Inspiration Among the Songs

You know how you run across a song that "does it for you"? A song that you can really get into and have fun with? Well, one of my favorites, one I just love to listen too is “Werewolves of London”, by Warren Zevon.

Now, I’m not sure why but damn if it doesn’t bring out the inner wolf. I love to howl...I mean sing along with it. ;D The same for Little Red Riding Hood by Sam the Sham. I suppose my love of the wild, especially wolves, might have something to do with this but I have only collected wolves for the last fifteen years or so and I have loved those songs since I was a little girl. Not to mention that in my younger days my friends and myself used to go out into the country and watch the stars and bay at the moon. Yes, way weird, but teenagers are the strangest beasts.

But I guess these are not the only two songs that get my blood going. Anything with a good beat and a fun feeling gets me movin’ and groovin’ too.

Then there are the songs that inspire or engage my imagination. “Don’t Pay the Ferryman” by Chris Deburgh is one that I listen to when I need to feel the importance, the depth, of something I am writing. The urgency if you will. I am not sure if it is the lyrics or the beat. Maybe both. Here are the lyrics in case you have never heard of it and if you click on the link you can hear a 20 sec. snippet to refresh your memory.

Don't Pay the Ferryman

It was late at night on the open road,
Speeding like a man on the run,
A lifetime spent preparing for the journey;
He is closer now and the search is on,
Reading from a map in the mind,
Yes there's the ragged hill,
And there's the boat on the river. And when the rain came down,
He heard a wild dog howl,
There were voices in the night - "Don't do it!"
Voices out of sight - "Don't do it!
Too many men have failed before,
Whatever you do,

Don't pay the ferryman,
Don't even fix a price,
Don't pay the ferryman,

Until he gets you to the other side;" In the rolling mist, then he gets on board,
Now there'll be no turning back,
Beware that hooded old man at the rudder,
And then the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared,
And people calling out his name,
And dancing bones that jabbered and a-moaned On the water. And then the ferryman said,
"There is trouble ahead,
So you must pay me now," - "Don't do it!"
"You must pay me now," - "Don't do it!"
And still that voice came from beyond,
"Whatever you do,

Don't pay the ferryman,
Don't even fix a price,
Don't pay the ferryman,

Until he gets you to the other side;

Don't pay - the ferryman!"

For some reason this song makes me think of stuff like “Lord of the Rings” or “Thieves World”. I like to listen to it while I am thinking about story plots and such or when I need to get in the mood to write. Or other good ones are “Holding Out for a Hero” by Bonnie Tyler, “Dreams” by The Cranberries, "Fire and Ice" by Enya, and "Die Another Die" by Madonna. It is fun way to write. Or when my main character is going through a rough spot I like to listen to songs like, “Only You” by Yazoo or the spainish version of that “Ven Dimelo” by Marc Antony, "Desert Rose" by Sting, “With Arms Wide Open” by Creed and “Runaway Train” by Soul Asylum. Oh, and just one more I have to add. "Don't Answer Me" by the Alan Parsons Project.

Then there are the “I just want or need a boost” songs. Like Mary Chapin Carpenter “Down at the Twist and Shout”, or “Ballroom Blitz” by Cream, and...Oh! “Iko, Iko” by The Belle Stars and “December 1963" by the Four Seasons. It is almost guaranteed that I get up out of my chair and dance around a bit (despite the cereal problem - see July 4, entry, "Bemoaning My Youth").

Well, I could go on forever but I am feeling pretty inspired and need my daily fix of music, so night all!

The Hips Don't Lie

Okay, this is for all those women who wear hip huggers...and shouldn't.

The current rage of hip huggers is almost an epidemic. Everywhere you look women are donning these atrocities and thinking they look fashionable and (shudder) attractive.

Well, they're not. For one, most people wear their jeans tight. Women wear them unbearable so. And when you are wearing hip huggers tight, jeans no longer become sexy. Having your love handles pour over the sides of the fabric is NOT sexy. It actually looks uncomfortable. Why would anyone want a wade of material bunched up under their bellies? Not to mention those who's thong bikini's peak (practically wave) out the back. Honestly, hip huggers were not made for everyone. Case in point.

I was at Wal-Mart (my home away from home) two weeks ago, and there were a gaggle of girls ranging from 15-20 something, all of them wearing hip huggers. Out of the 5 or 6 young ladies (and I am using the term 'ladies' loosely) only two of them looked okay in their apparrel. The others were stuffed to near bursting and their tops (what little there was of them) left absolutely nothing to the imagination. And trust when I say that my imagination would have been kinder.

Sigh. What it wrong with these women?

Last summer I was at the beach with my daughter and a three young girls (and I mean young - 14, 15) were nearly nude. Almost all the guys on the beach noticed them and were practically zombie-ized by the display. The girls became offened and uncomfortable. One had the nerve to say "Jesus, what the fuck are they staring at?"

Well. Let's see. Your asses are hanging out of your bikini bottoms. The top barely covers your nipples, and the strings are barely keeping what little is covered...covered. They want to walk on the beach with almost nothing, and I do mean NOTHING on and then bitch because men are staring at them? Oh please. Go stand on a corner. At least you'd get paid. And if you want to be naked in public, then go to a nude beach.

My father would have killed me. I wouldn't have made it out of the house without a bra on and my body covered. When I worked in the office of a local highschool, we sent several girls home because you could their b**bs hanging out the bottom of their shirts. If shirt is what you called the two strips of material they were wearing. And other instances included girls not wearing underwear with mini-mini skirts. I was so shocked that I didn't know what think, especially when the parents came in and asked what was wrong with their kids appareal.

What the hell do you mean "what's wrong?"

Parents are clueless and most disgust me. I don't let my daughter associate with a lot of kids because of their parents. And if I don't know the parents my daughter doesn't play with their kid. Period. That is an absolute. I really don't care if everyone thinks I am choosing my daughters friends...because I am. Her friends know what I expect of them and when they are in my presence they will be respectful or they will be out the door and out of my daughters life. One of her little friends found that out the hard way. She isn't allowed around anymore.

Hey. It's my way or the highway. My daughter is not going to end up pregnant, doped, and skilless, before she is 18. Over my dead decaying body. My daughter is bright, funny, beautiful, and the most important, the most valuable, thing in my life. She is an investment of love, time, and sacrifice and all shall not be in vain.

So, forgive me my sweet baby, you don't get the hip huggers you wanted. Besides, their over $50 a pair and their not even cute.

Hippy Hippy Shake Song

For goodness sake,
I've got the hippy hippy shake.
I've got the shake,
oh the hippy hippy shake.
Oo I can't keep still
with the hippy hippy shake.
I get my fill
with that hippy hippy shake.
Oo my babe,
aw the hippy hippy shake.
Well now you shake it to the left,
you shake it to the right.
Do the hippy shake shake
with all of your might.
And you shake.
Oh you shake.
Oo my babe.
Aw the hippy hippy shake.
Well now you shake it to the left,
you shake it to the right.
Do the hippy shake shake
with all of your might.
And you shake.
Yes you shake.
Oo my babe.
Aw the hippy hippy shake.
Aw the hippy hippy shake.
Yeah the hippy hippy shake.
Oh yeah.

My Voice Is Talking To Me Again

I have been working on this idea for another series. I have at least the first and the second books planned out but some of the details are still worrying me.

I keep changing my mind on what kind of a character I want her to be. I am torn between a total badass and a complete smartass. LOL. Either way I have the ass part right. :D

It has been a long day. I would like to stay up and work on my story, right now I am reading up on nymphs, fairy's, and other magical creatures, but I have been working a lot and I desperately need some serious sleep. The kid has been putting me through my paces as well. But I just had to write a bit before I pass out and awake to the annoying sound of the alarm clock.

I have to admit Laurell K. Hamilton's new book "Danse Macabre" has also kept me up. You know, I always thought the only thing I would ever write about would be fantasy. You know, sword and sorcery stuff. And I never thought I would like a supernatural, action packed, love story but by God, as Anita would say "It just flat does it for me." And it does. I also discovered that I like to write in the first person more than in the third. It's easier and I feel more comfortable with it. Thank you Laurell for helping me with my voice. You are an excellent writer, with an incredible imagination.

A toast (please raise your glass/cup/can/whatever) to Laurell K. Hamilton. May she never run out of ink and may her imagination always have a job. Oh, and may the next Anita Blake novel come out ASAP. It only took me a couple days to finish it.

Well, good-night all.

Can I Kill Her Now?

If you want frustration, raise a child by yourself.

She is entering that stage in her life where she is becoming that awful “t” word. Yes, you heard me, the “t” word.

She is becoming a teenager, complete with rolling eyes, exagerated sighs, and snippy replys. If she survives to the age of 12 it will be nothing short of a miracle. If I don’t choke the living crap out of her by the end of the week that will be an even bigger miracle.

How does this travesty happen? How does the little, cuddly, doe eyed sweety that you gave birth too become this walking contradiction in terms? And how is it that the death rate for children doesn’t go up when they hit this stage? Surely other parents have this savage desire to lock their kids up in a cage until they reach twenty-six. That’s the age which both your left and right side of your brain fully develop. I’m not kidding. If you are under 26 you are only walking around with half a brain. LOL. That explains a lot.

What is even worse about all this is the temper tantrums and the endless questions that only serve to stall and infuriate. This is where I really lose it. This is where privileges are taken away and she ends up spending the entire evening in her room with no t.v., no music, and no computer. This is where I would rather beat her ass and be done with it.

Sigh. Breathe deep Liz, breathe deep. This too shall pass (or there is that cage option).

The Lady or the Tiger

I saw my ex at Wal-Mart the other night. He was wearing a white muscle shirt and cut-offs and damn if I didn't melt when he turned and looked at me.

My ex has these beautiful, chocolate-brown eyes and absolutely gorgeous, long lashes, and when he fixed me with his gaze my heart slid into my throat, and I couldn't breathe.

Holy crap I hate that.

Then he gave me this half-lidded look which said he knew he had that effect on me still, and causually made his way over to me, one hand in his pocket, and the other smoothing back perfectly cut, blue-black hair. He gave me a quick once over that reminded me of...well...never mind what that reminded me. Needless to say I wanted to punch him at that point.

"How are you?" He asked me. His voice was quiet, softly accented.

"Good, good. You?" Hey, it's all that would come out.

"Okay...I guess. I miss you." That's when things turned pouty and he looked at his feet, sulking.

And this is where I snapped out of it and remembered why he was my ex.

Sigh. He was a keeper too. If things had gone just a little differently, I would have made the mistake of marrying him.

Then the subject of the car came up.

You see, last year he bought me an SUV and offered it too me as a...well...I guess a bribe? An apology? He did this because he did something rather stupid which totally blew our relationship apart, and caused my already deep mistrust of men to become a bottomless chasm. And he offered this car to me again. He knew my car had died and I needed a new one. How, I am not sure but he knew.

Now, the last year or two has been hard on me. Life has left me running on empty and I have been feeling very fragil and lonely. And lately I have been questioning and analysing my choices in regards to the men of my past. Of the three men I have had relationships with, this ex, was by far, my favorite. And to have him say he still wanted me and was willing to give me a car was hard. When I looked into his face as he said this I saw his passion still burned for me. That made it even worse because my answer was the same as it was a year ago when I called it quits then.

I felt a bit like that story "The Lady or the Tiger". The door on the left contained a sexy guy along with a car, wedding ring, seven kids, constant house work and me being a personal servant. On the right was my own life, peace and quiet, a career I hoped to further, an empty bed, no car, and only my income.

Hmm. Let's see. The right, the left...Guess each one has its drawbacks but I would rather chose the one that lets me control at least part of my destiny.

Anyway, I told him thank you and we parted ways. And did I look back?

Hell yes! The rearview is just as good as the front! ;D

Christian Children's Fund

Everytime I see that commercial on t.v. for the Christian Children's Fund I cry. I cry because I have seen children like that and hated not being able to take them home with me.

When I was engaged to be married I went to my fiance's country to meet his family. He was El Salvadorian and we flew to El Salvador and toured the country as well as Guatamala, Belize and Livingston. It was awesome. But it was also heartbreaking.

Everywhere you looked there was poverty. So much poverty. And there were small children, or I should say, bags of bones, wandering and alone, fending for themselves because their parents could not take care of them. The lucky ones got to live with close family memebers and the unlucky ones ran the streets and did the best they could to survive.

And everytime we found one I wanted to take them home but the only thing I could do was feed them. And even though they had a meal for that day, what about the next? And the one after that? It was heartbreaking. The mommy in me felt like I was abandoning those children, leaving them to die. And I was wasn't I?

So everytime I see the commercial I remember the dirty faces, the little hands, the lost looks, and that I had to leave them all behind. I remember I had to leave my humanity at the border between their country and mine. And I remember that I cried every single time I said good-bye.

My Wish List

Welp, I got another advert. in the mail from my book club and once again I am making my wish list. I will probably never buy any of these because everytime I turn around something is either broken or about to. Or, like recently, someone screws up my life with their inadequacies and I end up having to pay for it. Anyway, back to my list.

Here are a few things I would love to have but due to single parenthood and a single life style, I will not get any of them until I am old and gray and probably no longer available.

Just let me dream.

Movies (All Fantasy/Sci Fi)

The Triangle - this is about the bermuda triangle and some rich guy finding out the truth - really like to know the truth - another little thing I love cruising the net and the library for.

http://byerly.org/bt.htm (this is a website that gives the pro's and con's of it)

http://www.greatdreams.com/bermuda.htm (this is a website referencing the Bimini road mentioned in the other website - kind of strange)


Event Horizon - a 2047 sci fi about a lost explorer ship and what happens when they find it - I really liked it - good effects.

Aeon Flux - not that great a movie but it was kind of cool on the effects - futuristic sci fi about the struggle for man to survive through cloning.

Wing Commander - never seen this but looks kind of cool to have and watch when I am bored (like that ever happens).

Jules Verne's Mysterious Island - never seen it but it has Patrick Stewart in it - can't be all bad - has Capt. Nemo as the bad guy on a mysterious island filled with pirates and monsters and what not.

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea: Season One - this looks good too - I like those old time sci fi shows - this one ran from 64-68

Medium: The First Season - love this show and yes I do believe in mediums - I myself have predicted more then five deaths and several other life changing events - I have also had three out of body experiences and a few other odd happenings in my life - not as much as I used to though - I stopped my deep meditation.

Alien Nation - watched this originally on t.v. and really thought it struck a cord with our real life immigration woes.

Red Dwarf - every last episode - I want them all - huge fan - laughed my butt off - not to mention they took it off PBS :( - rotten bastards.


The 4400 - this just looks really cool - all about alien abductee's and the way their lives have changed - not sure how many season's it lasted on t.v. - I know there were at least two

And what would my wish list of video's be if it did not include a few Cult Classics. Be ready to laugh a bit.

Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster - LOL. Here is the write up for it from the lit. - A NASA spaceship to Mars is shot down by an alien warship. The ship crash-lands in Puerto Rico and its experimental android (Frank) runs away. Frank's creators search for him as her terrorizes inhabitants. Meanwhile, the aliens carry on with their ultimate plan to capture desperately needed bikini clad babes to their planet.

I am rolling on the floor. Gotta see this someday.

Creation of the Humanoids/War Between the Planets - the first one is about mankind building AI's and having them rebuild the earth after a nuclear war and the humanoids (AI's) have ideas of making it their own - the second one is about an evil planet causing natural disasters on earth so that it can take over

Prince of Space/Invasion of Neptune Man - I know, I know, completely hokey and even the cover looks a little fake - I think the guy is wearing latex dish gloves - at least he won't get dish pan hands.

Now onto the books I really want.

Anita Blake Vampire Slayer - want all of Laurell K. Hamilton's books including the Meredith Gentry series.

Candles Burning - this is by Tabitha King (Stevie's wife) and the late Michael McDowell - Mike died before finishing this - kind of cool story about a medium who is a child and needs to find out about her own father's murder.

Dead in Dixie - I have become addicted to Charlaine Harris and other's like her - I would like to have all the Sookie Stackhouse books.

Bad Prince Charlie - this just sounds funny - John Moore is someone new for me and I read a bit of the book while I was lost in the library a few weeks ago.

Have Robot Will Tavel - this is a spin off of Issac Asimov's Robot series written by Alexander C. Irvine - I love Asimov - read nearly everyone of his books - even the Foundation series which took me forever to get through.

Terry Pratchet - anything the man writes

The Mammoth Book of New Comic Fantasy - what can I say - love to laugh.

I am really into fantasy art too. Here a few I want.

The Ultimate Collection with Julie Bell - I really like her and this book also features another fav. Boris Vellejo.

Twin Visions with Julie Bell - cool pictures from an assortment of calenders, book covers, and posters.

Mirage - these are various erotic fantasy paintings by Mr. Vellejo.

Dreams - more Vellejo.

Secrets/Dreams/Visions/The Labyrinth Tarot - these are really cool books - Luis Royo is just incrediable - here is a website for him

http://www.jormungand.de/


Okay. I have tons more but have ran out of steam. Long day ahead of me tomorrow.

Good night all. And have a good vacation Kev.

God Grant Me...

God grant me the serenity to accept my child for the little slob that she is, the courage to walk away when I see she has devastated my house, and the wisdom to know and remember that if I kill her I will be sent to prison.

I say the above prayer with clenched teeth and a throbbing headache.

I have recently started back to work part time. My neighbor has been keeping an eye on my daughter while I work. So when I came home today, imagine my utter shock and horror at the sight I beheld.

Now, I am not a picky person. After 15 years of being both a parent and a step-parent, I have accepted the fact that children are messy and their version of clean is no where near my version of clean. I have come to terms with tripping on roller skates, sitting on sharp, pokey, Barbie accessories, and missing my favorite eye shadow.

But today took the cake.

I did not sleep well last night because I have been working odd hours and my sleep is screwed up, not to mention my daughter thinks talking to me until 2 am is fun. So when I came in, sleep deprived, hot (my car does not have air), and a hundred more things left to do for the day, and found my house a disaster, I nearly blew a heart valve.

I don't expect my daughter to be perfect. I know she will make messes but this...this! The cushions were partially off both couches, the table had crud on it an inch thick, she had stepped on a banana, mashed it into the floor, tracked it through the house, and spilled orange juice on top of the site of the original banana stamping. She had her towels from her shower and swimming scattered all over the couches, and some bizzaro art project involving duct tape, an empty coke bottle and a bunch of straws strewn everywhere.

I then make my way from the living room into the bathroom and find my makeup all over the sink, the cat sleeping on my freshly washed and folded towels, no toilet paper, and a wet floor.

I am to the point of eye twitching by now when I walk into my kitchen. Now granted, I have not done dishes in three days because I have been helping my brother move, but she had not bothered to scrape her dishes. She just sat the plate, food and all, onto the pile of dishes. Most of the food slid into the sink. And as if that wasn't joy enough, I found she had over fed the cats and they puked all over my kitchen in three seperate spots.

I walk from the kitchen feeling light headed and nauseous, and almost positive my eyeball is going to pop from its socket. I go into my bedroom and find the clean clothes from the dryer in a heap on my bed, wrinkled and mashed together beneath her body, and that is where I turned into a hideous, screeching, eye twitching bitch.

I could not believe she did this to our house. She didn't pick up one single mess. I have been spending every available moment with her doing fun stuff, like movies and swimming, and this is how she treats me?

I have spent my entire evening, scowling, mopping, hauling garbage, and cleaning up cat puke and I am exhausted. I have to get up in the morning and help my brother finish his move. I don't think I'm up to this.

I hate being a bitch. I hate yelling at her. It breaks my heart. I like to laugh and have fun and joke but when she does something so incredibly callous, it truly hurts my feelings. I adore her. I try so very hard to make her life fun and happy and loving and then she does something like this. Then to top it all off she had the nerve to complain that I wouldn't come sit down and watch a movie with her tonight.

I had no time. I didn't get finished with cleaning the fiasco up until after 10pm.

I am going to bed now. She is still alive but both our feelings are hurt and she is grounded. I did not raise my hand to her but God only knows it was a close call. She has apologized a dozen times but since this is the umpteenth offense, I am not readily accepting her "I'm really sorry mommy". Yes, baby doll, and I am really sorry you are grounded all this weekend and that includes the birthday party on Sunday.

But I won't stay mad for long. I never do. I am just no good at being angry. I'm too damn yippy skippy for my own good. Besides, she is my baby doll and I love her very much.

Damn. Already I am feeling bad because I yelled at her and I hate to ground her. I suck at this mommy job. And what's worse, I can't quit.

Happy Birthday Mom

Today is my mom's birthday but she is no longer with me to celebrate it. She died Sept. 12, 2005 at 7:33 p.m. She died in my arms. She took her last breath while I hugged her and told her I loved her. I tried to avoid remembering this day but someone sent me a sympathy birthday card for her and I thought I would die.

You know what I find a contradiction, something I don't understand? Is why? Why am I grieving this woman who treated me worse then a dog all my life? Why am I so heartbroken over a person who did not have the courage to tell me she loved me until I was 21 years old and only because she thought I was moving out and leaving her forever? Why am I mourning the one person in my life that brought me so much sorrow when I was a child that people avoided me because I was so quiet and shy and long in the face? Why? I should hate her. I should dance on her grave.

I took care of my mom the last nine months of her life. I had too. No one else would. No one else could. I was having a hard time with my daughter because of the death of my husband, and had to make the choice of being a mother or building a career. I chose to be a mother. I chose to devote my life to my daughter before I lost her. So, because I did not have a job anymore, I started going over to my mom's house during the day when my sister and brother worked, and then at night they took care of her.

During that time I became closer to my mother and my feelings started to change. She was helpless and it didn't seem right to be angry at her. I couldn't. I mean, she was still a nutcase and liked to cause problems, but I suddenly found something in myself which wasn't there before.

Compassion. Forgiveness.

I realized all the years of hurt and sorrow she forced me to go through couldn't be helped. Not by her anyway. She was mentally ill. She spent her time popping valium, drinking beer, and smoking three packs a day so she could drown the pain. This realization brought out another emotion for her.

Sorrow.

Wasted years. That's what we had. Wasted love.

That's it. I cry for the wasted time and all the "I love you's" we should have been saying to each other. I cry for the times that we could have enjoyed going shopping together, talking on the phone or just coming over to have a cup of coffee. I cry for the years my daughter had no grandmother to go and visit and no grandfather to hold her. My mom ruined my father's health and he suffered a lot of strokes which left him unable to do much of anything but lay in a bed for eighteen years, and push the buttons on the t.v. remote.

I cry for another reason too. I am a religious person. I believe you pay for the sins you commit. It worries me that God would judge my mom unfit to enter heaven and that breaks my heart because I forgive her. I hold no hate in my heart for her. I hold nothing but love and compassion in my heart. It bother's me so much that I pray every night that she is forgiven and shown compassion. How can God not have pity for her? She was ill. But what really worries me is my sister.

She does not forgive my mother. She hates her.

I know my sister has the right to feel anyway she wants to but she can't put the blame for the failure of her life completely off on our mother. She chose the path in life she wanted to walk by not making smart decisions about money and men. She wants to blame everything that is wrong in her life on my mother. Well that's just not right.

I could have taken a lot of different paths too and ended up like my sister but I didn't. I knew the only way to change my life and make it better, and not the train wreck my mother's life had become, was to keep my eye on the prize. The light if you will. To keep the faith not just to God but to myself. My sister never had any faith and she still doesn't. She refuses to pray or ask God for anything because he is as much to blame for her mistakes as my mother.

And if things could not get any worse, I have been dreaming about my parents almost every night now for two weeks. This is especially hard on me because my Dad passed Dec. 15, 2005, just a few short months after my mom passed. I took me almsot three months to finally get up and off my couch and stop crying long enough to get a part time job and then my Dad died. Back to the couch I went. The overwhelming feeling that I no longer had a past, any connection to my childhood, no matter how awful it had been, was devastating.

I finally pulled myself together in March and gave myself a good kick in the butt. Mark helped too.

Mark shared stories of his Dad and how he died. He told me just how much it still hurt sometimes to think of him even though it had been years since he had passed. He even offered to send me a bunch of books so I would have something to take my mind off my grief. He is a good person and I sure miss him.

Okay. I guess I should stop being a big. whiney, cry baby. Besides, I don't want my daughter to see me like this. She has been through enough with the death of her father. Besides, she thinks I'm Super Mommy and Super Mommy's don't cry. Super Mommy's leap small towers of Lego's in a single bound and whip up chocolate chip cookies at just the right time and know how to get any stain out in a single washing (well, maybe a couple washings).

Besides, it is a good day to be happy and not think about the past. It is nice outside and I want to take my daughter swimming. I can't change the relationship I had with my mother but I can be damn sure the relationship with my daughter is strong and full of all the hugs and "I love you's" I can possibly squeeze into one day without smothering my child.

I am also going to do one other thing. I am going to buy a rose and place it on my mother's grave.

God bless you mom and happy birthday. I love you and all has been forgiven. May you rest in eternal peace.

In loving memory:

Arlene L. Draper, July 6, 1934 - Sept. 12, 2005


http://users.1st.net/teddi/index25.htm


Go Rest High On That Mountain

I know your life On earth was troubled
And only you could know the pain
You weren't afraid to face the devil
You were no stranger to the rain
Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son
Oh, how we cried the day you left us
We gathered round your grave to grieve
I wish I could see the angels faces
When they hear your sweet voice sing
Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son
Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son

Written By Vince Gill Copyright 1994

The Devil Wears Prada and Cheap KMart Shirts

My daughter and I went to see "The Devil Wears Prada" and I have to say it was hilarious. Meryl Steep was at her finest and Anne Hathaway has come a long way since "The Princess Diaries". Afterwards we went to Villiage Inn and had some dinner. It was at this quaint little place that I met "The Devil Who Wears Cheap KMart Shirts".

When we first came in there were not that many people there and it was kind of nice. My daughter and I were playing around, joking, blowing our straw wrappers off our straws when "she" came in.

"She" was an older woman of about 60 and was wearing a lime green cotton/polyester blend shirt and white cotton capri's. Her gray straw like hair was carefully held back on both sides by a couple of bobby pins. She quickly ushered her brood into their chairs and directed where everyone should sit.

I ignored them and went back to talking to my daughter. She was being her silly self and doing her impressions of Meryl Streep when the Devil's daughter (I knew this was her offspring because she was wearing the same KMart outfit, only the shirt was in pink horizontal stripes) cleared her throat quite loudly and said "Do you have no class young lady? This is a resteraunt."

My daughter stopped talking and looked at me rather big eyed.

Now my daughter is a nice kid. She is a bit shy, pretty, and has a great sense of adventure and humor so when this woman said that to my daughter, I immediately turned around and gave her the evil eye and too my surprise, the Devil was looking at me just like Meryl Streep. The gray headed snotty look she gave me instantly drew a snitty reply from my mouth.

"They must have modeled Meryl Streep's role in the Devil Wears Prada after you."

The woman's back became rigid and she stuck her nose up at me and turned away. Good. At least she was no longer talking to me. The other one (the mini June Cleaver) huffed as well and buried her nose in her menu.

They went on to act as if they were dining at the Ritz and actually were wearing Prada.

Get a life people! It's Villiage Inn! Two booths over is a couple of teenagers blowing bubbles in their pop and one row over is a biker couple covered in tatoos! Maybe you need to move out to Johnston or something.

Then the waitress arrived, looking a little tired but in good spirits and we joked and laughed a bit as she took our order. She comes back a couple of minutes later and takes Devil woman's order.

The waitress, trying to acknowledge the children, respectfully asked the little girl, "And what would you like with your hamburger Ma'am."

Devil: "She is a Miss, not a Ma'am. And don't give her any fries."

Girl: "But I like fries."

Devil's Daughter: "Give her cottage cheese, lowfat and no salt."

Girl: "I want fries and..."

Devil: "That will be all thank you." And grabs the menus from the children and hands them to the waitress.

I'm thinking "what a bitch"!

The rest of the dinner went no better. It was a shame they stayed the same length of time as we did.

Oh yeah. The Devil definately wears cheap KMart shirts.

Missing Mark

I have been feeling a bit mopey lately and not very energetic about my writing. Part of it is because I have been very busy entertaining my 11 year old daughter, who is on summer break. And lets face it, when you are a single mother your kids really have to come first. You are all they have and in my case, very literally so.

My husband has been gone since 2003 (he passed on) and both my parents passed last year. The only grandparent she has left really has no patience for kids anymore (he is 72). As for my siblings, they are all older and busy, and their children are either too old or too young. So really, it's just her and I.

But to be honest, I don't think she is the only reason for my restlessness. I think my problem is Mark.

Mark is my writing partner here in the states. He lives in Michigan and is a very good writer. Here is an example of his writing.

http://www.bewilderingstories.com/issue203/reason_tobe.html

Great guy and a good friend.

Anyway, since he is currenlty incognito, and has been for about a month or so(no real conversing going on and no work on the novel at all), I have been focusing on some personal writing projects, which is what has me a bit uncomfortable. Since I have been focusing in on just my own stuff I have begun to evolve in my writing. I am finding my voice.

I know, that sounds like a wonderful thing and I should be thrilled - and I am. However, since I am getting out of the habit of trying to match writing styles with my partner (for the purpose of keeping the story flowing), I am finding it hard to work on the writing project that he and I started. And this has me worried.

Mark and I first met online in 2001 at Forward Motion, an online community of both aspiring and published writers. We started out in a critique group with two other writers but eventually we moved away from the site and started conversing privately. I also did this with one of the other members of the group (Robert) but I do not hear from him on a regular basis anymore. I miss him too. Mark and Robert are the reasons why I stuck with my writing these last four years, why my desire to keep going was so strong. Their kind words, thier encouragement, our friendship - they all contributed to my growth. And one other thing that really kept me going was the writing partnership I formed with Mark.

Mark and I have been working on a novel for quite some time. At least two years or better. I know, that seems like a long time but he has had some pretty rough blows to deal with, and so have I. The worst of his being the chronic illness his wife is now dealing with.

Mark's wife, Daneen, contracted West Nile virus back in 2003. She survived but at a terrible price. She can no longer work, she suffers from seizures, and they tell him that she will not live for very much longer. She often times has to go back and forth to the hospital. And because he adores her and worships the ground she walks on, this has been devastating for him. So, because he is my friend and has always had a kind word for me, I have remained ever vigilant about our writing project - until recently.

Mark and I are great friends and have a wonderful writing compatability, but since I have begin to grow away from my chameleon ways of shadowing other writer's styles, it is getting harder to edit the story we are working on. And without his input I can not effectively make the changes I think we need to so that the story flows better. It is driving me crazy. I have all these ideas banging about my head and nowhere to vent them. I could of course talk to other people, I recently met a wonderful and witty writer on line, but as much as I value his opinion (and I do - he is very insightful), I really need to have some input from Mark. Only he and I know the details of our story intinmately and know where it needs to go. Oh, and then there are the holes.

I have been going over our material with a fine tooth comb and I have found places that need fixing, places that need expounded on or explained better but whoa is me. No Mark. But what is even worse then all these niggling little details is my worry.

My greatest fear is that something has happened to Mark and he has just shut down completely. The last time I spoke with him he was going through some pretty rough times. Daneen wasn't doing well, a big job change was on the horizon, maybe even having to move, and he was feeling a bit under the weather as well. It would be sad to never see our book published but it would be even worse to lose my friend to grief or other problems. It would break my heart to see such a wonderful person consumed by the sorrows of life.

Damn, Mark. I miss you. I miss you, the kids, Daneen, and the zoo of animals you are collecting. I hope you are well and you don't kill me when you come back for the changes I am going to make.