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Flirting With Disaster

 My dad’s death certificate said that smoking was a definite contributor to his death. My dad had been smoking since he was a teenager. He loved Newports; he was smoking two packs of kings up until his death. This would bring up two questions, 1) why didn’t you encourage your dad to quit smoking when you knew it was killing him? And 2) why are you still smoking?! Dad had COPd and heart failure. He had a bypass in January of 2019 (which he described as feeling like he just got run over by a truck). I didn’t know that these heart surgeries saved your life in the short term (in his case he had an aneurysm due to burst) but also gave you a limited lifespan, because the bypass is a bandaid, it cannot reverse heart damage (and nothing can be done if you keep abusing your body). His heart was just bad, because of high blood pressure due to stress and smoking, probably life long alcoholism, and the other illicit pleasures he partook of, which he wouldn’t tell me and I certainly cannot tell...
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Burn Baby Burn

 Burn the backpack and break the crystal. I like the alliteration there. But I’m not writing a poem. Thats the advice my neighbor gave me about some  objects I own that could be harboring bad energy. What am I talking about? I have a backpack I’ve had (and have recently been using in lieu of a purse, because I have so much junk) that was a gift from an old boyfriend. If you didn’t know, which I didn’t, you shouldn’t keep stuff like that from old relationships, especially if you’re trying to purge yourself of the memories, move on, etc.  And the best way to get rid of that s***? Burn it. This is what my neighbor told me, a man of faith and learned knowledge. “Fire is the best cleanser.” So I’ve been walking around with this backpack, literally carrying baggage from this relationship. Could we get any more ironic?… And I’ve been carrying this amethyst crystal around, hoping it would imbue me with some good power. I also wear an amethyst ring my grandmother gave me; she told...
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In The Summertime

 “It’s a hot one.” You can say that again.  Remember when the model Ts came in any color as long as it was black? Well, you can get the summer in any color as long as it’s hot. You can get extra hot, too. And if you live in Florida like me, you can’t escape it, unless you’re an air conditioning Gypsie. well then you’re missing out on all the fun! But summer fun can turn into summer heat stroke…so please drink your beverages!  I didn’t move down here because I love Florida and love summer and love the heat. Actually, I don’t know why I came here. I’m not an athlete or a beach bum: you won’t find me surfing or biking. I’m one of the those gypsies but without the ac (okay I do sleep in ac, I just don’t live in it). So I tolerate the heat and am grateful when I can break out a sweat, which is the best cooling device there is, and it’s natural and free. But if you’re like my sister, you think sweat is just plain gross. That’s too bad. Summer in Florida is not the end of the wo...
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Not Nothing

 Was I excited to come back to Florida?  Well, no. Coming back to the real world after Vacationland is so uninspiring. Like the saying, putting a brown paper bag over your head. That’s what I did.  Is it just me? Florida is the place you’re supossed  to vacation (although John swears we were never on vacation (and I did forget my bathing suit)), and not the other way around. No wonder I’m so…backwards? And maybe that’s why I’m having a hard time getting work, cause the sun makes my body think I’m retired, but my mind is, again, wheeling around the International Speedway (I knew I had a death wish).  I’m kind of in a funk, if you couldn’t tell. This is probably stuff I should write in my journal (but I want to share it with…yooou! (That’s an inside joke)). The silver lining of returning to the land of sun and sand: I found a new devotional at the thrift store. A sobriety devotional, in fact. It’s called A Woman’s Spirit. It’s a small simple book with a lot of wis...
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Blinded By the Light

 Well, I’m going to give this a shot and see how it goes. Or as lieutenant Dan would say, going to try out my sea legs :/  I don’t know if laughter is the best medicine, and I don’t even know how I would describe laughter (a spontaneous physical response to humor, kind of like a funny sneeze…?) but it is a silver lining in this shitty situation (life). My family hasn’t had the best luck, and if the whole ship sinks one day I will say at least we had a good laugh. My dad had a sense of humor that I can’t put into words (struggling to do that lately) but i believe it has enriched every member of my family. My dad made us laugh a lot.  My dad passed away Saturday May 16 at advent hospital in Ormond beach. Although it was slightly expected and almost unavoidable, as his health had drastically declined (he was “only” 61), this was very heartbreaking to me and I wouldn’t wish it on anybody…yet we all will lose our parents, unless we die before them, like my sister, which we sho...
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Hope and Luck

  My mother told me “there is always something to write about.” She’s not a writer herself, but she encourages my writing. I think this is just so she has something to read. But really, she is a big reader. And writing and reading go hand in hand. For there to be something to read, somebody has to write. So I posit that the writers came first, as in the instance of the chicken and the egg. Books didn’t fall out of the sky (and if they did I’m sure one would hit me on the head (it would probably be War and Peace)). I invited my brother over for a kitten chow session. We put food out and wait for them to eat, kind of like kitten fishing. I thought he could get a good look at these precious things I’ve been raving about. Out of five, only two came out, and he tried to chase them down, which scared them (I think it was an irresistible impulse. I understand that). And then it rained. Chow sesh over. Sometimes people go whale watching and there are no whales. This is life.  The ...
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Waffles and Chicory Coffee

 Most of you don’t know this about me, but out of the various jobs I’ve held (very loosely) in my life, at one time I worked at a bed and breakfast. I worked at the Inn of the Shenandoah in Luray, Virginia, my hometown. It was short lived, but it is memorable and I thought I’d write about it :) I graduated from college in the winter of 2015. I missed a semester so I had to make up for it and graduate a semester late. Whatever. My plans were just to move back home (whatever). Really I didn’t have a plan. But I wanted to get a job like asap so I wouldn’t be one of those post college sloths eating all their parents cereal. So I dressed up and walked around town with my shiny new resume, the fancy kind on thick cardstock that the career planning lady at my college made for me. I gave one to the local newspaper office, The Page News and Courier. I had good intentions.  My resume scheme wasn’t working and honestly I don’t know how many jobs I actually applied to. My dad mentioned th...
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