It's All Backwards, or am I

Just out of a moment, a feeling, maybe for fun...I wrote this. Partly because last night must have been a much needed cry, which for some crazy reason, at least for me, crying can bring up old pain. Past hurt we stick in a bread box, placing it in a dark corner. When we begin to feel hunger calling and start poking around for a bite, we might find things we really thought we had eaten, or thrown out.

Going backwards, before the waters rushed in, I am sharing, how as the homemaker in my house, and how I have every detail planned for the week, including meals, things can throw me off. That is when some food bandit eats something they are not suppose to eat, and I have to plan a new strategy. It throws me off, and I am a Gemini. Yes, it is written we are suppose to bounce back, resilient and all that stupid astrology crap. Normally I am up faster than I am down.

Hubby for some reason thought a huge, and I said huge container of orzo salad was his lunch when he left for work...he says because there was a single piece of chicken and gravy in there. He ate the whole thing, yes men can eat more than their share at times. I am really trying to keep him on a portion control diet, due to high cholesterol and a growing belly. Beware, I am the diet master.

He does complain his pants don't fit and has to buy a bigger size each year. Hmmm, so my solution is to help him, but if he continues to eat my predestined entree sides, four cups worth, then whose fault is it. Pasta is one of those foods that can really put on the pounds if you do not exercise regularly. I know this personally. Okay, I know, I can go on.

I had this beautiful Korean BBQ marinated and on the grill when I discovered he had eaten our side dish. What to do? Cry of course, after I blew up, but once the flood gate opened, well it all went to hell in a hand basket, in a manner of speaking. I made some boiled potatoes, only a few, because I knew he would eat them all if I had made too much (I usually make his plates at home, a most certain portion control method). I ate a small amount and kept quiet the rest of the evening.

Did someone just ask why the right container was not handed to him in the morning? Do I look like Mrs. Beaver and I am waiting at the door with his lunch box? I was on the sofa reading like a modern woman. 

Well this morning came, I still felt some amount of melancholy, so, I wrote this sappy piece. Heh! Sappy! Get it? Its better than what I used to do, eat a box of doughnuts, or two, and put my health at risk. Something I grew up seeing my mom do when sadness hit the fan, or other things. Oh, how do we deal with pain when it seeps out. See , the happy-go-lucky resilient me has returned.

Next time I'm hiding my beloved orzo, uh, side dish in the back of the fridge, in the dark corner with my pain.

Cut This Hackberry Some Slack

Shaking trees let go
of their seed, their leaves
in revelation of powers at hand
do we doubt the appendage 
set forth behind reason

loss is a strong inertia, unwanted
trembling when pain rises
up through the ground
filling the trunk with disease
some splitting extremities

a single fruit falls, barely marred
outwardly it continues to roll
away away, polishing its self
flesh sweetened by time
sustaining nature’s purpose

decaying limbs lay
at mounds of moved dirt
nomadic life taking over
adding color to landscape
whispering war to passerby's

when the wind is quiet
branches furrow inward
embracing isolation, grasping sanity
an aging tree continues to reach
ominous outlined horizons call


This piece is also laced with something I saw on Marcus Goodyear's post about Mother Theresa and doubt...