to ask your spouse to plan a day off next week and take some time to drive outside of your 15 mile stomping ground and get crazy. Explore China town in the next large City take a drive by yourself and see if you enjoy classical music or loud old school rap songs when you’re alone. Call a friend and tell them you have a special all day procedure and that the pain meds won’t wear off for days and leave them for 24 hours so you can sit and watch chick flicks in your bra or boxers if you so crave it…..even order a pizza-just like you did when you were twenty. Grab a bottle of Synergy, instead of that Merlot, and crank up the Billie Holiday or Nina Simone….or if you are inclined drink three glasses and forget about this article entirely, just see if you indeed can act your age, and stop at the third glass, like those well behaved peers of yours, fourth glass…yeah-the bottles end, yeah, I drink tea now.
What I’m suggesting is for God’s sake, just cause your bestest friends have relocated to China and Texas, again…. don’t stop living life. Make a new friend, the kind you can sit with for hours with no words spoken, even if that person is you. Enjoy life, after all it’s just a big summer camp, with early rises, and a serious need to reinvent what moves you-like teaching your kids the value of simply enjoying each day-exactly where you are and who you are with.

First Loves

If only
The ones that wipe clean the bad,
Had crept in at the right time,
As natural as the salt in the ocean;
it would have lapped at our wounds
held us afloat,
slowed the impact of the splash
when my heart hurled overboard like an iron anchor
Downward in silence hit bottom
It sat, at the silty ocean floor
Where there is life….
That you just cannot see….
Life that is daring to live,
it submerges after the weight of the love
Empties out,
And surfaces for air,
Like a lover’s ring lost to sea
One must dare
to dip a toe in the surf
fearing not- when you do
you may feel nothing at all.

Hot Mama, Cool Kid

Of course there are voices in my head……at 43 its not early on-set dementia, it’s my mantra for surviving two kids.
They say to me ‘brush it off- 14 year olds are terrified when faced with the real truth that their mannerisms are indeed exactly mirrors of their mom and everything else they hate right now.
When he says “ I hate you mom” and “you’re retarded” he just means, I don’t know how to deal when he sees his friends make that face that says…”your mom is sort of HOT.”
“ When he says, “I am so much smarter than you” he means, “ I am scared shitlesss that it takes two hours to type an English report and that is not counting the time he gets up to take five drinks of water, go to the bathroom and fidget nervously with his hair….it also reminds him of the same panic he sees in you when you are late and searching for your car keys…….and it kills me that YOU medicate your world away with words, like pus from and old wound and I cannot untangle these trapped words and catch them on paper because I am not yet mature enough to think I am smart.
When he says “you won’t get these feet in for a pedicure when I’m alive” he is just mirroring back your powerlessness, and inability to get him to do anything, including make him care that he in fact grew hobbit feet out of those same soft piggies you used to kiss and tickle.
Other torturous moments where you wanted him desperately to do something besides shoot at the t.v. and maybe read a book on an actual topic other than Halo or Navy Seals picture books have arrived…the color is coming back to your face and the wrinkles are a little less prominent when, you look into the mirror, muster a half smile and say, “you did it, you parented successfully……”.he is 15 next week and you can wonder less now about if you’ll both live to 2015- which was dicey for a while because for the first time when you point blank asked yesterday…….. “Did I really fuck you u,-like Grandma says I did?……He answers “we’ll not really, because giving me the love of laughter; comedy and music….has actually made up for all of the other stuff mom.”