eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)
Voting is here: http://www.livejournal.com/poll/?id=2036660





			404

i look at him
sandwich in hand
slowly eating
and see blood
not much, but enough for us to look more closely

five and three-quarters and there goes tooth number one
number two followed in the same manner the next day

take a bite of lunch
swallow a tooth

his big CHEESE smile has a gap now
two front teeth, the ones on the bottom,	
						gone
ready to ride this rodeo again

he doesn’t seem to notice

my son is growing
my baby is 404 not found
he’s learning a new world
he’s living with technology as if it were a friend
		personified
	his tablet may not pass a turing test 
			but it will suffice
		red and black case in hand
	gap-toothed smile
	videos on repeat  
	legos and paw patrol
	grown-ups unboxing toys
	(i don’t get it, don’t comprehend this magnetic pull)
	shopkins, blatant consumerism to be collected
	playdoh before the colors have been used and browned

he smiles
	a space ready for grown-up teeth
      he smiles
	a space the size of my child

a baby no longer
we smile at each other
	giggles

the moment is past
	gone
not found any longer



See it here. Hear it here.

eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)
Please go to the following link and VOTE. About half the group I am in (the last one) is being left out of the game. Your vote counts. http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/888626.html




"All lies and jest still, a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest."  simon and garfunkel


			hear me.

listen, let my knees sing to you the songs of their people
 	crackling like fire
		      like gears with no lubrication
			moving ever forward
				    ever aging against themselves

	my toe heals from being cut open
	bunion surgery at 40
		I age with a false smile
		I age with an awkward pain scale
the doctor says I’m fine
	just a little physical therapy 
	lose some weight
		lighten the load i carry
		lighten the load that is me

he sees me as

	BMI
    a magic diagnoses

	obese
		size 18

my complaints no longer matter
i am diagnosed         f a t.
	fibromyalgia is real
		but the pain isn’t

i am told no opiates
	      no muscle relaxers 
	      nothing to calm my nerves
	       or sing me to sleep
i am told that even ibuprofen should be more limited

chronic pain is long term 
	learn to wait it out
	learn to b r e a t h e past it

i learn that my grimaces
		 my yelps
		 my eleven thousand steps a day
		 my massages and my psychiatrist
		 my 7 on the pain scale fall on deaf ears

	diagnosis complete my thoughts are released to the still air

he hears what he sees
	he thinks he understands

my doctor thinks I am fat
my laughs fall like tears
my pain is more than bmi
my pain deserves to be heard

	I  deserve to be  heard




And you can, of course, watch and hear me read if you prefer:




go here to read more entries: http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/887291.html?view=80432123#t80432123
eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)
If you would like to vote for this or any of the other fine entries go here: http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/883570.html


The other day my son's school had a Shelter-In-Place due to a person brandishing a weapon nearby. I have dealt with these before, but as a teacher, NOT a parent. I am much more calm and collected when I am in charge of students in such a situation. As for the jackass that kidnapped his girlfriend at gunpoint - I am very glad he was caught and, as far as I know, no one got physically hurt in this incident, but I have choice words for him. As a parent.

Below are two videos: 1: The poem I wrote for this week. 2: Dar William's song "Flinty Kinda Woman" which kept coming to mind when I was journalling, thinking, or writing about this. There is also the poem I wrote, in letters.





(For the record. I don't condone violence. Not violence towards the innocent or the guilty. But this song does speak to me. Having worked with so many people who have been hurt so badly, in so many ways, this song sometimes gets played very, very loudly in my house or in my head.)



              pupa		

we wait
stunted conversation
hot chamomile tea with honey in front of us
	hot enough to burn tongues
	just too hot to hold
		but we do

the police perimeter is fuzzy 	
	but i live nearby 
	i walk my son to school
	i pick him up on foot
	
       i don’t know if i should leave my house

she sits with me
	tear streaked face
	we try not to worry
	to be rational
	to know the odds of harm are slim

but

our children are five years old
five years innocent
	their hugs are tackles
	their worries do not involve	
		domestic disputes, kidnapping, and guns
	their knowledge should not have to  include 
		
		shelter
		    in 
		 place

	the suspect is in custody
	there is no longer a police perimeter

happy to see us and innocent they run to us
	allowed freedom
	allowed safety
	allowed to open their classroom curtains and see again
they are ready to go home
	we are ready to take them
	to wrap them in our arms
		keep them in this pupa stage
		between caterpillar and butterfly
		between innocent and worldly

i don’t want him to be naive
but i don’t want him to know about domestic disputes 
	and kidnapping at gunpoint
      i want his innocence to last just a little bit longer

butterflies are beautiful but only live for a month

can i keep him in this chrysalis
protect him from the world of anger and violence

we watch as their wings emerge
eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)
You can vote here: http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/880602.html

-----------------------


If wishes were horses this beggar would drown. Wait no - scratch that - if pennies were horses this beggar would ride. Though upon further recollection that’s the wrong proverb entirely.

A penny for your thoughts.

A wishing well to toss pennies or for golden balls to fall into.

A penny saved is a penny earned.

Are any of these true? Adages and habits like these are the unseen losses of inflation.

****


The Frog Prince was performed at my wedding. A puppet show to entertain the guests before we met on the stage to exchange our vows. The self-centered princess dropped her ball down, down, down until a frog brought it back to her and traded it for a kiss. There is more to the story, a moral of being true to your word and how wishes sometimes come true in a roundabout manner. The bauble of a princess; So much more than a penny. Is the death of the penny going to ruin wishing wells; making sure only the 1% have wishes; Only those of us with golden ball baubles to throw into watery deep? Will I have to throw my grandmother’s wedding ring into the mall fountain in hopes of world peace, pain free days, and health for all people? Will piggy banks across America go out of use?

The dollar bill seems to be on the line, too. Inflation stealing it’s ability to buy a candy bar. Will the grade 3 and under set turn to Apple Pay and Google Wallet; being given their allowance and birthday dollars from grandma via email and smartphone? Email our Sunday Schools folded up bills once a week to teach us giving and support our churches? What excuse will college students and lonely hearts have to come within kissing distance of a dancer… a dollar poorer and lonelier still?

What will we do? What will we do?

Well, for sure, we should nix the penny. The truth is out there and it’s not in favor of our copper-plated friend. It costs more than it’s worth, literally, to manufacture. People hoard them in bottles and closets without spending them. We drop them into wishing wells by the handful… wishing for more money to pay our bills, magical houses, and love. But somehow we don’t spend our pennies. We, as general rule, don’t even think these coins are worth the energy it takes to bend down and pick them up from the sidewalk as we rush this way and that. Even if there are several in the same place, strewn across our path, we just continue on.

The penny has seen it’s last days. Or, rather, it should have. This country has enough monetary issues without sinking into a well of debt where we continue to romanticize this coin because we remember our childhood wishes and savings so fondly. My dreams and hopes are worth more; maybe I should pay face value -- childhood dreams adjusted for inflation.

For now I stand strong for the dollar bill. We can still gather enough bills to make a realistic purchase without bogging our purses and pockets down so much that we can’t walk under the weight of the load. One dollar tips at the Starbucks counter still add up to enough for baristas to divvy and buy lunch or put in a wallet until it is time to buy gas or groceries.

A nickel for your thoughts? Will a Snickers bar be as satisfying for five dollars? Will our wishes finally be free?
eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)
I opted for a broken toe. Like, I actually CHOSE for this to be done. The story is simple and medical - I had a bunion. I’d always heard about bunions and how they hurt, but I had never really thought about them. Apparently, I also never really knew what they were or how they were dealt with.

My big toe was crooked and pushing into its neighbor. This push caused its root to push out and that caused a bump and nerve pain and swelling. While walking I would suddenly have quick, intense pain that would often cause me to yelp and stop moving.

I found a podiatrist. The fix was not particularly easy: he could break my toe. Yup, elective surgery that involved my doctor shaving off part of my bone, breaking my toe, and putting titanium in there to hold it back together and in the correct angle while it fuses.

It’s been just shy of two weeks. I can put weight on my foot again, gently and slowly, preferably with a cane to steady and help. I’ve barely left the house since the surgery. I love my house, but am going a bit stir-crazy. What is wonderful is that I have friends who are utterly awesome! My husband has been walking the kidlet to school each morning. He took over almost all of my household tasks and chores while I have been healing. A couple of friends have been picking up our son from school and bringing him home or to swim class. Another has brought me lunch with leftovers while my husband works.

I may hurt, but I am so blessed to be given the time and resources to heal. Who am I? Grateful, loved, and ready to write!

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