poetry. thoughts and more than make-believe.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Florida or Plastic Surgery?

she asked
did you go to Florida?

of course
she knew i hadn't
flown the air
trekked a mile
ran away
since
yesterday
i
sat behind
her
typing

but without roots
dark muddy brown
gray

and with sunkissed
cheeks
lips
hair

i had to smile and tell her this story:

I was helping this woman when she looked around me,
above and almost through...complimenting me--finally coming out to ask,
"Did you get something done?"

I told her I had gone to the pool Sunday, sat in the sun.
I told her I walked to work.
But get something DONE?

I wasn't exactly sure what she meant...
Plastic surgery?

And though it was meant as a compliment, I still can't quite decide how to take it.

Monday, June 28, 2010

Stuck in the middle

Today I found out I'm getting an assistant.
The "thing" about it is I used to have this job that the new-girl is taking.
24 hours a week.
Fun.
Joy.
Living the dream.



But, like my BFF who is soon to rule the world, I found myself in my now current job without the initative to actually have the position I do.  Actually I never planned on working where I do more than a year...but 18 years later I find that I believe in it and love what I do.  And now I picture my position as a line or triangle, where I'm the middle point...one side does it's job, now the other side will do theirs and I'm stuck in the middle.

And let me tell you--I don't like being in the middle.

It's messy in the middle.  Generally. 

I like having a purpose that is outside of the middle. 
That's kinda what sides are..
Right.
Left.
And then what--Middle.

If you think of politics, which I also don't like--I don't consider myself in the middle either--though I don't consider myself extreme either.

I hope this new co-worker/assistant can be ok with me crossing over to her side, like my other co-worker does.

Once upon a time, it wasn't so complicated--and now I see how managerial stuff is messy.  And really--it doesn't have to be. 

Guess I'll just be re-inventing whatever the middle may be and use the sides as part as the whole...

Friday, June 25, 2010

Lunch anyone?


Yesterday I went to a birthday luncheon.

And when I say luncheon, I mean a beautiful, summer-breezy afternoon with a white tent set up in a manicured backyard with champagne, shrimp salad served on thick-cut sourdough bread and a lovely green salad with raspberry vinegrette dressing.

I mean approximately 35 women 40ish years old, mostly dressed in what you might picture in the above scene. 

All of us coming together for a close friends 40th birthday.

Varied women of varied lifestyles, but all meaningful to this friend.  I'd venture to say we would be considered "educated" (whatever that actually means I'm not sure.)  My friend, being the hostess she is truly in her heart, placed us at the table--handwritten name cards--along with two question:

How did we meet her?

Share what we love to do...

First question goes off well for each other.  Icebreaking working.

Second question leads me to this moment...

Other than one other woman at my table, she and I were the ones who could say what we love to do that didn't involve our families.  The other women could only comment about not having time for themselves, their husbands, their lives...and what I realized--they still don't know who they are.

I was a bit "taken back"...I felt sorry at a certain level that they don't know or maybe haven't thought about it lately.  And I wondered at what point these women will or maybe be able to say...

I felt lucky I know who I've always been.  Even when I've forgotten--I've known.  And for my girls, I am glad they are discovering themselves and know who they are inside--so when they are lunching momma's--they're guitar-pickn, drawing, running-around sides, will always show.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Was it a heart attack...no--just puking

So I'm at the back of the room, trying to help a woman. 

I hear a cough coming from the front.
I actually think it's the old man at the counter having a heart attack.

The woman keeps talking.

I know this is not a normal cough.
No one is around.
Too much not around.
Vanished.

It's the "special" boy--puking.

First on the computer.
Then the carpet.

I leave the woman and run to get him a trash can.

I keep thinking, No one helped him.
The adults close by--nope.

He stands there--
puking.
I'm holding the trash can, petting his back--like any good momma would do--
telling him he'll be ok.

He told me to speed dial #3 mom.
No answer.
Dad at work.
Grandma had to pick up.

With eventual help,
it was all cleaned up.
Taken care of.

And that special boy--probably 13, but mentally 4--
thanked me --full name and all.

Love.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

A Day in the Life

After basement yoga
she shared

I came to tears...I haven't been this stress free for a long time

I welcomed her with a hug
feeling blessed I could do alittle
something in her 23 year old life

THEN

Working upstairs a husband wife duo
are helping each other...

I married you when I was born, I just didn't know it yet,
he told her.

And then we found out in their 45 years together,
he's recovering from brain cancer
memory loss
but always remembering his love
for her.

Somedays at work I know why I do it

Momma of one asked if I was an information research specialist.

I laughed and said we all are, if we're doing our jobs.



And my reason for here is simple
"Happiness is only real when shared".....from Into the Wild
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