I thought a lot about yesterday’s post; about the disciples and about believing and courage. And I remembered a poem written decades ago.
I do not claim to be bold and my beliefs have (more than once) been shaken.
I am not holy, hell I am not even considered a good Christian by many standards. I do not attend “church” nor belong to any denomination. I try to do as I should but y’all I sin every day. Every day! But don’t worry, me and The Lord have a relationship. We’re good. 👌🏼
I think I have always aspired to be a soldier, a Christian soldier and the poem written decades ago made me remember that.
Sadly, a lot of womendon’thave the luxury of “celebrating” #IWD2021; many do not have the privilege of internetaccess to participate much less promote.
Let us remember those women.🙏🏼
I visited the IWDwebsite and copied the belowquestions/challenges.
“How will you help forge a gender equal world? Celebrate women’s achievement. Raise awareness against bias. Take action for equality.”
So, what will I do for #IWD2021?
Personally, I am just going to keep chasing my dreams, standing up for what I believe and being me.
That in itself is a challenge… and an achievement.
And, I will share this poem which was inspired by a matriarch I once had the pleasure of knowing.
We did not burn our bras but wore them proudly
Holding–supporting–glorifying the mammary glands that would feed the next generation
For the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.
We did not give animated voices to our vaginas for the world to hear
but let them speak in secret whispers that moved mountains.
We did not make a spectacle in the streets to prove our equality
For we knew in our hearts [already] that we were superior.
Painting is a lot like story telling. Some would say it is the same. I, personally see a few differences- but only a few. What I have learned is that with both you start out with an idea and an outline and then the darn thing takes on a life of it’s own.
And this too is true for both, some blossom and go forth to see the world while others (despite your vision) fail to bloom – these gather forgotten dust or must [sometimes begrudgingly] be destroyed.
You can’t quite tell it (unless you can smell it) `round here but Autumn has officially arrived.
It’s a balmy 95 degrees today. I have the shades drawn, the AC turned down to 70 degrees Fahrenheit and some sort of orange-cinnamon-pumpkin-fake-cake concoction baking into thin air.
Lord why don’t they make a more comforting smell to compliment fall?Why?!I can hear the atoms colliding in the space around me!Why is this room spinning faster than the earth?
Whew! I don’t know why I’m in such a state. Maybe it’s the fake cake that’s baking. Maybe my hands cramp too much for typing. Maybe I need another nap?
Maybe? The truth is I am rather erratic today and maybe I lied. I suspect I’m in such a state because…
Well… You see…
Deep breath and confess.
I’m nursing a hangover. A post bachelorette weekend party hangover but I can explain.
You see we went to this place and had some drinks…
And then some more places and some more drinks…
I couldn’t stop `em, the girls and the drinks just kept coming…
Hmm. I don’t remember much after that but I hear we had fun. 😉
I know! What the heck?! I must be insane, mad as a hatter to party like that at my age but you know what? I do not regret it. Not even if an unknown photo surfaces. Not even with a hangover. And you know why?
It was a great way to end the summer but most importantly …
sniff, sniff. I wish I felt well enough to write 1000 words.
Because the bachelorette just happens to be my baby girl and I will never [never ever never] be too old nor will I grow too weary to make memories with that beautiful soul.
Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them. Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. This is a work of ‘true fiction’ inspired by family. The names have been changed to protect the guiltyand the photos are meant to confuse the innocent.
Here’s a Quarter – Call Someone Who Cares or Cats, Mice, Birds & Bulls*t (Crazy Conversations)
Lenny: I called you at least a dozen times Saturday!
Why didn’t you answer?
Me: Did you leave a message?
Lenny: Hell no, I did not leave a message. Why don’t
you answer your phone?
Me: Well because sometimes I am busy.
Lenny: You are not so busy that you can’t pick up
the phone at some point. I mean – for Pete’s sake I called you twelve to
fifteen times – all day long and you ignored me.
Me: Hmm. I
usually do answer if I recognize the name or the number and (of course) if I am
free to talk.
Lenny: Oh, so you were busy. Are you working on a
Lenny: Then what are you so “busy” doing?
Me: I have a couple minor things in the works but mostly … Hmm… let me think … I guess most of my time is spent playing with the kittens – oh and watching the birds. Maddie, my female cat – mother to the kittens – killed a Bluebird and ate it. Lordy, lord! I know it is only natural but I have to admit it troubled me seeing it. That poor little bird flapping his beautiful blue wings so fiercely at first… then flap, flap … flap. He went limp and it was over. I almost cried. I prefer not to see it, ya know?! Did I tell you one of my tomcats, Jimmy, sweet little Jimmy Jam killed a Cardinal? Oh man, that was unsettling. I don’t know if I can ever see him as being sweet again. I don’t mind them killing mice but–
Lenny: So you are so busy with these kittens who [by the way] you know will grow up to kill the birds because that is what cats do – you are saying this full time obsession prevents you from answering your phone?
Me: No, that is not what I said. Didn’t you hear the part where I said if I recognize the number? I’m looking through my phone and apparently you are not even listed in my contacts; if you were stored in my contacts my phone would specifically say “Incoming call from Lenny” and then I would (probably) answer.
Me: Yes PROBABLY. Although I’m not sure now.
Lenny: Why? What do you mean?
Me: I’m not sure I want to talk to anyone who is so
callous toward cats and birds.
Lenny: I am not callous – I’m just saying —
Me: Oh, shut up hater of God’s creations. Back to your query, I’m still looking… Why aren’t you in my contacts? I don’t have your number. Hmm… no voice mail … no messages…
Lenny: Oh my gosh! You are screening your calls,
aren’t you? Why are you screening your calls?
Me: That’s my business and you haven’t answered my
question. I save important numbers. Why don’t I have your phone number stored?
Lenny: Because I use a Call Private service.
Me: What is that?
Lenny: My phone is set to restrict my ID so it shows
up as anonymous or private number.
Me: Why the hell would you do that?
Lenny: Because I’m not comfortable with everybody
knowing my phone number – I like my privacy.
Me: Oh, I see. In other words you’re paranoid or up to no good. That is a sneaky tactic, you know I do not like sneaky!
Lenny: So you will answer the next time I call?
Me: Not if I don’t recognize the name or number; definitely
not if it is anonymous or private.
Me: Because I like to know who I am going to be talking to Mr. Sneaky Snake; who I am freely giving my time to. Maybe you should drink root-beer.
Lenny: Well, don’t you at least want to know why I
Me: Oh dear Lenny, [mean spirited bubble buster] in honor of your anonymity and with all due respect for your privacy [despiser of soft furry things] the answer is no. Now if you don’t mind I have a thousand kitty videos to catch up on so here’s a quarter, call someone who cares.
I do not know the story behind this poor cardinal being “uncapped” but I know he is not [at all] happy about it.
He, however, makes the best of it; he is a proud bird and holds his head high, or at least what is left of it.
We lovingly refer to him as Knot-head, which is odd considering he is missing most of his topknot. Is that irony? I don’t know but it amuses us so…
I don’t think he minds our entertainment at his expense (because we keep him fed and adore him) but I feel certain he detests the gossiping, cruel remarks from the other birds — the well plumed and unscathed with their mean-tweets and chuckles. Yep, he is past being embarrassed — he’s pissed.
Knot-head is one angry bird and I suspect he is plotting revenge.
I must tell you I have petitioned him for the full rights to his story. The problem is he may have limited comprehension and communication skills due to his head injury. Time will tell…