A MEME

Visited a new friend (go check her out) and stole a meme while I was there:

1. When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? In the fourth grade I wanted to be a math teacher...then as I got older I wanted to be a nurse. I ended up getting married, having children and being a stay at home mom for years. When I finally went to work it was in the education field as an assistant in math classes...so I guess I ended up being a math teacher!

2. What have you done in the past week to help someone else? I would like to think I help people everyday. My job is one that puts me in contact with kids who are needy in more than just an education related capacity. These kids come to me for food, comfort and advice. It is why I love my job...they are my passion.

3. Who is the best-dressed person you know? Even though I have been voted best dressed teacher in the school' by a group of students, it would probably be a teacher I worked with last year. Being well dressed to me is staying trendy and stylish even as you age. I refuse to become frumpy and think all women should do the same.

4. What is on your nightstand? Depends which night stand. All have clocks and at least one book or magazine.

5. If you were a cat, what kind of a cat would you be? Any cat owned by a member of my family. We are very good to our cats.

6. If you lived in a house surrounded by acres of trees, what particular type of tree would you want flourishing on your land? No one type in particular. Lots of conifers, deciduous and flowering.

7. What do you find to be very overrated? TV

8. How many email addresses do you have? Two

9. Have you ever felt replaced? Yes...it is a terrible feeling

10. Would you rather watch football or baseball? Baseball live, football on tv

11. What is the wallpaper on your phone? The calendar

12. Name a lyric from the song you're listening to. Not listening to music right now.

13. Do you use a feed reader? A what????

14. What chocolate do you always leave in the box? Anything with a fruit flavored filling.

15. What would you do if you found out your ex is engaged? I don't have an ex.

16. Do words hurt you? Yes...words are more powerful and painful than actions. They stay with you longer.

17. Are you a talker or a listener? I can be either...but truthfully I did always have a problem with getting checkmarks in the 'talks too much' box on my report card.

18. Have you ever walked on the beach at night? I have walked the Kanapali Beach on the Island of Maui and also walked the beach of White Fish Bay along Lake Superior under a full moon. It was the most amazing thing ever!

19. Who is your favorite professional athlete? Don't really have one...not a worshiper of athletes.

20. Which TV show have you seen pretty much every episode of? House

Safe

Security Bars,

Ram rod straight,

made of steel,

an obstacle to entry.

Security bars,
a hindrance to evil,

security for the afraid,

wrapped around my heart.

Protect - HSMSHS

Who is protecting whom?

I Just Called to Say...

The feeling overcomes me similar to the way ocean waves over take the shore, forcing my breath from my lungs like tiny grains of sand into the sea. A need so great it is staggering, encompassing, consuming.

I reach for my phone and hit the number five. Her voice, distant at first...what have I interrupted I wonder. I try to sound casual, gently easing the air back into my chest, allowing my heart to fill with the melody of her voice, "What are you doing," I ask. "Reading," she responds.

We launch into a conversation that swirls around minutia and has nothing to do with the reason I hungered for her voice.

A pause, "so what's up," she asks. "I'm having a moment," I tell her. "I want you to know how much I love you."

"Thanks. I love you too."

We hang up and all is right with the world.

The Work of Hands

The work of my Mother's hands

Her hands, I so wish I had photos to remind me. Never would that have been permitted.

Her hands, how she hated them.

"Masculine," she lamented.

"Strong," I admired.

They were working hands, capable hands, confident hands, creative hands.

They were the hands that embraced me, fed me, loved me.

They were the hands that molded me into me!

An Empty Mind

I have read those who claim their muse has run out on them. When writing becomes difficult, it is always the muse who is to blame. For it is the muse who steals away with our creativity and inspirations.

I have been so uninspired of late. My cerebral cavity is vacuous, devoid, without words and thoughts. Electrical impulses fall short of my finger tips, leaving the keyboard begging for that rhythmic tap tap tapping.

I search for ideas...but the words will not follow. I cannot feel them anymore, the words. They are as hollow as my mind.

Oh, muse...come back to me.

Photo Hunt - Yellow

Yellow

I cannot wear it but I sure do love it!

Visit Tnchick to see what others have down with the color of the sun.

Spring

The Crocus - the first true sign of Spring

Head over to Today's Flower for more lovely botanical beauties

Shadow Shot Sunday

We spent the day at the zoo. This wonderful creature stood tall and grand on skinny little legs and provided me with this spectacular shadow to shoot. Visit others over at Hey Harriet to see what lurks in the shadows.

A Prickly Problem

You have just knocked hundreds of straight pins on the floor...no problem! You have just the tool required to clean up the mess. The question now is: How do you get all these pins off the magnet without drawing blood?

Crap It Did It Again!

Has anyone had this problem with Blogger? You have lots of lovely comments about your posts, you check the box that says, "publish" and then the comments disappear into that land of 'who the hell knows where' never to be found again.

This has happened to me on more than one occassion. So if you have left me a comment (Thank you) and don't see it...I swear I did not delete it or choose not to publish it. It is out there somewhere floating in the land of Blogger...wherever that may be.

A note to Blogger...fix this problem!

Cool Cool Water

HSMSHS

Thematic Wednesday

Drink

Letter to a Narcissist

Dear Vainglorious One,

This letter is to tell you......

oh hell I forgot who I was dealing with. That's right...why bother, it's all about you!

A Must Read

If you are a parent, read this book. If you work with children, read this book. If you know a child who is either in middle or high school, make them read this book.

The story is fact-based fiction. It is the story of a high school shooting. It is not a story of how 'bad' guns are. In fact, it is very balanced and little is said about the use of firearms.

Yes, it is a work of fiction. Yet it is so true. The human spirit is fragile and many go through life, parents, educators, students, children, people...intentionally, unintentionally, with and without malice, innocently and not so innocently, crushing that delicate spirit.

It is the most difficult, yet most important book I have ever read. I urge you to read it NOW.

I'll take a....

HSMSHS

Medicine

HSMSHS

Bathe

I swear he wasn't choking him!

Helping Hands

I look about the room, I am a newcomer to this group of women. They greet me with smiles and tell me their names. I thought the room would be larger and certainly neater and they would be dressed in fabrics finer...why? I don't know, what do you wear when you are doing the work of Sisters with a passion for others? And volunteers no less.

I am introduced to several of the women, names...I am so bad at them. They enter my mind and swirl around like a dust devil in the desert, leaving as quickly as they arrived. I remember only a few....Carol, Joanne, Betty.

Carol takes me under her wing and shows me around. I wonder, "are you why I am here?" I don't dare ask.

And then I see her. She is thin, wearing a black velvet hat, with a wide brim and large black bow. It covers her head, there is no hair peaking out from underneath. She wears her heavy winter coat, though the room is quite warm and goes about the business of the Sister's passion. Yes, she is why I am here.

Bolts of fabric cover the walls. Quilts in all stages of completion lie about the room. Women stand at tables cutting fabric, others are at machines assembling these rainbow-colored pieces into coverlets that will then be quilted and bound into a their final stage of completion.

The beauty is not in the finished product. Oh, yes they are magnificent. They are works of art. The beauty is in what happens to the finished product. For each finished quilt...a labor of love, crafted from start to finish strictly by the hands of someone with a passion, from materials donated, is then given to a woman who is receiving chemotherapy through the James Cancer Hospital, to use as a lap blanket during her treatments.

The organization is called the James Stitching Sisters. It was a great day....I was humbled and proud to have had the opportunity to help and be counted as one of the Sisters.