Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Saturday, March 23, 2013

We Did It!


Exactly one year TO THE DAY,
in today's mail was our Tax Exempt Status from the I.R.S., 
allowing folks to make tax deductible contributions to our charity.
(And that, my friends, is where the BIG money and Grants begin).

Excuse me while I go scream "Hallelujah!" at the top of my lungs.

That's the perks of living in the country.
No one will care about the noise because they aren't close enough to hear it.
Bou says that's something to howl about.
Pardon me, I feel a duet coming on.
Who cares if it's raining?!

Friday, March 22, 2013

Friday 55

Okay, so I'm running a little late this morning but it is only 9:55 a.m..  If you've written a 55 word story, share it with the G-Man and it'll be music to his ears.

“Ke-mo, ki-mo spare-o-spare
Ma-hi, ma-ho, ma-rump-sticka-pumpernickle
Soup-bang, nip-cat, polly-mitcha-cameo
I love you.”

“Who’s having a stroke?” Joe yelled, running into the room. 


“All that weird talk,” Joe answered, 
looking wildly around the room for the victim.  
 “You call 911?” 
 He became confused, finding his buddy sitting quietly.

That’s just Steven Tyler singing.”

This is what I'm currently "reading" on my commute.  
And no, it wasn't just Tyler nonsense words: 
it's actually a Nat King Cole song for children 
called "The Magic Song".

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Spring Fever

It became an annual tradition, that Ogden Nash poem I learned in 7th grade from my Oh-So-Grammatically-Perfect English teacher.  Oh sure, we thought she'd gone insane when she began writing on the bulletin board.  Not the chalk board,  but the Bulletin Board.                                                                                       
Spring is sprung
The grass is riz.
I wonder where
The flowers iz?

The bird is on the wing.
Now isn’t that absurd?
I always thought the wing
was on the bird.

Just like the pollen, it returns to my brain each Spring.  I use to send it to my younger brother on a postcard.  We’re separated by eight years, but attached by the same sense of humor.  When I got married, he realized the annual spring tradition moved out with me.  Or so he thought.  I kept sending it each year on a postcard.  No signature.  No return address.  Just the poem.  And if it didn’t arrive on time, I’d get an e-mail asking me what date Spring fell on that year. 

Then one Spring after receiving the annual postcard, my brother sent me a grumpy old man e-mail declaring himself, “too old for such nonsense”, with a suggestion that  if I needed to keep sending it, to address it to his then 5 year old son.  I never did. The explanation wouldn’t have made sense to my young nephew.  "Hey, I use to send this to your Dad for fun but now he’s too old, even though I was born first."   Truth was, the explanation made NO sense to me.

That’s when I realized I’d taken another saying overheard as a child to heart.  Evidently I grew up believing it was the gospel truth, “Age is mind over matter.  If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”

In the Spring, I mind how the pollen drives me nuts, no matter what the allergy commercials promise.  I mind that despite how many times someone says, “It’s just ONE hour!”, I’ll always dread the return of Daylight Savings Time.  I mind my Grandmother’s gardening philosophy that you never, EVER plant anything outside before Good Friday.  And even though I know that one day, ol’ Arthur Ritis might make me mind how I get on bended knee to plant spring flowers, right now I only see the beauty and colors of spring.  I still appreciate the cool breeze that sends a cascade of Dogwood petals dancing on the wind like floral snowflakes.  I still love the smell of wisteria, the true harbinger of spring in my part of the world.  And as the Bluebirds make a home in the house one of my senior citizens built for me 15 years ago, I still think, “the bird is on the wing….”

I recently added a framed saying on one of my Center's newly painted walls.  It reads, “We never really grow up.  We just learn how to act in public”.

Which explains why I’ll never truly grow up or get too old.  Even while viewing it through a haze of yellow, pollinated skies, I’ll always see Spring as a new adventure.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Sometimes You Don't Need An Expression... get the point.  
This made me think of our photographer friend, 
Kim Ayres for two reasons:

1.  He's done some great portraits of individuals with tattoos.

2.  I found myself focusing on this one spot and wondering about the story behind it.  Maybe one day the soldier will have time to sit down and tell me.

In the meantime,
 I'm thinking that maybe my best photos 
have nothing to do with faces.  
One of my favorites is this one.

If people can be hand models...maybe I should just be an arm photographer?

Friday, March 15, 2013

Friday 55

Time to share that 55 word story with the G-Man.  Wishing you a happy weekend!

Sam glanced around the restaurant, feeling sad.

Diners talked, texted, or tweeted on cell phones,
ignoring their guests.

Senior citizens kept their distance,
the devices’ mechanical noises
making them wonder if hearing aids were going bad.

We look and don’t see.
Everyone talks.
No one listens.

If batteries fail,
will we remember
how conversation works?

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Friday 55

Well, I've moved back into the work building and this week I unpacked by writing skills and sense of humor.  If you write something moving in 55 words, make sure you share it with the G-man.

The cold didn’t bothered him as much
as the rumble in his belly.

Crisp air on winter mornings
always seemed to feed that hunger. 

And he was so hungry right now,
he could eat anything.

The kid next door knew about warm snacks.
because his Mama always said
you feel better with a full stomach.

I came across this Thursday 
and it made me laugh so hard I had to share.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

How I Spent My Weekend

With a cool group of Wounded Warriors 
and members of Team Primos.

Primos is nationally known in the U.S. for it's hunting gear
 and Outdoor television programming.  
They've recently merged with Bushnell, 
maker of fine binoculars,
 and they brought lots of goodies for our group of soldiers.

Warriors fight hard, work hard to protect what they hold sacred and play hard. 
Know what else I learned?

They hug hard too.