I'm exiting the local Cracker Barrel after a gastronomical feast extraordinaire and find myself a few paces behind a wild pack of old geezers out on the town without their wives. I assumed they were a gang because they were dressed alike, crisply pressed khaki slacks, matching khaki jackets, golfing shirts and loafers and shuffling to one side when they walked.
As the north wind whipped up a whirling dervish of dried leaves, I overheard one of them say, "...she doesn't do anything with her hair and her car is a mess...what's up with that?"
Word Pops...I bet she lives for the day when you are out with your homeys sucking down some chicken livers at the Cracker Barrel.
Monday, October 30
Friday, October 27
Wednesday, October 25
Sunday, October 22
Wednesday, October 18
Tuesday, October 17
Song of Freedom
who got my freedom?
you got it?
you?
huh?
what about you?
no suh...I got it
I got my freedom
ain’t nobody gonna take it from me agin’
you can put me in a hole
drop me down a well
tie my hands and feet so tight they bleed
but you ain't never gonna take
my freedom agin’
cuz where it live you cain’t touch
it live right here
right here where i used to hold my babies
you best get outta my way cuz I’m a comin’
comin’ at you fast and strong with both hands
so fast you think you a chile agin’ been snatched up by
the collar and set butt down on a chair by your pappy
all a’ you...
all a’ you done laid your hands on me
you gonna know what it feel like
to have something put on you
witt out nobody askin’ do you want it
you better run cuz I’m a comin’
I’m a comin’ fast and strong
I got me a rope and a tall tree
i know i’ll answer to the Almighty for this,
but I’m a comin’
and ain’t nuttin’ gonna stop me
from takin' back everything
you took from me
do you hear me?
EVERTHING!
I’m a’ takin’ it back with both hands and
when I do
ain’t gonna be nothin’ left of you
but bones
bones hangin’ in the yard
all dried up like my soul’s been all this time
you ain’t never gonna lay claim on me ever again
ain't nuttin’ can stop me now,
stop me from claimin' what
i’s pose a’ be doin’
whatta we pose a’ be doin...us humans, us folk?
we pose a’ be killin’
an hurtin’
an cheatin?
or
we pose a’ be lovin’?
Good Book say Love One Another
don’t seem like we doin’ much uh dat these days
yeah...Love One Another
maybe I put down my rope
step away from dat tall tree
maybe I love you even though
you didn’t love me
maybe dat what I'm pose a’ be doin’
huh?
Yeah...
you got it?
you?
huh?
what about you?
no suh...I got it
I got my freedom
ain’t nobody gonna take it from me agin’
you can put me in a hole
drop me down a well
tie my hands and feet so tight they bleed
but you ain't never gonna take
my freedom agin’
cuz where it live you cain’t touch
it live right here
right here where i used to hold my babies
you best get outta my way cuz I’m a comin’
comin’ at you fast and strong with both hands
so fast you think you a chile agin’ been snatched up by
the collar and set butt down on a chair by your pappy
all a’ you...
all a’ you done laid your hands on me
you gonna know what it feel like
to have something put on you
witt out nobody askin’ do you want it
you better run cuz I’m a comin’
I’m a comin’ fast and strong
I got me a rope and a tall tree
i know i’ll answer to the Almighty for this,
but I’m a comin’
and ain’t nuttin’ gonna stop me
from takin' back everything
you took from me
do you hear me?
EVERTHING!
I’m a’ takin’ it back with both hands and
when I do
ain’t gonna be nothin’ left of you
but bones
bones hangin’ in the yard
all dried up like my soul’s been all this time
you ain’t never gonna lay claim on me ever again
ain't nuttin’ can stop me now,
stop me from claimin' what
i’s pose a’ be doin’
whatta we pose a’ be doin...us humans, us folk?
we pose a’ be killin’
an hurtin’
an cheatin?
or
we pose a’ be lovin’?
Good Book say Love One Another
don’t seem like we doin’ much uh dat these days
yeah...Love One Another
maybe I put down my rope
step away from dat tall tree
maybe I love you even though
you didn’t love me
maybe dat what I'm pose a’ be doin’
huh?
Yeah...
Monday Night
This one came out of nowhere...just fell out of the air into my soul. This is a spoken piece, so when you read it, imagine the voice in your head to be an old black woman who has smoked 3 packs of cigarettes a day for 50 years and drank nothing but whiskey. Her voice is barely a whisper....got it? Now read it...
blow…
blow baby
‘cuz you can’t keep it in
blow baby blow from down low
where it moans and growls and grumbles
thems who’s got the blues
they knows it,
they knows where it lives
they knows you got to let it loose
‘cuz it don’t got no place else to go but out
let it loose
let it loose like Ella, like Billie, like Etta
and you don’t even know when it’s a comin’
a comin’ down a ridge so fast,
so blue, so fierce it’ll blow the
the needles off a tree
so high, so strong, so forever
it’ll peel the red off the leaves
you sittin’ there a thinkin’ you is safe, but you aint
you don’t know it’s a comin’
but thems that’s had the blues
they know
they can feel it comin’
feel it buildin' in their bones
shriekin' in their brain down to their soul
oh yeah, it’s a comin’
Train knew it, Bird knew it, Dizzie knew it too
well…all they really knowed was they had to,
had to put that piece to their mouth and cry
cry that blue note
wail it out the end of their horn
‘cuz if they didn’t…they’d a’ died
you got a blue note in you
yeah you do
it’s in there
you just gotta let it out
let it rip outta yo belly
like a wind roarin’ over the ridge
bendin’ those mighty spines back so far
they think they’s a gonna snap…but they don’t
they just bend
bend
bend to the blue note
the bitter blue note of woe
oh! what a note...let it blow
let it bend you back
you won’t break
but if you keep it in, whoa!
that’s a bitter blue note of a pill that’ll kill ya
kill ya dead
blow
blow baby
blow that blue note low
make it growl
make it moan
let it shriek out the end of your horn
blow
blow…
blow baby
‘cuz you can’t keep it in
blow baby blow from down low
where it moans and growls and grumbles
thems who’s got the blues
they knows it,
they knows where it lives
they knows you got to let it loose
‘cuz it don’t got no place else to go but out
let it loose
let it loose like Ella, like Billie, like Etta
and you don’t even know when it’s a comin’
a comin’ down a ridge so fast,
so blue, so fierce it’ll blow the
the needles off a tree
so high, so strong, so forever
it’ll peel the red off the leaves
you sittin’ there a thinkin’ you is safe, but you aint
you don’t know it’s a comin’
but thems that’s had the blues
they know
they can feel it comin’
feel it buildin' in their bones
shriekin' in their brain down to their soul
oh yeah, it’s a comin’
Train knew it, Bird knew it, Dizzie knew it too
well…all they really knowed was they had to,
had to put that piece to their mouth and cry
cry that blue note
wail it out the end of their horn
‘cuz if they didn’t…they’d a’ died
you got a blue note in you
yeah you do
it’s in there
you just gotta let it out
let it rip outta yo belly
like a wind roarin’ over the ridge
bendin’ those mighty spines back so far
they think they’s a gonna snap…but they don’t
they just bend
bend
bend to the blue note
the bitter blue note of woe
oh! what a note...let it blow
let it bend you back
you won’t break
but if you keep it in, whoa!
that’s a bitter blue note of a pill that’ll kill ya
kill ya dead
blow
blow baby
blow that blue note low
make it growl
make it moan
let it shriek out the end of your horn
blow
Sunday, October 15
Saturday, October 14
Better than Prozac
What gives you the warm and fuzzies? Pinching a baby's cheek? Fuzzy baby ducks and kittens? For me it's dogs...pictures of dogs, movies about dogs, songs about dogs, random dog encounters on the street, in a park, on the road at a store or coffee shop...you name it, if there's a dog involved, I turn into a blathering idiot and I mean that in a good way. Don't even get me started with puppies. If it were humanly possible for me to have a litter of puppies...I would do it.
Imagine my absolute delight to have stumbled onto this blog:
Dog Blog
Almost 300 photographs of dogs on the street with some pretty witty commentary.
Woof!
Imagine my absolute delight to have stumbled onto this blog:
Dog Blog
Almost 300 photographs of dogs on the street with some pretty witty commentary.
Woof!
Thursday, October 12
Plane Crash Post Script
I'm really pissed off over the coverage of the small plane crash yesterday in NYC. Every headline and news report has read something to the effect of, "New York Yankees pitcher Cory Lidle and a passenger dies in tragic plane crash." Today, I saw that the "and a passenger" is now being referred to as "a flight instructor." Everyone is shocked, saddened and dismayed over the death of a baseball player, but what about the "passenger?" Isn't it shocking and sad and dismaying that this person was slammed into a highrise? Everyone is "so sad for Lidle's wife and child for their loss." What about the family of the "passenger?" Is their loss and grief less sad than that of the Lidle family?
I HATE that sports figures* receive elevated status just because they have a talent for playing a game. I wonder what talents the "passenger" possessed?
*This applies to other "celebrities" as well, but that's another rant.
What if the "passenger" were someone you loved? Wouldn't they deserve equal respect, not only as they walked through life, but when it came to an end?
Arghhhhhhhh.
I HATE that sports figures* receive elevated status just because they have a talent for playing a game. I wonder what talents the "passenger" possessed?
*This applies to other "celebrities" as well, but that's another rant.
What if the "passenger" were someone you loved? Wouldn't they deserve equal respect, not only as they walked through life, but when it came to an end?
Arghhhhhhhh.
Wednesday, October 11
Sunday, October 8
You Say It's Your Birthday?
Lordy, Lordy, Lordy...it has been a week for birthday celebrations...one of my very own, a 30th birthday weekend celebration in NashVegas for my longtime friend *Holly and well wishes for Melissa in Houston on Saturday.
The finale of my b'day celebration was an Indigo Girls concert at the Ryman Auditorium courtesy of yummy neighbors J & K. Until Tuesday night, I had only heard their music covered by other girl-duo bands, like Girls with Guitars. Very interesting people watching...especially when the lights went down. I have a couple of suggestions for my sisters out there:
1. When they dim the lights and the band starts playing...that's your cue to stop talking. I'm not really interested in hearing you tell your current girlfriend/date the when, where, how and which ex-girlfriend you were with when you heard this particular song the first time.
2. If you're bladder is that active, you may want to: a) drink less beer, b) consult a physician or c) both. Seriously girls, getting up to pee and announcing to EVERYONE in your row and the surrounding rows that you have to pee does not enhance my concert-going experience.
3. Cell phones...calling or text messaging your buddies who are at the same concert, but seated on the opposite side of the hall from you...get a clue...they know what song is being played and that it's your favorite. Screaming, "WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?" into your color-coordinated, jewel encrusted cell phone does not enhance my concert-going experience. Here's an idea, why don't the two of you hook up in the bathroom during one of your 20 pee breaks and compare notes?
4. Knowing every word, to every song being played is awesome. Singing note for note, word for word in the right place when the band gives you the cue ROCKS. This audience ROCKED on all counts.
5. Songwriting and musicianship that makes me laugh, jump up and dance, cry, clap my hands and think is about as perfect as my momma's lemon meringue pie...delicious!
Thanks J & K...for the initiation...it was D-I-V-I-N-E!
*Holly's 30th b'day celebration in NashVegas deserves it's own blog with photos, so check back for a future posting...suffice it to say there was indeed a real life Tennessee Hillbilly and Elvis sighting, all in the same weekend!!!!!
The finale of my b'day celebration was an Indigo Girls concert at the Ryman Auditorium courtesy of yummy neighbors J & K. Until Tuesday night, I had only heard their music covered by other girl-duo bands, like Girls with Guitars. Very interesting people watching...especially when the lights went down. I have a couple of suggestions for my sisters out there:
1. When they dim the lights and the band starts playing...that's your cue to stop talking. I'm not really interested in hearing you tell your current girlfriend/date the when, where, how and which ex-girlfriend you were with when you heard this particular song the first time.
2. If you're bladder is that active, you may want to: a) drink less beer, b) consult a physician or c) both. Seriously girls, getting up to pee and announcing to EVERYONE in your row and the surrounding rows that you have to pee does not enhance my concert-going experience.
3. Cell phones...calling or text messaging your buddies who are at the same concert, but seated on the opposite side of the hall from you...get a clue...they know what song is being played and that it's your favorite. Screaming, "WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?" into your color-coordinated, jewel encrusted cell phone does not enhance my concert-going experience. Here's an idea, why don't the two of you hook up in the bathroom during one of your 20 pee breaks and compare notes?
4. Knowing every word, to every song being played is awesome. Singing note for note, word for word in the right place when the band gives you the cue ROCKS. This audience ROCKED on all counts.
5. Songwriting and musicianship that makes me laugh, jump up and dance, cry, clap my hands and think is about as perfect as my momma's lemon meringue pie...delicious!
Thanks J & K...for the initiation...it was D-I-V-I-N-E!
*Holly's 30th b'day celebration in NashVegas deserves it's own blog with photos, so check back for a future posting...suffice it to say there was indeed a real life Tennessee Hillbilly and Elvis sighting, all in the same weekend!!!!!
Wednesday, October 4
The Voice of Being
This prayer was gifted to me in July, 2005 as I was preparing to leave Texas to pursue my dream of writing. It was written by hand, on hand-made paper, tied to tablets and pencils in every color of the rainbow with tangles of brilliant ribbon. It's significance is greater today than the day they put it into my hands...thank you Gambill family:
It is I who must begin...
Once I begin, once I try...
here and now,
right where I am,
not excusing myself
by saying that things
would be easier elsewhere,
without grand speeches and
ostentatious gestures,
but all the more persistently
--to live in harmony
with the "Voice of Being" as I
understand it within myself
--as soon as I begin that,
I suddenly discover,
to my surprise, that
I am neither the only one,
nor the first,
nor the most important one
to have set out
upon that road...
Vaclav Havel
Life Prayers from Around the World
Hampster Wheel
A single spotlight illuminates a shiny cylindrical object in the middle of the stage
Smarmy voice booms over the PA system to an empty theatre,
"Emotions, meet Mr. Hampster Wheel!"
Tiny voice from the back of the theatre says in high shreaky voice,
"We've met and what the hell are you doing here? I thought I kicked your ass the last time around."
Mr. Hampster Wheel responds smugly, "Squeak." as it begins to slowly spin.
Smarmy voice booms over the PA system to an empty theatre,
"Emotions, meet Mr. Hampster Wheel!"
Tiny voice from the back of the theatre says in high shreaky voice,
"We've met and what the hell are you doing here? I thought I kicked your ass the last time around."
Mr. Hampster Wheel responds smugly, "Squeak." as it begins to slowly spin.
Thursday, September 28
In the "i" of the Beholder
I enjoyed this post by the Fabulous Dooce on dating walking red flags and knowing what your deal breakers are. Her readers were most eager to share their horror stories of what made them run screaming from the burning building. Since she asked the question, I thought I should oblige, which set me to pondering.
What I discovered was my red flags were a bit more subtle than that of other readers. Sure, being kind to animals and waitstaff is important and I prefer my dates not to have back or chest hair, but for me the BIGGY is...can they pronounce the word MISCHIEVOUS correctly. This has been a bit of a personal crusade for many years. I love words...love the way they sound...the way they form in the mouth and roll off the tongue and I think words deserve to be treated with enough respect to pronounce them correctly. Mischievous has taken a beating over the years. The average Joe/Jonelle pronounces it miss chee vee us, which I blame entirely on Madison Avenue, who has intentionally misrepresented it in print, television and radio ads for years. My biggest fear is the creators of dictionaries will throw up their hands in defeat, cave to the populace and change the spelling and pronunciation to MISCHIEVIOUS.
So...as I was crafting a rather witty comment to add to Dooce's post, I thought I would take this opportunity to include a public service message by inserting a link to the Merriam Webster website where they not only define the word, but provide an audio pronunciation.
Imagine my utter disbelief, quickly followed by dismay when I realized that my trusty Merriam Webster site was now including both spellings and pronunciations on their website. MY WORST FEARS WERE BEING REALIZED. Then, I read further down the page and apparently, this variation (mischievious) dates back to the 16th Century...that would be for more than 500 years!
I was wrong and stand corrected, eyes downcast looking sheepishly at my shoes.
What I discovered was my red flags were a bit more subtle than that of other readers. Sure, being kind to animals and waitstaff is important and I prefer my dates not to have back or chest hair, but for me the BIGGY is...can they pronounce the word MISCHIEVOUS correctly. This has been a bit of a personal crusade for many years. I love words...love the way they sound...the way they form in the mouth and roll off the tongue and I think words deserve to be treated with enough respect to pronounce them correctly. Mischievous has taken a beating over the years. The average Joe/Jonelle pronounces it miss chee vee us, which I blame entirely on Madison Avenue, who has intentionally misrepresented it in print, television and radio ads for years. My biggest fear is the creators of dictionaries will throw up their hands in defeat, cave to the populace and change the spelling and pronunciation to MISCHIEVIOUS.
So...as I was crafting a rather witty comment to add to Dooce's post, I thought I would take this opportunity to include a public service message by inserting a link to the Merriam Webster website where they not only define the word, but provide an audio pronunciation.
Imagine my utter disbelief, quickly followed by dismay when I realized that my trusty Merriam Webster site was now including both spellings and pronunciations on their website. MY WORST FEARS WERE BEING REALIZED. Then, I read further down the page and apparently, this variation (mischievious) dates back to the 16th Century...that would be for more than 500 years!
I was wrong and stand corrected, eyes downcast looking sheepishly at my shoes.
Wednesday, September 27
File Under eyuuuuuuuuu
Is it strange, weird or creepy that I can tell if my dog needs to poo by the smell of her breath?
Monday, September 25
She's Stuffing What?
What could possibly be more humiliating for the under-developed girl in gym class than being outed for stuffing her bra by her hateful classmates, who parade around the locker room waving her 32AA bra overhead and tossing her stuffing of choice in the air?
Pull up a chair...I have a story to tell. For those of you who enjoyed my moanings about my vanishing chest, this should be a treat.
Monday is cleaning day at Penuel Ridge. It's usually pretty quiet except for the sound of the vacuum cleaner and a continuous stream of conversation with the young woman who cleans...yes, I have a captive audience with which to share my musings. So...we're swapping stories about our respective weekends. Hers was all about rest...mine was all about birthday outings. So, I get to the part where I'm describing a 2 hour weedeating marathon Saturday to tidy up the paths, steps, fire circle, picnic area, etc... on the land. We have a heavy duty weedeater and by this I mean heavy and long, as long as I am tall, so now you have a mental picture of short, round me wielding this massive weedeater...sometimes over my head just for effect...anyway, I digress. Blah, blah, blah...I tell her I wake up the next morning with very sore biceps and to illustrate my point, I raise my right arm in the obligatory make a muscle pose and that's when I want the Earth to open and swallow me. There is an obvious bulge under the sleeve of my blouse, which she notices at the same moment I realize it (the bulge) is the missing sock from yesterday's laundry.
Yes, folks, I stuff my shirt sleeves with socks to make my muscles look bigger.
Pull up a chair...I have a story to tell. For those of you who enjoyed my moanings about my vanishing chest, this should be a treat.
Monday is cleaning day at Penuel Ridge. It's usually pretty quiet except for the sound of the vacuum cleaner and a continuous stream of conversation with the young woman who cleans...yes, I have a captive audience with which to share my musings. So...we're swapping stories about our respective weekends. Hers was all about rest...mine was all about birthday outings. So, I get to the part where I'm describing a 2 hour weedeating marathon Saturday to tidy up the paths, steps, fire circle, picnic area, etc... on the land. We have a heavy duty weedeater and by this I mean heavy and long, as long as I am tall, so now you have a mental picture of short, round me wielding this massive weedeater...sometimes over my head just for effect...anyway, I digress. Blah, blah, blah...I tell her I wake up the next morning with very sore biceps and to illustrate my point, I raise my right arm in the obligatory make a muscle pose and that's when I want the Earth to open and swallow me. There is an obvious bulge under the sleeve of my blouse, which she notices at the same moment I realize it (the bulge) is the missing sock from yesterday's laundry.
Yes, folks, I stuff my shirt sleeves with socks to make my muscles look bigger.
Sunday, September 24
Diva Dialing
I had just made it home after a perfect night celebrating my birthday and the phone rang. I heard laughter and the muffled sounds of a party, so assumed I was being drunk-dialed, although it was near midnight and a little too early for such a call. No one spoke, so I hung up and went back to what I was doing. A few seconds later, the phone rang again and it was the same laughter and background noise, but then a voice from the past arose over the din of partygoers. Much to my joy and surprise, I was not being drunk dialed, but diva dialed!
For the next 10 minutes, the cell phone was passed from diva to diva...singing and wishing me happy birthday from the stage of the Hobby Center for the Performing Arts in Houston, Texas. The curtain had just lowered on Sing for Hope...an Evening of Arts Songs & Arias...a benefit concert to support People Living with HIV/AIDS. This is a fundraising concert I've been intimately involved with for more than 10 years. I wanted badly to be with them this year, not because it was on my birthday, but because this ensemble of singers are not only stellar performers, but long-time friends and it shows on stage...the genuine love they have for each other and for our brothers and sisters with HIV/AIDS.
It took but an instant for me to have an ear-to-ear smile plastered on my face as I heard such loving and familiar voices on the line, who took the time to put down their champagne glasses and acknowledge not only my birthday, but that although I wasn't there in person, my presence was felt.
So Vance, Camille, Lester, Randy, Deb, Michael, Ken, Lois and Karen...thanks for bringing a smile to my face and for reminding me that family means so much more than shared dna.
Brava, Bravo, Bravissimo...divas one and all!
For the next 10 minutes, the cell phone was passed from diva to diva...singing and wishing me happy birthday from the stage of the Hobby Center for the Performing Arts in Houston, Texas. The curtain had just lowered on Sing for Hope...an Evening of Arts Songs & Arias...a benefit concert to support People Living with HIV/AIDS. This is a fundraising concert I've been intimately involved with for more than 10 years. I wanted badly to be with them this year, not because it was on my birthday, but because this ensemble of singers are not only stellar performers, but long-time friends and it shows on stage...the genuine love they have for each other and for our brothers and sisters with HIV/AIDS.
It took but an instant for me to have an ear-to-ear smile plastered on my face as I heard such loving and familiar voices on the line, who took the time to put down their champagne glasses and acknowledge not only my birthday, but that although I wasn't there in person, my presence was felt.
So Vance, Camille, Lester, Randy, Deb, Michael, Ken, Lois and Karen...thanks for bringing a smile to my face and for reminding me that family means so much more than shared dna.
Brava, Bravo, Bravissimo...divas one and all!
The Trouble With Truth
I heard this song performed tonight and it grabbed me right in the ass. Gary Nicholson wrote it, Yo Mama performed it, I heard it:
Oh, the trouble with the truth
Is it's always the same 'ol thing
So hard to forget, so impossible for me to change
Every time I try to fight it
I know I'll be left to blame
Oh, the trouble with the truth
Is it's always the same 'ol thing
And the trouble with the truth
Is it's just what I need to hear
Ringing so right, deep down inside my ear
And it's everything I want
And it's everything I fear
Oh, the trouble with the truth
Is it's just what I need to hear
It has ruined the taste of the sweetest lies
Burned through my best alibis
Every sin that I deny
Keeps hanging 'round my door
Oh, the trouble with the truth
Is it always begs for more
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
And the trouble with the truth
Is it just won't let me rest
I run and hide but there's always another test
And I know that it won't let me be
'Til I've given it my best
The trouble with the truth
Is it just won't let me rest
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
Oh, the trouble with the truth
Is it's always the same 'ol thing
So hard to forget, so impossible for me to change
Every time I try to fight it
I know I'll be left to blame
Oh, the trouble with the truth
Is it's always the same 'ol thing
And the trouble with the truth
Is it's just what I need to hear
Ringing so right, deep down inside my ear
And it's everything I want
And it's everything I fear
Oh, the trouble with the truth
Is it's just what I need to hear
It has ruined the taste of the sweetest lies
Burned through my best alibis
Every sin that I deny
Keeps hanging 'round my door
Oh, the trouble with the truth
Is it always begs for more
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
And the trouble with the truth
Is it just won't let me rest
I run and hide but there's always another test
And I know that it won't let me be
'Til I've given it my best
The trouble with the truth
Is it just won't let me rest
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
That's the trouble, trouble with the truth
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
