Oh Snap

I don’t usually tell people this, but my ideal way of spending an evening is contemplating the derivatives of displacement, as I move from one …

Oh Snap

The Red Chair

For as long as I can remember, my mother had this red chair that has fold out steps to help her reach things in the kitchen. At 5 foot 4 inches tall, she surely needed it for things higher up in the cabinets. That chair moved all over the country with us and has survived nearly a half a century of kitchens and my family.

The Red Chair is a core memory of my life and has many fond memories of not only my Mother, but Dad, and other family members who sat in it over the years. It has provided a respite for many a rear over the years during holiday gatherings and kitchen chats. During the last couple of decades, it often sat to my mother’s left, on the other side of the kitchen. Her left hand chair, so to speak.

Recently, our mother passed away. Don’t extend sympathies. She was 84 and lived a good, long life. She was a phenomenal woman. She also loved her family in her own funky way. I had the opportunity to gather some things from her home in the days after. One of which was the red chair.

Today, I had a moment and just went to sit in the chair. It’s not in its permanent place in my home, I have to move things around to make a proper place for it. But, for now, it is exactly where it needs to be. While it may look alone, it is not. It is just outside the room where her other things are currently sitting, waiting for me to go through them and let the memories touch me. Sorting through a parent’s things is hard when they take flight. Until then, I will have the red chair to remind me of the good things. The best memories. Ah, but I digress…

I sat in that chair. I felt it’s cool seat underneath me and felt the presence of so many memories over the years wash over me from a levee that broke in my mind. I cried for a moment. While I have yet to process and accept her passing, that few moments of raw feeling was good enough for me. As I sat there, I could smell her home. I know it came from the things in the room. But, the door was shut and the scent was strong as ever. At that moment, I had to chuckle to myself. Looking down the hallway, the chair is sitting to the LEFT of the room where so many memories of Mom sit. I could hear her laughter and it touched my heart. 

It was only then, that I knew she was where she needed to be. Everything that I felt in that hallway this morning was meant to happen and it was her spirit letting me know these things. It gave me strength. In an instant, I knew that it was okay to feel sad that I could not call her and leave funny messages on her answering machine anymore. It was quite alright that I felt a twang of sadness over not being able to call her when I was cooking and talk about the silly things her sisters do. That it is okay that she is in heaven. 
She joins Dad, our sister, our brother, Charles, SR, most of her siblings,  and a host of other people who loved her when she was here. 

I know that, without a doubt, the next time the veil is thin between here and the spirit world, like Dad, she will check on me. She left me a concrete (well, metal) reminder that this is a promise.

The Red Chair.

Why do I Sit in the Dark?

Why do I sit in the dark, you say? It seems so sad, do you dismay? To this I say nay and I will tell you why.

I sit in the dark but I do not cry. I sit in the dark and it’s where I try… to listen. I hear the voices of my children growing up. I hear the gentle rhythm of a snoring pup. I hear the patter of the rain above. I remember the heartbeat of the one I love.

I sit in the dark and hear the sounds of all the world spinning round, a bird on the porch, the wind chime afar, squirrels on their perch, a shooting star. I sit in the dark and I hear inside. My own breath I take in stride.

I face my inner demons and talk to ghosts and spirits. I listen to everything and all I hear it. The shadows have finally turned from foe to stand right before me, for to toe.

This all that I have and if you must say, why do i sit in the dark day after day? To listen my friend, the sounds will fade. But they burn in my memory and never sway.

This is why I sit in the dark.

The Stuff Nightmares and Dreams are Made of

It is a beautiful and cool morning. I am thankful for that. I am actually able to open a few windows and air out the house before it begins to get warm and I am thankful for that. I also opened my Pumpkin Spice creamer today. We all know that makes me happy. It’s the little things, right? Scrappy had the zoomies first thing this morning and I love watching him zoom around the yard like that. That unabandoned happiness just makes me smile. Something I need to do a lot more lately. But, for now, it’s the little things and I will take it. I didn’t sleep well last night and I am not sure why. Unlike the rest of the country, I have not jumped on board of the whole “Mercury Retrograde” bus and do not attribute my lack of sleep to that. I had a couple of weird dreams and, maybe it was just that I need to get back into my rituals that I have not been doing on a regular basis. Let’s talk about these dreams. Before I begin, I am compelled to note, they are not about anyone at all, but me. Period. So, don’t read anything into it or make some snarky comment, because they will not be tolerated here. This is a safe space. Not only for my readers, but for me as well. Lets move on to talk about the stuff nightmares and dreams are made of. Or some such things.

The first one. I remember looking at the time when I woke up and it was just after midnight. For the first time in what seems like a millennia, it shook me and I was scared as if I were a child waking from a bad dream and am scared to go back to sleep. Despite human dreams beginning to fade over time, this one is still vivid to me. I was cooking something on the stove. The home I was in was not one that we are in now, and I remember being there with the boys. Only, they were both very small. Like toddler small. While they were not a part of the dream, I feel it important to include that because I was thinking about them as I was cooking. Just typical mom stuff, right? Also, it was strange that with the age of the boys in my dream, none of the other kiddos were there and Cal was not there either. None of the dogs were in this dream either. This includes the one that we had while living in the actual house. I don’t recall if they all went somewhere prior to me cooking or what. I also know, I was cooking something just for me. It was dark outside, and it was night time.

My surroundings reminded me of a place where we used to live that had since burned up and been refurbished. This is an important detail later as well. However, it seems the layout of the house was flipped. In the actual house, if you look at the stove and then to your right, there is a back door that leads into a glassed in porch where the laundry area is. If you look to your left, the doorway leads to the dining area. However, in this scenario, the right leads into a living room where there are stairs on the far side, by the front door and the left leads to the porch. Also, the original house did not have a second floor. Not sure if that matters. Just thought I would mention it. They say people only dream of stuff familiar to them. While this is familiar, it is not the same if you catch my drift.

Back to what I was doing. I was cooking. Not sure what it was, but it had something to do with frying something as I remember hearing the gurgling of the grease popping in the pan on the stove. Maybe it was chicken or something. Who knows. Suddenly, the power goes out. I don’t recall a storm or loud noise to indicate a transformer issue. I just remember it went out. I don’t know why, but I had a candle lit on the counter while I was cooking. (Indicator of something faith based?) I sighed heavily and looked to my right. There was a black void above the counter. I could see into the living room but that space terrified me. As if I were in a movie, I looked down at my feet, closed my eyes, and began to mumble to myself, ‘you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not rea…” It was in that moment, I felt my shirt collar and belt loop begin to move as if I was being lifted by them. I don’t know why, but I remember it being a white button up shirt, and stonewashed jeans. Neither of which I own. Also, why in the hell would I be wearing a white shirt and cooking with grease?? Ah, but I digress. Just my dream stream of thought. So, I was lifted and my head and arms and most of the upper part of my body was levitated into the cabinet above the stove. Nothing was in the cabinet, but there I was. I never hit my head or grabbed for the cabinets. I was too busy trying to reach for my collar and back as well as covering my head to avoid injury. Suddenly, I vomited. It wasn’t spew like either. It was more like someone pouring oatmeal out of my mouth and I tried to scream. Only, it would not come out. I could only make little noises at a conversational tone and they were far from screams. I was then pulled out of the cabinet and began to float to the other side of the kitchen, near the ceiling. I was finally able to scream.

Then, I woke.

When I tell you I was shook. I was shook. I was just glad to be out of that dream. I tried to roll over and just go back to sleep. However, I could not. I felt the urge to turn on a different light to provide some illumination to the room. After I did that, dream forgotten at the moment, I went back to sleep.

The second one was not really a dream. Just something I heard. It was a female voice that I did not recognize and it pulled me out of a sleep at around 2 AM. I don’t remember dreaming anything at all, if I am honest with you. The voice just said, “Micaa, come here!” The tone was like ‘come and see this’ mixed with ‘get your ass over here this instant!’ Not sure. I woke up and found no one out of the ordinary. I got myself a glass of water, took a sip, and went back to bed. The rest of the night was pretty uneventful. I have house ghosts and I believe it may have been one of them. I am certain one of them is a female.

Definitely the stuff nightmares and dreams are made of. Not sure why I felt the need to document this or write it down. Something compelled me to do so. I am off to start my day. Tell me about some dreams you have had that were familiar yet different.

What do YOU think?

Stagnant Energies

As I was taking my daily walk the other day, it occurred to me how a lot of the physical items I have been holding on to harbor energies that may not be good for me or the energy in the item may just be stagnant. I will say this is a new thing for me. As I have stated before, I have found a faith that resonates with me and, while it is not for everyone, it is for me. Within that belief system, there is much talk on stagnant energies.

Upon reflection, I have always felt good after going through a room and getting rid of things that are broken, missing pieces, or we don’t need anymore. It’s like a weight is lifted, just a little bit. However, all my life, I have held on to things for memories, just in case, and you never know when you will need this thing. I am slowly beginning to understand that physical things for the sake of having them is not a way to live. It is exhausting and I am seeking to change it. It’s just that a lifetime of habits is hard to break.

So, I will do it a little at a time. I have started with the storage we have inside our home. In the weeks before the pandemic hit and shut the world down, I had pulled a bunch of things out of storage and put them in a spare room to ready them for a massive yard sale. A yard sale that never happened. I wanted to do the event at the end of March 2019. Of course, it never happened. To make things worse, I continued to put stuff on top of the yard sale pile for it to be part of that or just to get it out of the way and it became a mess. Oh, I reorganized it from time to time. Like everyone else, I hoped it was just a passing thing.

Today, I began to tackle that stuff. I am going to donate what I can to charity or little libraries, or give it to neighbors who may make better use of it than I am with it just sitting in there collecting dust. While I only got a little bit done, it felt good to get rid of the broken stuff and just clean it out a little bit. Who knows when I will get back around to it. But, I do find myself every day getting rid of things I don’t need or have too many of.

Hoarders often have a hard time with doing things like this. I am not a hoarder but I did find it difficult to part with some things that I know will just sit in a storage box and not be seen until I go through the box again. It’s a memory. It’s a thing. I’ll get better. It has not become a disease for me. I also feel better when I get rid of things. Besides, it makes room for the new. Also, I am not in a position where I feel I have to hang on to everything because, ‘just in case.’ If it is a little thing, I can always go get another. This doesn’t mean I get rid of the kids yearbooks or certain things like that. I am getting rid of the six other copies of their favorite book and keeping the one bearing the most memories. I will pass it on to them when the time is right instead of sitting on it or keeping it in the attic, never to be seen again. I can’t take it with me when I go reincarnate, right?

Stagnant energies need to be banished from your home. It makes things feel lighter, happier, and so much better. It allows you to set new intentions and call back the good energy you need to get up and live your life. This will be a process. One I am glad to work on.

What do YOU think.

Something is Better than Nothing

What kinds of things are brought to mind when you hear the phrase “Something is better than nothing.”? For me, it is all about my depression and, how it prevents me from being productive. Or, how I can be productive, but in short spurts and it becomes a manic race to finish a task or an entire to-do list before I lose the motivation to finish what I started. Once I lose that motivation, there is no getting it back that particular day. Honestly, there is no telling when I will be so inspired again. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe never. This is where you have to MAKE yourself get up. Even if it is to do one thing. No matter how tiny the task. It is better than doing nothing at all and wallowing in that hole that wants to keep you there. Something IS better than nothing.

However, it is easy to say. It is the doing that is the difficult part. Thinking about getting up to do the thing may make you tired, sick, sad, or just want to give up because it is only a small part of a bigger thing. Still, get up and do it. Let’s take the dishes. Okay, so you let the sink get full. It happens to all of us. Especially moms, and dads. Life just makes you think you will do it later. Only, later never comes. Instead of washing ALL the dishes. Why not rinse them off and stack them so they will be easier to clean when you do get around to it. Or just was one type. Maybe the plates. For me, the plates are the easiest to wash and I love how they stack in the drainer. If you are lucky enough to have a dishwasher, put just the cups in there. Of course it will take effort and of course it will take a few minutes. But guess what? You chipped away at it. It’s not such a big job now that you did part of it or made it easier later. After you do the one little thing like rinsing them for easier wash later, go back to your hole or take a nap.

Doing that one thing on that one day is not going to drag you out of your funk. However, it is a stepping stone to something larger. Okay, you forced yourself to get up and do that one tiny part of the dishes today. Pat yourself on the back for it. Cherish that little victory. It may not seem much in the big picture but it is YOUR victory. Tomorrow, the dishes may still be there. There may be more. But you know what? There is not as many as there could have been. When tomorrow comes, it may not be the dishes. If the thought of trying that again overwhelms you, then try another task.

It doesn’t have to be cleaning. It can be as simple as changing your shirt, or brushing your teeth. After you do that for a while, it gets easier to make yourself get up and do SOMETHING. Then, you can move on to a more intermediate level and do two things. Before you know it, you will be back to better than you were and things will have some semblence of order and clean that was not there when you were in the throes of depression.

Always make yourself get up and do something. Today, I decided to walk laps up and down the hallway. For the first time in a while, it helped me think. I noticed I had been dragging my feet and the something I did was to hold my head up while walking and put forth a valiant effort to not drag my feet. You know what? Before I knew it, I was 20 minutes in, and I felt so much better! Normally, I would walk it for about 5 minutes and sit down like a big bag of hurt. Maybe dragging my feet was not helping. I felt so inspired I am going to work on that more. At my age, this world has dragged me so (horrible people, bad energy, hate, fat, just, ugh) that I had begun to drag my feet. In retrospect, that is my walk and I really need to change it because it is not healthy and it does not help me in the long run.

As you can see, doing something, even if it is just self reflection was better than trying to sleep my life away or being sucked into a video game to void out the bad vibes I feel in the air. You’ll understand when I go to talking about Stagnant Energies and bad vibes and ill will later.

In the mean time, get yourself up and make yourself go do something good for you or your surroundings. Even if it is to just grab a clean blanket. Something is better than nothing.

What do YOU think?

We Have Come to a Crossroads

Bet you didn’t expect to find this in your reader today, huh? I have taken a long break from writing and I am feeling it call to me once again. I, for one, hope this is a good thing. However, I am taking a different approach to it this time around. For quite a few of us the pandemic changed so many things about our lives and for others, not so much. Some of us were already doing all the pandemic things (except the whole mask thing) and just didn’t know it. That was me. I am that. That being said, there were some changes. Some good. Some bad. Now, we have come to a crossroads. Ergo, I am going to take a moment or post or however many it takes to change the way I am going to write in this space. Maybe I will lose some readers and maybe I will gain some and maybe it will stay the same. Who knows. I just want to write.

I have been doing some deep reflection lately and have had many conversations with myself and know what I need to improve up on and what I need to fix. Quite a few of those conversations, I hope to share here. Some were helpful. Some were not. If anything I say here can help just one person then, my job as a writer has come full circle. You’re welcome.

Before I put my pen down, I had wanted so bad for my words to be found on bookshelves outside of my own doing. However, I knew that my talent was not that great and that I wrote how I felt and the tone was how I spoke. Often, that was to my detriment as it was sometimes unclear and who knows if the grammar was there. Apparently, many readers are as passionate about that as republicans are about carrots. Ah, but I digress.

I just want you to know there will be many different directions taken here. I have found a faith that resonates with me and brings me peace. It is not traditional and I have yet to fully bring it out as I have loved ones who are not fully accepting of it. I’m working on that. It’s a long process. I feel it is akin to someone coming out of the gay closet. Only, mine is full of brooms, and rocks, and so on. I will also talk about the metaphysical and, of course, how peoply it is out there. Yes, that is always there and maybe there will be some funnies along the way.

Feel free to keep scrolling if none of this interests you. This is an outlet for me. Should you choose to share my journey and it resonates with you, feel free to share with others and by all means, please leave me a comment. Even link me to your blogging or etsy shop, or art. I would love to see it and may even give a follow. I also have other outlets I am doing other things on and would love to share with other audiences as well. It’s all about word of sight, right?

So here we go, into the decision as we have come to a crossroads. Join me as we go… into the thick of it!

What do YOU think?

Tail of the great manure skirmish

There’s an old nursery rhyme that opines girls are “sugar and spice”, but boys are composed of “snails and puppy dog tails”. Another version implies …

Tail of the great manure skirmish

Squirrel! I’ll save you!

Recently, I was out with Cal free walking Scrappy. Well, Cal was fishing and I was working on the free walking. I don’t know what else to call it. It is where you can take the leash off the dog and train them to remain close to you or return while enjoying a walk. It gives them a little more freedom instead of the linear walking with a lead. This is important to know, because Scrappy was off his lead when he did this (in his mind,) heroic thing. It all started when he Spotted a squirrel.

Scrappy does this pointer thing when he is focused on something from afar that gets his attention and he is trying to get more information. He stands at attention with three legs ready to take off in a spring and the other one, usually the right front paw, pulled up just so. You know how pointers do it. There was a squirrel about a meter away, frolicking in the grass and watching us. It must have been curious as we were in an area that not that many people, or dogs for that matter, frequent. As I walk along, enjoying the day, I observer Mr. Scrappy in his pointer stance and see the squirrel too. They were basically looking at each other. The squirrel, non-chalantly munching on something and Scrappy, in his pointer stance, nose wiggling as he sniffs the air. Ears forward. “Squirrel!” his posture said.

Suddenly, because it is what I do, I decided that this would be the perfect time to trip over some air. Afterall, we are in the south and, despite it being bitter cold and not so humid, I am certain there are patches of humidity laying around just waiting to jump out in front of me. That has to be the only explanation I can muster for why I feel the ground needs a hug so often. Ah, but I digress. I fell. Sprawled out on the grass, flatter than a pancake. Thank Gosh there was no one around to see me flail to grab nothing and land on my face with an “ugh” of a thud.

Scrappy heard it though.

This was his queue to immediately come running over to me and lay across my back, still watching the squirrel, and pin me down. Without removing his focus on said squirrel, who was unphased by my sudden change in stature, Scrappy began to growl in said squirrels direction. “Mom down! I’ll save you! Grrr!” I had to pause and reflect on what had just happened. I took my moment and thought about it and turned my own gaze to the squirrel who was still munching away matter-of-factly.

With a growling bully dog on my back, I came to the moment and decided to get up. “Get off me!” I said as I rolled over to sit up. At that point, the squirrel scurried away and Scrappy’s demeanor changed. “Oh! Play time!” and he began to hop around like a happy deer. To put that in perspective, often deer will bound away at the first sign of danger. Their unique leaping allows them to change directions in a single ‘hop’, and all four of their legs touch the ground at the same time while running. They have muscles in their legs that give them distance and height. This is now what Scrappy is doing as I try to get up off the ground.

After my recovery, I reflected upon that as we continued our walk. I don’t get to walk him much because he gets overly excited at the prospect of a walk. I was able to on this day as he jumped out of the truck and had quite a dose of the zoomies when we first hit the pond. Were it not for that, if I tried to walk him, I would be on YouTube somewhere being drug along behind the Scrappy Wagon. Wow, what a western genre movie that would have made. Haha. Training will get us there and make it easier for me to walk him. Hopefully, the ground will be full up on hugs and I won’t have to be protected from some sketchy errant squirrel anymore.

What do YOU think?

Misery Loves Shelter In Place

At fifty, Corinthia is just tired. There are so many things she needs to get done but when she goes to chip away at her to do list, it is hard to know where to start. Further, the list is so damn long she get easily overwhelmed and almost says “fuck it.” Then she feels the need to at least try and runs into obstacles. Either things necessary to clean up are not available or she lacks the energy, money, or both to get these things done. Forget going to the store. That is a big ordeal and that involves taking a shower first.

Speaking of… she really needs to do that too. The dog keeps telling her where the stinky places are. Yuck. Thinking back, it really has been two weeks, hasn’t it? This mandatory stay at home bullshit has to end soon. She needs air and wants to go back to work.

With the pandemic, people are at home taking care of their pets and one by one, she lost all her clients. They all walk and bathe their own animals now. Damn this world taking the one thing away from her that brought happiness.

Happiness. What is that really? Corinthia imagines it is some construct fabricated to keep sheeple in place and that reality is much more depressing and dull. This shit consumes you like a warm blanket and won’t let you go. No, it’s more like quicksand. You know, that stuff an entire generation was taught was a real danger in elementary school. Hell, maybe that was an imaginary construct created by the last of the great teachers to tell us that depression was coming. Man. We lacked severe foresight didn’t we?

Oh how she longs to open the Windows and blinds to let in that fragrant fresh air and glorious sunlight. Alas, the government has decided that this virus is spread via natural light and we have to stay boarded up, prisoners in our own homes. Sure, it eradicated the homeless. However, what about the essential delivery people? They must be in cahoots or it’s all a facade.

Corinthia gets up to look in the mirror. Despite remaining active and laying off the sugar and eating as Heath as possible, she has ballooned and doesn’t know that miserable wretch looking back at her. What the entire fuck.

“Can this ever improve?” At fifty, Corinthia is just tired. Of everything.

What do YOU think?

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