I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta of my Hair

I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair!  


I looked in the mirror after showering this morning, and was studded by my reflection. How could that reflection   first strands of old lady hair, well actually, a  few white grays that used to be blond. I think of things out of the ordinary in the shower and today wasn't an exception. 

Today, I sang the song, I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair, a tune from the 1958  Rodgers and Hammerstein's Academy Award®-winning film South Pacific,  thought about my past. And my past includes my ex-husband, who I think about every time I hear that song. I imagine washing him out of my hair, then watching him swirl down the bathtub drain in circular motion.

I considered other song titles that would have work nicely, such as, "I ’m gonna cram that man right down the tub drain," or "toss his bags right out the front door"...but I didn’t want to bore anyone-

This morning, I contemplated how joyful it would be to have magical powers, like Samantha Stevens, starring Elizabeth Montgomery on the Bewitched Show, which on television in the sixties.(by the way, I was a child at the time. A tiny one) 

With magical powers I could have shrunk my ex to the size of Stuart Little. I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with the situation comedy, Bewitched, since it was on television in the last century, so I'll enlighten you to a few of the characters.Samantha inherited her powers from her mother, "Endora," who wasn't to happy with her son in law, Darin, played by Dick York, so she popped in on a regular basis just to aggravate the daylights out of the man. Besides, what else has a witch to do with her day?        

I thought of Endora when I stepped out of the shower, and dreamed I was a witch, overjoyed my the thought of downsizing my ex-husband.  I loved the Bewitched Show because it was a show about a woman witch. Anyway, I hope you are familiar with the comedy. If you're not, the leading characters mother referred to her son- in -law as "Dagwood" instead of calling him by his real name, which was "Darin."  I loved it.

                                                


Hence, I will call my ex "Dagwood," because I have decided that is his new name- Forever-

Moving on, today I thought about my "Dagwood" as I looked in the mirror at my "new" grays, and I felt as though tiny slivers of ice were moving through my veins.   You see, it's his fault I'm turning gray in my tender years.  Oh, I wish I could magically twinkle him into a tiny little man and watch him go down the drain.

I would love to see him swirling in a tiny tub tornado. But, that's not the best part. The best part is the thought of him calling out to me in a small voice...."Help me Ann, come on honey, wha...in-the... Ann?"

Actually, to be honest, I can’t wash any of the Dagwoods out of my hair, head, or heart.
I don't have dreams about past relationships often, or at least I don't think I do, if I do, I don't recall them. Besides, whatever I dream at night sticks in a corner of my brain and blends into a daydream the following day. I wonder if there is a reason for that? Perhaps, I'm blocking them out, or keeping myself at a distance...oh, I don't know...men are just a pain in the butt...and they give you gray hair.

I suppose this morning's moment was due to the fact that I woke up with a weary subconscious. I've been hit by the waves of nostalgia that stay in my brain long after relationships are over...and a few of them have remained drenched in memory- soaked- far away from now, sailing into the future.

In any event, I don’t think you ever get pass some loves, no matter how many times you flush them down the drain.. And sometimes more than one love will remain transfixed in your head, memories, and heart; it's just unfortunate that there are times when love doesn't have anything to do with it. 

In closing, I will admit to a present make up, break up relationship.. I wash him down the drain and out of my hair frequently, although he remains transfixed in my heart and soul.  

So, I've decided to give him an official nickname, which is Driftwood.  Yes, from now on, the man I have twirling in a tiny tub tornado, is Driftwood.

And I hope that Driftwood will be the last man to bite the dust, spin in the wash, or encircle the drain. Because, I'm getting tired of washing men out of my hair, and depending on how much they mean to you, a girl can go through an awful lot of conditioner.

Link to Dick York Image from google images.    Stuarts image is from Revolutionary links

Cowboy Curtains

                                                

I could feel tears in my eyes before I opened them this morning, so I kept them closed...

It was an early morning in December, my favorite season- so I wondered why I woke up teary eyed-

Although, I did recognize a warm feeling...It had a conflicting ring to it, one you never forget; because you feel great, yet confused about how to identify your emotions.

I wanted to keep my eyes closed and think of the cowboy curtains on my grandmothers drapes, the smell of honeysuckle vines in her yard, her dusty back porch, the clothesline, and the talkative morning birds.

The Answer Is "Blowin' In The Wind"

I was going to post this song as the "song in my head today,'' but the version is so good that I didn't want to change the width on the video, so I decided to post it while I edit my next post entitled, "Who is Everybody?"

I hope you can return to read it, because I...well, I guess I should write it here in case, but I want to thank everyone who answered Tuesday's Question. Your answers are simply amazing, and I'm grateful that 'ya'll" are my readers.  I'm a little behind again, which I explain in my upcoming, unedited, three topic post... but, in case it passes you by, please know that I really appreciate your answer.

Have a great week-end! And remember to pour a little sugar on it...

What Book Was...?

 Hello, welcome to Tuesday's Question.  This Tuesday, Tuesday's Question is asked at the end of the post instead of the beginning. If you're new to Tuesday's Question, there's a note for you at the end of the post as well.  Plus, we already have two great answers...

Franz Kafka said,

"A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us.”  `  

I had a hard time thinking of how to phrase today’s question.  I was going to ask you what was the first book you remember reading, and what you liked or disliked about it.  Hence, if you would like to answer that question you may, but I bet the title question will tell you why you felt the way you did about the book you read.

The first book I remember reading, is not my favorite book, but I will be forever grateful for having read it.  Because I couldn’t wait to go back to the library and find another story to step into; a new door to open, and new characters who I could laugh, cry, suffer, dream, and live with until the final word on the last page, and beyond. 

I Feel Like A Child With Tangled Hair In Her Face...

I wish this was a caricature of me, but it's not. Really, I just wish I was more organized, but I'm not, not even on a good day, week, or year.    

                                                        

Although, judging by the look on her face, I'm not sure why I ever tried to emulate her, because she looks sort of unhappy, and at least I'm happy.


Anyway, the image above this paragraph is a better caricature of me lately, well, actually, her desk resembles mine. (Because it's invisible.)  

I have notebook paper full of sentences I might use later, in addition to manuscript drafts, titles, phone numbers, etc....Although the rest of my house or apt. is clean and sort of organized, my desk and the little office I've made for myself are not, and lately it's worse. 

I'm not going to bore you with my computer troubles anymore, but I do hope you will forgive me for missing Tuesday's Question yesterday, and I will say that it's the computers fault.   

I mean, I think my computer should be smart enough to realize that now was not the time to announce that it needed "more space,"  geez...I am the human, the computer is supposed to be the smart one!  

In any event, since I've been dealing with my computers breakdown, my life is running at a slower pace;  I feel like a child with tangled hair in her face...but, the more I try to brush it, the wackier it gets.   

If You Had A Day To Spend Your Way, How Would You Spend it?

 


Hello, and welcome to Tuesday's Question! For those of you who aren't familiar with Tuesday's Question, I'll give you a quick synopsis.

I will post a question for you to answer in comments, then I'll post your answer and link it to your blog.


Today's Question is:

If you had a free day to spend exactly the way you wanted, what would you do? Let your imagination take you anywhere...or think about your simplest pleasures- 

Thank you for stopping by, and I cannot wait to read your answers-  Have fun!

Word Habits

I haven’t been able to sleep lately, so when that happens I jump on my computer and write.  I do not think, I just write…Well, maybe I do think because I could not write if I wasn’t thinking, I suppose.  Hence, last night I started 'thinking' about how people say certain words that aren't part of the English language, over and over again, sometimes for years. For example, I spoke to an old friend the other day, who I haven’t spoken to in years, that used to say the word "majorly" all of the time.

It drove me crazy, but I didn’t want to sound like my mother, and say, “Don’t say that.”  Or “Did you know that majorly is not a word?”  Because, correcting an adult, particularly a friend, would have sounded self-righteous and mean.  Besides, there is nothing wrong with saying a word you like…it is not as if it’s against the law or anything.  Well, I guess you could say it causes mental anguish, but that's beside the point.

Anyway, I was surprised that she still used the same word…and she’s not the only one.  We are all guilty of this malacy…you see, malacy is also not a word, or I do not think it is, well, it may be a synonym for malady, who knows. 

My mother is still constantly correcting my words, but she is just as guilty of improper word usage as I am…although she would never admit it.  I don’t know why she is still correcting my language, but I guess she’s trying to make up for lost time, or she’s afraid I may run into one of her friends, and say, “Hello, it’s so nice to see you after all these years.  It’s been a majorly long time, hasn’t it?  “  

When I was a teenager, my siblings and I had certain after school responsibilities she demanded we complete by the time she came home from work, or shopping, or riding horses, etc…whatever she was doing.  In any event, my after school duty was to keep our kitchen clean, and I thought it was unfair since I had two older brothers who were constantly in the kitchen dirtying dishes.  I mean, come on, what teenage boy doesn’t spend much of his time staring into the refrigerator?


Well, my brothers were typical teenage boys, hence, everyday after school, my brothers had demolished my cleaning job by the time my mother’s 1966 Ford Galaxy zoomed up our driveway-(our driveway was on a hill, well actually, our   house was on a hill.  That is why the driveway was…oh, you know what I mean-).


Anyway, we had better have our chores finished by the time we heard my mother’s white monster car soar up the driveway. (The car’s name was Charger)

To Our City of New Orleans

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy"-

Dr. Martin Luther King

In my title, Our City of New Orleans, I'm referring to all of us in America. New Orleans is the soul of our country, and thanks to the help of our great citizens all over America and the rest of the world, she will rise again.

I live eighty miles north of New Orleans in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and due to the fact that we were out of utilities for weeks after Hurricane Katrina we didn't realize the extent of the damage until our power was resorted.

After which, thousands of New Orleans citizens began to pour into Baton Rouge, particularly after the city was hit again by Hurricane Rita, only a week later.

One of the greatest and oldest city in America resembled a war zone...It's impossible to explain unless you saw it with your own eyes.

I would also like to extend this post, and my heart, to the Mississippi Gulf coast, whose citizens were also affected by the devastating effects of these natural disasters, in addition to the man-made horror the entire gulf coast is dealing with today-

However, if there is a region and a country that will pull through this, it is the deep south, and the United States of America~

"If There Will Be An Answer, Let It Be...

 



In the words of the first man, I ever adored, Henry David Thoreau,

"If thou art a writer, write as if thy time were short, for it is indeed short as the longest."

In January of this year as my friends and I danced, drank, and spoke of the year ahead as if we were guaranteed the time, the words of Henry David Thoreau rang a different truth for me, a truth I would understand in a different way by the end of the year.

Even some of my own words ring with a bizarre realism, for example, I wrote a little saying on this landing page that reads,

-Most of the worlds' great things were born of adversity and hardship; because these roadblocks encourage us to dream, imagine and believe.-

And now, those words ring more true to me than they did this past January, which I guess I should explain,

You see regardless of my train of thought at the end of last year, by February, my life began to cloud over, I had already been in pour health for some time, and it was beginning to get the best of me…for one thing I couldn’t write, which for me, is like snatching a bottle from a baby or alcoholic, take your pick…writing is my addiction, and I had the worst writers block I’ve ever known, hence, I knew I wasn't happy. In fact, I was simply miserable in every way, and I couldn’t put the breaks on my emotions. I was sick of myself.

Then, came the arrival of one of those typical Louisiana Springs, full of the kind of afternoon thunderstorms that tests your nerves like a colicky baby. I wanted to yell out of one of my windows, "Enough already!" My life was turning into days and days of pouring rain- Mainly because one of best friends in the world was dying of lung cancer. She passed away at the end of June, we met when we were twelve years old, so we were close friends for 35 years-, and now she is gone-

Which brings me back to my words,

Most of the worlds' great things were born of adversity and hardship; because these roadblocks encourage us to dream, imagine and believe.-

It seems to me that when the pain in our lives pull on our heartstrings, it stretches our hearts, thereby creating a greater capacity for love, joy, compassion, forgiveness, etc... In fact, after this year, I think my heart has grown to the size of a bottomless pit- Although, don’t get me wrong, I am not naive, meaning, I do realize,  that much of the time pain and tragedy taxes the human heart to the point of pulling it in the other direction. I just believe that life is about paddling through to the other side, in other words, if we make it through the “hardship and adversity,” we win the prize of knowing abundant joy, or I pray this for us all, because, as Thoreau said, “Indeed our time is short, at the longest.”


In closing, I hope that after reading all of these paragraphs, you won't think of me as mellow dramatic, because it's hard to articulate how thrilled I am at this moment. As I write this post, I feel as though I am wrapping my arms around a long lost friend, and indeed, I am. It is a great feeling, because here on this blog, writing to my fellow friends, bloggers, and writers, I can let my soul fly, and my imagination take its course.

I guess one of the reasons blogging is such fun, is because there are no deadlines, judgments, or contracts- just writing and friendship. 



In truth, I feel like I did the first time I saw the gulf coast; I was ten years old and so blown away by it's vast beauty that my stomach went into an excited flutter. I think it was one of the first times I realized how important and wonderful it was to be alive.  I felt a content happiness, close to the way I felt when I daydreamed into the branches of my grandmother’s pecan trees, or when my mother read to my brothers and I, but that was when I was much younger, of course.

I used to lay in my grandmother's front yard, and read, where the grass was cool, although there were times when I read the same paragraph repeatedly, because my grandmother had a habit of talking to people in a low voice from a distance.  I loved her dearly, but there were times when I looked forward to reading quietly, and I could hear her asking me something miles away through her front porch screen.. After years of this, I  could guess what she was saying, but I still tried to ignore her, so I could read,  although,  by the time she gave up, the late afternoon birds would begin to whistle loudly above my head. But, you know, I would give my right arm to have one second of those moments again.

All right, I suppose that's enough head in the clouds dreamlike writing. I hope I haven’t bored you or taken too much of your time, posting such a long post.

It’s just that I really wanted to tell all of you where I have been since earlier this year, because I have had an awful fear that you may feel deserted, or like I never cared for any of you at all, and I hope that after you  read all of this, you will realize that, that was not the case. (How could you not)

Hence, I would like to apologize to all of the special friends I have met blogging, and to my only pen pal,  with whom I love dearly. (You know who you are…and I am dying to write you.)

Finally, another reason for the length of this post, and my delay in posting it, is my computer has two of those awful trogan viruses, and Dell has advised me to back up my files and wipe it clean. This is happening at the same time my car broke down, my son’s car broke down, I am out of paper, and my only pen ran out of ink- However, not all is lost, because I do have a huge red mark-so-lot. I am not sure if I spelled mark-so-lot correctly, but I am sure you now what I mean.

Burgh…life, but I will return, and when I do, and I haven’t pawned my digital camera to fix the car, because the computer lost all my manuscripts, I will take a picture of what I have written on my walls in red mark-so-lot, due to writers withdrawal.

I love you all and I will return-



"Till the next time we say good-bye" - Mick Jagger