Chilled Cheeks and Mud Covered Jeans

Chilled cheeks
Red nose
Mud covered jeans
Wind whipped hair
Breathless dogs
Paws wet from puddles
Heart full
Tear streaked
Cold cheeks
Dogs lick
Salty kisses
Make me smile
Make me brave

Waking Up From Rain Delays

Words escape me these days. I’m tired, but can’t sleep. Not hungry, but never full either. Gotta keep moving. The words will return and with them, my smile. Along with a host of other things….

Well sleepless nights and endless days,
Mini skirts and serving trays,
Waking up from rain delays,
And selling sex for pocket change,
And living off the alcohol,
With no one but a cab to call,
And lost inside a bathroom stall,
This carbon copy life withdrawal,

And I need, Someone to believe in.

And driving cars we can’t afford,
Just a making sure were never bored,
Living off our own accord
Between coffee grinds and corner stores
Limousines and cigerettes,
Chasing dreams with fishing nets
And long weekends with out regrets
Well no one here is taking bets

And I need, Someone to believe in
Yes someone to fill this space, with grace
To look into my eyes and touch my face
To make me feel alive today

Someone to make me strong
Someone to make me belong
Someone to make it all right
Someone to make me feel alive, yeah

And stretching out like rubber bands
To kiss the cheeks and shake the hands
And pool halls and wonderlands.
With strong arms and no legs to stand
And getting by on hand me downs
With your tips, your drinks, your buying rounds
It’s back to my old stomping grounds
Like children in the lost and found

And I need, Someone to believe in
Yeah someone to fill this space, with grace
To look into my eyes and touch my face
To make me feel alive today YEAH

Angel Kisses and Bette Davis Eyes

I slather Oil of Olay on my slightly wrinkled face. I’m fair complected, and my eyes are striking. I want so badly to look like Marilyn Monroe, but I’m a Bette Davis. As my fingers make delicate circular motions, the tiny wrinkles are quenched with precious fluid. They seem to disappear. I ponder my image in the bathroom mirror and grin. Laugh lines crinkle around my eyes, but I don’t care. The luminescence in my baby blues won’t be extinguished. Even with the passing of time.

I apply a dollop of eye cream on the translucent skin under the eye and then under the eyebrow. I notice that my brows are lightening with age. Someday, they’ll disappear entirely. My eye cream is nothing magical. There’s no placenta, seaweed extract or anything exotic. I like simple. A pure cream that will fill in the little lines and hold the tiniest bit of concealer under my eyes. I need to hide those Gucci bags that sometimes appear, for God’s sake.

My grin doesn’t falter as I trace my fingers across my cheekbones. I take comfort in my skin, though marred by time and flecked with age spots. I touch the Marilyn Freckle between my right nostril and the apple of my cheek. I chuckle because, it is a natural beauty mark. Some women want it so badly, they have it permanently tattooed on their faces. Mine, just comes naturally.

I’m blessed with so many “Angel Kisses”. I told my children when they were young, that angels kissed their cheeks, arms, and legs while they slept. How else could one explain all those little flecks of melanin on the skin? They’d laugh and roll their eyes at me, of course.

I place the foam tip applicator on the skin under my eye. It provides a small amount of coverage for the dark circles that sometimes appear. Inserting the applicator back in the tube and grabbing a tad more on the tip, I add a few dots of it around my nostrils. Not to hide any flaws, but to shade the broken capillaries that have sprouted due to my bouts with alcohol abuse.

Next comes the wild hued eyeliner. What color will it be? Purple, green, blue, gold, hmmmmmm? I think purple will work. Liquid, dark, and sensuous. Jet black mascara is a must. Strange color I know, for a blonde haired and blue eyed bombshell. As my Adam Boy continually points out, I’m anything but conventional. So Jet black mascara it must be.

Wrinkles, age spots and a myraid of other flaws be damned! I’ve come to realize that life is so much better with a few miles under the hood, and lines on my face. It sure the hell beats being 20 years old any day. As long I don’t look like a truck ran over my face, I’m doing just fine.

It’s Time to Hang it Up-For a Spell

Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.-Vonnegut

Slaughterhouse-Five

Yesterday I was in the front yard, screwing around with my iPhone. I took loads of pictures. Don’t ask me how, but I snapped this shot while standing behind a flowering crab apple tree. I was smiling, I think. I smile all of the time. I may be falling apart inside, but there I am grinning like an idiot.

A few years ago, I was drunk and munching on country style ribs. My drunk self proceeded to bite down so hard on a bone, that I split my tooth all the way to the root. The following Monday, I was in Dr. Fear’s chair having my tooth extracted. It costs a small fortune to have an implant put in and then have the crown placed. Needless to say, I’m still missing a tooth. It doesn’t deter me from smiling though. Much to Adam Boy’s chagrin. He teases me all of the time about my gap toothed smile. Oh well, it could be worse.

If you’ve been following me for some time you know that I see my Super Therapist on a regular basis. He’s a great guy that makes me deal with my issues. I have many. Think Marilyn Monroe, but not as famous or pretty. Seriously, watch the movie, My Week with Marilyn and you’ll get an idea of what it’s like to live with a woman like me. Loving me is not easy and not for the faint of heart. I digress. Sorry.

As Super Therapist and I chatted yesterday, I realized that I’m not happy. My smile is there, but my heart hurts. I can’t tell you all why, but I will tell you one thing, my creativity is dwindling. My words are drying up, and I’m scared that they will disappear forever.

This Manic Pixie Dream Girl is going to take her leave for awhile. I’ll still participate in Friday Fictioneers, because I adore it. Rochelle and company have made me realize my potential and I’m so grateful. Think I’ll get my stories together for a book too.

I’ll be back, when everything is beautiful, and doesn’t hurt.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Love, Sparkly Girl

It was Her Charm and Radiant Smile

A woman whose smile is open and whose expression is glad has a kind of beauty no matter what she wears.

Anne Roiche

“You didn’t expect to fall for me did you?”, she asks.

“No.”, he replies.

She laughs and responds,  “I told you I was different from most women. You didn’t want to believe me.”

He says, “I know. I thought I knew what you needed.”

“Honey, you’ve no idea how my heart beats.  If I didn’t know what I needed, how could you?”, she responds.

“I thought I did, but I was so wrong.”, he replies.

“When we first started this, I told you that everything happens for a reason. Do you remember that?”, she inquires.

“Yes.”, he quietly replies.

“Do you believe me now?”, she asks.

“No.”, he replies sharply.

“Bullshit! Don’t be such a man.”, she retorts. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that, don’t you?”

He asks, “Why are you so nice to me?”

She sparklingly responds, “Because as impossible as it seems, I love you. This is kismet, serendipity, fate, whatever you want to call it. All of this was supposed to happen.”

He looks at her and trails two fingers tenderly down the side of her face. She leans in, kisses his forehead and takes his hand. He wonders how he ever got so lucky and then she smiles that glowing smile. Her entire being radiates. He thought he was the charmer, the smooth talker, but  no, it was her. She knew exactly what to say. What he needed.

Her grin widens and she says, “I promise, I’m not going anywhere love.”

“I’m glad.”, he replies.

She giggles mischeviously and says, “I know.”

To Smile is to Awaken

I just like to smile, smiling’s my favorite-Buddy the Elf

(I included a photo of Judy Garland because of the music link at the end)

This  morning I was heading down South University Avenue to grab a coffee at my favorite Starbucks Coffee shop. They know me there. By name. I love that. They love that I always tip. No matter how much or little I spend there. My order is always the same. Venti dark roast (preferably Komodo Dragon Blend), five pumps of caramel, two Sweet and Low and room for cream. I have a Gold Card so I always get my syrup for free.

As I walked down the street, I smiled. A genuine one. I’ve been told that smiling is infectious. I found that to be true today. Each person that I came in contact with, either smiled back or said hello. It gladdened my heart and made my smile broader. It’s simple really, to smile. I found that the more I’ve smiled today, the more positive I’ve become.

Life hasn’t been easy these last few months. With injuries to my body, mind and heart. Day by day life gets easier. If not easier, better. I’ve learned that I can’t change those around me. That I must change. My attitude, my mind, my heart, my life. For if I do that, my positivity projects to all of those around me. What better way to start that process than with a warm smile, a kind word, and a genuine interest in what someone is saying to you?

This week, Sexy Soul Star, one of my favorite bloggers asked the question are you a “Waker” on their FB page. Meaning do you have the gift of waking those out of their metaphorical slumber. Below is what I posted on the Sexy Soul Star Facebook fan page. Please check the blog and the FB page out. Such beautiful photos and powerful words come from this fantastic man.

I do believe I am one of these “Wakers”. I’m not trying to sound arrogant or anything. But I feel the urge to help people whenever I can. I speak the truth, give support and nurture. It’s what I was born to do. One of my daughter’s dear friends came to me recently and told me that I helped save her life. That she was close to suicide and then read one of my blog entries. Told me it changed her life. I’ve never felt so helpless and helpful at the same time. I guess that’s why I tell my story on wordpress. To change one life with my words, means that I’m a success. 

My friends even if you can not find the words to convey your feelings, at least smile. For even to smile is to awaken. Yourself and those around you.

Just Breathe

Yeah there’s a post or two brewing in my sparkly brain. More to come later on. It is my writing night after all.

Heard this on my latest road trip with my Meggie. Trying to remember to breathe today.

Just Breathe.

And to pray. Gotta pray.

2 AM and I’m still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you’ll use them, however you want to

But you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable,
And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe, just breathe
woah breathe, just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe.

There She Stood, A Vision in White

“No one is as beautiful as a daughter talking about the man she’s going to marry.”

Author: American, Somerset, Pennsylvania (Newspaper)

I corseted Meggie into her wedding dress a couple of days ago. We laughed so hard during the process. It seemed to take forever. We began lacing it upside down.

I screamed, “FUCK!”

Meg laughed and we pulled the silk ribbon out and started over. I almost had to put my foot in her back to draw it tight enough to keep her boobs in the dress. After it was tied, she turned around. I lost my breath. There she stood, my beautiful blonde haired, blue eyed daughter in her wedding dress.  She looked exquisite. I think my heart skipped a beat or two.

She smiled when she looked at me, and said, “Mom, it’s okay, don’t cry.”

How could I not? Here was a beautiful woman standing in front of me. I bore this child 22 years ago. And she’s wearing her wedding dress! She’s going to get married in less than three months to the love of her life.

Meggie had on not one stitch of make up, no shoes, and her hair was straight. But to me she was the most beautiful that I had ever seen her. Her smile alone cinched my awe of her.

When she started flitting around looking for the full length mirror, she reminded me so much of myself at her age. I had to step back, and take in the sight of her. She was wandering all over the bedroom trying to get her boobs to stay put, all the while talking too damn loud about the fact that her boobs were all over the place.

I asked, “May I take your picture?

She said, “Of course, but no posting it!”

I told her, “No way would I do that! I share a lot, but your wedding dress is sacred.”

She stood in front of me, then turned on a slight angle. She looked up and smiled at me. Perfectly content.  I took the picture, looked at the result and sighed. My baby girl is getting married, and I couldn’t be happier and more scared for her. What will the future bring? There’s no way of knowing until we’re in it. I pray that it’s good for Chris and her. I really do.

You Run As Fast As You Can

I know a girl, got a long snake moan
Got the voodoo in her hips and a god-shaped hole
I got a feeling that the kids don’t know
What the kids don’t know, the kids don’t mind
We all work on borrowed time

Rory never asked anything of me except to be his friend and listen to him. Share a story or two. Talk about our spouses and our children. Our love of the written word. We’ve found out that we’re so much alike. I call him my brother. He calls me sister. I think he’s even blonde like me. Blue eyed. He’s a music whore. Word whore. Like me. Loves to write. Like me. He hides his identity, unlike me. I lay it all out there. He doesn’t. That’s okay though. He wouldn’t feel comfortable writing what he writes if he didn’t hide. I understand. I should have hidden part of me away. Protected myself, but I didn’t know what I was doing when I started this journey.

He asked me to write for him and I did. It was exciting to stare at a picture, and see the words form. Feel the emotion of the story before I even put pen to paper. When I was done I asked him if he wanted to read it before I posted. He said no. I was taken aback. It could have been shit. Rory could have hated it. There I went with my self-deprecation. He told me to post it. Said he knew it was came from my heart and mind, so it had to be good. He said he felt like a kid at Christmas, waiting to open the largest present under the tree. After I posted it, he sent me a message thanking me. Said it was beautiful, like me. His comment made me cry. I wasn’t used to being told my writing was good, or being called beautiful for that matter.

We are content in our discontent, he and I. We are not discontent with our lives, our spouses or our children. But with ourselves. We have feelings of inadequacy that we can not shake. We feel like we are never good enough. No matter what we do to make the lives of those around us better. We often don’t feel worthy of the blessings that have been bestowed upon us. We wonder how we got so lucky to have such good lives. We weren’t good in our pasts . At least I wasn’t. I think he always was though. From what I’ve gathered from our conversations, he was never told he was good enough. And I, well, I was quite the wild child in my youth. For some reason the feelings and actions from 20-25 years ago come back to haunt us. Why, when we don’t live there anymore?

I’m so very thankful for Rory. For his brilliance. He doesn’t even realize what a good man he is. I tell him often enough. He tells me that I’m a good woman. We “get” each other. I hope someday we will meet. Get our families together and have a great time. I think we’d all click immediately. I hope I get the chance to write with him. That he wants me to. I hope, I hope, I hope, I hope…

*The song that I included with this post is by Our Lady Peace. The first time I heard it, I thought of Rory. Of our camaraderie. He’s like Roger Darling in that he let’s me run, rant, yell, scream and vent til I’m spent. Then he dispenses his wisdom. I’m fortunate that I have people in my life that get that about me. I’m so incredibly thankful.*

That Light, That Chaos, That Beauty

Stopped on the side of the road.

Camera in hand.

Wind whipping in my hair.

Lightning bugs no longer adorn the fields of this late summer night.

I’m giddy with delight at the sight of lightning.

Not sure what it is about it, but it makes me smile.

Makes me calm.

Makes my Spidey Senses tingle.

Makes me, me.

I lean against my pretty blue car.

Feel the bass of a song by Super Tramp beating through the steel.

I hold the camera up and giggle.

I keep snapping away.

Hoping for the light, the tingle, the electricity.

Then, it happens.

I capture it.

I laugh out loud as the shutter clicks.

I check the camera roll and see.

That light. That chaos. That beauty.

I think, that’s me.

That light. That chaos. That beauty.

It is me.