Saturday, April 15, 2006

Easter Eggs

"Who had it last year?"
Nobody knows...
It's something we bicker over
as the competition grows.
The bright copper dipper's
a prize to be had.
Your eggs will look better
if you're copperly clad.
"Who has the pink?"
She grumbles to me.
"I'm still using it here."
It's easy to see.
"You're taking too long!"
(I have 2 eggs to go...)
"To get the best color
you must take it slow."
"Don't spill that dye
on my table you girls!
I'll kick your ass."
(her anger unfurls)
We laugh at her nagging-
It's Easter, you see
A happy time,
we tell her, us three.
Our eggs are all finished,
the colors are bright
and we marvel at our creations
and our hearts feel just right.
Traditions, even silly
are special and good,
and though we're now older,
it's still understood.

Friday, April 14, 2006

Love Notes

In searching for my high school diploma (for culinary school) I came across several things that made me giggle. Like, for instance, 2 letters I saved from boys I liked, who also liked me. Keep in mind, it was Junior High...and spelling errors were not fixed...

1: TJ, a cute boy who, looking back, was probably balding, even in 7th grade. We liked each other on and off, but he moved away before high school.

Dear Mags,

As you know, I like you. I was wondering if you would ever go out with me. Please tell me at the end of science.

Sincerly your
Horny Korny Peverted
Pal, TJ

PS. I'll (Heart) you always

RSVP

First of all, I remember him giving this to me. In a suicidal-like mission, he chucked this letter between our open classrooms from his desk (in the back row on the left) to my desk (in the back rown on the right) Miraculously, he did not get caught and I think this is what ultimately made me say yes. He was a risk taker. And what girl wouldn't like a "Horny Korny Perverted Pal"?

2. Todd: This boy was one that liked me from 6th grade until probably... yesterday. I liked him on and off too. If I didn't have a boyfriend all through high school, I'm sure he would have been it.

Dear Mags,

Will you go out with me? I have liked you for a while. I hope that the answer is "yes"! I might not act like it all the time, but I do. The reason I always hang up on you is because I am restricted from the phone. I'm not a mama's boy but...well, I got to go.

I (Heart) U!

Todd

Ps. Write back and give to Karen or Tiffany. Please don't call, no offense. Or drop off in my locker, 367, 6-23-8

The funniest part of this letter is not the Mama's boy comment, or even the "Please don't call, no offense", but the fact that it is written in my cousin Tiffany's writing.

WTF Todd? You can't write your own love letter? And why did I have to give it to Karen or Tiffany and not you?? Besides, they were MY friends.

Of course, I said yes, though I don't remember how I responded...

Thursday, April 13, 2006

House Broken: Part 21

A handshake. She gave him her heart, and he gave her a handshake. A business-like, we sealed the deal handshake. She didn’t know why she expected anything more, they did, after all, just get divorced.

The proceedings went rather smoothly, after they were let back into the courthouse. They were lucky enough to be 2nd on the docket and therefore had little time to wait. The first case was short and sweet and she soon found herself sitting at the witness stand, speaking into a microphone.

The privilege of being the instigator.

In 15 minutes their lives were split and the knots they fought so hard to tie years earlier were dissolved. And all she got was a handshake.

“Well, take care of yourself.” He said as he stuck out his awkward hand.

She laughed. “Yeah. You too.” And took his hand in hers. She turned then, and rushed to the elevator, eager to enter before he and his lawyer could follow.

On the way down, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was free now, to find the girl she once had been-the one who laughed more than cried, who made people smile, and who’s sense of adventure led her to meet strange and interesting people. But without someone to share it with, would it be as rewarding?

She smiled brightly at the people she passed on the way to her car. No one would have guessed by looking at her that 6 years of her life had just been taken away. No one would have thought that she was a woman scorned, an ex-wife who was cheated on, or a woman who did not know how she was going to pay her bills. No one knew because her eyes danced and her smile prevailed, and she held her head high, even when she wanted to cry.

And no one would have guessed that her broken heart was already mending itself.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

My Cake Post

Ok. I know that I'm a geek, but when I find myself linked somewhere, I get excited.

I checked my stats a few minutes ago and noticed a lot of people were looking at my porn post-you know the one...where I got double bagged at Barnes and Noble...

After the 3rd or 4th person who visited that post, I started wondering why. THEY LINKED ME! (Scroll all of the way down)

Like I said, I know I'm a geek, but c'mon, you have to admit it's pretty cool. ;)

I KNEW I LOVED CAKE!

Toosdae ?'s

Last week I didn't beg any of you to answer my questions, and some of my regulars didn't! Is it that you like it when I beg? Huh? Huh? Cause I'll beg. I will...

Please?? Please will you answer my questions? Please??? (Not pretty, I know...so answer 'em)

1. Would you rather have your skin change into vibrant colors according to your emotional state (red for anger, blue for sadness etc) or have to wildly and uncontrollably flail your arms around whenever you walk.

2. Which would be worse for you, living next to a garbage dump or a cemetery?

3. If drinking fountains could dispense another liquid, what would you want it to be?

1. I think the people I interact with have a pretty good grasp on how I am feeling anyway, so I'd choose the mood ring skin. Plus, I have long arms and I'd be afraid I'd hurt someone with all of the flailing.

2. Hard choice b/c I have a freakish sense of smell and I'm sure I'd start and end each day gaging because of the dump, however I dislike dead people more than the average person. Mostly b/c of the ghost factor. I'd never leave my house after dark, and if I had to come home late I'd opt to stay out and just come home in the morning.

3. Grape soda. No question. Except in the winter, then warm apple cider would be a most excellent choice.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Memoirs of a 3 Year Old Bird Keeper...

I had a bird once. The "Easter Bunny" brought it to my father's work one day for me, sometime around the same year I was given African Frogs and a Golden retriever.

It seemed the Easter Bunny wanted to buy my affection.

I remember standing at the top of the stairs in the hallway of my childhood watching my father clumsily open the door with the cage. I couldn't see what was in it, but I knew it was for me.

As it turned out, the Easter Bunny did not consult my mother and so its first night in its new home was spent listening to a husband and wife argue over the Easter Bunnies judgment.

I knew why the caged bird sang well before Maya did. It was to drown out the sound of anger, of confusion, and of loneliness.

I didn't like the bird much, though it was pretty enough, with its turquoise and green feathers and yellow tipped tail. It made more noise than it was worth, and I remember laying in my pink canopy bed wide awake, silently crying because I couldn't sleep-a caged bird in my own right, who had not yet found her voice.

Memories of a 3 year old bird keeper are harder to recall, so I can't be certain how long it was a part of my life. I don't even remember if I named it; though it would have been odd that I didn't.

I can't remember why we went away; we couldn't afford trips back then, and everyone we knew lived within a block of our terra cotta stucco 2-family house.

But what I can remember is that my Easter bird was murdered.

One of my father's friends was commissioned to watch the bird while we were away. When we got back, I knocked on the door, eager to get my bird and leave. I remember standing on my tip toes; my Buster Browns squeaking as I strained to see past the friend.

What I saw were the stiff feathers, the straight legs...what I heard was...nothing. The bird was dead. I don't believe my father planned it; the sound of his voice told me that he was angry at his friend for forgetting to feed it, and for leaving it in the cage in plain sight for me to see.

Like I said, I was not particularly fond of the bird, or at least I don't think I was. But to this day, I can still remember the horrible feeling I got seeing something that was mine destroyed, and knowing that it was due to someone else's lack of compassion and responsibility. And I was only 3 or 4.

Sometimes I wonder if that incident is the reason why one of my biggest pet peeves is people who are inconsiderate and irresponsible, especially with other people's things.

Amazing how certain things stick with you...