2013 Seasons of Love Day Seven - Renee Newlove

2013 Seasons of Love Day Six - Danita Mobley Hamel

In April, 2010 I wrote the following on your Facebook wall:

One of the things that I love about you, that YOU couldn't possibly have known - you call me "Jaynie" which is what I was called until I was 13. So, you see,you are in the small group of people who have known me the longest and the best -- even though we've just recently become friends. You're special, my dear. Love ya lots.

We’ve been friends for three years!  I’ve watched your children grow, I’ve seen you get involved in theater, I’ve laughed at your shenanigans, cried for your pain, and cheered your successes.

-all the above, and we’ve never seen each other, face-to-face.

How is that possible?  I don’t know, and frankly my dear, I don’t give a  dam

-darn.  I don’t give a darn.  I love you to pieces.  

You have an amazingly sweet and kind heart – and a soul to match.  I sensed the depth of that soul in the words you posted and wrote to mutual friends – but I knew it the first time we talked on the phone.   I remember chatting with you on (more than) a few Saturday mornings – talking about what was going on in our lives.  Your advice and enthusiasm was much appreciated, you know that, right?

I miss writing silly things on your wall.  So –let’s start doing that again, okay?  I swear/vow/promise that I will make the road trip north to see you soon.  I want to have pictures of us doing silly things.

2013 Seasons of Love Day Five - John Jordan

It was love at first sight.

-and then love at second sight.

::sigh:: Unfortunately (for me) – the two of you were already in love with each other.  Sooooooo I just had to adjust and recategorize my sight.  Being your left-hand (wo)Man while you were the producer was an honor and much fun.  I loved dinner at your house (we need to do that again), looking at Christmas lights, eating at Castillo’s, going to see modern dance (some of which I still don’t understand), dancing at Rogue parties, bbqing out on the ranchette, and the list goes on and on.  I truly appreciate the fact that every time I need help, whether it’s Rogue related or otherwise – you say, “Yes, APj.” 

You are a great friend to have – thank you.

2013 Seasons of Love Day Four - Kleev Guessford

When I think of you, one of the first images that comes to mind is the Tin Man – from the Wizard of Oz.  I don’t think you’re aware of how huge your heart is – and how much you are loved by so many people. Just being near you causes a person’s heart to grow.  I wish you were my brother – so you could spoil me all the time.  That’s the truth.

Thank you for opening your heart and your home to me.  I remember coming to stay at your house (shortly after it was “decorated”).  I remember telling you that I just wished I had someone in my life who would wake me nicely in the morning and bring me coffee in bed.  And the next morning, you woke me nicely (from the hall), and brought me coffee in bed.  Seriously – I almost wept. 

I remember taking flowers home – I think they were from Tamora’s wedding – and thinking, “I wanna get married again just so I can have flowers done by Kleev.”  I’ve matured since then – I now realize that I don’t have to get married to get those flowers – I just have to have a really big party.  Trust me, I’m working on it.

One final Kleev memory –from just last year.  Erynn and I were overjoyed that you came to her Art show.  And I laugh remembering how the three of us got all teary-eyed upon your exclamation of, “Oh Erynn – I love your stuff.  It’s really good – and I’m so glad I don’t have to lie – it really is so good.”

Kleev – I love you and your stuff.  It’s beyond good.  The Wizard was right when he said, “Just remember, my sentimental friend, a heart isn’t judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved.”

2013 Seasons of Love Day Three: Marcel Nunis

My Dear, darling, DDCCF:

I’m bending my “totally random” resolution for you.  You were supposed to be tomorrow, but I’m putting you on today.  Happy Birthday, you Damn Dyslexic Color-blind Crippled Foreigner (said with muchloveandaffection).

I met you almost eight years ago, and you had a heavy hand in changing my life –for the better.  Thank you for inviting me into your world-of-Rogue. 

Some of my favorite Marcel moments involve bbq’s in your front yard, chatting with Gertie, endless hours of documentaries, old movies, ridiculous trips to BigLots and the 99cent store.  Oh – and let’s not forget –you’re the one who got me to try many new foods – even though I still don’t like them touching each other, I enjoy the new flavors you’ve introduced me to.

You were one of the first people I talked to after I had to put Rio down – you called and told me to come over.  We sat there ( I don’t even remember what we watched) – and you didn’t try to get me to talk – you just let me be (which was what I needed).  You also had the fabulous idea of using that as the comedic moment of my second Rogue show.  Brilliant.

Oh – and I never would have been able to do any show if it hadn’t been for you.  Thank you for the prodding and poking – thanks for listening and critiquing.  Your input and advice were greatly appreciated.

You and I don’t see much of each other right now – and I need to remedy that.  But please know – you are important to me.   And I promise to finish that eulogy…but can I do it before you die?  I think it would be so much more fun if you were there…

2013 Seasons of Love Day Two: Heather Price

You and I started teaching at Wawona in 2005.  I felt an immediate kinship with you on many levels – personality, faith, and theater.
I have so many memories of us – sitting in our classroom(s) during lunch talking about the three “g’s”: God, goals, guys.    You always listened to me, guided me, and supported me.  You always stuck up for and with me – no matter what ridiculous things I talked you into doing for Wawona Rallies: Supertwins, IronMan Women (with eyelashes and lipstick) Beyonce&Elvis, and Sumo Wrestlers.

Do you remember when we went to Disneyland – and we took Erynn?  Seven years later, she STILL talks about you running into the trash cans.  I close my eyes, and I see the three of us RUNNING through Disneyland, and cracking up.  You, my dear friend, are funny. I think you’re finally beginning to realize the amazing comedic timing you have both ON and off the stage.
 
This year took me to a new school – and I miss you daily.  As busy as we both are, it would be easy for us to lose track of each other.  But I know we won’t allow that to happen…right?


You are awesome.  You are an incredible teacher, a role model (for both your students AND your peers), and a phenomenal friend.  I have been blessed to have you in my life – and I know that that blessing will continue.

2013 Seasons of Love Day One: Erynn Richardson

2013 - My Season of Love

"My! People come and go so quickly here!"

(Dorothy, to the Munchkins, in the movie, "The Wizard of Oz"

I lost two friends this past year.  They were not close friends of mine -- we didn't "hang out" together.  In fact, if the truth be told --which I'm trying to hold to -- they were more....acquaintances of mine.  Good acquaintances -- I was always happy to see them -- we'd sit and chat -- I invited them to parties and/or events I was hosting, etc.

But they died.  

And their friends grieved.

Outpourings of sorrow, shared stories of youth and adventures followed.

And then I went to see a local production of "Rent" -- one of my favorites.  And the opening number, "Seasons of Love" struck me to my core:

"Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?"
(The opening chorus of the song "Seasons of Love" from the show "Rent")

How do you measure a year?  
In daylights?   How many do you remember?  What did you do? 
in sunsets?  Did you share them with someone?  Did you take a picture of one?
in midnights?  Or were you asleep through that quiet hour?
in cups of coffee?  How many cups did you share -- or spend alone?
in inches?  gained....or lost....
in miles?   Away from those you love?  Physical or emotional miles? 
in laughter?  Who did you make grin, giggle, or guffaw?
in strife?   Whose burden did you ease?

We all are on a journey -- and the end result is the same: death.  We all may have a different interpretation as to what comes after Death -- and that is fine.  I can't change that part of your journey -- I can't even change this part of your journey.  But I need to do something for my journey.  I need to tell the people in my life that they're important to me now -- while they're alive.  
The combination of the musical, deaths, and the new year have brought to this new revelation and resolution  -
so -
My resolution for 2013 is to tell 365 people what they mean to me.  I intend to type the names on a list, and randomly draw a friend to write to-and-about. I will post all of them here.

Happy 2013 -- tell someone what they mean to you.

Sunday, 3 a.m.

The sky sobs and the wind weeps
and I join them.
a weeping rage wracking my heart
torn between sobs and screams
dashed illusions and shattered dreams,
or is that dashed dreams and shattered illusions?
Confusion.

Insomnia, my new lover, is sleeping soundly
with a disrythmic snoring
masking the cries that shake my bones
ignoring
my muffled what ifs, maybes and perhaps's galore
he just snores.

I am alone to mend.
Well, me and the Sky and Wind
Ah wait -- who's that sighing?

Even the Man in the Moon is crying.

My Students

She greeted me on Monday, sans homework, but with an explanation: Her mother was killed on Saturday, could she turn it in tomorrow? Would that be okay?

On Tuesday morning he told me he wasn’t afraid of anything
That nothing scared him, hurt him, or could make him cry
He came and told me Wednesday, he discovered that fear was a gun held to his head. That he now knew; he was afraid of dead.

Her chair was empty Thursday, I didn’t know why until late
(Thank God she didn’t wait)
When her momma’s boyfriend blasted through the door, and momma fell (dead) to the floor,
she jumped out the window, baby sister in tow, and ran to safety of a neighbor she didn’t know.

Friday. Nothing bad ever happens on a Friday – I just pray they make it two days, and return on Monday, to the safety of my classroom.

Kill Bill, Volume 3
When I find Bill, I’m gonna kill him.
You think I jest or a jester be?
Ha – Watch me –
I’ll make Uma Thurman look like PeeWee Herman
-all gawky and amateurish.
I’ll have him
--make him crawl,
Have him
-- back pinned to the wall
“Look what you’ve created, what you’ve done
Left me mooning for that fucking sun in the east "
Not minding your dagger’s prick in the least.

When I find Bill, I’m gonna kill him.
Damn man – and his teasing words, and tantilizing hands
I may have that reversed
Curs-ed man could argue with one, and hold close with the other
I may have that reversed
But you might wanna call a hearse
Cause…
When I find Bill, I’m gonna kill him.

He had me falling for Cupid’s arrows and traps,
Laboring over love’s labor lost
Paying the cost
Time
and time
and time again
Thinking, maybe, just maybe this time it would be
Maybe this time
– it would be me
To sing Hey Nonny, nonny hey
But it was never my day
So
You might wanna tell him
Warn him, and his next of kin
When I find him, I’m gonna kill him.
-and not shed a tear –-
-gonna kill Bill.
Bill Shakespeare.

February 14th...

I Fell In Love With His Lips

So -- this one has been banging around the brain, and I've not been able to help it out. Words and actions -- contradicting.....I'm still looking at it -- and it may change, but I thought I'd share it:


His lips said, “You have a beautiful voice”
While his eyes scolded, “You laugh too loudly.”
Lips exclaimed, “I felt joy when we met”
hands screamed, “I can’t stand you near me.”
Lips purred, “You have the most amazing eyes,”
But ears burned, “Why must you be so intense?”
Lips praised, “I was so happy you said yes”
Legs stumbled, “Tho’ I’m more comfortable on the fence”
Lips whispered, “Your embrace is my haven,”
Arms pushed, “But your love is contrived.”
Lips begged, “I was afraid I’d scare you off,”
As feet faltered, “That’s why I didn’t arrive.”
Lips pursed, “You won’t be alone long”
Hips cursed, “You’ll always live in fear
His lips promised, “I am better with you,”
While his body cried, “I’m not me when you’re near.”

A Clean Shot

I've become a Facebook Whore. Or Addict. You choose. It is wildly entertaining, and I get instant gratification -- but my writing has suffered. So, here I am. I am going to try to write something at least a few times a month......

I was challenged by a friend to write a complete story in 101 words. For a wordysmith such as I, this meant edit, edit, edit. But here it is:

“I’m not nervous.” If you didn’t see the single drop of sweat on his forehead, you’d believe him. Slowly, he fingered the mechanism with his trigger-finger. “Just do it; get it over with,” he chided. The sweat drop paused at his eyebrow. “It’s your job! One shot, and out.” Resolvedly, he placed his finger back on the cold metal, and pushed. The sound ricocheted in the small space. The bead of sweat dropped into his eye as space before him filled with her fearful face. Her lips parted, pleading, but he cut her off, “Sorry, M’am, here are your foreclosure papers.”

It's That Time Again!!!

I have some GREAT excuses for why I've not been blogging:

1. I'm teaching three subjects (by my choice -- what was I thinking!?!?!?) and never have time to blog.

2. I have nothing to say.

3. It's getting close to Rogue Time again.

4. I've become a Facebook Whore.

Okay -- two of those are true....

But being a ho is still illegal -- so let's go with Rogue 2010....

Breathing

Surely it isn’t possible to have mistaken
heroin for oxygen?
Someone as intelligent as I
Could not be trapped by
Such an obvious slight
-of-hand…Breathe in, breathe in,

::sigh::

Of course! It is not possible to have mistaken
heroin for oxygen.
These ideas and dreams that have sprung to life
-this absence of strife
-this abundance of goodness…
A deadly addiction!?!?
Don’t be asinine. Breathe in, breathe in.

::sigh::

Surely it is not possible that I have mistaken
heroin for oxygen.
The skin I’m in
is healthy; wallet still wealthy
If this were drugs of a
dangerous faire,
(As opposed to simply normal air),
wouldn’t I cease to even care
about the state or fate of either?
Breathe in, breathe in

::sigh::

This cannot be!! It is impossible to have mistaken
Heroin for oxygen!
…but I’m getting no satisfaction from the air
As it tears through my veins…
…and I’m in constant anticipation
Of my next inhalation…
-which never seems to have the depth
of my previous breath.
Breathe in, breathe in

::sigh::

Surely….it isn’t possible….

::sigh::

Have I mistaken
heroin for oxygen?

One Night in Bangkok - er, make that Copenhagen

One night in Bangkok and the girls...

wait -- wrong country.

Wonderful, wonderful, Copenhagen...

I have just returned from Sweden and Denmark! The primary purpose was to attend my friends, Steven and Kajsa's wedding. --Which was fabulous!

But as usual, there was a secondary purpose -- HAVE FUN!!!!

First stop was Tivoli Gardens - the second oldest amusement park in the world. As I was strolling ('cause that's what you do whilst in Denmark - stroll), I was suddenly confronted by a little boy with HUGE Bambi eyes crying, "Pappa! Pappa!" Everyone else around was either ignoring or overreacting, so I knelt down, took his hands and started talking to him. Within a minute "Pappa" came around the corner (he was waiting on the wrong side of the ride for his son to exit). Bambi wouldn't let go of my hand. Hot Pappa thanked me, and asked me if I'd like to join them for a bite. Yes, yes, I was hoping Hot Pappa wanted me to bite him, or vice-versa...
-no such luck
-alas, Hot Pappa was actually Hot Widower Pappa -- of six months. Over the course of the next hour (eating and strolling), I realized that he was unavailable.
Not like that's new for me, eh? I am constantly attracted to unavailable men...

I bid Hot Pappa and Bambi, "Farvel" (goodbye).

I happened to be in Copenhagen during the Jazz Festival, so there was amazing music to be heard everywhere. As I headed (dejectedly) towards my hotel, my ears were enticed by the music coming from a corner bar. "Why not?" I propositioned myself. Hey -- no one else was, so I might as well pick myself up. I pulled up my big-girl-panties (figuratively, of course), headed in and took a seat.
The waiter mistook me for a local (happened more than once), and asked for my order in Danish. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm American, and only speak English."
"An American!" erupted the table behind me.
Preparing to bolt, and murmuring apologies, I began to rise -- until The Travelers (their name for themselves) explained that they had been collecting countries (!!!), and had yet to find an American for their group.
I became their American. We stayed there for a few hours, until the waiter told us we should head on down to an Irish Pub a few blocks away.
Irish pub + The Travelers + alcohol = Irish Drinking Songs gone wild.

One clothing change (hey, I was still in amusement park attire) and freshenup later, and we found ourselves with steins and voices raised.

I don't remember HIM walking in -- or HIM joining our group. But suddenly, I was aware of HIM. This hot guy sitting next to me, singing Irish songs, accidentally (not) bumping me, and talking to me:
"Excuse me, but - did you know - your eyes -- your eyes are the color of the Italian sky?"

Pull my hair, throw me on the floor-what happens in Copenhagen stays in Copen-

"Sorry? Are you talking to me?"

He repeated the analogy -- and by then I was a puddle of goo.

I was trying to get control of the goo, drag McHottie out of there by his hair, when I heard this soft voice in my other ear:

"Hello."

"Oh, APj - I want you to meet my wife. How would you like to come home with us?"

"Oh.....Oh my. Ummmm....thanks......but.....um......no thanks. I kinda like veggies...not so crazy about....the....fruit"

Yup - I left. Alone. What happens in Copenhagen -- happened without me.

Just another reason why....

Approximately 10 (or so) years ago, a baby Great Horned Owl fell from a nest on my property. We (the neighbors, my ex, and I) were unable to get her back in the nest - Mom and Dad were going nuts, and we were frantic trying to figure out a plan. We called "the bird lady" up in the foothills, who came down and took our baby home to nurse back to health. A few months later, she brought her back to release.



And she stayed. Over the years, she and her mate have resided here. Oh sure, sometimes months would go by without me seeing them, or talking to them.
Yes -- I said talking -- and no, I'm not crazy.








My city (and some of my country) friends thought I was nuts when I told them that my owls talked to me. When I would arrive home late, they would call to me -- her voice pitched a bit higher than her mates. I would answer back, and they would hoot once more.

This year -- they had babies. Three babies. And yes....the babies talk to me. Well, screech actually (as they don't hoot yet). I can walk right up to the tree, and they all stay. The other night, I was out talking to one of the babies, and the other two flew over to join baby huey (that's what I call the roundest one --the one that the stupid bluejays pick on the most).

I think I'm a good apple

This came in my email this morning:

Apples and Wine

Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

Now men...
-Men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.