Fever

I've got a fever. It runs high continuously. It makes my heart race and my head light. I'm filled with delusion. I see things that are not real I feel things that are not there. I can't seem to talk myself out of this insanity, and I know someone is going to be hurt. I'm going to be hurt. I'm so thirsty and there is nothing to drink. It's hot, would someone help get these clothes off me! I'm alone and scared now. It's dark, I can not see my way anymore. They told me this could happen but I thought for sure I'd be okay. I'm not sure of anything anymore. I was sure of foot yesterday but today all that I thought is forgotten. I can't recall, I can't remember how the song goes. I think it had beautiful lyrics but someone changed the melody and I can't hear it anymore. I lost my coat and I'm cold. I've only one glove the children lost it in the rain storm. My finger tips are white and I can't feel them. The pages are wet with salty water and I can't dry them. My hands shake and tear the words from the page. My stomach quivers and my knees are weak. The voice is warm and gentle but I'm frightened when I hear it. I'm frozen and my feet won't run even though they want to. My mind tells me to escape before it's too late while my heart begs me to stay. The treacherous path is slippery and inclining toward nothingness.



Between darkness and wonder~Darknesswonder

The Skill of Communicating

Communicate. Everyone attempts to do it.

I say attempts because sometimes we fail miserably. There is so much involved in being a successful communicator. I used to feel a silent sense of pride when I thought of my communicating skill. Thought myself rather proficient. Thought I was a good listener and could effectively share common thought. Then the other day I was having a conversation with my boss wherein I was trying to convey the thought of pride or commendation and understanding but no matter how hard I tried to express my thought he just could not seem to understand what I was saying so he repeatedly 'corrected' me and told me how to 'see' it. Now I must add that my boss is also my ex-boyfriend, so that adds an element of complexity but to me that only reinforced this new realization I had in that, communicating is somewhat individualized. What I saw was that the way I communicate with my boss/ex is and has to be very different from the way I communicate with my fellow employee/friend. It's different because they are two completely different people who process thought very differently and the dynamic of our relationship is different, so sometimes underlying motives are perceived or not, and personal emotional attachment is influential or not.

You see I think depending on how we feel about a person, what we want out of the relationship and what they want and how they feel often changes what is communicated or understood. For example, man says to woman, "You look really pretty today." Now the meaning or thought behind that statement may or may not be understood. If the woman has a crush or is in love with the man, she will likely interpret that statement to mean that he likes or loves her. But what if that man does not have the same affection for her and all he was trying to do is pay her a kind complement? Now if both parties are good friends and neither has romantic feelings for the other than likely the true meaning of the statement will be clearly understood. You see what I'm saying? It sometimes becomes necessary to know just where one is coming from in order to understand what one means, as is being honest and open with where you are coming from so as to be correctly understood. Guessing is not an option. I mean sometimes we might have to make a educated guess but far better to know without question.

Sometimes it doesn't even have to be that deep. I mean two people could have a conversation about oh I don't know... sugar. They might think they are at total odds over the subject and argue fiercely until they finally realize that they are actually in total harmony on the subject but because they were not clear on the definition of sugar (high fructose, refined or natural) they argued for no reason at all.

So the conclusion I've come to and will attempt to remember next time I'm conversing with someone is this, Do NOT jump to conclusions, assume, or guess. If I'm not sure I get the meaning, ASK for clarification, be specific with how you are understanding and make sure that what you are hearing is what they are trying to tell you. And Oh lord, avoid interpreting! That will get you in trouble EVERY time. Just because they did or said "x" doesn't not necessarily mean they think or feel "y".

Wow, just thinking about the effort required in successful communication is making me tired. Think I'll stay home alone today.

Adventures at the "Welfare" office Part II

All the paperwork has been filled out. A complete history of my schooling, not much there anyway, work history and all the necessary documentation requested to ascertain my qualifications for food assistance. Of course today Sydney my 9 yr old wakes up sick, so that means I can't take her to school, instead I got to drag her with me to social services for orientation class and the interview. Poor kid, on second thought it's good for her, she gets to see what it takes sometimes to provide for a family.

It's 10:00 and my first visit is in half an hour. I must attend an orientation of the program. Which basically means I sit in front of a TV and watch a VHS tape that that keeps bouncing around and rolling up the screen explaining all the responsibilities I have if I receive assistance and the hefty penalties, such as fines and jail time if I fail to live up to my responsibilities. So if I move, get pregnant, get a job, lose a job, someone moves in or out of my home, receive money of any kind, a change in my income in any amount or die, I have 10 days to report it to the Health and Human Services agency or my benefits will be terminated and I'll go to jail. Wonder if they'll hit up my surviving family members for money if I forget to tell them I'm dead? Thankfully only half an hour later I have my orientation paper signed and verified that I have attended this class and now I'm out of the office and headed home to wait for my next appointment at 2:30.

Thankfully my mother has kindly volunteered to watch Sydney for me so I won't have to torment her with the long afternoon in the welfare office. 2:00 rolls around and I head down to the offices again to hunt for a parking space, walk 4 blocks, wait in another long line to tell the worker I've arrived for my interrogation er.. appointment, sit on the hard steel benches for an hour while I watch the snot nose children step on my feet as they run around the room chasing each other with cold hot dogs and Pb&j sandwiches.

Funny thing, as I sit waiting, the woman who had been sitting next to me on Friday walked into the waiting room and sat next to me. She too had her stack of paperwork all filled out and ready to be interrogated. She was quite chatty, telling me about raising her daughter on her own, she was now in her senior year of high school and dating and blah blah blah... Poor woman tho, stress from loosing her job caused her to break out in these terrible hives all over her body she was in tremendous pain and needed health care, which is of course why she was there. Finlay her name was called and as she gathered all her belongings and headed toward the interview rooms, she turned and smiled at me and said, "Good Luck!" Another 20 minutes passed by and there it was "Zunny Zaiada, invew rum thateen"

Walked down the long hallway looking for room 13. I entered the room with my life story in my arms. There were two mauve metal chairs with unidentifiable stains on them sitting in front of floor to ceiling 6" thick plexiglass that had that little handy slot at the counter to slide paperwork through. Behind the glass sat a tall thin Asian man in his... well who knows for sure, he looked 30 but was probably 45. He smiled at me kindly and started in on pleasantries, "How are you today?, Long wait?" "Well, lets see here, you already have a case open is that correct?" "Yes, for MediCal." "Have you ever applied for Food Stamps before?" "Yes" "But not now?" "No, the stopped them because I moved in with my parents." "Okay..., We got to be very careful, I don't want to mess up you MediCal."

Ten minutes became twenty then thirty then... After many questions and many papers being slid back and forth between the plexiglass, copies of copies, signatures on this X, initials, "here, here, here, AND here." My fingerprint on this page, a pin number punched into that machine, Mr. Kim pulled out his calculator and added up all the figures, referred to his giant black binder with all the qualification points and with a look of both surprise and disappointment said, "Oh...uhmmm.. Well, it looks like you... Well, let me check this again. I have to be careful not to change things so that you don't lose you MediCal. I think I better check with my supervisor." Mr. Kim then walked out of the room.

"What! What is it!", I thought. That's it I'm going to jail right now, he's going to get security and they're going to hall me off to the slammer. I must have made some mistake in the paperwork and now I'm guilty of fraud. That's it I'm done for. I can see it now, poor Sydney crying as I sit on the other side of 6" plexiglass trying to touch her little hand pressed up against it saying "Mommy, when are you coming home, I miss our cuddle time?" And Silas asking, "So is the food good? You have to make license plates?"

Mr. Kim returned. "Okay, Sunny, well it looks like, well, I had to check with my supervisor because the last worker made a mistake and we fix that and you still get MediCal but you see you make too much money. You over the limit by seventeen dolla."

Seventeen dollars? SEVENTEEN DOLLARS? I MAKE SEVENTEEN DOLLARS TOO MUCH! ... HA HA HA HA HA! That's hilarious.

Poor Mr. Kim kept apologizing and saying how bad he felt and that he should have added it all up first and then I wouldn't have had to wait, and that even if it was a dollar over there would be nothing he could do.

So I packed up my life in paperwork, thanked Mr. Kim and headed down the long hallway into the waiting room through the security check and metal detector down the 4 blocks to my car where I laughed my head off and thought. This should make for an interesting blog.

Three days later I received a notice in the mail making the official statement that my application for food stamps was denied for the maximum income allowed for a household of my size was exceeded by SEVENTEEN DOLLARS. Oh well, I'll stock up on Cup Noodles and buy Halloween Candy the day after for 75% off. This family won't go hungry.

Adventures at the "Welfare" office

It's 9:00 AM Friday morning. It's overcast and grey. After dropping off my 9 yr old daughter at school I call my boss to remind him that I would not be coming in today as I must dedicate the morning to the first of several visits to the Social Services office, more commonly thought of as the "Welfare" office. For some reason this is a term the social workers seem to have an aversion to.

As I make the turn on to the street where the office is located I immediately realize that this just might take a while, for cars are parked solid along both sides of the street for about two blocks. I've been here before and know that these cars are usually representative of at least 1 - 3 people who will all be where I'm headed.

I decide not to take the first open sliver of curb I see, as it's a good block and a half away and I've some question about fitting my little Corolla in the space. Instead I drive up closer in hopes of finding someone that just might be leaving as I pull up. Alas, no such luck. I drive back around to the block where I'd seen the small open space to see if it's still available and if I can even fit in it. Thankfully it's still available. Now, Can I fit? Yes! Pull up nice and close to the bumper of the car in front so my rear is clear of the red curb. I Just barley make it. I Grab my food stamp application, now referred to as "SNAP" and head down the street.

As I walk I see several others all headed to the same location, however there seems to be a sense of urgency in their stride as if they were going to miss a bus or something, they must know what they're in for and want to be ahead of everyone else going in at the same time. One woman practically knocks me down as she passes by. Finally reaching the building I walk up a short flight of stairs and there it is, just as I suspected, the line extends out the door and along the side of the building.

I'm only forced to wait about 5 min till I reach the security check where I must have my purse rifled through and then pass through a metal detector. They must figure that people in need of food and health care are desperate and dangerous. Who knows one of us might suffer a blood sugar crash, wig out and start waving around a gun demanding the government give us our food stamps. Ha! Maybe that's why they changed the name to SNAP!

Fifteen min later I'm called to the window where a worker stands behind 4" thick plexiglass with a small slit at the bottom to slide any paperwork through. As I approach a misty cloud of disinfectant puffs out the slit and begins to choke me. A maintenance man walks across the area behind the glass spraying everything down. The social worker giggles and with a smile says, "flu season". With a forced chuckle I reply, "Yeah". I hand her my application she looks at it briefly hands me another form with two X's marked where I am supposed to sign and date. She then says, "Okay, have a seat and we will call you up to schedule you an appointment. The wait time will be between 1 - 3 hrs." Let me make sure I've got this right. I have to wait 1 - 3 hrs to get an appointment to apply for food stamps? Alrighty then...

The waiting room is full of about 80 - 100 men, women, and children. There are black steel benches to sit on. The kind you find at a bus or train station. After an hour on those things my butt starts to hurt, 2 hrs, it's going numb, by the 3rd my butt is without any feeling and my sciatic nerve is shooting pain down my right leg. With a middle aged Mexican woman with 3 kids under the age of 3 on my right and an attractive English woman in her mid 50's on my left I strain to hear for my name to be called over a loud speaker. But I don't really think it should be classified as one as it sounds much more like voices yelling into a tin can. Their words are nearly inaudible as names and room numbers are called out in both English and Spanish but to hear anything over the constant chatter, incessant high pitched beeping of the metal detector and the screaming, hollering and crying of all 23 children ... well it's pretty much a guarantee you won't hear your name be called.

Looking around the room most of the faces I see are solemn and sad or just expressionless except for the Mexican mothers and children who seem to make it a family outing with their strollers, blankets, toys and food. The children run around the room chasing each other with food in their hands and on their faces and all over their clothes. There is also the rather rotund and somewhat jolly Samoan man with the long wispy Mohawk who smiles wide as he lets out a loud sigh after exiting the restroom. Don't even wanna know what he's so happy about. Everyone else in the room clearly wishes they were anywhere but here.

After a brief yet enlightening conversation with the woman on my left, I realize how humiliating it is for most of the people to be here. Most of us are hard working people who for one reason or another are just struggling to put food on the table, get help paying utilities, or need a little medical care. We're not asking for much and it's only temporary, just till we get in a better place and can provide for our families on our own.

Suddenly I hear my name... at least I think it's me. It sound more like Zunny ZyeAda. But I'm fairly confident that it's me. The woman behind plexiglass window #3 hands me a giant packet of papers and a short note stapled to the front with an interview date and time. Monday at 2:00 PM. Well on one had that's good, I don't have to wait too long to have an interview, on the other, doesn't give me much time to pull together all the necessary documentation needed to determine whether or not I qualify.

The stack of papers I'm to fill out inform me that I'm to bring in birth certificates, photo id, immunization records, school enrollment verification, bank statements for two months, check stubs for two months, vehicle reregistration, proof of citizenship, proof of pregnancy (I guess women with an enormous distended belly isn't enough these days)Social Security cards, child support verification, rent receipts, utility bills, blood samples, urine samples, DNA, and all rights to your firstborn. Alright the last 4 were a joke, but seriously, that's a lot of paperwork. For some of us it's not all that easy to compile all that info. Thankfully for me, I'm pretty organized and feel pretty confident that I can pull it off with out any problem. Then on page 43 I find the sheet that informs me I must attend an Orientation Class first. Those are conducted on Monday at 9:00 and 10:30 AM. So I'll have to be prepared to attend the class and return a few hours later for the interview.

Sigh... alright I can do this, not a big deal.

to be continued...

Death Haunts Me

Today on my way to work I passed by an automobile accident. A sight I've seen all too often. Most times they're simple fender benders sometimes they're 4 and 5 car pile ups and the occasional spin out. 1 out of 5 times there are minor injuries but today there was a fatality. The sight of it caused an audible gasp. Sparing the details, suffice it to say the victim likely died instantly, a thought that actually brought me a measure of comfort.

The sight of that accident brought me a flood of emotions. First I felt shock, then sadness for the driver. I suddenly remembered a rather disturbing thought that passed through my mind just the day before as I got ready to take Sydney to school and then off to work, "What if today is the day I die? What do I want to be wearing when I die?" I quickly jolted my thoughts clear and wondered why that thought would have been there. Then I realized that similar thoughts have passed through my mind all my life. I remember as a little girl being afraid not to tell my mom or dad I love them before leaving in case something happened and I'd not have another opportunity to say it. I wonder who would attend my memorial. Who, outside my family would be truly sad, who would miss me months and years down the road?

I don't want to die, but I'm not afraid to. I don't want to suffer a painful death, but I know God would support and strengthen if I did. The thought that is unbearable to me is what my death would do to those who love me unconditionally, my mother, father, brother and even as I type the words a flood of tears fall from my eyes, my children.

My next thought was, "That poor driver probably didn't think today is the day I die." He or She was just probably off to work just like every other day and 'time and unforeseen occurrence' arrived. Then I thought of the family. I wondered when would they be notified, who would be the bearer of the tragic news? Then I began to feel their unspeakable pain. My stomach was sick, my muscles began to softly quiver.

Then I got angry. I was so angry at the driver of the semi-truck that obviously had to have been driving too fast on the off ramp turn. It was the only explanation for what I was seeing. Stupid driver! Stupid Stupid Stupid! Because of one persons carelessness devastation will come to many. I prayed out loud, begging that if the family did not know of the promise of a resurrection that he send someone to tell them.

Wait a minute, I've driven too fast, I've been careless from time to time when I drove. I could have been just as guilty as that truck driver!

What an overwhelming flood of emotions to deal with all before 9:00 in the morning. I forced myself to think of other things more positive, but not without noticing that my speed was well within the the legal limit posted.

I will be so glad, as will all, when our enemy Death will be done away with forever.

...and you can quote me on that!

"My legs hurt from forever running to catch time. My heart aches from forever missing you and my face is wet from tears forever falling down my cheeks."

"Those who knew me are afraid to meet me now.They don't understand who I've become. I'm not who they think I should be. If they took the time they'd like the girl I've become more than who they thought I should have been."

"Pieces of me have begun to rise to the surface, what a pleasure to meet me."

"I love being with you because in your eyes I see the me I always thought I was."

"The memory of that moment always brings a gasp."

"He stole my dream from me on that Summer day in January. He drove me to the lookout point over the dam and I mistook lust for love. She was right...I was naive."

"We sat together in a crowed room. Smiling and chatting like friends are supposed to do. But I know you better than you'd think I would and when your arm brushed gently against mine I felt your distaste of my body near you, so I moved a bit closer just to see what you'd do."

"Don't under estimate the inconsequential that are left in the field. Sometimes they're the ones chosen to be greater than you."

"Without a clear and accurate understanding of anothers motivation one may wrongly assess and judge anothers actions."

"Well I had the strong sense that our interchanges made you uncomfortable. So for reasons I'm currently discussing with my therapist I decided it best for both of us that I remove you from my phone. Please don't take offense though."

"They were quiet voices. They put words together but I couldn't understand. They spoke to one another but said nothing to me."

On that note...

I breath in deep but I get no air.
I think hard but have no thoughts.
I smile wide but am not happy.


The beautiful man in the blue Peacoat leaned in,
tenderly kissed me and said,
"I think I'd like to try some more of that later."




I must insist that you refrain from visiting me in my dreams.




Creativity is hampered by the multitude of the mundane.




There is a longing
and a shame in it.

People on Pedestals

Why do we put people on pedestals? Why do we create an image of people that causes us to see them as superior to us? The only individual that ever deserved to be graced with such a position was Jesus. After all he was the one and only perfect human to walk this land. This is nothing new to anyone. All of us acknowledge that no other human is perfect and worthy of such honor yet we all do it. In fact I bet if you stop to think of all the people in your life I bet you would find that there is at least one person you look up to not just as an good example worthy of imitation but someone who at least subconsciously you feel could do no wrong.

My mother used to be upon a golden alter. She knew how to do almost everything, she possessed the answers to everything, she was the strongest, wisest, most talented woman I knew. As I grew older I realized that I was nothing like my mother and therefore inadequate in every way.

My brother was and is still residing humbly upon the marble stone I place him upon. When I was younger I was pained with envy because he was there, now I applaud him for all he is and seek him when I need help.

My ex-boyfriend possessed the highest of honors. I've known him for 17 years and from the first time I met him, not just I but my entire family placed him upon a lofty throne. In time I began to see that he was in his own right, a kind of superstar. And I was not the only one who clamored to be around him, hoping that some of his greatness would rub off.

However I've come to realize that there are a couple of problems that are created when we elevate others above their proper dwelling place. First of all we tend to devalue ourselves and our abilities or qualities because we compare ourselves to them and their real or perceived greatness that we will never reach. Second we really set ourselves up to be disappointed and hurt by them and can send the one perched high above us to a long hard painful fall. As was mentioned before, we know full well that they are not perfect, so the longer we know them, the more time we spend with them the chances of them doing the "one" thing that we never would imagine them doing are greatly increased. It's not to say that they will do the unthinkable, but the fact is they could and might and then, if or when it happens...

I'm just saying, why can't we admire qualities they posses, appreciate them and see them as they rightly are- Imperfect, flawed, good, wonderful people?

How I lost a guy in 10 days!

Michael was on holiday from Canada, visiting a close friend. Just before returning home he and his friend David accepted an invitation to a quaint bar/restaurant where a local band would be playing and the offer of meeting 'a girl' was placed before him.

I had heard of this visiting Canadian and was told by someone near and dear to me that we might "hit it off". I was not filled with hope, in fact I was filled with nothing. I knew how all such encounters ended up. Some average to moderately attractive guy with little or no personality would insist on buying my meal or drink or ticket and then try to hold my hand, kiss me or end up just throwing up on me. Then being the nice girl and enabler that I am as well as not possessing the ability to say "thanks, but no thanks" I'd pity date him or engage him for as long as possible until I could find a way to break it off or get him to break up with me. So I really didn't even give meeting him much thought. I didn't get especially fixed up or go buy anything new to wear. Why bother?

So as I sat at the bar in front of the window, chatting with my girlfriends as we watched the people mingling on the patio, guys scoping out the room for a girl to hit on and girls holding their glasses of wine and Pina Coladas giggling while tossing their hair back, I had nearly forgotten that I was to be meeting someone. Then Christine, with excitement in her voice said, "Here they are! Look! Hurry! They're just coming up the front walk." As I swiveled around on my bar stool to see these supposed interesting men, I quickly scanned the walk way and laid my eyes on two of the most unusually stylish men I ever had the pleasure of viewing. With my jaw well below my shoulders and eyes the size of cappuccino saucers I turned to Christine and had to clarify, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? That's them? Seriously?" She confirmed it with out equivocation. Then as they entered the room I saw only one man, though both were present.

I was completely taken nearly breathless from that moment on. Never before had the draw to a man been so strong. With a blushing smile, weak knees and a slightly trembling voice, we were introduced. He shook my hand with gentle strength, not the wet noodle hold so many men will extend to a woman as if they might break them with their hand shake. His voice sounded just a touch hoarse which only added to his charming Canadian accent that wasn't too heavy nor filled with never ending, eh's. After excusing himself to order a drink I became flushed with nerves and hot with passion. After a group rally of positive reinforcement from my girlfriends I drew up the courage to forge my way to his table and sat myself down next to him. With my heart pounding loudly in my ears we made pleasantly humorous small talk with the occasional flirtatious expression or brush of the shoulder against the other. While we both made only pale attempts to visit with others it was clear that we were enjoying the company of each other over anyone else. The day had ended and the new one having begun several hours earlier, it was now time to leave. Not knowing if I would ever see him again, he searched for me in the dark of the driveway to send me off with a most sincere hug. The feel of a real man holding me the way he did had been something I'd long missed, but didn't know how much until that moment.

The day had dawned and opportunity to see him came again. Christine and I met him and David, along with David's sister for brunch. We sat across from each other and shared all our personal history of love, loss, fear and joy. One moment that took me back with a bit of surprise was when he went to share with me a piece of gum. It wasn't so much the sharing the gum that was surprising but rather the fact that when I placed the gum in my mouth and immediately expressed my displeasure in it's flavor and pretended to spit it out. He, without hesitation, reached his hand out under my mouth as to take the gum. With a quick flick of my tongue I popped the gum out of my mouth and into his hand. Then he put it in his mouth! That was AWESOME! We hardly even knew each other but at that very moment, I fell in love!

During the following 3 days Michael chewed gum, a lot of gum! He had told me that it was a new kind of fetish that he and David had since being here on holiday. He shared humorous stories of golfing with mouths full of gigantic wads of gum and the never ending flow of new pieces being added to the wad. Michael evidently favored the original bubble gum flavor but expressed equal pleasure over trying some of the more exotic kinds, such as tropical mango twist. On our last evening together we enjoyed a dinner, tequila, a walk along the city streets in the crisp winter air, intimate conversation, a visit to one of San Diego's famous landmarks, the Star of India and a kiss the likes I've never had nor should have again. *sigh* How I do love tropical mango twist gum.

The time had come for us to part ways and for Michael to returned home to Canada. I expected nothing further from the relationship other than a storybook memory of a most fantastic 5 days with a beautiful, engaging, intelligent, sensitive, kind, caring man. Upon his return home he sent a text wherein he expressed appreciation for the time we'd spent together and a desire to speak again soon. It was all the encouragement I needed. I had gone from a woman content with being a single mother of two with no hope nor immediate need for male companionship to a desperate stalking crazy lady hyperventilating at the thought of not being with her one true love! Yes people, this is what happens to those of us who have the tendency to let all the emotions run rampant within ones heart and we give up all sensibleness, logic and reason.

So I had this, what I thought, really cute idea. I was going to surprise him with a 'care package'. It was little more than a unique box filled with all sorts of gum! Since he was to be leaving Canada in less than 5 days for another trip, this time a cruise around the Caribbean, I wanted him to have it before he left.

So I went to the store and found they had gum on sale. Perfect! Buy one get one free. I bought THIRTEEN MULTI-PACKS of gum. Yes, let's calculate that... there are 13 multi-packs of gum and in each pack are 10 packs with 10 pieces in each pack.....soooo.. we're talking 1300 pieces of gum! Then, I drove all over town looking for the perfect 'unique' box to put all 1300 pieces of gum in. Let me know when you've stopped laughing and I'll proceed...

After hours of driving from one novelty shop and gift store to local markets and franchise Mega Malls I was forced to settle on an average but handsome box. It was simple but manly. I purchased the proper packing paper, wrapped it, addressed it (which by the way I did not have his address so I had to "research" his address via the Internet like some nut job stalker) and headed off to the post office.

The box of course was over 4lbs which means I'd have to pay a bit extra. Then I was given three options, 1. Standard - arrived in 7 to 10 working days. 2. Express - 5 working days and 3. Overnight Guarantee - 3 days. Well, since I had desired to have my little care package arrive before his trip because I'm so freakin obsessive AND I already enclosed a really cute little Betty Boop card in the box making reference to his trip, I really had no other option. 3. Overnight Guarantee. You know where this is going don't you?

After filling out two different customs forms and waiting like 10 min while the lovely 'Cat' with her claw like green tipped glitter nails, gold rings with sparkling gems on EVERY finger, attempted to find a postal code for Gum, she finally chose to label it 'Non-Perishable Food.' She then, with her big beautiful brown bug eyes looked up at me and said, "Do you know how much this is going to cost ya honey? $62.47! You sure you wanna do this shuga?" With the sick feeling in my gut and a sort of screeching sound from my mouth I uttered the pathetic words, "It's for a guy!" She shook her head, raised one eyebrow and said, "Will that be credit or debit?"

After giving me my receipt I was however assured that it would actually be there by tomorrow. Tomorrow! Holy Crap!... All of a sudden I started thinking about how Michael was going to see that I paid $62.47 to send him 1300 pieces of gum- OVERNIGHT! I mean seriously people, who does that sort of stuff? I only just met the guy. Oh it all sounded so cute and a little romantic when I thought the idea up, but then when I thought of my poor children's faces when I have to tell them, "I'm sorry sweetie, we are all going to have to skip dinner tonight and tomorrow too since mommy spent our money on 1300 pieces of gum for a man you don't know and that mommy just met 5 days ago." (I seriously hope your laughing your butt off right now because I need to know this will be just an amusing story for all to laugh at and not a, Oh my Gosh, this is really some kind of scary chick story)

So now all I could do is wait and wonder in agony. Would he freak out? Would he find it amusing and somehow endearing? Would he be freaked out by the fact that I somehow located his place of residence? Would he think me creative and thoughtful? Would he refuse the package? Would he respond right away or wait or maybe not at all EVER!? Oh how the thoughts and the worry ran through my gut like a hamster on a spinning wheel.

What the H E double hockey sticks was I thinking!? I should have written, directed and starred in the movie "How to lose a guy in 10 days!"

To be continued...

Be careful what you say about people

The words we speak float upon the breeze. They are often carried away never to be heard again~ but, sometimes, just sometimes they find their way and rest upon the one of whom they were spoken. Then the painful poison that they possess trickles into their ears where they painfully rest.

So unless it is with wicked and hurtful intent that you speak...Be careful what you say about people.

The lonely woman

The words dripped from her lips like honey. Drawn up from her heart by gentle hands searching for the secrets it held. Fear began to slip through her fingers like sand.

With the heavy patchwork quilt of life upon her shoulders she carried a heavy burden. Walking the unpaved road with an unsteady foot and stride unsure, bravely she pressed on.

The weight on her shoulders from the truth that was held left her weak and immobile. The blessing slowly became a burden. Afraid to let it go the secret did crush the free and once happy. Seeing the future of near perfection holding on to hope like a delicate flower in her palm, the sadness grew to darkness and the pain drove in deep, till the flower was damaged and the light had burned out.

Extraordinary

What does extraordinary really mean? Extra ordinary...

Extraordinary things can happen to ordinary people and when they do~ do THEY become extraordinary?

Who decides what makes a person extraordinary?

Do extraordinary people know they're extraordinary?

Can extraordinary persons become ordinary?

Sometimes I imagine a kind of extraordinary life for myself. A life where my kids have room to be who they are. Run free and play, imagine and create.

A life where I create an extraordinary place for my dear one to come to for peace, quiet and calm. A place to refresh, to laugh and to love. A place where our children will be loved, feel safe and happy.

Yes, it's extraordinary but someday it will be ordinary.

Just someone I used to know

Your spirit it calls me like a breeze in the tree. Compassion it whispers my body to please. And your breath on my face, is like home in good grace. Passion does burn, intoxicatingly leading my mind so seductively to a place that I dare never to go a place that I've been forbidden to know.

There is pain that is buried deep in your soul. It's dark and it's ugly and frightfully cold. It's a place that you hate to admit does exist, But the memories seem to repeat and persist.

The healing you find, for your heart soul and mind is in the way that your hands, give comfort sublime. To the weak and the weary you fondle their soul, creating a haven,a comfort, a whole. You give of yourself an unselfish desire, wishing only for love of the same finest fiber.

To you I'm drawn like waves to the shore, and from my fragile heart all my love does out pour. It isn't the love of romantic desire~ though fantasies of you I shall never tire. The love that I feel is a nurturing sort, to quiet the storm that troubles your court.

It pains me inside to think you alone. Though many a voice to you they must groan. And it isn't with pleasure of passion they moan.

Have you no one to love you and hold you at night, to accept you completely, give you great delight?

Then my wish for you on this bedroom candle light, is for peace and contentment to provide you the might to face all the trials that vex your soul and allow you to keep hope in your hold.

My dream to dream

The new year moved toward her softly like clouds. Finding contentment in the moment she had come to accept her reality. With quiet resolve she looked on without a single hope, wish or desire.

As he stepped into view and came near to her she felt his warmth deep within her soul. The hours passed by like sand through her fingers. She wanted to squeeze them tightly aware that the perfection of the moments would leave her lonely.

They would be forever changed as they saw reflected in each others eyes the beauty they fought to see in themselves.

They shared life's fears with complete security. They gave to one another pleasure of the purest and most unselfish kind, a tenderness soft and delicate until the dawn came and the season carried him away to the place from which he had come.

Grateful for those perfect moments they spent in each others arms she smiled sweetly and then,upon one last kiss wished him happiness.

The sweet taste of his mouth began to fade and give way to a pain in her heart. As a single tear rolled down her soft pink skin she knew with certainty she would never feel this way again.

She cursed the sunrise, for it stole the dream she had carried upon her heart. It was, after all her dream to dream.