Wednesday, August 17, 2011

What's More Dangerous?



















A bull in a china closet, or...

My husband emailing me a photo of him shopping for a hat in NYC, or,

A wife holding back her desires, and comments?

My personal opinion...the fashion police should have their own 911 number on every person's speed dial.

There is no real danger here, I just had no idea he was even looking for a hat.

I learned in the beginning of our relationship he had his own agenda...for style, so I never have been pushy about such things. At least he has a style, and one I can live with. But he has never been one for adornments, bling as it is called today. My key to a successful relationship, pick your arguments, this one is totally low on my list of happiness.

I wanted to buy him a bracelet once. Why? Because I am a woman who likes men who wear rings and jewelry. Aren't all accessories bling? Although I am not big on the 'guido look' of New Jersey, you know, the slick hair and bling bling bling. Partly, it just doesn't do it for me. But fit intelligent  men who wear bracelets do. I also admire men who look distinguished in hats, vests, and even walking sticks. You know those little extra bling accessories.

Does wearing a certain style of accessories or bling say "I am confident" to you? I always thought so. My husband did give me a flat out "No" when I asked him about the bracelet purchase. I am going to blame the first boyfriend Leslie for this obsession. He wore one, he even gave it to me to wear in high school when we went steady. I miss that at times.

I gave up hope along the years of my man ever looking the way I had always imagined, or longed for. I just accept hubby likes to dress up when we step out. He is an engineer, crisp and clean cut for the office. Stay with me here, please. This feeling I have about how my man would look goes back even further than the first boy friend. Maybe to early childhood. When a nice looking or older gentleman sporting a nice hat over well groomed hair, an overcoat, maybe a smooth looking pair of shoes and briefcase walked by, my neck tends to bend in their direction. It was my earliest memory of my father (and a few other male role models in the family).

Yes, the father thing.

When I was as young, three or four, I have memories of my dad leaving for work. As I got older his uniform changed, but was always neatly ironed. Crisp and clean. We were told he had worked as a salesman, maybe even a door to door salesman, and it was their uniform during that era. No one today would be caught doing door to door sales, would they? Because it means you cannot get a higher paying job, maybe? Sales is not at the bottom of the totem pole, I guess, maybe it depends on what your selling.

I am a girl and my father was my hero, so it seems natural, according to Freud, I would steer in this direction as I matured. Nope, I just like nicely groomed men. Sure I like my man in a good tight pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but I remember sitting in Sunday church service and seeing a few men with gray dusted hair sporting Fedora like hats and wearing artistic like vests as they entered or left. It always catches my attention.

My ex, the father of my children who attended church with me just did not like them. His hair was too important to mess up. Nor did he like clothing or jewelry outside of the wedding band. He was one step from wearing a pocket protector like his own father. If that ever happened I might have denied knowing him. I would sigh and hold out hope he might change his mind as he aged.

Being pushy would have only alienated him from what was already a difficult relationship. Women if you find these words hitting a chord, have patience, or if your single hold out for what you want. My mom always said "You can fall in love with a rich man as easily as a poor man". In my case I was not looking for money the next time around, just common ground companionship, beliefs, goals and love; it just happened the next man I feel in love with had a higher paying profession.

After a two year friendship, I fell for an upscale dresser of my ex. He also liked food, wine, dancing, fishing, reading, conversation, God, and so many other things I had come to enjoy (like my writing). He just doesn't want to wear bling outside of his beautiful wedding band. We have been together sixteen years, and to my surprise in the most recent years, he came home with a fly fishing vest. Points! Hey its a vest right? But the hat he bought that day, well was kind of...big time dorky.

This will give a bit away about myself, but I am sort of old fashioned. I know so many relationships that are 'his is his, hers is hers' in these times, but many of them do not work out in the long run. Marriage cannot be about selfishness. Fifty/fifty folks! Let him pick out a few of his own purchases now and then because he works hard all week. He doesn't bug me about my personal shopping. I do enjoy wearing jewelry he has bought (surprised) me, which might not be what I would have bought. But he loves me and he has good taste.

So, when he emailed me this past weekend with this picture, well, I panicked. I was happy to throw out that dorky hat he wears everywhere to keep the sun out of his eyes, saving him from skin cancer, but I kind of wanted a particular hat. You know, the kind I see on professor types around the college town we live in, or on tourist men walking around the streets of Spain. Can't you imagine?

When he came off the train and climbed in the car Sunday night, I was smiling. The sexiest man had just reached over to kiss me hello. Woo Hoo! I loved the hat. He did ask me if I thought it made him look old. No, just mature, like I always wanted, and he did it all on his own.

Nawwwww, he just got lucky and probably had the salesgirl tell him what was fashionable for his age. Too bad they did not sell bracelets. She could have told him "Oh women love bling on their man, and it's the latest fashion." For her, the sales girl, is truly the life of danger when a clueless man walks in.

Okay, now I take back what I said about sales jobs, they are unsung heroes in my book.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

I like Men Who Like and Read Poetry- Book Review


















If a man writes poetry, well then, I really really...really like him!

That was just me thinking out loud, but it's true. How many men do we know personally who read, or even write poetry?  I only knew of one man in my life, my grandfather. I so admired him. These days I am acquainted with a few more men who do read and even write poetry. I have enjoyed both sexes who have written poetic verse.

Okay, where am I going with this? Marcus Goodyear is one of those men, and not only does he read, but he writes poetry...AND he was born and raised in Texas. My home state.

There is an element of personal connection in his writing for me (and I say so many times in this review!). I recognize things he speaks of, especially this piece, 'Resort' (pg 14, Barbies at communion, by Marcus Goodyear)-

When the Baker Hotel died,
no one ordered an autopsy
or called the local mortician.
They just left the carcass
at the crossroads where it fell,
bulging brick walls, gouged eyes
empty sockets jagg'd with glass.


Each line holds me on the steps out front of one of my favorite haunts in Mineral Wells, Texas. A place I pass each time I visit my dad's family in west Texas. A once grand attraction which put a dead town on the map. I never got beyond the foyer (more frightened of jail) or surrounding grounds, but have known so many who dared to take its contents. And display them proudly.

On coffee break, the local doc
doesn't wonder if he could
save her. ...

The marrow sold cheap to antique
stores, and left rooms mostly hallow.
Shout your name in the stairwell,
the space will keep your voice
...

Remember me, Remember me


It could be any abandoned giant along your horizon these days, but it draws up emotion for me I cannot describe. Eerie are his words; eerie as the stories surrounding its ghost sightings on each floor, and all along the Baker Hotel's grounds. Lots of history is written about this place if you like conjuring up old haunts.





















(Baker Hotel, July 2009, taken by myself)

I also identify with another aspect of Marcus works, religion. Normally I am put off by anything from my southern bible belt upbringing, mostly television evangelists. He has a way of looking at his beliefs, and you know when he says "...poetry is prayer...", well it hits home in a more personal down to earth way.

Many of his words, lines, and stanza's in this book conjure up my own memories of sitting in the pew each Sunday, all dressed up, and if we even gave a "I can't sit still" sigh, my mom's hand would slither right over bibles, hymnals, siblings laps, purses like the snake in Eden's garden...and *strike!*, bite us right on the leg. Which would surely lead to our own personal Jesus experience after the service, if we kept it up.

Without giving away Marcus Goodyear's book title's whole poem 'Barbies at communion' (pg 3) during communion his daughter is undressing her dolls, it is a chuckle for me to read-

...
my daughter undresses
Ariel Barbie, Tinkerbell Barbie,
and 12-inch generic Sleeping Beauty.
I don't know why Ariel's butt crack
makes me nervous, shining up at me
...


He clearly has a good sense of humor, and a down to earth dad (much of his writing depicts this to me). I only wish my mother had thought of bringing things for us to do during those long hour and half services, especially ceremonial ones. But things were different back during my childhood, clearly my siblings and I were raised during the 'children are to be seen (show off our Sunday best, make the parents look like they were raising good children), and not to be heard' or allowed to express our boredom era. My own children were allowed to be themselves during service, as Marcus's, then thankfully they had their own class so the parents could focus on the lesson at hand.

What more can I say about this wonderful poetry book? Lots, as he has many other topics he touches base on. He also honors friends and family on many of the pages, possibly with inside jokes, or just thoughts that often occur to poets (or at least they do with me) about subjects. I would be honored to see myself related to a poets deep thoughts.

Marcus conjures up my grandfather's thoughtfulness, and many other great male poets whom I admire. I hope to read more of his work. I have a feeling studying his work will help me in my own writing endeavors.

You can find Marcus Goodyear on his website 'GoodWordEditing'. In his 'About' section of this website he explains...

'He is the Senior Editor for Foundations for Laity Renewal, a nonpofit organization in Texas founded by the H. E. Butt Foundation (and the same family that owns and operates the H. E. B. grocery company). Practically speaking, this means I spend my days working with words–sometimes writing, sometimes ghost writing, sometimes editing, most often in the space of new media on these websites: TheHighCalling.org, HighCallingBlogs.com, or Christianity Today’s FaithInTheWorkplace.com.


PS- This also conjures (there is that word again) up images of my favorite food market from the H.E.B. companies- Central Market. If you have not visited this store in the Austin or Dallas area, you should be ashamed. This store cannot be compared to that big health food store chain, no not at all, and if you want one in your area or state, then run, run to the altar and pray they expand beyond Texas (said with a chuckle).

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

My Arms Hurt, I've Been Flying All Day

















I know talking about my wonderful son can bore you, but hey, I am proud that my son has taken the high road to a successful and happy future.

He is in Korea teaching, and someone just found out she gets to travel there and visit him. He is lucky his step-father is so into trying new and unusual stuff.

Hubby has been traveling a bit more with work, yes, after my sister leaves. One of the purposes of bringing her here months ago was because it would give me something to entertain myself with when I am not working low summer hours. Oh well, you have to take life as it comes, a lesson I have been struggling with lately.

I love to travel too, and am envious he is having so much fun in work and play. Both hubby and son. Well, I am sure hubby strains to find fun in going to isolated military bases and no good eateries for miles and miles.

Lots of poetry has been flowing the past weeks since my sister left, but no sharing yet. I need to meditate and have been entertaining lots of company this past week. One coming today, my poet friend Pasquale. We will walk/swim the pool, talk of poetry, life, and enjoy a tasty brisket I have slow cooking on the smoker per his request.

I wish for you all a wonderful positive energy, and for my son, that he continues to find the positive paths to his destiny.

I am along for the ride.

Peace to you all.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

The Sky Is Falling

















Often I find myself wide awake at 5 AM (like today!) so, I might check out something on television. I am still out on a sci-fi show called, 'Falling Skies'. I catch a show or two here and there. Since its not one of my regular DVR choices, I am a few, well more than a few behind. Ice and Coco have taken my attention if totally bored.  Yes, I know that is some bad TV, but I am curious. Not so curious as of this past week, because I have had enough of that Jessica Simpson doppelganger. Coco may have more money and got back, but geez.

My whole thought on this is what would I do if aliens did come to earth and begin attacking us. Could I, would I survive?

I might have to kick some alien butt if it meant I was left to eat can goods for a whole season. Not be able to eat good local produce? Or some good seafood...the cows, what have they done with the cows? My whole foodie existence would be enough to create an alien butt kicking rage.

I wonder if Obama's daughters have asked him, "Daddy, what would you do if aliens came down to earth and started kicking some butt?" Wonder how he handles those questions as a parent and president, just sayin...

Aliens or Zombies?

Oh goodness, now look what I have done to my brain...back to writing 'Crush'...I will fight them on paper for now...