Ordinary Life

Superb Owls: A Tale of Talking Twice  My friend suggested a work around for certain commercial terms that one must not utter in early winter. Instead of talking about an oversized bowl filled with football players, we talk about superb owls who don’t get fined by the NFL. It was on Superb Owl Sunday this February past that I said what I had felt convicted say. It was the culmination of a long weekend spent learning to let go. I had *locked my hopes for a different future securely to posts from our past. The bands inscribed “Beloved” formed silver linings along these clouds of broken promise. I cried and prayed a little, sitting in one of the old wooden swings. I'd held my firstborn there. I reflected on all my years that light had seen. Then I hurled the contents of my stomach onto the cold, damp sand. I think I had the flu. ~*~ I rehearsed what I might say all along the two-hour way. I wanted to build an olive bridge. We made the exchange as decreed by law and then I spoke my part...

Grab that puppet  Snip its strings Dip the nose in Kerosene  Strike some matches  Watch them gleam   The puppet is drinking Gasoline  Flames leap lively,  Light reveals Wooden liar boys Can never be real 

Yes Yes  She is less Less  Of  a  Lie  Than  Me

Girl, wash your face and count to three...(he ran to someone who wasn’t me). Girl, stop apologizing and just breathe...(this is where you see you're free). Girl, open your eyes wide and see... (fairytales are cautionary). Girl, wash your face or leave and make do...(streaked mascara as a face tattoo). Girl, stop apologizing for wrongs that aren’t yours...(salvage the damage and build a door). Girl, open your eyes and take a look...(it’s about time to write that book). ~~~*~~~ :: One year and a handful of months later, I wrote on the last page of my Morning Pages journal today. It is literally time to start a fresh chapter, and even a whole new book ::

I will say this, woman to woman, (knowing well you are here and how our curiosity works): My problem is not with you. I am not on a campaign to intervene in anyone's new-found happiness. Asking for obligations to be honored is not asking for a resurrection of what has died. You are welcome here, step into the light. Isn't it odd we've never been introduced? And as with Ace, his first wife, your comments and questions, the versions of stories you're told or need to tell, will always have an open forum with me. That is who I choose to be- as a human, not just an ex-tra player in the scene. And there's a difference that no one but Ace could know... I asked her in the best way I knew how. She was gracious, gave me an honest summary... but didn't divulge details that may have helped me see. Not one part of this, none of the story with me is her fault, I am not casting blame... but I wanted to know - didn't want to encroach- but was too young and inexperienced to ...

If your aim is to be Christ to the world... or even to just one soul... do not be surprised at your own crucifixion.

D--> A--> B--> D--> Acceptance -->H Next Up: Hope

Dear Three, Hi, I'm Deuce. We haven't met yet, but we will. I've known about you long before auditions began. And I've always told him I aim to be your friend. There are children involved, after all. You are no doubt lovely, and gentle and kind. He has top-shelf taste though his budget is sometimes inflated. He says he is going to wife you soon; very, very soon he tells me. Perhaps sometime in early October, when my birthday rolls around. I think he intends that to stun and sting. But I am already quite numb from the earlier blows. Though we are not exactly divorced yet, I tried that whole  kinstugi  thing. The gold we found in  Rome 's mountains could not heal or seal us, and all the  King's horses and Prince Simon's men , couldn't put us back together again. It takes both sides holding their broken parts, together. While I must note the ease with which two decades have been discarded, it is only a reminder for myself. You must not read into my tone a l...

It was meant to be one of those poetic, possibly romantic gestures. We were celebrating two decades of life together. There had been some brokenness along the way to be sure, but we had survived, persevered and even as recently as this very trip, chosen each other once more. A few months prior, in a fit of anger, he had taken off his wedding band and set it on the hotel dresser where we were arguing  staying before driving himself to the lake. True to the well-worn pattern, he drew near once the mood had lifted and wanted his ring back, but it had been indefinitely misplaced by then. We talked of getting rings tattooed. But he couldn't mark up his body, he said. Instead, he said he ordered an identical ring to the one he removed. It was coming in the mail, any day now, he said. I found out later they don't make that ring anymore. He had not placed an order, but I am sure that he meant to. Back to the future-past, where we find ourselves in Orlando (Lake Buena Vista to be exact...

As if we had memorized a script, came the request from one who had called himself beloved: "Release me?" We, the children and I, had just listened to the recording where Neil Gaiman read ' A Christmas Carol ' at NYC Public Library and we had begun to listen to an audio drama of the same story . So, the scene where Belle releases Ebenezer was fresh in our minds. But listen, it has never been far from mine. I should mention we've been traveling down the crooked alley of divorce for at least a half a mile. We are closer to the end of that passage than the day he filed his intent... Best Man and Maid of Honor replaced now with attorneys on either side. The Reverend who married us in his backyard and bumbled through the vows  replaced by a judge,  honorable and wise. There is no music, but the courtroom's bailiff has a delightful sense of humor and keeps things running smoothly. She tells us when to sit and stand and speak. We meet in courtroom 2B, inviting metap...