poetry. thoughts and more than make-believe.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

What's in a name?

In the next month, plus or minus a few days, I will no longer married.  (Once again, I fall into a statistic...no sorry's please, it is what it is and we're all OK)

I don't like to say divorced.
We're getting a dissolution.
I hate the word EX.
Ex-what?  Why not former, past, no longer present?

But with all this paperwork comes my name.  Or maybe my former or semi-present.

I should jump back 13 years and let you know, I hypenated.  It was something I felt I wanted, needed to do.  When I was 24, I wasn't ready to let go of me or what I thought represented me.  Now, at 37, I see my name completely different.  I've been transformed into this hypenated woman, full of life and 3 beautiful daughters...and proud to be connected to them--with their name.  The funny thing about them and my name is though, they've always called me by my maiden name (for whatever reason kids would call their mom their entire name:)??)  So, it makes me realize it won't matter to them whether I am still hypenated, because to them--I never was.

I have alittle time to decide what I will call myself.

I'm thinking just a first name is the way to go---Madonna, Cher, Prince...now if I could only sing.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Shall I compare thee ?

It was a quiet weekend--well kinda.  Our troupe danced in an all-ages recital, which was great--but I was shocked at how nervous I was on stage.  I don't know if it was the realization that these were all "hometown" people watching--the ones I try to stay under the radar from...or if it was actually being on a stage with the BRIGHT lights X-ing everyone out except the one little girl in the front row, smiling up at me.   It felt good though.

Afterwards everyone went their own ways and I was met back at the house by my own star-lit girls, their dad and his girlfriend.  We like each each--I feel lucky, but I realized they had no clue I was dancing and the GF was alittle rattled.  She laughed asking if she could hate me now (of course I said yes, but I hope not) and then she proceeded to do what women do...which I feel bad about:

I could feel her uncomfortable images running through her head, talking about how she's young enough she should be taking better care, etc. etc. etc...Please please GF's --do not do this if at all possible.  Everyone is at their own place and if by some chance, watching dancing or knowing about yoga, inspires you to try something new--then by all means, go for it.  But please, don't compare yourself in the meantime.  You have talents, I surely do not. 

Just BE.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Journey - Faithfully 1983

Last night BD & I went out with friends for dinner and drinks, sitting outside --open patio.  There was a woman/singer/DJ (Umm...sounds like a perfect career for Tammie) who, when she wasn't singing, played a huge variety of songs. 

I was sitting at the end of the table talking when "Faithfully" came on.  BD was standing behind me.  I looked up to him,  giving my most famous line "I LOVE THIS SONG" and what did he do?  He said, "Do you wanna dance?"  Without hesitation I wooed, "Really--yes..." And the girlfriend sitting next to me said, " OHHH...BD (well really his name)"  And we walked to front of the patio--the only couple dancing and I fell even deeper.  I feel as if some young-girl-deep-woman dream finally came true:)

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Shot on the Highway

I was dreaming when BD came into my room.
I heard him undressing, shoes off, climbing into bed...but I
was in limbo-dream state.

I was walking down a road and had been shot repeatedly.  I looked around
realizing I was on the highway and knew whoever was after me wouldn't
give up until I was dead.

It was dark and I was in pain, but I continued--and in real-life as BD crawled into bed I knew that I would die on this empty highway.
I knew that I would go to whatever heaven may be.
I wasn't worried about either fact. 
All I could think of was that when I woke up from this impending death,
I would forget this life. This joy. My family. My love.
And I didn't want to forget any of it.
I didn't want to forget BD.

And then as he snuggled in behind me, he said something to me...and I told him in a half-sleep state I had been shot.  He reassured me he wouldn't let anyone shoot me.  And I fell back asleep with his warm body wrapped next to mine.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Pay Phone Thanks

Today I realized it was the 10th...which meant my city bill was due.  So before my afternoon interview, I thought it'd be a great time to drop it off...

As I was walking out the door to leave I noticed a pay phone:

Local Calls Only
Courtesy Phone
And ta-da--a bright mail-blue phone

And I smiled, thinking what a great idea.  Some people may think it's old fashioned or a waste of money, but as someone who didn't have a real cell till last year--I appreciate the little things like that.  Little things that aren't so little...actually quite helpful.

Saturday, May 08, 2010

Silent Saturday with some prison needs on the side

Silent Saturday morn
t.v. giggles
pencils sketching
teacher playing
Rosie's collar
getting comfortable

Yesterday I had to go to an allday workshop for work. I had been looking forward to it all week, mostly because I knew I would be out of the building.  These days work has a generally low grumbly energy that zaps my high spirits, so this felt like a great way to spend a sunny day...in a very well windowed meeting room with fellow librarians:)).  The workshop was basically about the importance of baby storytimes in libraries and how parents need to teach their kids how to read before school.  Of course the woman was preaching to the choir, which she knew being a librarian herself, but she put on a decent workshop.  

At the beginning of the whole thing she threw out some statistics that they've obviously presented over and over again--scary statistics like prison needs being based on 3rd grade reading levels.  Well, being the librarian I am, I googled it.  The first link that popped up was this: Prisons dont use reading....  Now I'm at a stand still on this...I understand and can plainly see how this is an urban myth, but now I know I need to email this woman and let her know what I've discovered.  It makes me wonder though whoever wrote what she was telling us about, if they could wrong about MORE??  Really...we're librarians.  I know we're just as wrong as Joe-Schmoe sometimes, but this seems carelessly wrong too.

In the end, the presentation was good but it was about teaching and reading for pre-k.  And I loved the fact she worked with pregnant teens in highschool and at vocational schools...all very important and extremely needed.   

Wednesday, May 05, 2010


This is the short story of Buddy...my girls dog and his life in our backyard...resting in peace from here on out.

We came to know Buddy about 3 or so years ago.  It was summer and my girls were/are outside-lovers, so they were adventuring our backyard and neighborhood.  Our property has an old, unusable alley that runs behind all the property lines down the street...and when you're little or maybe even not so little--walking that alley is like playing private detective for the moments you're back there.

I don't recall the exact moment my girls discovered Buddy, because they seem to know most of the neighborhood animals, but I do recall them asking me to come over and look at him.  He was living in a vacant neighbors house (she was an older woman who went to live with her daughter) and they kept him kenneled in her backyard.  The girls went over every day after discovering him and talked to him, taking him snacks.  They got to know the neighbors behind Buddy's house--and the great-grandma with dementia who loved talking to them...just by visiting him. 

This scene continued for a few weeks, until they were utterly convinced that Buddy was being neglected and the police needed to  know about the situation.  I quickly assured my girls that Buddy was taken care of, he had food and water everyday and they let him run the yard.  My girls didn't think that was good enough, being the animal lovers they are...so I suggested they write a letter to the people and ask if they could walk Buddy around the block.

Needless to say in less than a week we discovered Buddy's original owner--a woman in her late 20's or so, on our front porch with her husband, asking if we would like to "take" Buddy.  The girls immediately were 100% into it...and after hearing his story--we decided to take him.

He had been this womans dog, living on Main St. Smalltown USA, since she was a teenager.  He would get out on occasion and wonder the streets, but someone would always bring him home.  He had a true dogs-nose.  The girl grew up, went to college, got married and her family took care of the dog--until other sisters returned to the household and the old-mom had to move back in with the family.  Too many people lived under one roof and Buddy was the one who had to go...so he moved down the street to the backyard.

We were told he was about 14 years old...which would have made him about 17 years old today.  He was a happy dog--a mutt with some Rott.  He was a dog-dog and LOVED kids.  I trusted him more than my own puppy-dog-dog.

I could tell for a few weeks his hips were getting worse.  He played, but not well and he'd run--but fall.  Rosie, our part Beagle/Jack Russell, was generally snotty to him when he wanted to play--but this past week, I realized this morning, Rosie was trying her hardest to make him LIVE.  She played with him all week, running over him, jumping, sniffing...doing it all to keep him going.  I'm convinced Rosie knew this was the end for Buddy...

So this morning I woke up early, heard tiny wimpers--.  Normally I would start the coffee and go to the bathroom before going outside to check on the old boy, but he was my first concern for some reason.  I immediately saw he was by the tree, somewhat stuck--but knowing he shouldn't have been, I knew it wasn't good...

He was between the Oak and Hydragena...unable to stand.  His tongue was hanging out..I went into rescue mode. I moved him the best I could, but a 60lb dog is difficult to move.  I got some water and tried to drip it in his mouth.  I was a crying mess. 

The girls were up soon after I was...and then they were a crying mess.

Timing being what it is, they also had to get ready for school.  I was kinda glad they knew before they left so they could say their goodbyes.  And then of course...more tears.  The hardest moments where when he was laying there, struggling...but yet wagging his tail.  His heart was still connected to us..to life.  Before the older two left they both told me they wanted him to be put to sleep immediately...no more suffering.  I reassured them if he didn't pass soon, I would do that.

After dropping my youngest off at school w/BD, I called the vet and discovered if I wanted him to be put down, the pound was the easiest way.  I suppose I'm thankful in a selfish way, that I didn't have to decide though--because when we got back, Buddy was almost gone.  He had lost control of bodily functions and was breathing the death-breath.  I knew it was time.  I called my parents and work, I suppose out of fear...out of needing answers...but all that did was leave me frustrated and mad at myself.  So the knowing came to me, to walk away from him...animals generally want to die alone.  And that's all it took...5 minutes or so away--and he was gone.

I sat down and petted him more, telling him he did a good job...he led a happy-dog life.  And my girls gave him a lovely burial in the backyard...flowers included, lots of tears and missing you"s...but what he gave us was undeniable--love.
"Happiness is only real when shared".....from Into the Wild

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