My Dad's Birthday

Dear dad,

Happy Birthday!!! I wanted to write to you but I didn't know where to send the card. I don't know what happens after the last breath leaves the body but I hope there is something else. Some people believe in the Golden Streets of Heaven theory, and I kind of wish I did (the idea of seeing you in your Knightsbridge trousers and one of those knit shirts you always liked is a wonderful thought), but I don't. So, I'm going to go with the crazy ass idea that maybe you read my blog. No, I don't use language like crazy ass all the time.

I'm okay. After you left, there were times I didn't know if I was going to be okay. I missed you calling me in the morning to help you with the jumble, and calling at night to see if the house was locked up. I wanted to just KNOW where you were. It was a hard time. Mom (Hi mom!) came up to live by us, and Jay and I would go get her several times a week and take her to the pet shop and the Galaxy Diner and the museum (I'm sure she's filled you in on all this). Her memory was shot, and she hated the place where she lived. It got better as her memory got worse. She liked it okay after awhile. Do you remember how she used to stand on the porch in Topeka and watch the storms come in? You and I would be in the basement and she would be in the wind and the rain looking for the tornado to reach down from those black clouds. And you could not get her down those stairs until she was ready. That's how it was. She was adamant that she wanted to GO HOME and she was NOT going to stay in that place. She had a nice, studio apartment in the Alzheimer unit but every time Jay and I showed up, she would have every single item in the room packed up and stacked by the door. "I'm ready to go now" she would say and Jay would look at me like SOMEONE must be crazy but he couldn't figure out who. She was there four years. At the very very end, when she forgot how to eat and it was really tough, she still smiled at me. I'm glad she's with you now.

There are some things I do because of you. I garden. Man, the garden is awesome. You would love it. I have all kinds of vegetables, although I did not grow okra. I could never stand it when mom made it. it's slimy, dad. Really. I make you zucchini bread every year with zucchini from the garden and send it up to you on November 1st, The Day of the Dead AND the day you died. I hope you can at least smell it. Barry made pasta last night with a sauce filled with yellow squash. I call it "squarsh" the same way you used to and Jay gets irritated at my butchering of the English language. When I say, "that's the way your grandpa said it" he smiles.

I also try to be a good person. I think I'm at about 80/20. You were always honest. You were always good to people and down to earth and dependable. Also, you were always curious about the world. You said once that you wished you had been able to go up in a spaceship and see the world from that high. You liked people and people liked you back. I'm working on all that. Except the spaceship thing.

Jay is a good boy. You would be proud of him. He is a basketball player and he does well in school. I still want to get him out golfing more. Remember when we used to all go golfing, you and mom and me? You guys would let me drive the golf cart even though I was too young and we'd go flying over those rolling fairways. Remember when we were staying in that hotel on our way to California to see Aunt Etha (Hi Aunt Etha!) and you and I crept out into that onion field early in morning while mom finished packing and we filled a paper sack with onions? And how six hours later after being the the sweltering trunk, they stunk so bad we had to throw them out? And wash EVERYTHING when we got to Etha's. Hahaha. That was funny.

Barry is my boyfriend. You would like him. He is good to animals and he taught Jay to play backgammon. He makes pottery on a wheel and you would love to watch him make something. It starts out as this lump of clay and then spins around and turns into bowls and cups. The clay seems like it has a life of it's own as it thins out and moves like liquid into a taller, finer shape. He is good to me. I know that's the thing that would matter the most to you. But he's also fun, and funny, and smart.

I work at Starbucks. I know that would be a-ok with you. You never had big aspirations for me, but work ethic was important to you. Sometimes I have to be at work at 4:15 am. Yes, I get up that early. Yes, I know you would not believe it. I also teach poetry at the college. Dad, my first book was published a year and a half ago. You would have given a copy to all your friends. You would have been very proud. Jay's on the cover.

When you died my friend Kate gave me this poem written by a little girl. I liked it and I've kept it and it's on my fridge. I thought you might like it. Somehow it made it easier for me. It's strange what makes things easier for people. It's all so different for everyone. This was one of mine......

When someone dies, a cloud turns into
an angel, and flies up to tell God
to put another flower on a pillow.
A bird gives the message back to
the world, and sings a silent prayer
that makes the rain cry. People disappear,
but they never really go away.
The spirits up there put the sun to
bed, wake up the grass, and spin the earth
in dizzy circles. Sometimes you
can see them dancing in a cloud during
the day-time, when they're supposed to be
sleeping. They paint the rainbows
and also the sunsets and make waves
splash and tug at the tide. They
toss shooting stars and listen to wishes.
And when they sing windsongs,
they whisper to us,
don't miss me too much. The view is nice
and I'm doing just fine.

Well, that's about all. I know there's so much more I'd like to say but I think I covered the basics. I have some great friends, I really like the town I live in, and I think about you guys a lot. I feel very grateful for this life. I miss you. Today is your birthday. I don't ever forget.

ox.

Thirty Days of Stuff

I have realized I have word constipation. I need to write, I want to write, but when I sit down and try to let the words plunk out, they get stuck. There I am, hunched over (this is NOT a pretty picture) groaning, and they just stay inside. Fuck. So, while I've been agonizing over what my writing THEME should be for the next 30 days, I have just not written a damn thing. So, starting today, I'm taking the writing laxative (a teeny pill with the even teenier words, I don't give a crap what people think, written on it) (Hell, I don't even know if anyone reads my damn blog) (Is there a rule regarding parenthesis-in-a-row?) (It appears also that I'm on a swearing jag), and I'm going to just WRITE every day for 30 days. No theme, no category to worry about, no guidance. Just write. I'm going to start with just a couple things.....

Can you all just have your money ready when you're waiting in a drive through line? Folks always look so surprised when I request a couple bucks for the latte they ordered. They've been waiting five minutes (talking on the PHONE of course, that's a WHOLE other post) and when they get to the window, they suddenly have to dig through change in the ashtray, riffle through their purse, or frantically search for quarters on the floor. Just saying.....

There was something about writing about constipation that made me swear more than usual. That's interesting. To me.

I'm not going to give myself any hard and fast parameters about this writing thing but I'm going to TRY to stretch and write about things other than ME. My friend Tyge wrote about 30 things and he wrote about bands and cock roaches and the like. I'm going to try and incorporate that It'snotallaboutme thing at least a few times.

There is a snake living in the backyard. Here's a picture of it. I like this. I feel like he's (she's?) just another part of the zoo. Doesn't bother the chickens. Stan seems oblivious. Barney could care less. The turtles stay inside. I picked him up the other day. He was really beautiful and felt dry and warm. He's about two feet long. He has a home under the porch and he has one particular small opening in the pavers that he has to crawl through to get in. He suns in the same place everyday. I find it to be a little gift, this snake living in the backyard.

And finally, because those of you that have been reading my blog probably miss the quotes, here's a couple......

My company mascot is the bumblebee. Because of its tiny wings and heavy body, aerodynamically the bumblebee
shouldn't be able to fly. But the bumblebee doesn't know that, so it flies anyways.
--Mary Kay Ash

"Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar."
--Drew Carey

DISCLAIMER: I, in fact, do not hate my job. I rather like it. But this quote ALWAYS makes me laugh.

____________________

There are too many things going on around here to write. I meant to say, there's nothing going on here to write about. Seriously, I'm still debating what to do my "30 days of _________" about. In the meantime, a few things......

My book, Game, was a finalist in the Patterson Poetry Prize. Li-Young Lee was the winner and he is amazing so I'm okay with it. I got the letter of congratulations - the one where they ask me to come and read my poems in NEW JERSEY. In FEBRUARY. For 300.00. And I put that letter in yet another one of my paper piles and thought...I can never do THAT. After a few days, during which time I realized I've never been to New York City, and I also realized (again) that life just fucking slips away if you let it, I have now decided that I am GOING to NEW YORK CITY. To read poems. And see museums. And Time Square.

My garden rocks.

I just started an etsy store. And, it's not about hand made stuff. It's a vintage store. It's only been up for a few days and I still have a lot more to add to it, but it's going. It's wonderbumble.etsy.com. I am too lazy to go through the cut and paste process right now, but if you look up wonder and then you look up bumble, that's got to be a good word if you smash 'em together.

Kansas II (psych)

I've been agonizing over writing my Kansas II post - not because something huge and emotional happened (or, more likely, something huge and embarrassing), but because I think I said it all in my Kansas I post. I had so much fun, but hey, I was only gone for 5 days. I even wrote a bit last night but it was so borrring. It pretty much went...

Oh I've been remiss. I've been meaning to write "Kansas II" and just haven't had time. So, here was Kansas in a nutshell... in the morning there was waking up, then coffee on the front porch. In the evening there were margaritas on the front porch. Blahblahblah. Neighborhood folks mowing lawns, riding bikes down the street, walking kids or dogs. Mostly, life was sitting on the front porch drinking something. Watching people. Waving to the neighbors. Blahblahblah. I like that life. Never want to live in that life on a regular basis though, just visit it from time to time.

I think there were another couple paragraphs but they are so very not important. So instead I thought I'd show you these nice reading glasses I stole. Yes. I stole them. Went in to my eye doctors to pick up my contacts and started trying on glasses. Nice, expensive reading glasses. Wasted a crapload of time trying on GLASSES that I was never going to BUY. Then, I get home and I have a pair on my head. Hahahahaha. I felt like an idiot. It reminded me of when my dad used to say, you'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on. So anyway, they have been returned, I said my apologies, and the receptionist stifled a laugh.

I think I'm ready to do another "30 days of ___________." I was inspired by my blog friend, Tyge, who is doing "Thirty days of the simple things that make me smile" on his blog, The Neon Lounge. (which sounds a little goofy, but yesterday it was about dead cock roaches and it made me laugh really hard....check it out). I've done a couple of those blogs already....the "thirty days of beauty" and the "thirty days of blogging" so now I'm going to do (drumroll) "thirty days of recipes" Hahahaha. Not food recipes silly, although maybe I'll throw one of those in, but thirty days of how-to blogs, kind of like recipe poems. Let me explain. A recipe poem is where you poetically tell how to make something, or teach, or tell how something is done. So, I start tomorrow.