Monday, June 29, 2009

The Difference

There's a ton to cover. Right now.
from weeks ago.
this is taken from my journal.(a new one)

the boys and i are listening to Percy Sledge
watching the lightening play
and the rain fall over the mountains, from the sun room.

its around 8:00 pm, we are in awe of the magnificence
we are a part of.

its breathtaking.

lights off.

some of the clouds, look like dinosaurs. (puffy)


the air is off, the breeze is perfect.

i feel so delicate today.
the magic that has been created.
could not ever be duplicated.
(no curtain call)

this performance was a one nighter.

sold out.

i want to tell you, so hear me out.
when i asked you what you would do with a dreadful amount of money,
your answer, was as vanilla as i expected.

you didn't ask for anything elaborate,
and I was honestly disgusted.

knowing my love affair with words,
i long to be admired,
in a way a child touches the skin of a salamander.
its new.
it something that hasn't been experienced.

and to insult me further,
you act as if i do not have a plan.

i am carefully calculated.

i am one to be watched.

most steps, have thought,
with such weight,
its alarming.

listen dear,

(living in the past, right here)

I think of the words in our conversation, Sue.
"this is what your next wedding should look like."

maybe it will.

does it matter i shake and break
(not shake and bake)
@ the thought of committing once more?

(come on Pink Floyd)
where have all the good times gone?
who's gonna show this stranger around?

right before dark, the boys and i picked flowers.

the boys?

wait patiently like a Southern Belle on her chaise,
waiting for a mimosa.

listen again, dearest.

things are happening.
and changing.

have you noticed the color of my heart lately?
i would ask Holli, but she isnt here.
(i swear, she sees our aura's.)

it's almost lavender.

why lavender?

not quite blue,and no longer cold.
rather, blooming.
awaiting the chilly spring mornings,
and soaking up the warm afternoon sun.

is love money in the hand?

just as silly to think all girl's love roses.

some love daisies.
some love orchids.
some love violets.
blue amaryllis.

as ridiculous to believe a person
who claims to adore John Lennon, a person
who claims to love his message.
is the same person, who goes to bed with a fat belly,
and a sense of pride that shadows their ignorance.
this person, who despises her partner,
but has the gall to say,
All You Need Is Love.

I am as naive as a schoolgirl, and my teacher, is staring at my knees.
daring my skirt to raise.

there are times, i play the role of the teacher.
your skirt to raise,
just a touch higher.

there are times, i am a scent, lingering on your clothes.

in a blink of an eye,
i could be the thought that ignites
passion & awe. I wonder.

always be quiet and listen.
let others tell their secrets,
shed light as bright as the sun.
hold your flashlight,
under your coat.
stand ready.
conserve your batteries.

i wasn't wrong.
i had to wait till after Easter.
look at all the good things,
my attitude for starters.

you may not need passion, like i do.
i don't mean, hot, stick it in me passion.
(what a shame, if you haven't ever heard these words, hot on your ear.)
i mean, absolute drive.
that isn't bought.
(expectations, dear. high.)
it isn't lovingly put together,by crude instruction.
passion flows. passion stirs.
you can tell a lot by a man, through his handshake.
how many lovers, he lamely tried to please.
how cold his kiss would be on your mouth.
passion pushes you farther, people admire it.

when you barely acknowledge it,
that's when you now, you provide it,
cause it, you are it. unaware.

passion is the curve of someones face, and you long to see the rest of it.

passion is what keeps you awake at night,
and it keeps you up, just so you can
satiate it.

(compulsion, is completely different.)

passion is what i reach for, the shoulder, i am trying to grab.
as if sitting on the bottom of the cold mountain river.
you can see it,
but you may not be able to tell how deep the water is.
our eyes, refuse to adjust.

we reach, and reach, never to touch.

unless i start swimming.
so yes, i need it.

passion to eat well, treat myself well, to present myself in a way,
that i work through a blaze of emotion that shades my face.
the tickle, that glides up my back.
that allows me to shine.
i need the passion
to show the world
who i want to be.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

MoneyPenny, I love you.

I suppose, in a few ways, I can relate to MoneyPenny.
She just wanted James to pay attention to her.
If she had been a real woman, (and not a character)
She would have woken up for James,
Worn her hair for James,
Gotten dressed for James.......
She would probably wear any outfit he complimented her on, over, and over,
(even if it wasn't her favorite.)
It would always stick out.

We feed on positive attention.
And, there's nothing wrong with it.

Friday, June 26, 2009

King Lear

Dear (fill in the blank),

I see the manure, and I can't help but wallow in it. :)

Reminder: You just better have your manure in a row.
(or ducks, which ever.)

I hesitate.
As I should.

I would regard, this as what I refer to,
"fake breast" mood.

Fake breast mood is when I want something, and it sounds like a great idea, but really, I need a firm grip of reality. I do not want fake breasts, please refrain from misconstruing what I mean.
I think things, could improve.
Maybe, I just want too much.
Maybe, I'm not getting enough.

You read this correctly,
I'm just not getting enough.

Enough of what?

Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, dear.
And, everything else in between.

Did you know, there's no cure for Home?

There are way too many times, I want to give into the glutenous side of me.
Eat, drink, not worry.
I'm not nearly enough of who I could be. And it discourages me.
It shouldn't, I know.

It's as if,
I were delivered in a box, marked,

Do you ever wonder about coincidences?
This is something I do not believe in.
I believe everything, every situation, is created.
By our own hands, by other's choices.
It's way too convenient to pawn that kind of thing off.
Where's the accountability?

Where's Waldo?

Where's the fun in letting something made up take the glory?
I love being "in" the story, doing it up, playing it out.
I love, that you are a part of it too.

It's good to think I write things that are relatable.
It means, I am doing a good job.

Nothing really happens on "accident."
No matter, how much you want to convince yourself so.
Situations, occurrences, happen!

And, ultimately, turn into satisfaction.

I suppose that's why "plans" and I do not really mesh.
Everything I plan, always changes, just a little bit,
or, a lot of bit.

When I plan, I also "expect."
And, when I "expect,"
I always anticipate too much.

On people,

I want too much.
There it is, in black, and white.

I carry too much weight on my little shoulders,
I imagine myself as an "Atlas" type.
When, in reality, the mirror reflects me,
as delicate, as butterfly wings.
Crushed easily.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Just in case,

I know you didnt ask,
but I thought I would tell
you what I need.

Sometimes, its better to admit defeat,
than to keep fightin' the "good" fight.

Live in the moment.

We imagine people for what we want to see them as. We romanticize precious people in our lives, that we throw on a pedestal, or lift the "little princess" on the mattresses, bearing the screams of the pea she claims to feel. We bat our eyelashes at our fragile friends, and shoot them forlorn glances across the room.

We shake as we prepare a glass of punch for our "prom dates."
Hoping, to score.
We create moments. We cultivate what we love to see in them.
Which isn't horrible.
It's best to see the great and the good in people we associate with.
Even when, we show our white bellies, floppin' on the riverbank, like a fish.
That mental picture, makes these souls even more endearing, even more incredible.

Now, enough about me.
What about you?
What's new?
I know nothing.
Very little detail.
You have been
Admirably Generous,
Entertaining me
With sugar cubes,
As if I were the
Sweetest Trick Pony in the ring.

I have no clue what goes through your mind.
Heavy mortgage, (not too heavy, I hope.)
Dreams, of appropriate appetite.

(I would love a slice of apple pie, please.)

It's bound to happen?


What a perfect word.
Wild Fire.

There are times, I think you just,
Leave me hanging.
Not by choice, but you do.
I look for you.
Around corners, and closed doors.
And I don't seem to mind, is the trouble.

Other times, I feel my heart beating, thrashing, in my chest.
As if waiting to get out of the gate.


Frothy mouth, (horse reference) legs, wildly moving, pounding the ground,
something primal coursing through the veins.

I sit in awe.

I cant wait for you to find out.
I think/believe/will
Write about "How it is."
Until it stops.

Like a carousel.
You know, taken care of.
Hand painted.

Organ carefully maintained.
Threads replaced.
With gentle hands.

Today, I belong in the bathtub.
Laze around.
And listen to the rain on the tin roof. (I have one)

One leg up, on the faucet.

Toes, turning on the "hot" water.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Mama's Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowgirls

That's not how the song goes, I know, but there are lines in that song, that reflect how I feel on occasion. It's a new season, the Cowgirl Season. You do shit by yourself, but the feeling of feeling alone when I'm with a bunch of people has finally eased. I suppose, I am in a good "place."

Cowboys ain't easy to love
(This cowgirl had been told the same thing)
And they're harder to hold
And They'd rather give you a song than diamonds or gold
(I, would prefer the song,too.)
Lone star belt buckles (sigh)
And faded old Levis (meow)
And each night begins a new day
(Reminds me of Mark Twain)
And if you don't understand him
(True, for me, the faster I run, the more I am feeling you couldn't comprehend the meat of me)
And he don't die young
(You don't ever know)
He'll probably just ride away
(Or speed a way, look at that red streak!)

Then the chorus, we all know, I will cover guitars, and old trucks soon.
I hate to point this out,
But you cant make somebody "do" something.
(Too literal?)
They'll never stay home
(Runnin' to Ga, and NC, it's what I need)
And they're always alone
(Except for the dogs)
Even with someone they love.
(The last line, has already been covered.)

I do, enjoy smoky old pool rooms, and clear mountain mornings.
(Next line)
Little warm puppies and children and girls of the night.
(I love puppies and children, but prefer, um, men of the night)

Them that don't know him, (wait for it)
Wont like him (better off)
And them that they do
(I like you too)
Sometimes wont know how to take him (my greatest fear)
(How many discussions, texts, phone calls, emails, blogs, have encompassed this topic, eh?)

I'm not fearful of the long winter, (Sweet Baby James)
I'm not afraid to ride a buckin' horse every now and then.
I believe, I look for them.
The wild horses? I look for a challenge.
My appetite for what's new?
Has not been satiated, and I suppose, this is a great thing.

He's not wrong he's just different and his pride wont let him
Do things to make you think hes right
(Sounds about right)

Of course, I love old trucks, and guitars,
(The boys who drive em', and the boys who pick em'.)

You can see my perspective, right?

It all adds up?

I think so.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

~ Fortune Cookies ~

The following are fortune's found, and kept in my wallet.

Now, they were posted in one of my journals.

Taped, on a page.

Focus on your long-term goal.
Good things will happen soon.

Modify your thinking to handle
new situations.

You will make many changes
before settling satisfactorily.

Keep your plans secret for now.

The time is right to make new friends.

Be alert for new opportunities -
pleasure or business.

I love fortune cookies. It's one of my "things". Not that there is anything wrong with having one of those tiny things that just make you super-excited-happy. That "stupid" thing, you call stupid, but your friends and family think it's one of the adorable traits you possess.

A great poem, I want to share with you, I had forgotten about.
Which, was found, in the book, Sue has let me read.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

Wallace Stevens

Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing,
Was the eye of the blackbird.

I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.

The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small pantomime.

A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.

I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendos,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.

O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?

I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.

When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.

At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.

He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.

The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.

It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.

I'm still "just right".
Like the porridge in Goldilocks and the 3 bears.

I love ya, with no "but" attached.

Monday, June 22, 2009


There are days I despise my position in life.
No. I realize, blessings flow everyday.
I see, dear, after the rain, comes the rainbow.
There are days, all I can hear is the weather vane on my house, and I am beyond content with the way the wind blows.

I also, spoiled myself rotten over the weekend, barely coming outside.
(except to weed eat)
I, napped with dogs, ate like a queen, read books, wrote furiously in my journal,
and of course, drank Dos Equis, and dreamed of pizza.
(ate jalapeno burgers, instead.)

Champ and I had a heated debate over Wyatt Earp.

We listened to Leonard Cohen, and lazed in the bed.

I wasn't lonely, and everything felt right.

It still does, feel as if,
I could very well, turn into a dejected piece of space matter,
at any given moment.

Listen kitten, I realize, being a grown-ass woman, with her wits (somewhat) about her, should we continue cat and mouse? Should I always let bygones, be bygones? When, do we, sweep everything under the carpet, as if nothing happened? I mean, the dirt is still under the carpet, and just because, I tried to clean it up, it means the dirt is still there!!!

Where is this coming from? I'm really not so sure, but I am sure, I know what I'm talking about. To question what is, ultimate truth, is like sitting on the couch, bitching about a white elephant. She's still there.

The reason, you don't see her?
Is the whole point of the white elephant syndrome.
She's still there!!!

Address the white elephant with caution, but address her, damn it!

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Mike Hawk (say it out loud)

Not mine, yours.

Well, this morning, the stop sign @ Piedmont Road,
that faces Dalton Road, had spray painted,
the words DON'T on top of STOP and BELIEVIN' below STOP.
No shit.
Has made my day.
This song, (ha, ha) encouraged the fuck out of me plenty of days.
I love it. It has plastered a big smile on my face!!!!

I am thinking of tonight's shenanigan's.
Shelane Shenanigan's.

That shall be the title of the evening's festivities.

To the ones who worry, I am staying with Skinny Bitch Shelane, and not out drunk driving. I promise. Tonight, I am sure, will be full of taxi taking, so, put those worries to bed.

Let me begin with Tuesday, hiking was great. Even though, it really wasn't a hike. It was a walk uphill to a beautiful view. I wasn't disappointed, so take that look off your face.

I did, sunburn. It is healing.

Bryan and I sat in the field, I was soaking it in. I thought, and thought, good things, while up there. I love the outside. It is actually where I can reconnect with myself. I don't feel so scattered, rushed. I, did this day, feel some blah.

I just cant constantly talk when I am outside. Or when I exercise. I need to concentrate. I am making mental notes. Going through my check list.(any small distraction for me, is like a million wasps, landing on my face)

My mood, sometimes, is on the verge on content.
And, Tuesday, should have been nothing but contentment.
But it wasn't. It was almost difficult.
(some days, are difficult)

Babe, I don't have a crystal ball, I don't claim to know it all.
I only know how I feel.

I only know, what you tell me.

Angie, Sue and Kim Hodge Perfetti, are 3 people I could spend a day with, and prolly not say a whole bunch. Our comfort is understood. It feels like your feet dangling out the window, on a nice drive. It feels like "the first time". It just feels good.

I realize, I am different.
(Here we go again)
It's cool. It really is.

I had dreams about babies last night. Baby animals, and baby babies.
Babies, represent change. New Birth.

Read this, once again, New Birth. (I have goose-bumps)

My view, on marriage, is different. It has changed. I'm not afraid of it. I am afraid of what it was.

When Thomas and I married, I was in a panic attack for about 3 months, straight. Sure, I smiled, waved, and it wasn't long before, I felt it all shift. Our first fight, that have stated, changed everything, was in December.

Being married, was difficult. I had to change everything. I suppose, you want to say I wasn't ready.

Well, get off your fucking high horse.

You, probably weren't as ready as you claimed to be either.


This is a topic of discussion, that is real to me. The facets of things, that I think, write, and sometimes, should dispose of in a different manner, comes out as me, throwing a Pre-Madonna fit.

Go ahead, make your assumptions.

But in the words of Glenn Rogers,
"When you assume, you make an ass, out of you, and me."
(First heard @ Maury Middle School)

I changed. Drastically.
I was hurled into a world of football, and not finishing Thank You notes quick enough.
(From wedding gifts.)

It's ok. I didn't want Thomas to change. I took everything he was, and decided I loved everything about him.
(re-read that, I have time)

I loved everything, about him. Even the things, that we didn't have in common.
I tried to understand.
We tried together, for the most part.

Sometimes, I feel as if I am living this great, romantic tragedy.
(so, my personality)

My point? I never expected Thomas to change.
(again, read carefully)

I never "expected him to change."
That was my bad.
Of course, the man would change.

25 years from now, your partner should be different.
Not only physically, but in those shades of grey, too.
Your core values,our true makeup, should never, ever, stray off the path.
We absorb new attitudes, with the winds of life.

Our outlooks, should turn into winged birds of paradise.

You don't wake up every day, and love peanut butter.
No, some days, you decide, squash would be great.
And, your partner, shouldn't be surprised.

You, my baby, change everyday, and to kid yourself, and not believe that, isn't reality.
To be so silly to even mouth the words, you cant accept others without
believing the FACT is!, we are, always morphing into more complicated creatures.

We, as humans, should be evolving, constantly.

Put your bible down, I am not here to corrupt your children, and you know I don't believe in the theory of evolution.
(but, you should read about the Galapagos Islands, and go with me one of these days.)
(My ultimate fantasy)

Get your hands out of my pie of theories too.
You don't know where they have been.

I am different for a reason.
For the storm of the century,
for the pains of patience,
for the utter reason for my living.

To learn.

I don't know why I don't have a child.
I don't know why, I cant have a partner right now.

I think it's ok, though.
(even though, I tear up)

We face choices.
We have a choice to either,
count our blessings, but still get upset when the chips fall,
or, be as sour as 24 day old milk.
Go ahead, take a whiff.

I can see clearly, that you may be repulsed by the chaos,
or utterly fascinated with this world.
With, my perspective, which, like snowflakes, no 2 are alike.

My new prayer?

Please send me my own Vince Vaughn.

I am closing now, because I fear I am on the cusp of sounding like a drunken sorority girl.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

In your head, baby.

My claim to fame. Award Show?
Held right here, imagine me, under a spotlight.
(I don't like, livin' under your spotlight) (Jennifer Hudson) (R&B)

Today's show will, include massive snippets of things I have written, on napkins, journals, matchbooks, slips of paper, floating in my purse.

Show me what a man hates, and I will show you what he is.

I wonder what you would think, if you could see me in the morning.

I have experience in marriage, and singledom. (see, resume)
Married life represents single life at times.
When life happens. When we get too busy. When world's collide.
There are times, you will still eat over the sink, go to bed alone.
Be lonely.

If I receive any more pity eyes, I will throw my dress over my head. (Sunday, morning)

The last thing I want to do, is offend you.

My favorite? Carmine Giovinazzo. (TV)

Do know the triplets?

All they wanna do is talk. I'm froze.
Cold.Cold. Cold. (Rolling Stones)

I had thoughts about Rhett Butler - Plenty of Gone With The Wind moments, could be the backdrop to my existence. (Or Beetlejuice, ghost scenes.)

(This, is a biggie.) (Untold Fortunes.)

What could I feel?
Is the electricity in our brains,
Working together,

Realizing, when,
My heart beats fast,
That is, the moment,
We are thinking of each other?

But can't tell.

Our communication is different.
Almost, unforgiven.

Women, think with their stupid heads and hearts,
Boys, think with their penis.
(Ladies, are just as driven my their vagina's also, honey bear.)

I wonder what it is like to be inside, that head?
The above, also, had been written in purple marker.

Taste blood.

Long quip -

I try very hard, not to be discouraged. Or felt discounted.
These occasions, turn into voids.
Of flushing those emotions, down the toilet.
Not paying attention to the triggers, refusing to face it.

Pissed, as if I am baking the same pie, over, and over.

Groundhog Day wouldn't be so bad, at least Bill Murray, had some element of control.

When I allow the dam to break, this is the result of the murky water.
If you show me what you're made of, it's surprising.

Caught in rainstorms.
Lives of other's seem so wonderful.
Not every dimension, but if only, I could copy, and paste.


I'd rather be ice picking.
Sometimes, sweet Paula,
your discouragement, isn't real.

Sometimes, the waning of your attitude, it comes out forced.
Because, my bird, you are, optimistic, and it rings true, even in the darkest hour.

Too hard on yourself.
Too lax on others and their behaviors.
When I should hold others as accountable as I hold myself.

It's not fair, to you.
I have the chance to be better, and I am.

Dear Reader,

I hope this isn't too heavy. To see inside, the living room of myself. An intimate invite, of what I may be writing down sitting next to you in the car, or at dinner, or in your home. You are a part of my story, as much as I am a part of yours. I try not to forget feelings, emotions, pure memories.

Back to the task at hand.

I like to think of him as a soldier at war. (think Cold Mountain)
Waiting to come home.
Counting down the days.
Keeping my picture in his breast pocket.

My adventures in tow with Sue last weekend, I began to think, about tattoos. We can all have a fantasy self, right?
I would have an anchor, with gold rope down my side, and Sue, unknowingly added this to my fantasy self also, sparrows, on my chest. Elaborate Letter P, somewhere. Sparrows, have always been on the agenda, but the suggestion, of them being placed there, made me light up!

Side note - must flea market this weekend. Buy old suitcase if it's there....

Cunnilingus. Word first coined (and understood)by Charles Cross, whispered outside his house, referencing, the thing, he was most skilled at.

Cunnilingus, is the act of using the mouth, lips, and tongue to stimulate the female genitals. Derived from, a "vulgar" (Wikipedia's description, not mine) Latin word for the vulva,
(cunnis = C U Next Tuesday) (cunnis, theirs, the latter? Mine. (Heard at some point in my career at JCHS!) and the Latin word for tongue (lingua), the term literally means "cunt-tongue."
A person, who performs cunnilingus may be referred to as a "cunnilinguist".

I, am about to piss my pants, from laughter, as I read this.

Wikipedia, continues, the article informs me, that the clitoris is the most "sexually sensitive part" of the body for most women but may be "too sensitive" to pleasantly stimulate directly(read carefully, boys) at times, (amen) especially in early stages of arousal. (This is true, and confirmed, according to Ed Milner, with whom I had a deep, long conversation, about my reactions to his "please, please me" courses/trips of carnal pleasures on the good ship Paula during our late 1998-2004ish realationship.)(Monday, June 15th.)(During lunch break)
(Scissor legs)

So and so had stated in said Wikipedia article, that most women achieve orgasm easily through clitoral stimulation. (Ask your mom, too, she's a woman.) (Do NOT ask after church during lunch.)

I am absolutely fascinated by the description of this beautiful act, that can be performed, most anywhere. Couch, floor, car, outside, picnic table, basketball court,( these are mere suggestions.)
(I am a good Samaritan, on this road of life) (APW)

Said Lady, should be willing to be sans panties, or willing to pull them at least to her knees, (makes it ten times hotter, and ultimately, more satisfying.) (Or, pull panties, over.)

Don't look at me like that. Observation. That's it.

More descriptions? Or, "How-to's?"

Can't right this second, I'm exhausted.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Your trunk, or mine?

Well, my trunk is broken. It's true. I have calmed down.
I am the storm that starts in the middle of the ocean, and reigns terror, on the fishermen, a la The Perfect Storm.
(P.S., I have referenced this movie on other occasions to give an example of my temper.)
Funny story, mornin' glory, I can reserve my anger for significant hurts, it's the little things, that light my fuse.

Listen, I am pretty much a coyly (ever met english, PLN?) disguised firecracker.
I would sign my name and take THAT check to the bank.

Ask, Angie, or Sue, and half of Jefferson City, Carson-Newman, would love to press charges.

I am cussing. Not quietly either. I am H-O-T. Blazin'. The fires in California?? Silly.

Just blow Santa Anna winds. I, am so unglued, that tears, don't dare show up.

They dry up, in the corners of my eyes, and decide to roll back into my head.

I pull into Mama's driveway, and try to explain the assery that is taking place,
she took one look, and said, calm down, we'll get it figured out.

I inherited the crazy temper trait from guess who? Vicky Clause. (Duck, if she gives you the Vicky Clause eyes.) (Angie has been in years of training to accomplish the mimic.)

Mama, (A.K.A Vicky Clause) sat me on the porch, and said, listen, I want you to try and tell me whats going on. Calmly. (Like a pot on the stove, honey, boilin')

Just as I open my mouth, she said, "And not like a hell-bent cat either."

I sigh.

I start. I cant get all my little words together. She stares at me.

Did my head pop off?

My Honda and I have a stand off in the middle Piedmont. I take the stupid seat down, (still wet from Tiger vomit), and wriggle into the trunk, I attempt, (weakly) to pull the emergency hatch.

Well, well, well. Broken screws.

Good. Good.

I crawl out of the trunk through the seat, and Mama looks scared.

She asks, is it ok, sweetheart? (Pullin' out the big guns, eh? Sweetheart?)

I do not purr like a kitten, I may have scared Vicky Clause. (May have)

I stare at her, and say, no.

I hold out my little hand, with the little screws.

She cocked her head to the side, "Did those come from your trunk?"


"Daddy will be out of church soon, so, I can have him call you." (yes, Daddy's girl)


This is not where it ended.

I squall between texts, and phone call between Sue, Angie, and Bryan.

God bless, Bryan, trying to make a joke, said,

"Do you know what you need?"

What? (sniffle)

" A man."

He laughs like a hyena, and it makes me cry harder.

I tell him, all I need is, is help.

He offers.

I accept.

I squall harder, before going into the grocery store, because,

I feel the weight of the world is on me.

I am so small.

but so great, at the same time.

The lyrics in my head?

And before me dig out a bitch I have ta find a contraceptive,

You never know she could be earnin' her man,

And learnin' her man, and at the same time, burnin' her man

Here is the big question.

Accept help when someone could hold something over your head?

Dig into the paranoia?

I don't know.

As small as it is, I will not feel better until the whole thing is resolved.

As unplanned, and fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants nature,

Why stress over this tiny thing?

That can be fixed? And will be taken care of?

Fuckin' bananas.

I guess, that's why you all keep up with me. And care for me.

That's cool. I dig it. I need it.

P.S. You have never, ever, ever, seen such a happy little dog. Champ and I slept nose to nose.
The way God commanded it to be. :) My boy is home. In the air conditioning.

Saturday, June 13, 2009


Forget everything you know about me, and try to paint a new picture.
Impossible right?
Its completely asinine to think of me as anything else other than me, right?

Today, this week, the past 2 weeks, I have started to see myself in a different light.
I'm not really sure why.

Things are going to change, I can feel it. (Beck, Loser)

Friday, June 12, 2009

If you can't stand the heat

Get out of my juice box. Well, that sounded bad.
Sounded a little Led Zepplinish.
My mood is like a tipsy housewife today.
Running around in her little heels, straighting out her apron.
What's that? How did I get in your head? It was unlocked.
Oh, the housewife thing?
Yeah, really describing myself, teetering, to get to the top bookshelf.
I need to dust.

Couldn't you just fist fight me in the rain?
I'm just that fucking precious today. (not rubber sex doll face)
I'm stuck in the era I was meant to live in.
(we could argue, that the 70's could have been my prime time, but, cocaine is so dated.)
My name? So 50's.
My mood? Intercontinental.
(era? 40's-50's.) (post World War 2)

My hair today, is very Jackie-Oish. With some beautiful Audrey Hepburn earrings.

No photos, please. (in the shell today, pinch your nose, refusing to come out.)

I pulled up my stockings and snapped them to my garter belt. Elastic, a little loose, which, I'm relieved. It flatters the legs.
Slip on. Slip on, over my head.

I like the way a woman had to dress in that time. Glamorous everyday. I believe most women, enjoy getting all dolled up. I believe, all women, want to look incredible. I also believe, we have tailored ourselves to look like big sweat socks, too.

Oh, now honey, I am just as guilty. I should look ravishing everyday.

Do I ?

uh uh.

Back to the layer cake. Granted, the lingerie, wasn't as cute, for me. In my humble little gal opinion. I like little panties, get out of here, granny panties. Anything high waisted. (snarl)

I know, though, if the high waisted panties, and girdles, and cone shaped brassieres were it, you guessed it...... I would have rocked it.

The whole, showing a little, and taking it away? HOT. Jeez.

Let me fetch your slippers sweetheart.
I would love to light your pipe, dear.
I may be in the middle of a summer drought. (Ha!)
Apparently, I am skipping down the road of sexual innuendo's, and not really giving a fuck.

Yes, dear, dinner is on the table.

Excuse me? Why am I propped up here? Skirt past my thighs?
I thought it was dinner time.
Hungry for something else?
Well, I might call you, how you say, gay?, to my girlfriend's from now on.

Let's see. That wouldn't happen in a million years, now, would it?
(chin propped)

You wouldn't turn a lady down.... now would you Mr. Wolf?

Not a hair out of place, lipstick in order, let me freshen your martini, darlin'.....
You look parched!
My nails? Painted red, of course.
Is this not how you pictured it?

Crawling on the floor, as ladylike as possible.
Come on now, you know how to treat a girl, right?
Like the most priceless item in the store, baby.
Like you cant afford her.
The most amazing piece of glass ever crafted,
an oil painting so meticulous, or a cherry classic car.......

Crinoline everywhere.Meringue.

mmm mm.

Get out of the kitchen.....

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Fire and Gasoline




Hot legs? Even hotter heart. I'm too hot too handle all the way around. Got a bucket of water? Nope, even more intense than the coffin company burning down back in the early 90's. Or, that grease fire that started in the kitchen? Burned the mansion all the way to the ground. Lady Marmalade wondered "How do bad things happen to good people?" Well, for one, you're runnin all over New Orleans feedin' defenseless men Magnolia Wine. (I stall, bc, I wonder, how I can get in on that action?) You, Lady, send them home to their "gray, flannel, lives", (your words, not mine) and they long for your sweet touch. So that's why. Your justification.

Project Mayhem? Is sweeping through? The first rule? Well, sailor, you already know the line.

I'm pretty sure, I don't owe an arm and a leg to you. You have your own!!! Hmm? This reality is making me work myself to the bone. Aggravated when my hair falls down. I need everything in place, otherwise, its pure shit.

Is Saturday night alright for fightin'? Nah. Wednesday seems perfectly ok with me. Hold on, let me pencil it in? What's that? A pencil? Oh, it's a stick, with lead inside it. Some of em have erasers on the ends. Hmm? Oh, yeah, you have a Blackberry. I have a strawberry!!! Oh, It's not the same? You are so right, I got this one from a slip and slide.... Still not the right thing? The carton of strawberries are sitting in the fridge....Still not it? Well, somebody's gotta make pie for her brother in law!!! Might as well be me. (Those are the only berries, I dig.) (I see no purpose for berries in my "lack" of electronics.)

Back to your Blackberrrrry, when did we all become so self serving, self righteous, and so full of THINGs? I get it. I want things. I even went shopping for myself. Couldn't buy the one THING I had been really just wanting. I fed on the guilt of the splurge. I fed on the dissapointment of not giving in. I had Ghost-limb, buyer's remorse.

Whoops. Even more to know. I am the selfish of the selfish, and I wear a crown too heavy for my frame. I find myself hoarding my alone time all of a sudden. Hiding in the woods, literally. Lady bird giving away my camp. Daddy looked at me and asked, what's wrong baby?

Like a wide-eyed doe, I looked at Daddy and said, nothing, right now. He said, ok, if you say so. Don't stay out here too late. You didn't bring enough fuel for the lantern. Busted. And confirmed. There's not a man out there who can ever preform the miracle of taking care of me.

Sound hoity toidy?


(High five Josh Nason, I am a Daddy's girl, and didn't take any offense to you saying so when we were sitting in y'alls living room.)( You see the true respect I have for my Daddy.)

Its a little more, that's where I want to be, so that's where I am. Stitching holes in the knees of my jeans? Big, huge, patches. My emotions are not so raw this week.

Day? 54? Not really.
I am counting down from something that is nonexistent.
A day, that has never really happened.

My view? Is straight up the driveway. Sitting in my faux beach chair lovingly purchased from Pier 1, circa 1999. Still obnoxious. Still one of the most uncomfortable things I continue to claim to love. I actually turned on the air conditioner. Shocked, I know. Champ had broken out into a little heat rash, but felt better after his bath. Pete and I barked back and forth. Pete, is my miracle worker of stylist. Well, he assists in making my hair incredible. Listen, the secret to my beautiful hair? Is..... drum roll....not fighting against it. Not using a flat-iron, letting it air dry. Which, half of the haircut was discussed on how to look effortless, and we concluded with, (ding-ding), let it air dry. I think its mostly the climate as of late.

When I rode shot gun in the car, I didn't stare out the window, long to be far away. I was pleased with everything, I didn't desperately think about anything, over and over. I focused on the positive. I turned my phone off to sleep. I looked forward. I had, nice thoughts. Today, I didn't wish for another life. Or, think about the tragic moments. I didn't examine every blade of grass, I just saw the yard.

I spent time with Ladybird. (she rolled in the grass)
I did read. (my favorite thing)
My love affair with words. The meanings, their sounds, the emotion and passion that can be served up, with only words. Never ending.

My life is, endearing and romantic at this time. It may not seem that way to the naked eye.
You are untrained!!!! Your vision, will improve, continue with an RX of constant communication.

Things are changing. My Summer could be perceived as Fall.

Thank you for reading. Peeking through my clouds.

I don't know why, this situation, popped up today. I thought about a time when thomas and I were married, and I had a taste of his anger before. Now, dear, I would walk on hot coals, to avoid any discontent. (couldve saved my burned soles) This story is not, for you to feel bad, have pity, or be mad at so and so. IT is, to just tell it. I had come home from work and started supper, when the phone rang. I answered.

P: Hello?

T: What is your God damned problem?

P: What? What are you talking about?

T: Why didn't you call on your way home?

P: I did. I called your phone, and I called the store.....

T: You could have text messaged me. I didn't know where you were.

P: I started supper as soon as I got home, I haven't even changed clothes,

T: (Interrupting me) Paula, you need to get your shit together, I swear, just call me and tell me
what the fuck you're doing. Love you.

That, baby, is not exaggeration. And telling. The GD's, what the fuck, who the fuck, how the fuck's were like unwanted complaint's from your pain in the ass renter.

I know, you have heard me say, how thankful I am. And, its true. More and more. The facade of it all is that he wanted me to believe, he cared about me. In love. When the truth of it all, was he cared about his own skin, and controlled my every move.
(Planning other's predestination, is fool's gold)

Why the fuck am I bringing this up? Maybe I need to discuss it today, maybe, I just am having this transfixed moment of appreciation of how far I have traveled.

I would be anxious, I was anxious, almost every second of our marriage. After THE FIGHT. Married less than 2 months, the shit, hit. Hard. I was anxious, and nervous from that point on, but happy. Right?

That's horribly wrong. Every bit. Things that make me/you, nervous/anxious, in a, hand wrenching, heart pounding sense, is wrong. Its wrong.

I'm not the only one. You probably have/or will see a situation, that, in fact, you work through,because it is the right thing to do, you love someone/something, you would rather sacrifice that little thing called your own version of Jiminy Cricket. (Conscious) (Pinocchio)
Work on that part of you. The hard rocks, the jaunty cliffs, need to be addressed. (See Titanic)

The freedom to admit, it is wrong.(Its complicated to face)

Listen, I know the title of my blog, is, I love you, BUT....

I do love you. Without buts.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Here We Go

Listen, I know, I know, I said it before, gonna say it again, quote Bob Dylan, over, and over, The times, they are a changin'. Simplicity, I am awkwardly in love with. If you look for me, I am bound to be found. Walking with Sue, complimenting, never-ending. These friendships, that I FIEND for, keep me alive. You need to be chased. I am a Pandora's Box. I feel as if I am. I miss feelings, and first kisses. I become embarrassed when I think of the realationships I have fucked up. And I have. We forget, it does take 2. Oh yes, not everything is my fault, and the sheer thought of me being a domineering, hateful juice box, just isn't my caliber. I have said things, and done things, that were, questionable? I have existed on pure human emotion. I have, been berating myself for not being enough Spock. (yeah, honey, that Spock.)

I think, you know, I have sacrificed, made others happy before myself, and, I have lied before, to protect my own ass. See? Human? Terrified.

Is it such a bad thing, that I have not been "pollinated"? Is it so bad, that the fruit I produce, isn't a child. (so far) It sure is. Am I sick of living a gypsy lifestyle? At times. I wouldn't mind so much, if I had a partner in the mix.(Jumping into muddle puddles?)

Red blooded men, please apply. With caution. I tend to jump head over feet, meaning, I have had sex on the first date. Is that awful? No. I have been the girl that has held out, and not even thought of slipping off my panties. Where did both situations land me? On my fucking ass, that's where. Insert, trial and error face, here.

Turning corners.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Fantastically Bitchy

Oh my darlin', oh my darlin', oh my darlin', Clementine. The name of this post, I read earlier, I wish it were mine, because then the scrutiny would shine through. Listen, Babe. I am laying face down, hopes up, and possibly on another roll. You see, maybe you have gotten behind. Maybe, as you drive in your car, you were gonna make a call, but then, your all-time favorite jam came on the radio, so you decided, you would wait. Then you had to meet for salad, and thought, it may be too early. Never mind. You recheck your watch? 11:30. May be in bed. Call tomorrow. Then, in the middle of the night, as faithful as a golden retriever, you have a dream that incurred from drinking too much Dr. Pepper. You wistfully lie in bed, and know now, it is too late. This whole thing is describing someone else's situation as they sit still and read the words, and feel utterly, and hopelessly accused.

Wouldn't it be nice? (The Beach Boys, always linger, and especially, Pet Sounds, brilliant album) My day was a blur, the night, the same. I sat outside, pulled my sweater around me a little tighter, and listened to the sound of the electric fence, like a metronome, keeping time. The moon was hidden by the clouds, and I wanted to hide right along with it. Bev had called, and asked if I had put a spell on anyone with my "bedroom" eyes. I choked on my Dos Equis. I laughed. I told her, no, no one is bewitched by this girl today, as far as I know. She said, you wait, and I directly quote this mad woman, " You allow married men, men with girlfriends, and possibly a gay or two, question their commitment to their partner." Well, God Bless America. That, my sweet, made me laugh harder. I got off the phone with wined-up Beverly, (she visits the mountain winery too much) and told her to get in the bed and go to sleep. This was 12:45ish.

Who wants to be that Jezebel anyway?( I really think she meant more along the lines of Homer, and the Odyssey.)

And that Muskadine wine? Always makes her talk out of her head. (Yeah, you, Bev.)

My conversation with Sue was a little more realistic, and certainly, in this world, and not in the boundaries of "String Theory", real or imagined. We discussed perception, and how it is different for everyone. The depths? Very deep. Which, I needed. I am, transcended by space, and time. My frame of mind, is set in other worlds, and truth. Did I cry? Yes. I cried. My understanding, and my frailty, will rise to the top, because, my emotions, are easily wrought. In a wonderful way. When others cant say how they feel. When others don't want to say how they feel. I hold back, when I think I'm scaring someone like a fainting goat. (Did you know they shot an episode of WildBoys in New Market?) I try, to use discretion.

With Sue, Angie, my fire-starter, I can, tell you, and not worry. I am not anxious, when I let it all out to you. I suppose I should write a magnificent Opus. An Ode To Crowns. Ha.

My thoughts? If I won the lotto, I would take care of my family, first. I would go to The Galapagos. I would, drive the same car, but have the headlights replaced. I would, need a jeep for the dogs. I don't believe, I will ever hit big numbers. It would be terrifying. To hold so much. when I have a little extra cash, I am loosey goosey. Would the greedy, human part of me, overtake my sweet spirit? My Tenderhearted nature? (Batman -Two Face? - Become a DC Comics character?)

You see, my dear, I have let go of everything. I have been in the wilderness. I have, and continue to roam. Encourage my homeland to show itself. I am very much Christopher Columbus. Spreading the maps along the ground, marking the places I long to find.
Proving theories. Proving theories. Those words are as sweet as honey in my mouth.

Tragic, huh? I see the girls in their heels, gorgeous. Painted. I see myself, pale in comparison, at times. Someone, I don't speak to, something they said, constantly bangs in my head, when I compare my short, cute, self to other breathtakingly beautiful gazelles of ladies. This soul, had uttered, "You're just not the type of girl you find at a bar. You, are set apart." I still take that as a compliment. I hope to be described as the girl on the song. (My Morning Jacket, Librarian.)

I feel challenged. Not like a mentally ill person, (Iron Maiden, Self titled, 1980.) Just, provoked. Like a wild piousness snake in the middle of her strike. You see, we all have to eat to live. Whether we strangle our kill, inject the sweet venom into the bloodstream.....
We are all predators. Lying in wait. (Even, you, pushed down in the mud. Fuck, you're the one to really watch for.) Am I camouflaged? Not nearly enough.

Great Neil Patrick Harris. Just keepin' it between the lines, son.

As I read, elbows propped, I glance over, and look down my arm. Freckles. Everywhere. Am I bewitched so easily? I suppose. Is it you who is putting spells on me? In the dark cauldron, you spoon the liquid, I take it in. Am I mislead? Hansel and Gretel making their way through the forest. One of my all time favorites. (Grimm's.) Right into the oven.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Smile Pretty

That's the theme for the day. Day 1. Starting over. Smile pretty. Look how far you have traveled verses how far away from where you want to be. Now on occasion, I do take a load off, and look down that gravel road I have been walking on. Believe it or not, I really don't take everything so seriously. Honest. I'm in a boat. But, not the one everyone else is on. I will stop staring at black trucks, '78-'79 Corvettes the way a man looks at a woman, I refuse to stare at the efficient little hybrids. Day 1. I have not been praying, and therefore, I am right back where I knew I would land once again. Hope, no desert. Not, back in baby's arms.

I helped with surgery, assisted with bringing pups into the world. Their little mouths, straining to open, we cleaned their little throats, suctioning the afterbirth out of their breathing devices. When animals are born, via c-section, it can be very hard for them to breathe, not every surgery is difficult, but it is such a precious moment. The very second, pulled out of their mothers, struggling. Sometimes, even when you have cleaned their goozles, the babies, may not be breathing. We do a technique of kind of cradling them in our hands, and doing a quick sweep down motion. It helps clear them out, it assists in their breathing. I may need a little sweeping motion myself.

Monster Truck Rally this weekend? Nah. Not for me. Hmm? Oh, yes, it would be a blast, but, I'm not in the mood. What's that? Oh yes, an art exhibit would be a little more appropriate. I found my niche. I found the mood I desire often. Not quite touching the earth, barley orbiting around.

My Thesaurus? Is under the mattress, with some pages missing. Words, that I do not believe need any more explanations. Or, coffee stained. Pages, with pieces missing. Underlined, highlighted. Notes stuffed, here and there.

I need to get things done. Started. Processing. View my goal through the kaleidoscope. Take in the colors, and wonder of it all. Write down the expression that fuels me. You see, most words fire me up. Not with anger, sometimes remorse. Sometimes, fire, ignites under me, and I resolve to let it continue to fuel me.

I know how the forest feels when it doesn't rain. The cracking sounds the wood makes, when it needs a sip of water. My Daddy's Farm? Is so gorgeous right now. I know, it's been raining, it kind of stormed last night, but everything is so green, full of promise. Today is a beautiful day, even though, it's reminiscent of Seattle to some. To me, it's that sweet transition of Spring/Summer in Tennessee. In my neck of the woods. In my sweet escape.

This will be my devotional of the day. I recreated some good intentions, and could have layed in the hammock this morning, but it's so wet outside. I feel like Beethoven on Redbull. Kinda Disney movie, all of them trying to teach you a lesson, at the same time, digging the knife deeper. I need just a little. Waiting for the triumph. I refuse to feel as if the malfunction is showing today. Refuse. I'm not upset, just on a roll.

If it could be sushi roll, I would prefer. So, why take it so seriously? Because, sweetheart. It is serious. Serious business of my life. Every second is fleeting. Getting away from us all. In the middle of the gnashing of teeth and nagging? We let it go. Like a balloon. We suffer so greatly with not a bit of effort. Seems to come naturally, and I beg to look at it.

Who knew this is who I would be? Right now, in this season of my life. The wine has already been poured. I may leave right now. I'm fighting like hell to get rid of the lump in my throat. I'm thrashing wildly to not care so much about things to touch, feel, and do. It feels exactly like I live on the beach, and can taste the salt on my lips. If I could.

Have I been holding my breath so long, I finally passed out? I f you did sneak out of the house to meet me for a moment, I embraced the longing. I embraced the forbidden fruit. You had used the phrase tortured, and it was the sweetest thing I had ever heard.

Tied to the apron strings? Not us. We are a dying breed, or a hiding breed, just like the Vampires. I have at least 7 books open, and reading. One about the Holocaust. 4 of them? Recommended by friends, and borrowed.

Ron Burgundy? Not present today.

My wild state of mind has nothing to do with Will Ferrell, or the thigh trembling Vince Vaughn. My wild state of mind has to do with my wild state of affairs. Not on a ledge, not angry at anything, just Paula. Wide eyed, careful, Paula.

Carnal would be a perfect word to describe me today. Carnal, is the way to live. Pale knuckles? Look at my hands, relaxed as a sleeping lamb.

Thursday, June 4, 2009


I don't know if I made the choice not to sleep, or if I wasn't sleepy, or if I couldn't sleep. It was a tough choice to make. I was up and down. Ready to rest, but sure, something was about to unfold. My hair is so wavy and thick, with all the humidity, and my refusal to to turn on the air conditioner. I couldn't hear the sounds of the outside, so you might as well smite me. the windows up, suits me so much better. Am I hot? If it's too much, I take off my toboggan.

Before all of this began, I was scrubbing the tub, listening to something as awful as The Black Eyed Peas. The radio stations are different here, and, being such a sucker for the physical things of the past, oddities? I listen to this huge boom box radio that had been in the barn, circa 1970 somethin'. It picks up this one station I love, but on occasion, it throws in a tune, that is too plain, or main. It obviously made me scrub harder. I was transfixed on the fact that the "something" in the back ground wasn't what I wanted. So I focused on the one thing that was making me as docile as a crocodile.

Sometimes, caught in the web of the Black Widow. When, I should always be reminiscent of the sweet spider, herself, in Charlotte's Web. I remember 4th gradish, that was a go-to movie. It always made me cry, even as a 8 year old.

Was my fortune unfolding, before I could even have a handle on it? Did the Gypsy, have my hand, before I had any assistance on cultivating my fate on my own? I'm just not so sure.

Hold on loosely, but don't let go. 10 points, if you can name the title, and lead singer.
Ok, you can include the band name.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Cold Legs

Steve Martin. My mood. For the day.

Monday, June 1, 2009

My Game

Wow. Just wow. Here we are again. I'm anxious. Thinking about whiskey. Feeling honored. I have been Miss Cussypants. Really saying phrases that only sailors, and maybe lumberjacks should utter.

Sue, my Sue, my Sue. Rendered me speechless through a text message. A text message!!! Asking me, your local Muppet Baby, to write the foreword in her photography book, if it ever happens.

Now listen closely, and read carefully. Pretend to be me for just a second. Prepare for a shift, being me, is overwhelming. The vision changes, dramatically. And, you feel extra tiny.

Listen, my Sue, is so talented, my words, couldn't even touch the pure wonder of what she creates. Her eye is so extra revolutionary, its nothing to be taken lightly.

I know, now, I know, SHE said, one day, it could, maybe happen.

What really twirls the pasta in my bowl?
Is she, she, fucking believes in me, as much as I believe in her.

Hang on, we are going down a side street.
On a motorcycle.
Through a jungle.

My Angie!!!! I fucking miss her. I haven't been able to see her, much less talk to her, and I need her. I need her to take a walk with me on the wild side, have a picnic, wear galoshes, examine necrotic skin, lust after handsome men at the Ingles with me, use me as an excuse, write a long love letter to, I just fucking need her.

See? Cussypants.

When can it happen? Not going to a wedding in Charlotte this weekend. Am staying put as far as I know. Maybe invited to come see you. Hiking in NC tomorrow, after my meeting. Maybe butter the corn on both sides. We should grill out. I think so. Whatever. I am somehow going swimming this week. In a creek or river, in the mountains, I am, going to lay out, and let the freckles rise to the top. I'm sure of it. I miss you, and I'm just going to leave it at that.

Some thing's about to change. I can feel it.