I AM what I AM...

 Isn't it great when we find something that 
totally inspires us?  

Through some old family friends, 
I found this totally inspiring blogger,
whose daughter totally inspired HER.
 Now, in "Pay it Forward" fashion,
 I am sharing this with you...
and maybe will attempt this myself!

Writing poetry is such a daunting task 
(or so it seems) - 
but this is like snippets of honesty.  
What are you thinking... how do you see yourself?  
What are your fears.... your hopes... your dreams?  
How do you want to be remembered...  

The assignment will guide you:  I AM will be the hardest one, I promise you!  
After that, look at the first words of each line, and follow along:  
I wonder, I hear, I see... etc. etc. etc.

Let Meaghan's  example blow you away...
into your own thoughts... your own soul.

 A 17 line poem - divided into three paragrahs of 
5 lines, 6 lines, 6 lines.  
The last line of each stanza is redundant...  
(4 lines of which are redundant, but who’s counting?).  

Nonetheless, it is a worthy exercise...

First her little girl's poem - how sweet and adorable... 
how observant she is... how captivated I AM...

I am a loving, pretty 2nd grader
I wonder how tall God is
I hear kids yelling
I see 5 dogs
I am a loving, pretty 2nd grader

I pretend to be a teacher
I feel a rainbow coming
I touch a tree
I worry about my house on fire
I cry about my Grandma being lonely
I am a loving, pretty 2nd grader

I understand that T-Rexes were real
I say that nothing is impossible
I dream that I could meet a star
I try to win cross country
I hope I get to eat soon
I am a loving, pretty 2nd grader
*****
And now the mother of this "loving, pretty 2nd grader"....  Meaghan

I am a divine and pure exression of light and love
I wonder what gifts my children will share with the world
I hear the angels’ sweet laughter
I see my truest self reflected back to me in the eyes of those I trust
I want to leave my own indelible mark on the world
I am a divine and pure expression of light and love

I pretend to not be scared about death and dying
I feel safe in a cathedral of trees
I touch God when I breathe deep and get still
I worry about not accomplishing what I came here to do
I cry when I feel disconnected and forget my own truth
I am a divine and pure expression of light and love

I understand we are all connected by ribbons of energy
I say I am a recovering perfectionist
I dream a world of peace, joy, and enough
I try for balance and moderation in all things
I hope I can always be small enough to believe and big enough to forgive
I am a divine and pure expression of light and love
*****

Here is a guide for your use.  
Copy and paste it and DO IT!  

 Have FUN... be INSPIRED... Be HONEST

and Email me your poetry!

BARBIE taught me how to DREAM!

When I turned 5, ALL I WANTED was a Shirley Temple Doll...  

Grammy Mim searched the blooming town for one, but came up empty handed.  

In hopes of appeasing me, she "settled" on a new Doll in Town... BARBIE

 I will forever be grateful for that turn of events...

My Tiny Tears went into storage.

Barbie and I became inseparable... the Best Best Friend I could ask for!

She didn't judge... didn't argue... could see Ken whenever she wanted, but didn't NEED him... Barbie could DO or BE ANYTHING!

I didn't care about her boobs... in fact, Skipper caused me more

trauma with her perfectly straight hair!

Barbie was happy living in a cardboard house, with cardboard furniture and cardboard albums...  

She drove a cool pink plastic convertible,

and had a wardrobe of handmade clothing 

(many of them matching my handmade dresses). 

I lived out my fantasies through Barbie... dreamed of all the things I would do when I grew up.  When my baby cousin chewed her hand, I pretended she had an encounter with a lion while on Safari in Africa! 

Sometimes it involved Ken, but she usually preferred to be alone... just like me.  

You see... we moved a LOT.  Oregon, California, Texas, back to Cali and Oregon... 

I attended TEN different schools while my dad pursued his acting career. (Yes, I said TEN!)

I didn't live anywhere long enough to establish those long-term bonds...

My ONE CONSTANT was BARBIE... and she never let me down.

Apparently, that was the vision of the original creator of the Barbie Doll:

"My whole philosophy of Barbie was that, through the doll, the girl could be anything she wanted to be. Barbie always represented the fact that a woman has choices. "

I received flack from my peers by encouraging my own daughters' love of Barbie Dolls.

They believed it would cause distorted body images...

but I know better...   

Barbie taught me to DREAM...  the gift that kept on giving! 

(Thank you Grammy Mim!)

2015 Barbie Ad Campaign is a WINNER

Dream on...

Get HEPPP to the symptoms of a Heart Attack!

I hate Valentine's Day - but I LOVE Rosie O'Donnell!

Why do I love her?  She is HONEST - that's why.

Her HBO special was on last night. 
I laughed and cried as she spoke about her  

"Spawn of Satan" teenage children... 
her "Lipstick Lesbian" wife... 

and her latest adventure - a Heart Attack.

The kind of heart attack she had is called 
"THE WIDOW MAKER" - but she survived!

She believes the reason she is ALIVE 

is to use her "public voice" to share this information with us!

Here is a clip from "The View" 

Did you know Heart Attacks kill more women than 
ALL THE CANCERS COMBINED!

Rosie O'Donnell Heart Attack Song!

Come on - SING WITH ME!

Get H.E.P.P.P!

Hot... Exhausted... Pain - Pale - Puke.... say what?

Thanks Rosie!
Call me...

Something's Coming...

This month marks an important anniversary for me...

Four years ago I started on my SOUL RE-BOOTING adventure...

Into a world of LIGHT and HAPPINESS... 

out of the DARKNESS of addiction...

Celebrating a wedding anniversary seemed lame to me - 

but THIS anniversary was something I WORKED HARD FOR!

How should I celebrate this occasion?

Sounds so simple... but what really makes me happy?

A long time ago, in a living room far, far away lived a left handed grandmother, 
with a very talkative granddaughter ...  

She gave her a shiny new crochet hook to keep her quiet...

and the rest is history...

THAT memory... in THAT living room with my grandmother, 

is where I felt the MOST LOVED and the MOST HAPPY!

What makes YOU HAPPY?

Try to remember... before the kids...

When you had time to dream...

JUST DO IT...  be HAPPY... be CALM... be at PEACE...

And remember...

A shiny new crochet hook makes everything better!

Call me,

30 Years... impossible!

In front of my grandmother's fireplace... the only place I ever dreamed of being married...

Thirty years ago today, I took the leap from 29-Year-Old-Single-White-Party-Girl.... 

to Married-with-Stepsons... and pregnant soon thereafter!

It has been quite a journey... but as everyone calls and writes to "congratulate" us, I wonder.... 

WHY are they CONGRATULATING us?  What have we done that is so special?

I feel awkward celebrating something I didn't DO... we simply survived!

Busy-mommy-syndrome kept me in a whirlwind state for many years... while my husband traveled a LOT.  He made the money to pay the bills... and I took care of everything else.

Our marriage is traditional in that sense... probably the ONLY traditional sense!

Would it have been easier to LEAVE at times?  That is a subjective question... easier for WHOM?  

I would have had to go back to work full-time to support myself... the kids would have been devastated... sometimes staying was just easier... but we stayed nonetheless... 

I think it was the right decision... but is it worthy of congratulations?  Maybe so...

I was scared and confused a few weeks before our wedding... questioning my decision... wondering if I had made the right choice.  My father and I talked for hours about it.  He said, "Picture yourself  30 years from now... what are you doing?  Who is sitting beside you?"

That question caught me off guard... but I closed my eyes and tried to envision it.  It was an extremely vivid image that came into my mind.  I was sitting on a chair in my back yard, overlooking some sort of mountain view... sipping my tea, and crocheting something or other.  Then in my mind's eye, I turned to my side, and saw Marcel... sipping his drink... smoking a cigar... and we quietly watched the sun go down.

Flash forward 30 years...  I live on the side of a mountain...Marcel sits outside every night and watches the sun go down, while sipping on his Papa's Pilar Rum, and smoking a stogie...  I often join him... crocheting something or other... almost the EXACT image I had that day with my father... 

So as we sit by our pool... and he smokes his stogies...  I realize...

We love each other in our own way... it's nobody's business but out own... and it seems to work.

Our "Wedding March" is my absolute favorite Chopin Etude... and still makes me cry...

Call me... but wait till the music is over...