"Bits & Pieces From My Journal"
(Don't We All Like To Look In Each Other's Drawers?) 
11-10-01  (please note that these entries will not be in order of date, but in order of my desire to share them.)
A last of something is sometimes a big enough event that it needs a folding,
a putting away,
a storing for future eyes.
It needs to be stretched across the foot of the bed and smoothed straight by old careful hands:
living irons, smoothing in loving observation, crossing and sharing the last of a time.

Where did the leaves go I have to ask. They were here last time I looked, green, shade shaking and full.
and this autumn came and went without me.
One more "last" that I have missed. One more addition to my list of regrets.
Leslie leading the pack.
Wow Mom, are we having fun yet?
Hey! Who put water in my Sunkist!!??
Leslie & Ms B. We are so proud of you both!
"Home Alone" The untold story.
Can I borrow a pencil & some glue & a sheet of paper & a maple leaf?
On a different note, here is a picture of Cherry and me when we were little. You can see what I had to contend with. I WAS LIVING WITH THE LITTLE GIRL ON THE SUNBEAM BREAD LABEL!
Cherry, you were and are very beautiful. Good job sister!
1/24/03
Another fever to burn against
and under
and with.
How I dread those difficult happy daffodils, yellow in their living. (as if all the world had to do was dance.)
That is a lie! I DON'T dread them; I LONG for them!

It is just their brevity that is so unbearable.
It is as if, to pay for such spontaneous joy, they must stand against the frost. The last ones before Easter and warmth and sandals.

In between the standings in the sunshine for heat,
and the sittings in the shade for cool relief,
there are those yellow faces smiling
in the transition, happy to oblige.
  "Kissing Leslie"

No where else
would I rather make a nuisance
of myself, than in your beautiful bearded face. I have grown into an old
woman in this face. Familiar
sweet smelling nest of lips and nose:
hazel eyes I spent a life time
gazing into
and still do not know.

  "Killing the Rattle Snakes"

Walking on the trail over the past couple of weeks, Leslie has killed 2 Rattlesnakes. BIG Rattlesnakes. I realize for the first time how little knowledge I have of using the guns. I am not sure that I could even load one, let alone aim and shoot. One of the snakes was over four feet long. Just think, they have been there all along and we simply had not seen them!
I had always assumed that our walking on the trail would scare them off, but it seems more like it draws them out to see what all the commotion is about. The afternoon walks are not as much fun as they use to be. I am a little afraid the whole time.
I wish that I didn't know about the snakes.




NEW ENTRIES AT THE BOTTOM. Scroll WAY DOWN.  Click on Lady Bug to Go to Journal 2.  First Entrie are Same as the Bottom Ones Here, Then Newer.   6/6//08
 
5/22/08   All right!  Here I am old and blond.  I guess it happens to the best of us.  (if we are blessed.)  My ego can't stand too much more "blessing".   

  My boys in a box.  Bunny ears are always a good choice for loving brothers.  I hope that they always can have so much love together. 

Check out "Palm Tree".  He is finishing up his movie in Huntsville. 

Diving at the Quarry in May.  Could I get any whiter?  I think that if we needed to signal someone across the way, I could just stand in the sun and move around.  I could be used instead of a mirror to signal the cowboys that the Indians are coming.   

I have only three words for this picture. 
"Bond, James Bond".   Or maybe it should be "Shaken, not stirred".  What can I say?  We are a Sean Connery family.


Been walking around with a severed head in a box.  Not sure whose it is; it might be mine.  I don't know.  Ownership isn't the issue, but rather that no one is interested.  I take it with me when I go to work;  set it on the side of my desk, not even taped up all the way.

My family doesn't see it.  Walked right past them while they were watching Friends;  went up-stairs and hid it in my sock drawer. 

What does a person have to do to share around here?


Les and I are wearing a million dollars worth of gold chain from the wreck of the Atocha.  That is Mel Fisher resting his arm on my shoulder.  (He is the only celebrity I have ever met in person.  Did get within 10 feet of Bob Dylan one time walking out of a trailer at the Colosseum, but I don't count that.  He didn't say hi or anything.  Just a nod.)


“The Undulation Stopped”

The undulation stopped immediately
and the wild that I thought I had captured
lay down silky smooth: placid and polite in a little jar
on the counter.  No amount of stirring
brought to life those molecules.  I tried everything:
bubbles in a straw:
swizzle sticks:
the blender:  left the fan on continuously.
I began to doubt my love, pouring some down the sink
just to see what would happen.  Maybe it wasn’t
all those crashing waves of water
that I craved, but the wind instead,
or the circle of the moon.

And this is why that spot in the garden
holds too much salt and nothing grows.
I had hoped to at least kill some slugs
in the process, but no.
It is time for evaporation and rain and I feel
badly, living so far from the shore. 
How will I ever swim again?

Over the years life as taken a big giant piece of sand paper and everyday sanded away a little bit of Ellen.  Then taken the dust and hid it.  I feel like I found this trunk hidden in the garage full of Ellen dust.  I opened it and the dust magically jumped back on me.  I'm me.  (at least for a while.)

“You and the Park”

I am looking at the bark of a pine tree, wondering if it has always been orange and purple and only now do I notice.

Children’s voices from two yards over giggle across the drive.  At this distance, it sounds as if the youngest is squealing over the inequities of freeze tag:
threatening to go tell Momma:
threatening to quit the game.

You can hear the highway from here if you sit very still and don’t hum.  And there are birds.  Red ones.  Their songs aren’t as pretty as some of the more plain ones, but you can’t have everything

And speaking of everything, I wish you were here.


People would ask "what do you want to be when you grow up?" and I would tell them
(depending upon the age and year) doctor, writer, teacher. 
I also played secretary a lot; really enjoying thumping the stacks of paper together to straighten their edges. 
Loved the straight edges!!!  Oddly enough, on my desk
now, I keep the papers all fanned out. 
You can see from a glance what each page is
like holding a hand of cards.  It is a messy necessity. 

I never said what I really wanted.  I wanted to three things.
1.  To be a mommy.
2.  To be Cher.
3.  To be absolutely watched and worshiped.

I got the mommy job but I wasn't prepared for the complete loss of myself.. Maybe all women don't have that happen to them,
but it did to me.  Now with my sons grown,
there is this hesitant wild creature crawling out of the shadows.  I'm afraid of it, but it looks familiar. 
I think it might be me.

I don't think she's dangerous,
but it is ravenous and seeking light.  She
can't decide what to wear: 
everything smothering it and constricting its arms.

I fear for her:  not quite sure if there is a place in this world for something so counter and  vague.


“Beating the Rain”

The devil is beating his wife.  She was stupid enough to marry him, she probably deserves it.  (I don’t mean that statement.  It just sounds good.)

I’ve had dinner with Satan before;  he doesn’t talk much but he’s a good kisser.  (I don’t mean that statement either.  I just feel like lying.)  Besides, truths on vacation.  She went to Maui with an old college sweetheart.  They’re sunning on the beach and I’m sitting here trying to beat the rain:  birds going wild with song. 

I used to always love to hear birds sing, wrongly assuming in my naive heart that singing meant happy.  Actually, a lot of their voicing is out of fear and danger:  warning each other that the neighborhood cat is near or that the human is in the garden, to steer clear of the bird bath.  (at least for now.)

This is it.  No way to end this thought poetically;  the rain winning.   And me, I’m standing in the yard daring the lightening to take its best shot:  bold against the thunder:  allowing it the first swing.

To Elliot (New York Trip June, 2008

As I write these words, you are hanging in the sky without me:  as free as any human can be except for the NASA thing and death of course.  Your world just expanded.  I can feel it breathing from here, large, healthy and on its way.
Camping at Saint Andrews State Park in July.  The only time I have ever been to the beach and there WASN'T a breeze of any kind.  It was brutal.  To top things off, we went in the Explorer and the air was out.  I thought Evan was going to explode and we would have to throw the tent away or bury him in it.  One night it was so hot, I woke up about 3:00 in the morning (to try to pee without being eaten by an alligator) and couldn't find Elliot anywhere.  He was in the men's room, laying on the cool tile floor with a wet paper towel over his head.  We were HOT beyond living.  Leslie made lots of brownie points the next day.  We went to Kmart and bought several battery operated fans.  The rest of the trip was better.  The diving at the Jetties was really good.  Clear and wonderfully refreshing.  Oddly enough, except for our Manatee trip, and Chattanooga, this is my favorite family vacation.  Memories.
Here is Cherry and mother with Aunt Panzy's new baby.   "Can you feel the love?"  
Hey,  What cha doin?
Give me all your money!  Now!!!!!!  (I shouldn't be so mean but I can't help myself.  I'm going to blame it on the toboggan. 
Elliot and Wilson in Key West.
Can I Drive?
Here is Evan going for a walk with me even though it is FREEZING outside.   I guess Elliot had the toboggan that day.
Don't make me go crazy on you.