IS IGNORANCE REALLY BLISS?

I was just thinking about how quickly so many people seem to jump on the paranoia bandwagon when it comes to things like the threat of a possible Ebola outbreak in the United States or the dreaded, yet over-hyped Avian influenza (bird flu) from a few years ago. They'll run out and buy hand sanitizer and face masks, yet when the AIDS epidemic hit about 30 years ago it was and still is in many cases next to impossible to get people to practice safe sex. Wear a condom? I don't think so!

So what is it about sex that seems to make a person's judgment fly out the window? Does playing Russian Roulette heighten the sexual experience? Do people's keen sense of denial keep them from believing that something like AIDS happens to other people and not to them? I guess it's the same thing with someone who smokes and then is actually surprised when they're diagnosed with lung cancer or people who eat nothing but junk food and sit on their butts and then wonder why they've developed Type II diabetes or heart disease. So what does it take to make people actually connect the dots and realize that health warnings whatever they are pertain to everyone and not just an unlucky few? Is ignorance really bliss or is ignorance a silent ninja assassin?

A RESILIENT HEART

I'm sure a therapist would have a ball analyzing my poetry.  Some say the eyes are the mirrors to a person's soul, but since you can't see my eyes, I offer up my written words as testament to who I am and what I have lurking in the darkest recesses of my being.  I seem to always be very closely connected to what the heart feels and how truly resilient it is.  A person's healing capacity always amazes me...especially my own.

This week's Words for Wednesday again brought me mental images of love and struggle, but also of somehow being a better more open person because of that pain and struggle.  The words this week in which I wove a poem were: 

Utopian

plagiarism
necktie
automatic
spinster
devout

OR

navigation
tribulation
propagation
explanation
sensation
adulation


A Resilient Heart 

She had many days of Utopian love

Where her heart’s plagiarism was written proudly
With many empty, unanswered "I love you’s"
A stabbing sensation to be broadcasted loudly.

Love at first sight was the automatic explanation

For adulation on love’s battle field so gory
She was a decorated warrior, a lonely spinster
Upon whose chest she wore tribulation with such glory.

Although navigation along the sensual garden path

Without propagation she was barren and deemed quite empty
But rich without love’s flowery neckties and glittery things
This devout spinster’s heart was resilient, pure and free.

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

I don't really know where to start this post. My thoughts are pretty jumbled right now. I think it's a combination of not feeling well and being emotionally drained, so please bear with me while I stumble through writing about my latest ordeal which of course involves some rather drama-filled family issues, but aren't all family issues drama-filled? It seems to be the nature of the beast!

About 8 years ago my mother had some sort of break with reality. It was as if aliens had swooped down and abducted the woman I had always known to be my mother and replaced her with a body double void of a mind. She was merely an empty pod for the better part of several years. Naturally, the specialist she had been sent to see quickly diagnosed her with Alzheimer’s and put her on meds to stabilize her condition and to slow down what he claimed would be a steady downward spiral. I never agreed with that diagnosis for many reasons and eventually I weaned her off the meds she had been prescribed for it. Several years later the same doctor admitted that he had been wrong and was amazed by her "recovery." With a lot of hard work and persistence I pulled my mother back from whatever abyss she had fallen into during her breakdown. I have to admit there were times I thought I was ready for a rubber room, but I hung in there and did what I thought was right regardless of what the doctors told me. Today, I'm glad to say my mother is thriving at the young age of 86. The moral to this part of my story is that sometimes you have to follow what your heart and instincts say and cast aside what science and logic dictates.

I try very hard to be a good daughter. Yes, I fall short of perfection on many levels, but there's one thing I can say with absolute certainty...my heart is always in the right place. Because we have friends and family who live in Maine, I try to take my mother there each year so she can spend time with them. As a person ages it becomes more important to be with all the people they love and for that reason I try to be accommodating to my mother's needs. This year our finances didn't allow for our annual trek "home." I felt bad about it, but if you don't have the money, you don't have the money! It's as simple as that!

In July while visiting my Aunt Nancy she asked me why my mother and I weren't going to Maine this year. After explaining to her why I felt we couldn't afford the trip this year, she made an incredibly generous offer by insisting that the three of us make the trip to Maine together and she'd pay all the expenses. Because I knew how important it is to my mother to go to Maine, I agreed to let my aunt do this for us. My aunt is like a second mother to me and after her husband died over 6 years ago, I stepped in and started doing things for her that her daughter and only living child was either unable or unwilling to do. As a result of our increased contact we formed a very close, loving bond and she became even dearer to me than she already was. She recently made the decision to move to Florida so she'd be closer to family so she wouldn't have to be alone any longer. Her decision to move was something my entire family and I was looking forward to and it was a decision she knew would make it easier for all concerned when her health problems started to worsen and she'd need help. Because I love her dearly, I was willing to be that go-to person for her.

Let me now fast forward to our vacation from HELL! The first of two indications that the month we were supposed to spend in Maine would be anything, but paradise was upon arrival I got sick and had to eventually seek medical attention because my own efforts to nurse myself back to health didn't result in me getting better...in fact, I got worse much worse. And the second key indicator of what would lie ahead was when my aunt informed me that my mother and I would have to start paying our own way the first day after we arrived in Maine. Yes, you read that last line correctly! Paying our own way is rather difficult to do when we have very limited resources and was the reason why I had decided against a Maine trip this year. Paying our own way wasn't what she had initially discussed when she insisted that the three of us take this trip together nor was it ever mentioned until we reached our destination. She had offered to pay for everything and it was only because of her generous offer that we had agreed to make the trip to Maine. After being completely blind-sided I took what little cash I had and bought groceries so we could eat while we were there. I never expected nor wanted to eat out every night so cooking our meals and dining in was no big deal to my mother and I because it's what we do every day anyway. My aunt on the other hand likes dining out and although she did eat the meals I prepared, she turned her nose up at the thought of having to eat leftovers and wanted me to cook a different meal each night. Because I was sick the thought of leftovers appealed to me because I simply was worn out and didn't feel like cooking every night. Obviously, she didn’t realize how sick I had gotten or else she just didn’t care.

What became glaringly apparent quickly was that my aunt is an extremely difficult person to please at times and she expects everything to be her way right down to what's watched on television and how loud the volume is. Nothing at all seemed to please her and she had no problem with hatefully telling us that she was not satisfied with anything about the trip and wished she hadn't come. Her obvious unhappiness about the trip made both my mother and I feel bad for agreeing to let her do this for us and we didn't know what to do to help remedy the situation and felt like we were treading on thin ice all the time especially at times when she either wouldn’t speak to us or when she did speak, she’d snap at us harshly.

Our first night in Maine my aunt had a major meltdown (crying, yelling, cussing, etc.) and I expected her to ask to be taken to an airport the next day so she could fly home, but the next morning she perked up and surprised me by continuing on with our journey. Each time she expressed negative feelings it was as if all the things that troubled her from years past had just happened 5 minutes ago. As one day slipped into the next, negative feelings seemed to be all she had and the dark cloud hanging over her seemed to darken even more. Each time we listened to her tales of woe from her troubled childhood, I reminded her that I too had grown up in the same environment so I understood how she felt. I encouraged her to let go of those feelings she had been harboring so she could be at peace. And each time she raved about what a miserable marriage she had for 50 years, she never once felt any relief that she now was free of that misery. It was as if her husband, my uncle was just in the other room and not dead for over 6 years. It was like he still had a strong grip on every aspect of her life. Each time she ranted I told her we'd support any decision she made and that we only wanted her to be happy. Ultimately, she needed to do whatever she thought was the right thing for her. I guess the right thing for her was to spread as much misery as she possibly could and use my mother and I as a whipping board for all the things that had been troubling her.

All the while as we visited with people we had wanted to see while we were in Maine, she refused to allow us to include her in any of our plans. Once when we had close family friends come to where we were staying, she went to her room and refused to come out briefly just to say hello and meet the people. Her actions caused an awkward situation for my mother and me because we were continually put in the position of having to explain why she didn't want to meet and spend time with anyone. Although she adamantly told me that "those people weren't her relatives and she didn't know them," at least half of them were relatives...she just obviously didn't feel the need to get to know them. She also didn't see why I had to explain anything to anyone regarding her or her actions. When I asked her to imagine the roles being reversed, she wasn’t able to see that if my mother and I had done the same thing while visiting her at her house, she'd be embarrassed and probably angry at our actions.

As the days slipped away I felt as if my aunt viewed my mother and I as being bought and paid for thus we were supposed to keep our mouths shut and take whatever she dished out. I guess she decided dowsing herself in Opium perfume even after being asked nicely to spray it sparingly because it has such an overpowering scent was a good way to make us suffer. Try riding in a car or sitting in a room with someone who has bathed in a strong perfume and see how long it is before you feel like you need to vomit. Try having a relaxing vacation with someone who feels the need to clean obsessively or who needs the washing machine and dryer going from morning until evening. Another punishment for us was when she constantly poured chemicals like straight bleach down the drains in the kitchen and bathroom. The caustic fumes just about ran us outside and she continued to do that even after I explained how a septic system works and how it needs bacteria in order to work properly. No matter what was said about anything, she seemed to have no regard for my mother and me and was always right about everything all the time whereas most people automatically know strong perfume or bleach fumes in small confining spaces and people don't mix well and that when travelling in groups “compromise” and “flexibility” is the key factors in having a good trip. For some reason she honestly seemed hell-bent on making our time in Maine as miserable as she possibly could on every level possible and her actions had me utterly bewildered.

At first by her actions had me confused and that confusion quickly developed into disappointment and hurt. My hurt and disappointment only developed into anger at the very end after she apparently felt no need to cut me any slack because I was sick. All the while she refused to do anything with us; she continually talked about her other two nieces, Debbie and Peggy, my cousins and constantly critiqued my brothers as being assholes for not spending any quality time with their mother or helping me with her care. She ranted and raved and called them everything but human, yet when she talked to my cousins on the phone honey would drip from her mouth as she told them she loved them and invited them to come see her. Instead of telling them how she really felt she opted to go the route of being two-faced and then take her anger and resentment of them out on my mother and I. The first week we were there my cousins didn't call her and I thought I was going to go crazy from listening to her constantly bitch about them. I finally went to see Debbie and asked her to please call our aunt because she was sitting there feeling as if no one cared about her and quite frankly she was making us miserable because of it. My cousin promised to call and for a moment I thought all had been righted in the universe and the planets were back in alignment when Debbie called my aunt and they made lunch plans. She actually smiled and I saw a glimmer of sunshine amongst all her darkness and gloom.

But then something happened...all hell broke loose and it was a like a boomerang gone wild. It came swinging back with a vengeance to blindside me with what came next. She felt that my cousins should come visit her and not the other way around even though Peggy has lung cancer and I'm sure she isn't up to making house calls and lengthy visits. All I listened to constantly was how neither Debbie nor Peggy ever comes to see her and how they never call her and that the phone and road runs both ways. She carried on about how none of them even expressed their condolences when her husband died and why should she care anything about them. Listening to her talk about them got me thinking and reality finally smacked me in the face.

Not once in the last 6 years in all the times I've ran back in forth between Florida and North Carolina to check on her, to visit her and to spend time with her so she wouldn't be so lonely and so she'd know she had people who love and care about her has she ever made a trip to see me in Florida. The road runs both ways, does it? It looks to me like the road only runs the way she wants it to run! As for the telephone working both ways, she rarely called me even though I called her at least 2 or 3 times a week unless one of my many health problems was acting up and then I'd suffer in silence because it's difficult putting on a happy face when you don't feel good. I guess the road and phone doesn't run two ways after all and it’s taken me a long time to realize that. I also have rethought how inattentive, selfish, self-absorbed and unfeeling her daughter has actually been. It really makes me wonder if all the harsh, hateful things my aunt has said about her daughter, Sharon is really accurate. It makes me wonder where the truth really lies, but that's something I'll probably never know. After the meltdown about my cousins, Debbie and Peggy she sat in her room for the next 2 days with the door closed and she refused to speak to my mother or me. After two days of sulking, I guess she got tired of being confined. The sun seemed to miraculously come out and she brightened her disposition like nothing had happened. Everything in the world was sunshine and roses. That miracle came as a result of her calling the airline and finding out how expensive it would be for her to fly home. At that point she expected my mother and I to change gears along with her and go do what she wanted to do like look at fall foliage, visit lighthouses and basically do anything that didn't involve our relatives or friends. By then my mother and I had already decided that we wanted to go home. We both had enough abuse and figured there was no salvaging this vacation. Besides, my bladder infection was so bad I could hardly stand it. I had been to an urgent care, but still wasn't feeling any better. Having diabetes, always makes getting anything so much worse!

Most people can expect to be reprimanded for being rude, but what do you do when just the opposite happens? Okay, I never claimed to be perfect and my manners probably could use some polishing, but I have to admit I was utterly astonished for being harshly reprimanded for saying "thank-you" to my aunt at appropriate times when most people would say thank you. She declared “thank you” as a forbidden response to use ever again to her and made us feel awful for being polite. All I know is that I'm just not cut out to be a whipping board especially when I'm sick. I know I should have just left it alone when she kept at me. I shouldn’t have let being sick weaken my resolve. I know I was rude and disrespectful by finally blowing up and telling her "I AM DONE!" I was wrong to tell her that she ruined our vacation and it was unnecessary to tell her that she's a miserable bitch who isn't satisfied with anything. I can admit when I'm wrong when I am wrong, but I feel justified in standing up for my mother and me after being subjected to two weeks of non-stop agony. Maybe I could have approached it in a better way and saved the relationship, but I honestly felt at that point my aunt no longer cared about me.

I believe my aunt owes my mother and me a HUGE apology, but I can safely say that apology isn't something we'll ever get and that's okay. I know how stubborn my aunt is and I truly am okay with how things ended. I gave it my all, but my all wasn't good enough for her. I can accept that. Just like I can accept that in the long run it's entirely her loss and not ours. Sometimes you have to cut your losses and walk away from people you love because they’re toxic and will do nothing but bring you misery. Sure, it hurts, but time will heal the wound. Unfortunately, she decided against taking a plane home and we had n extremely unpleasant road trip back to North Carolina to drop her off. As I drove away from her house headed towards Florida it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders and it didn't matter that I still had 500 more miles to drive until I was home again and in my own bed so I could be sick in peace. And by the way...it took 3 more months of antibiotics and recuperation until my bladder infection was completely gone. Diabetes is a true bitch!

 

SEASONAL DUES

This week's Words For Wednesday are: boreal, rocky, tempest, lake, rising, breathe or  the phrase, "the summer rain washed her face with bitter tears".


A crisp, tempest wind rustles through the color splattered trees
And on each lake a lonesome loon awaits a warmer summer breeze
The salty, boreal air tiptoes across the once warm, sunlit rocky shores
While the equinox signals summer’s end and opens autumn’s doors. 

Reds and yellows replace the once lush foliage greens
And once again we start our plans for a season that redeems
With each rising sun cooler days have silently begun to emerge
Now the summer’s passing and a frigid transformation will converge.

The seasons come and they will go, each has beauty of its own
The artist who creates it all is more than just well known.
But autumn captures nature’s best with painted landscape hues
Like growing trees that bend and breathe we, too pay our seasonal dues.



Painted by yours truly!

WAS IT JUST A DREAM?

This week's Words For Wednesday beckoned me to write a story about a place where the line is a very fine one between what's real and what lags into the realm of mental illness. It's a shame in this day and age that mental illness still carries with it such a social stigma and that so many people feel the need to hide being "different" from everyone especially those closest to them for fear of being chemically restrained. 

This week's prompts are: fragmented, gravel, blistering, mundane, clairvoyant, grasshopper or the phrase, "incidentally yours". From those prompts I wrote the beginning of a fantasy filled story: Each night I awoke at precisely the same time. It had been happening for months and tonight was no exception. As I quickly opened my eyes wanting to catch what seemed just out of reach, I looked at the ornately carved antique clock on my nightstand. It told me what I already knew. Like each night before, it was precisely 3:15 am. 3:15? Did that mean something? Could it mean 3/15, the Ides of March? Could it be that simple? Would something happen on March 15th?

My attention drifted from the clock back to the fragmented dream from which I awoke each night. Once again I saw a small girl digging in the gravel that had been used as a pathway throughout a beautifully landscaped English flower garden. Above her the birds were happily chattering away in the giant oak trees that outlined the space used for the garden. The girl kept busily digging and sifting through the gravel as if she was looking for one special stone. She stopped digging when a colorful dragonfly landed on the wicker basket she was filling with carefully selected pebbles.

She curiously gazed at the motionless dragonfly and reached out to touch it to see if it was real. When it spoke, it startled her and she dropped her hand tool. It told her to listen to the grasshopper because he was the wisest of all the garden creatures. She smiled and thanked the dragonfly as he flew away. What she had to do finally became crystal clear.

What her grandmother told her was true. She was different! She not only heard voices, but she saw things as well. Her grandmother had called her a clairvoyant and although she didn’t know what that word meant, she knew it distinguished her from everyone else. Her grandmother was certain she was marked for greatness and would help many people throughout her life. Her grandmother claimed the gift the little girl possessed would lift her above the mundane and the ordinary. It would allow her to not only hear the grasshopper, but to understand his message as well.

Before she could hunt for the elusive grasshopper, her mother came rushing out into the garden hollering at her for not wearing her hat. It was hot and she always removed her hat because she like how the sun felt on her face. But her mother was sure the sun would have a blistering effect on her fair skin without it. She scooped her up and scolded her all the way back into the house. The girl had reached out for her basket, but her mother kicked it aside scattering all the carefully selected pebbles back to where they had originally laid. Her important project would have to wait until tomorrow and hopefully the grasshopper would come find her to give her the message she was supposed to hear.

As they quickly walked past the large mirror in the front hallway on the way to get cleaned up from playing outside, the little girl was startled by what she saw. The reflection in the mirror was of a face she knew very well. It was that refection that had jarred me awake at precisely 3:15 each night. The face of the little girl was my face. I was the clairvoyant and yes, I was awaiting a message from the grasshopper. His was a voice I needed to hear even though my mother didn’t believe in such malarkey and poppycock. She said hearing voices was a sign of mental illness and had threatened to have the family doctor put me on some medication that would make the voices stop.

SKY HIGH!

Daniel, the older of my two sons loved his little red wagon and found so many creative uses for it. One of its riskier uses was discovered by my friend Carol when she came to visit me one day. She had gone out into the backyard to see the boys while my daughter, Christina was at school, but only found Matthew quietly playing with his trucks on the ground. Daniel's empty red wagon was next to the back fence under some trees. As she walked out into the back yard to look for Daniel, she heard him yelling, "Sky high!" What she discovered took her breath away. Daniel had positioned his red wagon under the lowest tree limb in the back yard and used that limb to hoist himself up into the tree where he had climbed to the very top. Carol wasn't really worried about him actually jumping out of the tree like he kept threatening to do. What worried her more than his threats was that he might lose his footing and fall out of the tree accidentally. After trying to coax him down from the tree and realizing she was getting nowhere, she came inside to get me so I could handle it. 

After getting him safely down and scolding him for climbing the tree, I got the saw from the shed and sawed off the limb flush with the trunk of the tree. I knew how little boys are and how they rarely followed directions the first time, so instead of having a repeat performance I decided it would save me some of my sanity by just cutting the limb from the tree. I know my boys always hated having a mother who could out think them and stay a few steps ahead of the game. Maybe being the youngest and only girl growing up gave me the head's up on what little boys were all about.

Not long after the SKY HIGH! incident, we moved into a larger house. One day while all the kids were outside playing in the backyard I was sitting inside enjoying a few minutes of solitude. All of a sudden I heard "thump, thump, thump" across the roof. It sounded like a giant squirrel had just run across the roof chasing a buffalo. As I looked up trying to figure out what the noise was, it happened again...thump, thump, thump. That time I got up and went outside to see where the noise was coming from and what was causing it. What I discovered on the roof wasn't a giant squirrel after all. It was a four year old who was in BIG trouble! Daniel had used the tree growing next to the house as a ladder to get up on the roof. In no uncertain terms, I told him to come down NOW! He knew he was in trouble and gave me his best "Oh Mom, I'm sorry" look. That look may have saved him from getting a spanking, but he did get punished and sent to his room so he could think about it. Over the next few weeks he pulled that same stunt a few more times which ended each time by getting a stern lecture about the dangers of falling and hurting himself.

The fourth time I caught him doing it, I was pissed! I snapped off a switch from the bush next to the back door as I steamed outside to get him down from that damn tree. When he saw me he knew he had pushed me too far that time and that his "Oh Mom, I'm sorry" look wasn't going to work. With a couple well placed whacks with the switch, I'm proud to say Daniel finally learned his lesson and never climbed that tree or any tree again. The only problem was that his replacement for tree climbing was even worse. For some reason, he decided to take up chasing snakes! I give up! Raising 2 boys is like raising 50 children! And now I have a legitimate reason for being crazy! Did I say I stayed a few steps ahead of them? Well, folks I lied!

THE PTA AND THE INCREDIBLE HULK

When my children were in elementary school they attended school in Port St. Joe, a small village along the Redneck Riviera.  I have mixed feelings about my years there largely due to the way in which a single mother was too often viewed and treated.  If I hadn't been a strong woman I believe on many occasions I would have either been destroyed or defined by a particular event, yet I somehow always let those times strengthen me and broaden my horizons.  My children seemed to follow suit and learned at a young age how to use their heads.  I have to admit they always seemed to amaze me every step of the way and never disappointed me in how they always managed to shine even when shining wasn't what they should have done.

My youngest child, Matthew was a quite precocious.  He was always up for a good challenge so when he announced to me one day that he wanted to be in a PTA sponsored talent contest, it didn't surprise me.  My only question was what he was going to do for talent.  You see, although I have always thought my children were the brightest amongst all the stars, the Jackson 5 they were not.  Matthew simply told me he was going to be a comedian and that was the last I heard about it for several weeks.

Then one day Christina, his only sister and the oldest of my three children came rushing into the house as soon as she got off the school bus.  There in the doorway she stopped with her hands firmly planted on her hips.  She looked at me and said, "You aren't going to believe what your son did today!"  Uh oh!  There wasn't any "my brother" or "Matthew" about it...at that moment he was my son and only my son so I knew he had done something pretty outstanding and probably something memorable.  She started telling me about the semi-finals for the talent contest that had been held earlier that afternoon in the school auditorium.  A panel of four teachers were appointed to select the best of the best who would compete in front of the families later that night.  All the fifth graders thought it was great because they were excused from class so they could watch the selection process.

When it came Matthew's turn, he sheepishly meandered up on stage.  Christina's friends all pointed out, "Hey, there's your little brother!"  Matthew took center stage and began his stand up comedy routine with the following joke:  What has a hundred teeth and guards the incredible hulk?  His punch line was "my zipper".  Immediately, the auditorium filled with laughter!  Now, it wasn't that he had told an inappropriate joke that embarrassed his sister.  It was the fact that all four of the teachers laughed at his joke.  With her hands still firmly planted on her hips she said with utter disgust, "And they laughed!"  Needless to say Matthew was not selected to perform in front of the families although I have to admit the night would have been more memorable if he had performed.

About that time Matthew came in the house.  Please tell me how does a mother explain to a 5 year old white version of Eddie Murphy what's appropriate and what's inappropriate?  How does one rip away the joy he must have felt from accomplishing what all comedians live to do?  After all he had accomplished his goal.  He got the audience to laugh!  All I asked him as he came in the house was if he had anything he wanted to tell me.  He stopped momentarily and thought for a second before getting a quizzical look on his face and simply told me,"No."  I left it at that and figured I'd address his choice and source of jokes another time. 

WHEN SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS

This photo was taken in Jackman, Maine during the summer of 2007.  I spent two years in the early 1970's in a drug rehab located in Jackman that was more like a concentration camp at times than it was like a drug rehab. This quote describes exactly how I feel about that whole experience.  Just for the record, my choice was to let it strengthen me.

THOROUGHLY MODERN MILDRED

This week's Words For Wednesday are: calamitous, fraction, spanx, glittering, ambitious, indispensable or 'a glitch in time saved mine'.

I usually write a poem using the words from Words For Wednesday, but this week I decided to write a short story using them instead.  When I saw that one of the words was "Spanx," it immediately brought an incident to mind that happened about six years ago.

My daughter and I used an upcoming wedding as an excuse to go on a mini shopping spree. I decided to let vanity guide me all the way on our rather ambitious endeavor. Usually shopping holds no appeal for me, but on this occasion I unleashed all my almost nonexistent girly-girl tendencies. After trying on many dresses, I selected the hot pink pleated one. I liked the way it looked on me because it disguised all the usual flaws that happen as a woman gets older, but accented all my remaining physical virtues. Plus I was up for exploring new territory. Short and sassy was the way to go for this old bird, but something was missing! Oprah always claimed that each woman’s wardrobe needed one indispensable item. She emphatically stated, “ALL women need Spanx!” Who was I to dispute Oprah’s claim? So I decided to give Spanx a whirl.

Trying on Spanx was funniest thing I had experienced in ages. I tugged and pulled and finally after much laughter and a few bad words I had it on. Wow! As promised it flattened what needed to be flattened, smoothed everything else out and had the extra bonus of pushing up my breasts and making them look young and vivacious. I was amused at how easily it came off after the difficulty I had putting it on. I felt like a banana as I literally peeled the Spanx off. Next up on the list of things to do was to purchase shoes and accessories. I normally don’t wear heels because I’m tall, but I decided to go all the way this time and forego flats by purchasing the pair of glittering silver heels that made my legs look so good that even a super model would envy them. Yes, I broke the bank, but I was ready to dazzle all my old friends and shake my tail feathers on the dance floor.

After the ceremony, most everyone took a short walk to where the reception was held. Only a small fraction of the guests drove their cars two blocks to Seville Square. Upon arriving at the reception, I slipped my shoes off and opted to commit a usual Karen cardinal sin by going barefoot. I did, however, put my shoes back on when a group of us visited the restroom a little while later. I thought, “Here we go again” as I struggled with unhooking the hooks of the Spanx so the lady in pink could go tinkle. I carefully rehooked the hooks and sashayed my way back into the reception. By that time, toasts were being made so a lot of standing up and sitting back down was going on. About the third time I had to stand and raise my glass, I felt a tap on my shoulder. A young man leaned in close to me and quickly whispered, “Ma’am, you need to fix the back of your dress.”

As I nonchalantly ran my hand down the back of my dress trying to find what the young gentleman was talking about, I discovered that my Spanx had gotten caught on the back of my dress causing the whole right side of my derriere to be exposed. OMG! Thank goodness my backside remained covered by my Spanx, but I could only imagine how many pictures of me standing there clueless had been taken and posted to Facebook for all to see. Kodak moments like that don’t happen often. I chuckled and acknowledged to myself that this was just another in many uniquely “Mildred” moments. I know I had the look of a defeated beauty queen as my calamitous fashion faux pas was revealed and finally resolved. Once again I pulled and tugged at those damn Spanx and finally without too much damage, my dress came loose. And as my friends and family all chimed in and reveled in utter joy, each one thanked me for making the occasion a truly unforgettable one. Yes, Mildred may clean up well, but somehow the true Mildred always comes out no matter how hard I try to stifle her.

EVERYTHING YOU WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT HERMITS BUT NEVER ASKED

As defined in the dictionary, a hermit is a person who has withdrawn from society and lives a solitary existence often times for religious reasons (Mildredism).  The primary residence of a hermit is called a 'hermitage'.  I lovingly call my hermitage "the cave".  Several 'hermitages' in close proximity make up what I call a 'hermitdome' which most people might consider to be an enigma or a paradox since hermits like solitude above all else. Urban and suburban hermits may live in solitude together, but the rare rural hermit is revered by all hermits for he/she lives in true solitude! Regardless of where a hermit dwells, clustering too closely together is clearly avoided...or at least hermits claim they don't cluster unless it's mating season.  Then you need to batten down your hatches and put up the NO VACANCY sign. Trust me, there's nothing more menacing than a hungry hoard of horny hermits (now that's a tongue twister in more ways than one.) Say it 5 times quickly without smiling and you get a prize! 

A collection of 'hermitdomes' comprise the 'hermitsphere' or better described as the solitary cosmic universe in which a hermit spiritually resides.  The atmosphere inside an individual 'hermitage' is called the 'hermitude'.  A 'hermitude' is a true depiction of who the hermit is and reflects the hermit's general attitude...and altitude at all times.  It can be dark, and dank inside and or it can be sunny and inviting or it can fluctuate between the two depending upon the ever-changing mood of the hermit. A 'hermitage' can be as simple or complex as a hermit wants it to be.  Usually it's structured to fit the specific needs of the hermit that dwells inside so that outside contact can be kept as minimal as possible...except during mating season and then anything goes!  

Does anyone care to interpret the dream I had last night? I spent last night dreaming about a rather large crack I have in my hermitage that was letting the sunshine inside.  What a revolting development that was! I sat in my cave pondering the best way to repair the crack and then I noticed it!  A huge FOR SALE sign was hanging by my front door.  I sprung to my feet and quickly started trying to remove the sign, but the harder I pulled the more securely it stayed hung.  I looked around and thought, "These deep red bedroom walls have to go!  It's time for a change!"  Yes, indeed it's time for a change!  Any suggestions?  Maybe purple instead? Perhaps I should wait for mating season and get a big, burly hermit to fix my crack. Oh no!  I didn't just write that.  What's wrong with me? Could it be that I'm one of those hungry, horny hermits, too?  Okay folks, it's time to batten down your hatches and stay away from Mildred until she stops drooling.  I'll wave a white flag when it's safe to come out of hiding...

To all my fellow hermits and kindred spirits alike, in the words of Robert Frost:

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep...

PET PEEVES #3 - NO SOLICITORS

I not only support, but I also respect a person's right to worship in any manner that best suits that person. This also includes a person's right to exclude themselves from religious worship altogether and perhaps walk a road a little less travelled by claiming they don't believe in God at all.  The older I get the more I realize many people don't have the capacity to live and let live. They seem to want or need everyone to be the same cookie cutter image of themselves.  Any variant is feared, hated, ridiculed, judged and then condemned.  Where religion is concerned I see less tolerance in differences than in any other aspect of life....even politics.  

So many people try to ram their religious beliefs down other people's throats and act as if they have a direct pipeline to God.  How they interpret His Word is 100% correct and only like-minded people know the way to live righteously and will receive true salvation or so they think.  I may be wrong...I've been that way a time or two in my life, but  somehow I see a direct correlation between those people who cry loudest about being be Christians and those who judge other people the loudest and most adamantly.  I may not be up on many Bible verses, but correct me if I'm wrong, isn't judgment saved only for God Himself?  With that being said, my pet peeve isn't about what these religious lunatics believe, but about how they act because of their beliefs.  When I hang a sign on my front door saying NO SOLICITORS  that includes selling religion door to door.  I'm sorry, but I hung that sign for a reason so when you knock on my door anyway does that mean you don't have a true grasp of the English language?  Should a I hang a dictionary next to the sign? Or are you just that arrogant as to think you know what I want more than I do? 

COMMUNICATION BREAKDOWN

Communication breakdown, it's always the same
Havin' a nervous breakdown, drive me insane...

Hey wait!  That's the lyrics of a Led Zeppelin song and not what I intended to write here.  Oops! I'm sorry for clearly leading you down a road paved with good intentions and although I'd like to say it won't happen again, we all know Mildred does get side-tracked from time to time.  What I really had on my mind is discussing a communication faux pas we all are guilty of committing.   I know you're all thinking, "What about PET PEEVES #3? Does Mildred only have 2 pet peeves?"  The answer to that is...stayed tuned for the next PET PEEVES installment coming real soon!

It's a well known fact that men are from Mars and women are from Venus, but in today's world the communication breakdown goes much deeper than just between the sexes.  It's virtually everywhere! Most people are frequently caught up in the intention vs. consequences battle of the wits and are clueless when it comes to how to approach the recipient of their failed good intentions.  In an article written by Peter Bregman from Harvard Business Review he claims that intention vs. consequences is the root cause of so much interpersonal discord and I have to agree with him. 

Mr. Bregman states that "it's not the thought that counts or even the action that counts.  That's because the other person doesn't experience your thought or your action.  He or she experiences the consequences of your action."

Mr. Bregman goes on to explain that when you've done something that upsets someone-no matter who's right-always start the conversation by acknowledging how your actions affected the other person. Save the discussion about intentions for later.  Much later.  Maybe never.  Because in the end your intentions don't matter much.  He also points out that it doesn't matter if you feel the other person is justified in feeling the way he or she does. What a person should be striving for is understanding and not agreement.  Once understanding of the consequences is expressed, the need to justify intentions dissipates. 

What comes to mind after I read the article is something a sagely person told me many times in my misspent youth.  Each time I got defensive and tried to adamantly justify my (good) intentions, he would tell me "the road to Hell is paved with good intentions."  It took me many years to realize truer words were never spoken.  What I know now is paving any road with good intentions is never worth the effort.  What matters most isn't what you intended because let's face it life has a sneaky way of screwing up even the best laid plans.  In the long run what matters most is your ability to accept responsibility for your actions.  In doing that it somehow helps history from continually repeating itself. 

PET PEEVES #2 - CALL THE FASHION POLICE

I support anyone expressing who they are through fashion. Some people aren't afraid to make a fashion statement and develop a keen fashion sense that's bold and unique.  Those people aren't a cookie cutter version of the next person in a crowd.  Those are the people who truly get a tip of my hat and a standing ovation as well. 

But sometimes people carry their right to wear whatever they want to a little too far. It nauseates me when anyone exhibits absolutely no taste or self-respect by dressing like they have no brain cells or eyesight.  For example, when I see a woman wearing short shorts with the cheeks of her derrière hanging out and her love handles flapping to the wind for everyone to see, it makes me want to ask her if she owns a mirror.  Any size woman can look good by wearing clothes that flatter her figure, but ladies, COVER THAT STUFF UP!  It's not sexy!  It's not cool!  And it certainly doesn't look good!  Just because you have it doesn't mean you have to flaunt it.  No one wants to see your fat ass except maybe your boyfriend or your husband (or both)!  And if you're a friend or family member of someone who dresses that way, do them a HUGE favor and tell them they look horrible.  Here's a golden opportunity to be honest and to do the rest of the world a huge favor as well.

PET PEEVES #1 - ON THE ROAD

Even the most liberal, easy going, peace loving person has pet peeves. Unlike some people who exhibit road rage or go postal by shooting up a place killing a bunch of innocent people, my petty pet peeves aren't fuel for much more than a series of blog posts or a real life bitch session with my friends.  Yes, for the most part I'm an easy going, live and let live type of person.  I do, however, have a few pet peeves that not only ruffle my feathers at times, but sometimes have me scrambling for heartburn medicine and a muscle relaxer as well. 

I'll kick this series off by saying my sources of discontent aren't listed in any particular order.  I'll just write about them as they pop into my otherwise "kumbaya" mellow existence.  Although my most recent trip to North Carolina was enjoyable in so many ways, it also was a refresher course for several of my pet peeves.  While they're still fresh in my mind let me kick this series off with ranting about my drive from Florida to North Carolina and back again.

Like most people who are driving a long distance, I take the fastest route by traveling on the Interstates between point A and point B.  I have to admit I don't adhere to the speed limit and perhaps I could be categorized as having a lead foot at times, but I mainly drive about as fast as the flow of traffic...give or take 10 or 15 miles per hour. What makes me crazy is getting behind someone who can barely see over their steering wheel and who drives 30 miles per hour slower than everyone else on the Interstate.  Why are these people even on the Interstate and not on some secondary road if what they want to do is sight see?  If you drive like you have nowhere to go and have trouble putting pressure on the gas pedal, then I think your ass belongs on a bicycle or dog sled and not driving a car that's holding up holiday traffic.  My mother always gets a kick out of me ranting about F.O.P.'s (fucking old people) and kindly reminds me that I'll be one myself someday. I'm sure she's right...she usually is!

My second "on the road" pet peeve is the availability and cleanliness of rest stops.  Florida, Alabama, South Carolina and North Carolina have ample rest stops, but Georgia doesn't think people should have to urinate or stretch their legs in their state without getting off the Interstate and buying gas or food.  The rule of thumb where rest stops are concerned seems to be that the further North you travel the filthier the rest stops become.  Some states (Connecticut is the guiltiest, by far) should bulldoze their rest stops completely and replace them with a porta-potty and a spigot to wash your hands.  

Call me old fashion, but I think anyone who texts while driving is not only crazy, but is unsafe to be behind the wheel of a car.  I used to think the same thing about women who applied their make-up while driving, but I was accused of being jealous because I could never master that skill.  People have become so plugged into their electronic devices that they've forgotten how and when to act sensibly or how to be courteous when in the company of other people.  Is any text message really that important that it's worth putting people's lives at risk? Say what you will, but I think anyone driving should be focused on the road and not be playing Russian Roulette with their vehicle.  Driving is a privilege, not a right and maybe if the laws were changed to revoke a person's license if they're busted for texting while driving then more people might think before they reached for their cell phone.   LOL or :) really can wait for an more appropriate time. 

LOVE'S CURSE

I'm back from North Carolina and ready to roll with this week's Words For Wednesday.  This week's prompts are:

insinuate

method

reverse

pleasantries

donkey

darker

OR

the phrase, 'darkening shadows, deadly intentions' can be used.

 

 

Call me a donkey!

No, call me an ass!
Call me quite clueless
I’m a hard-headed lass.

You’ve smiled falsely
It’s love in reverse
Your method is madness
Your love is a curse.

As time has grown darker
My love has grown thin
Insinuate that the future
Will never begin.

Our pleasantries fall victim

Like leaves on a tree
In winter it’s barren
Lifeless and free.

The darkening shadows

Fall heavy below
Deadly intentions
Is something we know.

Love has departed

We lie crippled alone
We lie in life’s harvest
It’s what we call home.

TIME OUT IN THE SMOKY MOUNTAINS

I'm off to North Carolina for a week to check in on my favorite auntie.  Be back next weekend with new tales to tell. 

ODE TO SEETHING SAINTS AND SINGING SINNERS

Delores from Under The Porch Light  threw everyone for a loop with Words For Wednesday this week.  Instead of the usual format which includes using a list of words or a phrase or both if you're a glutton for punishment, she omitted the list of words and gave the participants three phrases to get their creative juices flowing.  After participating  for several weeks, I finally get it.  It really isn't about what a person posts or the amount of talent they exude.  It's all about the camaraderie.  Those of you who follow Mildred and read excerpts from her rather twisted life, know that flowery poetry isn't really Mildred's thing.  Well folks!  Guess what?  Mildred likes flowery poetry, just like she likes painting.  She may not be Robert Frost or van Gogh, but I think creativity isn't so much about the finished product as it is about the journey/process.  It's more about letting out what's buried deep inside.  If that surfaces in a cute poem or a landscape then I say, "let it flow...let those juices seep out and carry you to where you're supposed to go!"

If you'd like to participate, hop over to her Delores' blog and check it out!  You just might surprise yourself as much as I've surprised myself.  Plus the group is a comprised of people from all walks of life.  They are so creatively diverse and supportive of what everyone posts.  What a wonderful gift Delores created by bringing together people to share their worlds via written words.  Thank you  so much, Delores!

The prompt I used this week was the phrase, "giggles and fairy wings".  

Not only did I use this phrase in the poem I composed, but if you notice the first letter of the first word in each line also spells g-i-g-g-l-e-s-a-n-d-f-a-i-r-y-w-i-n-g-s.

Giggles and fairy wings
imagination sweetly sings
giggles and fairy wings
golden clouds and jeweled rings.

Lovestruck moments, lovestruck eyes
End with passion, end with strive
singing love songs so contrive
a kingdom withers, a kingdom thrives.

No iron maiden from above
dancing cherubs bring us love
floating lightly hand in glove
angels soaring like a dove.

Inscription reading, wordless gain
ride the lightning like a train
young at heart will remain
with each other no disdain.

Instant karma, instant winner
No food for love or for dinner
Gain in love or grow much thinner
Seething saints and singing sinners. 

MY TOP 25 LIGHTBULB MOMENTS

When I started blogging again in 2010 after a rather long absence from it, I did it to fulfill a therapy requirement given to me by my "yoyo inspector" (a term of endearment I had given my therapist).  One of the tools of therapy she wanted me to implement was to explore my inner self by keeping a daily journal.  The topic of each entry could be of my own choosing, but each entry had to end with a gratitude statement.  At times, I had to dig deep to find something that could be seen as gratitude on my part, but in doing so, I found an ingenious way to take negativity and gift wrap it with a big colorful bow. Suddenly even the most negative aspects of my life had a glimmer of light cast upon them. 

We all have moments when things just seem to click and suddenly make sense.  Here are a few things Mildred has learned about her relationship with herself, friends, family and lovers as she has stumbled down a rather bumpy garden path:

1) Someone who loves you will make time to be with you even when their schedule is so hectic and chaotic that they barely have time to take a shower.  

2) Someone who loves you will never treat you like you're an afterthought and will always attempt to include you in their plans whenever possible.

3) If you leave a voicemail or send an email or an occasional smoke signal, a considerate person responds. Silence can be interpreted in many ways, but in my book, silence is rude and neglectful. 

4) Plain and simple...any relationship does NOT thrive on neglect.

5) Intimacy starts to happen when two people open up and nurture each other. 

6) Relationships tend to grow and thrive as long as the relationship is a two way street! 

7) Relationships quickly dissipate and die as a result of constant drama, negativity and turmoil. 

8) Don't be a door mat! Hanging in there will only make you feel demeaned and used. Your feelings are worth more than that, so find someone who can and will love you as much as you love them. 

9) If gift giving occasions always come and go without even a simple acknowledgement (remember cards are relatively inexpensive) from the people who are most important to you, then they aren't deserving of your time, effort and hard-earned money. Why worry about finding "the perfect gift" for someone who always has some lame excuse as to why they can't reciprocate? As we've always been told, it really is the thought that counts! Obviously that jerk didn't get the same memo! Stop wasting your time and money!  Go buy yourself a gift for being smart!

10) Everyone has preferences!  If someone likes a tall partner and you're short unless you know how to get leg extensions, you should bow out gracefully.

11) Sometimes people stay in relationships with the wrong person for a lifetime because they're afraid of being alone. 

12) Being alone is much better than being with the wrong person. 

13) Actions speak louder than words and words can be pretty cheap at times. 

14) Some people are great at blowing smoke up people's backsides and weaving captivating dreams, but when it comes right down to it, those people are clueless when it comes to anything real and meaningful.   

15) People who love us will make our dreams come true...or at least they'll try to!

16) Open your eyes, read the signs and don’t overlook any red flags.

17) Trust your instincts and intuition.  

18) If you spend all your time wondering and questioning everything in a relationship, it's time to move on. 

19) Always accept people for who they are and not for who you want them to be.  

20) A real person will start the race and finish it being the same person. 

21) Remember a real person has flaws and imperfections!  Perfection might be alluring, but it doesn't exist.  A "perfect" person is hiding something!

22) Shutting the door and turning off the light might be a safe thing to do, but it's only going to hurt you in the long run. 

23) No one should live in a dark cave! 

24) The time to shut the door and turn off the light is when we die.  Until then, be brave and be willing to change the lightbulb occasionally.

25) All relationships are a work in progress and communication is one of the key ingredients to having a successful one.


Gratitude statement: Even though I may learn everything in life the hard way, I'm thankful that eventually even I see the light.

SOCIETY'S CHILD

So many things factor into forming who we are and how we view the world around us.  As a child I was never taught to judge people by their economic status or by the color of their skin.  Racial tensions ran high during my younger years, but those tensions just didn't seem to personally touch my life.  Sure, it was something I saw on TV and read about in books and magazines, but I didn't have to live it firsthand.  I simply grew up not understanding why some people hated others for what seemed to me like no valid reason and to this day, I still have problems understanding racism and bigotry. 

Maybe I was fortunate to grow up in a place where those horrible things didn't happen very often or if they did, I never had to witness them.  Maybe I was fortunate to be able to turn off listening whenever my grandfather loudly ranted and raved about Catholics and Jews instead of taking it to heart.  I always wondered what bug had crawled up his butt when he decided the Beatles were the cause of all the world's problems and no one from New Jersey should be able to drive a car.  Okay, maybe he got that one right!  [LOL] Archie Bunker had nothing on my grandfather. Put toe to toe, I think my grandfather could have taken Archie down.  And maybe most of all, I was fortunate to develop insulation to some things I saw as being immoral, unjust and just plain crazy.  I wanted to be free to develop my own brand of crazy and to think for myself. 

As a young teenager, I saw an interracial relationship develop within the group of people I hung around.  People couldn't be in Billie (Buz as we called him then) and Debbie's presence without noticing that they truly loved each other.  Because of them, I discovered love really is blind.  The heart doesn't see the color of a person's skin no more than the heart sees the color or length of a person's hair, their height or their weight and the size of their bank account. I secretly rooted for their relationship to not only withstand the normal relationship woes, but to continue to grow and develop into lasting relationship.  What I didn't see or understand were the problems they faced behind the scenes.  Sure, their friends were able to accept their relationship, but that wasn't the case with all the people in their lives.  I don't know the details of how or why they split up, but I witnessed a certain veil of sadness as a result of it.  They both moved on, got married and lived a life without each other. 

Now, flash forward many years later to a time after Debbie's husband died from complications due to diabetes and Billie's marriage ended around the same time.  Several years ago, they both exchanged wedding vows again, but this time it was with each other and they started living a life that was all, but a faded memory from years ago.  It just goes to show you that when two people belong together, fate will make it happen.  There's a greeting card that has always stuck with me. Each time true love prevails, I think of that card.  It simply says: Somehow...Someway...Somewhere...Someday...


 

WHAT IS LIFE?

Delores from Under The Porch Light created Words For Wednesday.  If you'd like to participate, hop over to her blog and check it out!

This week's prompt were:

essence, flippant, mercury, speeding, nonchalant, shadowed
or
"life smells like coffee and baby poop, fresh cut grass and gasoline"

 

What is life?

Life looks like noodles and cesspools, wild flowers and trampolines.
Life sounds like landslides and toilets, baby coos and tambourines.
Life smells like coffee and baby poop, fresh cut grass and gasoline.
Life tastes like water and bourbon, vegetables and jelly beans.
Life feels like laughter and crying, zip lining and quarantine.
But actually life is just another unforeseen guillotine!
Evergreen, never seen
Fresh cut grass and gasoline…