Did anybody get the number on that truck?

Did anybody get the number on that truck?

It’s all fun and games,until someone dies.

Its natural,everyday,to get wrapped up into my daily life.Hell, on a good day,I could work myself into an anxiety attack between the speaker box and the pay window at McDonalds, usually over some dumb thing I said five years ago. My brain asserts the idea of death pretty constantly to me, so I spend a lot of time wringing trivial moments for some facet of intimacy,in case the person I’m speaking with dies,and this is our last conversation.

However,

When somebody dies that you know, it is an interesting catalyst.It reminds you that time is passing, and one day, far off in the future, or nearby in the next week, it will be your turn.

I think of it this way.We’re all standing in the middle of a tractor trailer ridden interstate,and eventually, we will get squished.Maybe it’s a truck hauling baby diapers,driven by a born again Christian who used to be a meth head,  or maybe it’s a truck hauling canned goods for a relief effort.Maybe it’s a truck full of hats, or stuffed cats,but we all get squished eventually, and you never know which truck is yours until its too late to dodge.

In Memoriam:

Aunt Nona 1922-2016

Lacy Specter

Lacy Specter

 

Clad in such trappings,
who is this mistress?
who waits in shadows,
and echoes sad prayers.

What is her purpose,
whom is she pleasing?
Standing so motionless,
but diligently there.

Is she in want of kindness?
Does she dream during wakeness?
Is there something she's needing?
Shall I offer her tea?

Are her shudders silent laughter?
Is she sobbing and weeping?
What the hell does she want?
Why has she chosen me?

Did I step on some gravestone,
that had been long forgotten,
buried under the concrete,
of a now busy street?

Does she wish some forgiveness,
from a scorned peaceful lover?
Is she somebody's mother?
What the hell does this mean?


Elation and Misgiving on ThanksgivingEve

Elation and Misgiving on ThanksgivingEve

I have a hard time expressing my opinion.

There are so many truths,because there are so many viewpoints, and those viewpoints are rooted in upbringing,personal experience, genetics, feelings and  beliefs.That’s why to disagree with someone’s view is such a volatile situation, because it is unclear  where their view springs from, and what central ideal it is connected to.

Allow me a metaphor.If a person holds the view that abortion should be illegal,that view is an artery which connects to a heart,which could be a belief in a god,who dictated a book,that states that he knows you in the womb,therefore,you are alive in the womb,therefore abortion is murder,and everyone can agree that murder is wrong.If you strike that artery,you threaten that heart,and that triggers a fight or flight response.

So, a structure of beliefs and viewpoints combine to form who we think/say/feel we are.We all have very good points,and justified (when you take in our entire personal backstory) views, but we are fooled so easily by our own biases.

This,however,is not a tragedy.It is simply human nature.To lose this facet would be to lose something very central, and very human.Loyalty.Loyalty is highly regarded as the mark of a quality human being,but it can also be horrifying when applied in the wrong context.It is illogical,and fervent;like love,passion,sadness,happiness or hatred.

We must be vigilant, and logical,but to be alive,we must also be passionate,and knowing what to be,how we feel,and where best to apply it; that unfortunate task is the human condition.

I like to  believe everyone is doing the best they can.

Happy Thanksgiving❤️

God’s Choice?

God’s Choice?

I have been remiss in contributing to my group’s page, but the election this week has brought me to my knees and to the need to cleanse my writer’s soul.  I have gone back and forth about whether to deactivate my Facebook account, but a true friend pleaded with me to not silence my voice and get back to writing.  Also, I am finding solace in the Pantsuit Nation and did not want to lose interaction with that group on Facebook. 

The reason being given for Donald Trump’s election that I am having the hardest time accepting is that he is  God’s choice; Christians  prayed for our country to be faithful again, and God  sent Trump. I can understand that some feel left out and forgotten from the mainstream. They live in economically struggling areas where factories are closed or where their skills are no longer viable. I can understand that some people feel threatened by immigrants coming in and taking their jobs. I understand those fearful that terrorists might slip in among refugees and cause another 9/11.  I even understand that the pro life people want to save unborn children. But, I cannot understand voting for a man so vile, so dishonest, and so narcissistic and then say he is God’s chosen one to right all these wrongs. Why would God send such a Godkess man in answer to prayer? 

None of us are perfect and can change, but I have seen no indication that he feels he has any need to change.  He thinks he is smarter than the generals, he and only he can defeat ISIS, and he will stop women from yanking out babies in the ninth month of pregnancy. He seems to think he is God. But, being raised a Christian, I was taught that “by their works you will know them.” What I see is a man with five children by three wives and who had numerous affairs while married to his wives. Is this the answer to prayer? Is this God’s choice? I don’t think so! Has he indicated a change in his heart or in his behavior?  I haven’t heard or seen it. 

Trump has incited hate and division all across this country, and now he thinks he can just tell everyone to kiss and make up. He says he wants everyone to come together. Well, try and put all those feathers back into the pillow, Mr.Trump- it can’t be done. So, give me all the reasons you want to, but don’t tell me that Donald Trump is God’s choice and the answer to prayer. Please don’t insult my God with such rhetoric! 

The man that I see demonstrating Christian values is our outgoing president. After all the hate-filled words directed at him by Donald Ttump, president Obama invited him to the White House and treated him with respect.  He turned the other cheek and displayed true Christianity. President Obama strived for all of our citizens to be treated fairly: gays, Hispanics, Muslims, disabled; and women. Never did I hear the disgusting language that Donald Ttump uses come from his mouth. I have seen him treat his wife with nothing but love and respect.  We have had eight years of a classy and Christian man and family in the White House.  Is he perfect? No. No one is. Have all his decisions been right? No. No one has ever made all the right decisions. However, he has represented our country with dignity, intelligence, and compassion. We have seen him cry with families who lost loved ones in mass shootings. We have seen him dance with his wife and look at her the way all women yearn to be looked at. We have seen him snuggled up with his daughters and beam with pride when he speaks about them. President Obama is the one I prayed for. A Godly man who went high when others went low. A man who turned his cheek 7 times 70. A man who laughed, cried, and wanted everyone to be treated with dignity. I will miss president Obama, and I think a lot of Christians who think that Trump is God’s choice will miss him too before much time has passed. 

Finally, I think God’s choice was Barack Obama. I don’t want to appear that I know God’s mind, but “by their works you shall know them.” If that scripture is true, then president Obama was God’s choice all along.

No Dryers in Europe?

No Dryers in Europe?

So I am ” living” in a foreign country.  It is European so the culture is older than our USA sisters. However, it is the dark ages for women.  I can purchase shoes for Italy, handbags from Spain but if I want a dryer the apartment will need   a remodel-no space or hookups for dryers. After the remodel I discover from the electronic  store that I will have to order one as they don’t ” keep them in stock.”

Now it is October.  It is raining outside.  It is cold.  Last night I hung the clothes that I washed in the shower ( because I haven’t figured out how to wash in this ” toy machine.”

The process:  I was nude.  I heated up the on demand hot water heater and laid the clothes in the floor in the shower. Then I stomped them; turned them over like pancakes; walked on them and then tried to wring out the water and the bubbles with the dishwashing soap named ” Fairy.”  Yes, I am nude as this is something you can’t do with your clothes on.

I hung my husband’s shirt over the shower rod without a curtain –  there isn’t one there. I draped the underwear over the heaters that looked like ” fat white ladders” hanging on the wall.  I used the loops on my pajamas and hung the over the balcony with wire hangers. This morning they were heavy with rain.

I can’t imagine how a mother takes care of laundry  without dryers.  Your house has to have some access to clothesline  and people in apartments either use the balcony or a set of ropes and pulleys   strung across the windows outside their highrise apartments.  But what about on rainy days and freezing temperatures?  If you drape them around your house you are essentially ” living in the dryer.”  Apartments here don’t pay per usage of heating.  They pay per square meter.  So if you live in a small apartment your heating bill is less than a big apartment. The occupant can turn up the heat and cook the clothes and sweat the family.

 

When I arrive back to the USA I am writing a Thank You and Appreciation Letter to my dryer and to the women who said, ” If you want me to do your laundry invent the dryer!

 

 

 

Transmission Fluid is Lousy Conditioner

Transmission Fluid is Lousy Conditioner

If prostration and devotion, along with weekly commitments make a religion, then my god could quite possibly be a 1976 Chevy Silverado.

It’s the similarities in life that create beauty and fluidity through all matters, and allow us to find common grounds as people. For example, the skills you learn when taking up pole dancing, can be very helpful when removing the driveshaft of a truck; a strong grip, a well positioned leg, and balance.

The reason I bring this up, is because….it seems like something has always been pushing me from the shadows to be a one trick pony.A career girl, a skinny girl, a rock star, a mother,a good daughter, a kind person, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera I would not encourage you to live your life like me, because, I am, in fact, no sort of role model.

However, I suppose that we are all role models in our own way. It might be a good thing, if we thought of ourselves as the finished product of however many years of triumphs and losses, instead of some debilitated human, bogged down by our past, and constantly on the road to self improvement.To be that perfection achieved….(sigh).

A fat girl can fuck, eat, laugh, and dance just as well as a skinny one. The world is both cruel and beautiful, both kind and ugly,with so much of it in our outlook. There will always be room for improvement, I suppose, but, someday… well, we will be looking up, flat on our back, taking in that last breath,and then…who knows?

Chevies, like gods, don’t usually tell you when they are going to quit on you, they just do it…so, it’s best to do what you can, before the transmission falls out, or the engine locks up.

Sirens (An old story retold)

Sirens (An old story retold)

The voice of the slightly bald man croons Frank Sinatra in a heavily wavering voice.
“My wayyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeee……”

The Spring Break Crowd, overexcited by the tequila, applauds loudly, a tan boy with bleach blonde hair whistling shrilly and pushing nearby eardrums to maximum vibration. I shake my head and groan under my breath. My sister, Licentia takes the microphone and calls up the next singer, her eyes dull, and her smile plastic. My shoulders itch. My other sister, Audacia, comes up from the cooler, a mixed case of beer and wine coolers in her hands. She has red hair, and Blue sparkling eyes. They used to be green, but that was years ago. Licentia comes behind the bar as the synthetic notes of Electric Avenue began playing.

“I’ve been having that dream again.” I say. “I’m flying, and-” I stop. Audacia looks at me, agitated, and begins shoving beers in the ice tub behind the bar. Some nights, my fingers go numb from the cold in there. Busy nights, you spend hours, cracking beers and handing them off. The register gathers pools of water under the money. How long have we been here now? I think back on the dream. The wind, trees whipping by, a green shady blur. Then I’m pushing up past the canopy of the forest and into the sunlight, my wings stretching out wide now, swooping upwards. Licentia slaps her hand down on the bar beside me and I shudder out of my daydream.
“Wake up!” She yells, coming around the bar and heading back to the stage. I sit the bar towel down and walk out the service door, flipping off my sandals and step onto the warm sand, while sea grass blows around the pathway. I follow it down to the beach proper. It’s busy, but there is a bare spot near the waves. The tourists just want to lie out and get drunk. They usually don’t swim for another month. The cold waves must kill their buzz. I head for the open spot, and sit, feeling the breeze, with my toes near the edge. I could walk into the ocean, and never come out. Go back to a time, I can remember, before we were barmaids. I can’t take this anymore. My shoulders itch, my wings aching to be again. My feathers were taken so long ago, prizes for a rigged contest.
You can’t take a girl’s voice, even if you do give her legs, or take her wings. Perched on the rocks, we sang the songs of a million men’s souls. They died for us, easily, and later, in the most entertaining ways. It was never satisfying, though. Not since we had been downcast. Finally, we decided that taking lives and being bored on a rock was less than we could do with our talents. After a lot of bars, a few thousand years, we ended up here.
I pull myself up onto my feet. The sun is getting lower, and it is my time of day now. I don’t feel quite as bad now as the sea fills with gold. I can hear the crowd inside as I near the bar ,and as all earthbound creatures, I too must make the best of it.