Mama Bird

Mama birds across the miles

all have big bright smiles

for Thanksgiving week is the best

when all the baby birds all come to gather at the nest.

And that my friends is today’s cheesy attempt at the daily prompt and a Thanksgiving post. Of course I am quite happy to have the oldest baby bird at home with us for a few days.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Oh, darling dog

I do love you so

But you know I just don’t wake up as easily as you

It was 5:30 AM I thought you were having a bathroom emergency

with your insistence I wake up, even though  your bladder works better than mine.

You are smarter than I give you credit for,  you really didn’t have to go pee.

You knew there was freshly fallen snow outside, what else would a being want to do at 5:30 AM but go romp  in the snow.

I wish I could have your joie de vivre at this cruel hour of the day.  Really.

But it is time to come in from the white stuff, mama wants to get back under the covers.


In response to the prompt Miniature, I have written this post.  Miniature, the word rolls pleasantly off the tongue.  What might one think of first…a dollhouse full of miniatures?  A miniature breed of dog?

Does the word convey smallness or tininess in a way that one should admire?

Miniature I am not.  I’m tall.  In childhood I was always ahead of my peers as far of height goes.  As an adult the burden/gift or whatever you might call isn’t something I think of quite so much, at least not in a physical way.

Miniature….what size would that be..I’ll never be a size 2 or 4 or 6.  My height plus my broad shoulders simply won’t allow it.  It is funny though how women are admired for being a certain size. A size zero….what age would I have been when I passed out of the size zero range…9 or 10?

Miniature..the words of family members praising the petite women of our families.

Miniature…growing up I often felt small.  I wanted my physical size to conform to the way I felt, so others wouldn’t notice me, and my flaws.  Being the tallest thirteen year old in the class, I’d sometimes slouch as if this would stop others from noticing my adolescent awkwardness.

I wake up, my hair a tangled mess.  My eyes are barely open, it takes a bit to erase those persistent cobwebs from my brain.

You tell me we are heading to the mountains today.  I love beauty but somehow the idea of staying in bed seems more appealing in that moment.  I don’t voice my opinion though.

We leave for our journey. When the mountains come in view, I am awestruck as always. We keep driving, gaining altitude and navigating tricky curves.

We stop, deciding  to walk for a bit.  A sign tells us we are two miles above sea level.  We start our hike. This particular hike takes us almost to the sky.  We can gaze at other mountaintops some still dusted with snow.

To our eyes the beauty is beyond compare.  The day is deceptively sunny this many feet above sea level, for the wind is cold and harsh.  Our hike has taken us above the timberline where only small delicate plants flourish.

The air is thin.  I feel breathless but exhilarated.  I hope I can remember this day forever.

We drive back to the valley where it feels like summer.

Thanks for taking me to the summit.



This is an older post.  It was inspired in part by a coworker.  She’s a user(0f people) and presents different sides of her personality depending on who she is dealing with.  She isn’t the brightest bulb, but she sure has the social skills that she uses to manipulate others.  I’m wondering if it is time to part ways with my employer and people like her. I am now actively trying to problem solve some of my issues at work, but you can’t make people listen if they don’t wish to. I hate hate hate the thought of quitting and leaving.  One thing I have managed to overcome in my depression if the urge to run away when the going gets tough.


You leave a trail of glitter wherever you go. I’m told I should delight in the sparkle you leave behind, as if I can capture some of the radiance for myself.  Your friends tell me to pay attention, that if I am lucky I will find a speck of precious metal or gemstone in the glitter. They tell me about silver, gold, ruby and emerald.

I don’t see what they see. I find the glitter cheap and abrasive.  Instead of delighting in your marvelous sparkle, why don’t you simply stop with the glitter, so I won’t be left to clean up your mess.




What sorts of scars do you have?  What sorts of stories do they tell?  Would you erase the scars if you could?  Are they a reminder of a traumatic time?

I recently met a lady that has severe burn scars.  The burns were inflicted on her by her then husband.  I could not imagine going through such violence.  I almost cried as she shared her story.  I’m sure her scars will not lessen much in visibility in her lifetime, they will be a reminder of the violence she endured.

I have all sorts of scars.  Most are tiny and have faded with time.  I’ve got a few scars from where I had stitches as a result of a childhood mishap.

I have a few puckery chickenpox scars.  I suppose these date me in a way.  My kids have had the varicella immunization so hopefully they will never go through chickenpox.  I also have what I think is a scar from the smallpox immunization.  This also dates me, is this is no longer routinely given.

Of course I have a bit of acne scarring.  These are mostly faded with time, but my skin is far from perfect.

I have a little scar on my leg from where I had an ugly but benign growth removed.  The scar is almost invisible now but it almost looks like a little flower, or a hand drawn rendition of the sun with sunbeams.

I have my nearly invisible(but not to me) C-section scars.  The skin around the scar feels oddly numb…but can occasionally feel painful is the skin gets tugged on.  But of course I wouldn’t trade those scars for anything.  Two C-sections resulted in two great kids.  Pain resulting in wonder.

As a nurse I see lots of scars.  A remnant that tells a little story about the person.  Sometimes I’m not always sure what the scars are from.  There are joint replacement scars,  cardiac bypass scars ,and  vertical scars from the older way of doing C-sections.  There are scars from accidents and scars from violence.

I recently met someone with a mostly faded whitish scar on his slightly tanned skin. It was on his face.  I wanted to ask what the scar was from but I thought it was none of my business.  Still I wanted to know the story.

I don’t think I would ever do anything to erase my scars.  I have some unfortunate looking scars from a laparoscopic gallbladder surgery.  Only my husband and I can see them.   That was the price to pay though to be free of my pesky pain producing gallbladder.

I’ve Been Nominated…

neatThis lazy slow blogger has been nominated by An Offbeat Bluestocking for the Real Neat Blogger Award.  Check out her wonderful blog! Thank you so much.  Sorry I’ve been a bit slow in responding, the November blogathon wore me out.

Here are the rules:

  1. Put the award logo on your blog.
  2. Answer 7 questions by the person who nominated you.
  3. Thank the person who nominated you, linking to their blog.
  4. Nominate any number of bloggers you like, linking to their blogs.


Here are the questions Clarissa from An Offbeat Bluestocking asked of the nominees.

  1. What is your favorite quote?

I have so many, but I have always liked this one from Maya Angelou…”When people show you who they are, believe them.”

2.  What song are you listening to right now?  If you are not listening to             anything right now, what is your favorite song?

I really like this song by Jewel, My Father’s Daughter.

3. What made you start blogging?

Lots of reasons.  An attempt to tap into my creative side.  An attempt to organize my thoughts by writing them down.  Connecting with other bloggers.

4. What is your favorite weather?

Sunny with a breeze.

5.  What do you plan on achieving with this blog?

See number 3.  Even I have been on this planet for a while, I hope to become a better writer through blogging, and exercise that muscle between my ears.

6.  What is your favorite book?

Oh that is hard to answer.   Here are a few authors I like….Henning Mankell, Ruth Rendell, PD James, Jhumpa Lahiri.

7.  What is your favorite meal of the day?



Thank you so much for nominating me, Clarissa.  Very inspiring.

Here are my nominations.  Go check out their blogs.

  1. Kazst, from Maybe Autism Explains It All
  2. Steph, from View From Behind Shutters
  3. Jan from Chronicles from V & J



Here are my questions:

1)What is your favorite movie?

2)Do you prefer salty or sweet snacks?

3)Would you prefer a vacation at the beach or the mountains?

4)Do you have any pets?

5)Do you have any favorite holiday traditions?

6)What is your favorite color?

7)What made you start blogging?

Looking forward to seeing what everyone has to say!



pShe sits in a bar with a nautical theme and little white Christmas lights.

Her drink has become watery as she contemplates life’s latest complication.

Does she go forward with her parents’ plan to find someone to marry, and transform into a sedate society matron adorned with pearls?

Or does she detour from the plan for the man sitting next to her, the man with the Southern accent who spins words into a web in which she has already been captured?

Is it she who is the pearl, trapped inside a shell that has started to open just a little as she sits next to the silken tongued man. She lets him open the shell the rest of the way with his words to discover what she has hidden deep inside.

The Outsiders

With the prompt “The Outsiders”, we are instructed to talk about a time we felt as if we are on the outside looking in, however we wish to interpret that.  If I haven’t used the words “being an outsider”, I have felt that way many times during my life.

When I was a kid I was very shy.  I don’t feel like I had the feeling of being an outsider though until my family moved when I was in elementary school because of my dad’s job.  Starting at a new school I’d felt everyone had already formed friendships, and that there wasn’t a place for me.  I did make friends, but it seemed to be more of a struggle.  In my young mind the rules seemed different, and I wasn’t sure how to navigate. Understanding a math assignment…no problem.  Understanding the politics of making friends in elementary school…much more mysterious.

I’ve also sometimes felt like an outsider at work.  My current workplace has more cliques than any I’ve seen before.  Brown-nosing and schmoozing with the boss will get you far.   I’m no good at it, but at this stage of my life, I really don’t care.   Make no mistake, I’m perfectly pleasant at work..but that is as far as it goes.  Because I don’t get invested in the politics, I can see how sometimes the schmoozing goes a little too far and often does not end well when the boss delays taking action when one of her groupies is having problems at work.

I’m not as shy as I used to be.  I am an introvert though.  At this point in my life it doesn’t bother me to be an outsider.