Reality Bites

I'm back from the most amazing trip. Alaska is simply stunning...words are so inadequate to describe the unspoiled beauty.

Give me a day or two to get back into my day-to-day life and I'll post pictures.

So Close and Yet...

It's just an inch from me to you
depending on which map you use

Northern Exposure

Even though I'm leaving for Alaska this Saturday, I can't get the following song out of my head...

I have to go, I feel I'm sinkin'
I just don't know
But I can't stop thinkin'
Mexico

Somewhere that's close to the ocean
Somewhere that's warm and alive
Somewhere to sleep in the open
With the sun in my eyes

"Mexico" Firefall

Unwanted Life

This is either the beginning or the ending of a story that's been in my head forever...

Twice I turned back towards home. And twice I merged back onto the highway in my original direction. Even though I had come almost a thousand miles, the last few yards were the hardest. I paused where the blacktop gave way to gravel and reluctantly followed the driveway with my eyes. The cool air coming from the car’s vents only added to the chill I felt as I looked at the small house. The yard was overgrown with weeds; the screen door swayed in the August breeze.


My hands were clammy on the steering wheel and I realized I’d been holding my breath. Letting it out slowly, I took my foot off the brake and continued up the drive. Flashes of a past life came in waves: second hand shoes; homemade dresses; the sickly sweet smell of bourbon; mother’s worn, red hands; raised voices; the sting from father’s belt; hiding in the storm cellar until their black moods passed; unwanted images of an unhappy life.

I stood on the sloping porch, my fingers paused above the doorknob and I wondered again why I had come. As a child I felt nothing but fear and dread in this house, as a teen-ager I escaped, as an adult I swore I’d never go back. They were both gone now, there was nothing here for me. Yet, here I was. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open and stepped into stale air and silence.

The Waiting Feel

I read your words
written in impersonal font
and wish for nothing more
than for them to be turned into
beautiful sentiments
whispered in the night
while wrapped in your arms

A Friday the 13th Musing

I've had this damn jingle in my head now for days:

My baloney has a first name,
it's O-S-C-A-R
My baloney has a second name,
it's M-A-Y-E-R
Oh, I love to eat it every day
And if you ask me why I'll say
'Cause Oscar Mayer has a way with B-O-L-O-G-N-A.

Which lead me to remember wondering as a kid how B-O-L-O-G-N-A spelled baloney. And also wondering if 'Mayer' was the last name or the middle name of the baloney (because it just says 'second name'...I require a bit more information.) If it is a middle name, what is the last name? Oscar Mayer Zembruski, maybe? Maybe that's why it's not part of the jingle. Too hard to rhyme with. But most importantly this lead me to this: what about the hotdogs? Did they feel left out by not having their own spelling jingle? With that in mind:

My frankfurter has a first name,
it's O-S-C-A-R
My frankfurter has a second name
it's M-A-Y-E-R
Oh, I'm scared to eat them anyway
Because I don' t know how they're made
'Cause Oscar Mayer has a way with W-I-E-N-E-R-S.

Huh. Maybe the ad execs knew what they were doing. Doesn't really fit, does it?

Brightest at Night

bittersweet: (bit-er-sweet)

adjective
1. tinged with sadness; both pleasant and painful...