In search of perfection

I’ve got my lime

I’ve got my mint

I left the last of the ice in it,

I found the rum

stole the hummingbird food too,

went round the world (on-line of course)

in search of the perfect mojito.

I love the green that swims in it

I love the drops from the cold as it sits,

To pluck and chop and stir so sweetly

but it always seems to go down too quick

I’ve got more limes

more than enough time

the sweetest man who whips it up

service with a smile

I think I may just have to sit with it awhile,

savor the flavor beneath the winter sun

and pretend like I’ve just begun,

hey bartender, I’ll take one more

as the Mexican perky music plays

I realize these my friends, are perfect days.

Hubby and I grabbed some mint at the farmers market and some limes, whipped up some sweet syrup and relaxed poolside sipping, then hubby found a new recipe, the best one yet and mixed more up the next day. He’s had the flamingo stir stick for over 25 years, must have known it was a harbinger of things to come, moving to Florida and yummy drinks poolside. Life is good indeed. Ribs on tap for dinner tonight and looking forward to that.

Dog poop and yummy food

So our neighbor inquired if we had been, how shall I say it, putting dog poop bags into his garbage can. I stifled a laugh and of course said Nope, wasn’t us. Our neighbor doesn’t use his garbage can, he makes one tiny bag per week that sits on his lawn, soaked by his sprinkler system and I suppose the garbage men get to pick up wet and drippy but “clean garbage” when all is said and done. Well, apparently he had just looked into his can for the first time in forever and found a dog poop bag with a gift within. He was a mite upset about the whole ordeal, and it’s not like he’s an old cranky codger or anything, in his early sixties at best. Now I pick up our dogs gifts that they bestow daily like clockwork, tie it tight and slap it on my back in the pack I carry. I take it home where I have a metal can specifically for these gifts. So flash forward a day and he asks my husband again if he’s seen anyone in his yard depositing Fifi’s little gifts into his trash can. Of course we have not, and once again, no it isn’t us. I figure he must have upset someone in the neighborhood, how I do not know but we hope he puts up a camera and catches the suspect soon. He is not a dog owner or he would obviously be making more garbage per week, I should know, our two are never-ending machines at making gifts. I am still chuckling about it and at least someones picking up their dog poop besides us.

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On another note, but a much nicer one, hubby made a scrumptious breakfast today and I thought I’d take a pic and share. My girl Lady G had a post the other day asking about what people are cooking up these days and today we were blessed to partake in this:

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Now that there is cinnamon apple bread french toast with real New York maple syrup with chicken breakfast sausage to compliment. See, and you thought this whole piece would be about dog poop, didn’t you? So what’s happening in your neighborhood that’s given you a laugh lately or what’s cooking good-looking? Please share, the world needs more chuckles and growling stomachs.

Gold

Trinkets and tidbits pressed together

reminiscent of a bus with one too many passengers

jostling with each step, each bump rocking

back and forth heaped yet trying to remain

separate in space.

Boxes heaped with rusted bolts and nuts

and the odd occasional I don’t know what

forced like sardines as I search

for the elusive gold.

I know not the name of what I seek,

only knowing when I see it I shall know

that this is the one I had waited for

and I move forward in the crush

glancing here and there

while lost in towering piles of toys and trash

I turn the corner into the fresh breeze of beyond

knowing that today is not the day

to unearth the prize

of a flea market surprise.

Yesterday my husband and I journeyed to Bradenton to visit this big red barn flea market, not in search of fleas, please….I needed a piece of wood or something for my watercolor class that would fit my lap and not be hurt by water, paint, etc….I love the antique areas but there was one crushed area that was filled with to say it politely, junk. Boxes and boxes of metal pieces and bolts, chains, etc….packed so tightly you trip over these remnants from what looks like World War one. I did not find what I was looking for so went to Walmart where I happened to score the last purple ridged cutting board that should suit nicely. Not a flea market find but for 7.50$, I can always use it to cut veggies on if it doesn’t work out for the art thing. this image is not the flea market I attended, this one looks cool (trenton punk rock flea market) or something like that 🙂 Peace and happy shopping folks.

 

With the flow

 

We ripple our thoughts on purpose,

watching them move up and down

coming together for but a moment

then watch as they slip away once more.

We wonder where they move to,

what lies in their depths we can no longer see,

feeling them brush by, leaving just a hint

of their former selves

then dissipating into nothing.

I dream in colors some days

as the rain falls beyond the glass

slippery pearls dripping down one by one

and I lie and watch the slow motion of the fan

circulating on its journey

moving the invisible air around

cooling my body with its quiet touch.

So many things to do,

a million words slipping here and there,

sometimes falling onto stone

permanent marker time cannot erase,

for I leave them behind

like stepping-stones for those to come

to wonder whose hand it was

that etched the primitive images

and what did they mean

back in the day

before their time began.

Thank You, Lord, for the Rain

Thirty Springs of Winter The winds swept in as we sat under the pines and listened to the green ocean high above, swaying, roaring, twirling our hair and the heads of the Ponderosas into one giant …

Source: Thank You, Lord, for the Rain

A gorgeous visit filled with beautiful heart-loved descriptive prose. Please comment on the original piece. Wow, enjoy with abandon my friends.

Dog days

We move
caught between movement of people
and then back again
to the quiet that lives here,
in this place,
where we know what is
and is not,
the faces becoming familiar
and then bags move between doors
and cars
and the quiet echo of empty rooms,
we wonder
and we walk there and smell the remnants
of those we know, wondering
where have they gone?
Sleep comes then,
no longer a need to protect
with the vim and vigor,
we move back into what we know,
the comings and goings-
our everyday people in and out with regulartity,
treats given in abundance
for they know we are suddenly lacking
the newest charges departed,
the faces we remember
our job on the back-burner,
we grow weary and sleep
as you lay by our side
back into the comfort
familiarity suits when needed.
Reminders of endings
as they watch us lovingly,
we are growing older
and you are not aware,
we watch as you grow older too,
napping and turning a bit grey
though you gaze and see still the bits of youth,
we are content in our beings,
moving through the rooms searching for friends
who left their scent in the remnants,
as you have left your mark,
we sleep on content
knowing
this is where the tides sent us to be,
floating on the bliss,
contently wrapped in the fabric
of the lives of of us.

Our friends from back in New York left today, the dogs a bit off-kilter not needing to “protect” the newest members of the pack, I found this pic on the web and this looks so like our girl Chi. Apple is tired, slowing down some days it seems, and I chronicle the lives for they are woven into the fabric that is me, pet owners will understand the inner workings of the mind of a dog owner…or perhaps cat lover too. Some days it makes me sad, getting older, life moving on, but life none the less….some day I too shall be amongst the glimmering stars, but till then, you will hear my words, and I hope, hug your loved ones and know how truly you and I are blessed. and because I know he is watching, hugs from Apple and Chi to Dad….i think your birthday is coming soon…ha! Watch your mail sir! woof!

Barest thought

In the quiet of a morning caught

the spellbinding sight of a rising sun

caught whispering to the soul

caressing the mind with thoughts of a day to come.

Eyes find their way through dream states,

memories of lingering images like wallpaper

strung up on the walls to see

moving through the museum of surreal things

we touch the fabric of that which we cannot name.

Resting on the tip of tongue

we hesitate perhaps a moment too long,

and watching as it fades from sight

the mirage ghost-like and cherished

then silently let go.

Who are we in these moments,

caught between wake and sleep

in Neverland worlds of beauty we wander

thoughts tracing words on invisible pads

and indigo ink mark our passage

lest we forget where we had been

on our return to those foreign lands,

as the clouded gate creaks with age

we gentle push forward and enter

the place where thoughts sit waiting

remembered once more.

 

Cotton candy

Thoughts spun like the sweetest sugar

essence of cotton candy memories painted

skies and seas conform to need

learning as the days go by.

Form and function never cease

but to set it free in midnight dreams

of a universe that moves about me

carrying my thoughts like a child in arms.

I reach back in to plumb the depths

where treasure waits for sight and touch,

I move closer to the lovely prize

like a thousand birds that take to flight

this quiet night.

I lose myself in minutes long

and blend it all in for it to become

a piece of the whole dripping lightly

with point and flat I feel myself flowing,

diving deep to become one with it all.

There is no storm-tossed water,

just tranquil blue beneath the setting sun,

rocking gently to the lapping of the waves

bare feet keeping harmony

to the song of this heart.

Somewhere between here and nowhere (part 2)

I looked down as my precious phone shattered into a few pieces, battery flying into the street and screen cracked like a bad car windshield after a nasty wreck. I only paused a moment before looking up at the man emerging from the shadows. Brown well-worn cowboy boots began at the pavement and tight-fitting jeans rose on long firm legs, also well-worn and nicely faded from the looks of it. I dragged my gaze ever upward. He stepped into the light and I could see a face as shocked as mine staring at me.

“Jesus H Christ missy, whatcha yelling about?  I’m just heading out from work, that’s all. Hush up before you wake the dead. I promise not to mug ya or worse so just shush please” and a smile slowly crept up on what I saw was a quite attractive face, in a young hollywood heart-throb  sort of way, dimples that must have gone straight to the back of his head. I closed my mouth then, slightly embarrassed at my display but hell, there’s a hand in the garbage can. It had to have come from somewhere. He took a step forward and I took a slight one backwards, feeling the earth crashing into my back as I fell off the curb and onto my backside. Matthew McConaughey wanna-be came running over and reached for my hand and at that point I allowed him to help me up from this graceful display of myself.

“There’s a hand in the garbage can” was all I could muster at that point. His eyes opened wide and he turned to look behind him at the old metal can.

“Oh God, not again” he muttered as he pulled me upright and then he strode over to the can. Lifting the lid and grasping his nose as the smell hit him. “Come on, we gotta get inside, quick-like please” and he shoved me forward towards the alley, grabbing my bag off the bench as we moved. “What about my cell phone? It’s got all my numbers and photos in there, I’ve gotta find a way to get it fixed,” I turned back to go get it. “No, you stay here, it’s not safe out here and I know my way around, I’ll get it. Wait here, okay?” and he strode back down the alley. I listened but heard only the wind moving the leaves and some remnants of trash nearby, staring up to see darkened windows on this two-story building and the stars above through the crevice. “Come on, let’s go in before they see us, if they haven’t already” and he brushed by me and obediently like a silly dog I followed.

He turned to the left where the building ended and pulled out a wad of keys. The metal clanging seeming to fill the air suddenly with sound, the loud click and turn of the tumbler reverberating in my ears. With a slight shove he opened the door and walked in. “Follow me, just be careful. It’s pretty late and as I can see how much of a ballerina you are on your feet and don’t want you to trip and trash the kitchen or to wake anyone up.” He must have been smiling as he said it because it was light-hearted and obviously not meant in a mean sort of way. Up ahead I could see a faint light. The smell of grease and cleaning solution was strong where we stood and he must have reached over and turned on a switch. A bare bulb above our head lit the small room and I could see a three tub sink and a stack of stainless steel pans and bowls set up on edge drying. SOS pads from a tipped box lay on a shelf and a big Yellow bottle of Joy, reminding me suddenly of my grandmother’s house when I was a kid. I hadn’t seen Joy in years, soap or otherwise.

We walked through a hallway and came out another door into the restaurant itself. He didn’t turn any lights on in here and walked to the front windows and peered out. He stood there for a minute and then turned back to me. I just stood there wondering what the heck I was doing here, with a stranger in a restaurant out of the 60’s and why on Gods green earth was there a severed hand in the garbage can out front. I cleared my throat but no words would come out. I opened my mouth, then closed it once more.

You’re out there screaming a few minutes ago and now you’re speechless. What’s up with that Miss? he said with a chuckle and moved towards me. His hand reached out and that killer smile was once again plastered on his face.  Chad, my name is Chad and this here restaurant is my Grandma’s. Her names Alice, but she doesn’t work here anymore, and he started singing the song and laughing quietly. Okay, she died last year, that’s why she doesn’t work here anymore, nor is she here anymore technically but I know she is in every pore of this old joint. I’m trying to hang onto it and keep it in the family. I spent my fair share of time here as a kid and this place is the closest thing I know to home, I refuse to give up and let her go now. Come too far and seen too much. Besides, have to keep it as Alice ’cause Chad’s restaurant just doesn’t have the same vibe. He laughed then and waited for my response. Suddenly I didn’t know what the heck to say in response. It was too strange and I knew he’d laugh or get all weird about it, I mean what were the odds, right?

My name is Allison, most just call me Allie. I didn’t dare tell him that my Grandmother and mother had always called me Alice, especially if I was in trouble for something, which was quite often from what I could recall. I could see how he felt about his Grandma and I didn’t want him to think I was mocking him.

Well, nice to meet you Allie, I don’t like the circumstances of this here meeting, that’s all. But that in itself is a long story and I’m a bit tired and it’d take too long to tell. How ’bout we just hunker down here tonight if that’s okay with you and when morning shows her pretty face, we’ll call the cops and go from there. Don’t like doing things in the dark and I don’t trust the cops 100% so we will take care of it then. It’s not like it’s going anywhere, right?

He went in the corner of the room to a closet, pulled out a blanket and tossed it to me. We’ll just push the table out and you can stretch out in the booth, it should fit you and I just had ’em redone so they should be comfortable. I’ll sleep over here. I promise not to do anything or get funny with you, besides, I’ve heard your screaming and the tenants upstairs would call the cops in a second. Then again, I’m surprised they hadn’t earlier.

I set my bag and the cell phone pieces on the table, the sheen of the plastic tablecloth shining from the back room light and I pulled the blanket over me. I knew I wouldn’t be dreaming of french fries or greasy burgers, hell, I’d be surprised if I even slept but it did feel good to get prone. I looked over at Chad but he had turned the other way and I could hear him breathing slow and deep. How the heck could he just do that? There’s a hand outside belonging to God knows who and he sleeps as if it was nothing in the world. I closed my eyes and fell into a fitful sleep, Alice’s Restaurant playing in my mind.

To be continued….

Somewhere between here and nowhere

I made it as far as Topeka before my cash ran out. Jumping off the bus in the darkness of this place wasn’t my idea of a life lived free but for now it would do. I glanced at the map beneath a street light, tattered and greasy from use, suddenly feeling like Columbus on a flat world, the crease and drop off a bit farther from where I currently stood.

I found a bench in front of a window with one of those cheap closed signs hanging off kilter, no hours posted but the place was dark. The smell of grease seemed to ooze from somewhere within the dingy windows and assaulted my nostrils in the night cooled air. A breeze picked up, the sound of metal coming towards me as a crunched can tumbled down the street. I sat my bag down and stood up to retrieve the can, my good girl sense of not littering never far. Lifting it with two fingers, stale beer dripped onto the still warm pavement,  I lifted the lid to a nearby trash can to throw the offending article away. In the light I could see the white rice on the lid moving slowly, realizing they were maggots and were everywhere, unhinging my gag reflex as I slipped the can into the darkness of the plastic tub, the smell of death and decay slammed me full value in the nose and I felt my granola bar I had eaten on the bus, rise to the surface of my throat. “Good God, what the hell is in there?” I retched next to the can and as I stood up, saw a hand laying next to the beer can I had tossed in. I leaned over and threw up anything else that had been left in my stomach, wiping my face with my arm, reached for my cell phone. I dialed as my hand shook and finally took a breath when a pleasant voice greeted my ears. “Topeka emergency services, what can I help you with today” and as I looked back to the trash can, frantically trying to compose my thoughts, a shadow moved from the side of the diner and it was then I found my lost voice and screamed.

To be continued…….