Tag Archives: Relationships


I dig this poem sooo much! Very clever, love the use of alliteration and who does this NOT resonate with? Anyone?

*You over there with your hands raised – “Please sit the hell down!” lol.

The Conversation

I see a ME without YOU and wondered if you knew
there’d be a YOU without ME and that’s the way
you really wanted it to be.

I wanted there to be a YOU with ME that would
make up a WE and see how that would feel,
but alas, that’s not a vision YOU could see.

Were “we” not in the same space and time when it was
ME you would find as your needs itched so deep only I could
give the relief YOU claimed to seek… Or was that just ME?

Was it not YOU that said, in time just another one of
your repeated lines that we could be two lovers
Who could share the same space not just smile in each
other’s face,But yearn and live for each other’s embrace.

YOU said though it would take some time I should accept that
It’s better to…

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At My Mother’s Knee: Unlearning The Lessons Of Childhood

In the ongoing pursuit of a better life and spiritual growth, I sat down to watch Oprah’s Life Class today. I have been recording them on my DVR since things have been too hectic to watch them as they air. The one I chose featured Toni Morrison and James Cameron. They were discussing validation and how it is especially important for a child’s self-esteem. It broadens and strengthens your relationships. Oprah said that in all her years of interviewing, the one thing common to all beings is the need to be seen.

Funny, because I just wrote a similar line saying the very same thing for my novel. “Everywhere I go, I draw looks but only you have ever really seen me..” Damn thing woke me up out of my sleep. Right.

I watched the first few minutes and nodded my head in agreement. They flashed back to 2000 and Toni Morrison said that she makes a conscious effort to always greet and acknowledge her children with a loving face. She had an aha moment when she realized that she tended to greet them and look them over to see if they were mussed or messy. At some point in time, she realized that was not what they needed. She came to understand that she had unconsciously presented them with the “face” of criticism erroneously believing that they knew the deep love she felt for them in her heart. Wrong.

It was then that the leaking began.

I’m used getting teary when watching Oprah as she always manages to touch me but the more I watched the more uncomfortable I became until I was full out crying.

I did not want to think about why it affected me so but I am too old not to know that it is precisely those things that we don’t want to think about that require our most intense focus.

They were reminding me of my childhood and wounds that I always like to think are healed but every so often, no matter how old I get, I realize that they lie dormant woven into the fabric of my existence. No matter how I try to shirk them off or outrun them, they always manage to rear their head at unexpected moments.

The rush of thoughts running through my brain sounded like this:

“Do parents really do that? Validate their children by greeting them with a loving demeanor and focus?”


“Wouldn’t that be nice though? Imagine what that would have meant to you.”

“How often have you been guilty of barely acknowledging your SO’s presence because you’re working on something? Pretty often. He understands… Does he?”

“That critical face…you do that too.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You know you do and you know where you learned it from…”

My mother had me at 19. My father took no responsibility for me and went off into the service to do his thing. My mother was devastated and quite honestly, ill equipped. From her, I inherited my complexion, my eyes, my hands and feet, my quick wit, temper, silliness and sharp intelligence. At her knee, I learned what it is to be mostly angry at life because most of the people who love you will disappoint you and just how unfair the world is. I learned to be strong because it is necessary, to despise my emotionalism because it was a sign of weakness in her eyes and to criticize.

As I peeled back the layers of this onion, I heard at least two men from past say that I have a tendency to nag. Imagine that? lol I dismissed that at the time because most men say that about women and it is mostly a cop out for their failures or a refusal to examine themselves. Yet, at this moment I finally understood what they meant and it went deeper than what they said.

Like Toni Morrison, I am prone to hone in on whatever is wrong or needs fixing. I am completely comfortable breaking it down for you if you don’t understand as most Sisters are. I turn this harsh critical light on myself as well. I am absolutely comfortable expressing my love in the written word but like my mother, emotional displays from loved ones often make me uncomfortable and I find it incredibly hard to lean on people because I am terrified that they will disappoint me and so, the voice of the harridan comes easily because it is my first line of defense. I will have to work on stopping that voice or at least minimizing it and make a more concerted effort to be loving.

It disturbs me that it took me all this time to recognize and understand this chain of behavior and motivation. It disturbs me even more because I understand that need for validation very well since I was often ridiculed or ignored. Self-awareness…..How could I not sift through the threads of what people said about my behavior to get at the true meaning? I can only say that I wasn’t ready.

Damn it, I was minding my own business and along comes another flaw.

I am angry for the little girl who will always live inside me. I am still trying to teach her how to run and overlook the scars on her knees… Another day, another lesson.

The Battle Of The Pork Chop

Oy! Ever had a day when your head is just bursting with ideas and when you sit down to write you don’t know where to begin? Today is that day for me. I am, however, feeling the need for humor so I will try to put aside all other weighty matters for just one day. I hear you cheering me on :).

There are interesting dynamics that arise out of your relationship status and home life. Married? Single? Same Sex? Weekend Relationship Warrior? Daring Remarried-Divorcee with ever growing extended family? Interracial Hotbed? Embattled Single Parent? Fabulous Fashionista Club Addict and the list goes on. They are usually quite predictable in their joys and triumphs. The fun comes when they are not.

My status is rather simple, it’s just me and my fiance. We are NY transplants who have relocated to the suburbs. It seems like I’ve been here so long but I still miss the fevered pace of NY. Some nights, I am just overcome with boredom and just want to go OUT. Where? Ummm, anywhere that the restaurants don’t start closing at 9 PM during the week. I miss the hum of the streets and being able to go out and hang out with the other nocturnal drones. So, with a somewhat crazed regularity, we jump in the car and race to NY just cause lol. Now that the tolls are $12, I will need to rethink such purposeless, if entertaining, trips.

Examining the dynamics of our home life I have unearthed some interesting things. Since we are childless, unlike many of my friends, I notice that my stories vary wildly from theirs. It would seem that since there are no little ones to look after, scold, or entertain us, we have become ummm regressive in some respects. Case in point…

I have a fierce love of Pork Chops. Yes, I am a Foodie but this tops even gourmet food in my taste lexicon. Well, not lobster with butter which is, bar none, one of the most sensual foods on the planet. My love of pork chops caused one of my nearest and dearest to call me Chuleta back in my 20’s and I wear it proudly! My fiance shares a similar love for them, no doubt based on his Southern upbringing. We indulge in them once a month and there is always some kind of brouhaha. Why? Well, he is a food thief. You know, the kind of person that while cooking skulks in the kitchen and scarfs down any morsel of food they can catch. It makes me crazy and I have abused him roundly – all to no avail. He laughs at me and continues so I now compensate by hiding food as I cook it. Can you imagine?  Apparently, his mother also had to deal with this indignity so I understand that I am fighting against what is now an ingrained habit lol.

This week’s menu contained 5 Pork chops. We agreed that the 5th would be split. What then possessed me to creep down to the kitchen, in the black of the night, and devour the chop? I confess that I took great joy in stealthily descending the staircase and giggled maniacally while I ate it. I had a bloated sense of satisfaction that I had gotten AWAY with it and the thought of his face when he went to forage and discovered the thievery = PRICELESS.

He is the early riser and I sleep in whenever possible. He has been known, completely lacking inhibition, to reverse mealtimes and eat last night’s leftovers for breakfast. So, I did not get to witness his ire when he found out what I had done but he left me a reminder – A pork chop bone, picked clean and hanging from a string on the cabinet door. The bone wore a yellow Post-it note that read, “Next time, this could be you.” Just another day at the reindeer games. You can’t make this stuff up!

OMG, I laughed until tears came down my face. Score 1 for The Disgruntled Housewife, as he affectionately calls me. Do I care? Not one wit.

We have similar skirmishes over chips, nuts, crackers, cheese. Take your pick.

This then is what I lovingly refer to as “Walking what is left of our wits..” Which is a line from my all time favorite movie Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf? 

Hey, it could be worse, we could be taken with alcohol, like Martha and George :).


A monument of pain stands between us.

It went up stealthily,

brick by impervious brick.


My silence,

rich with the strength of complicity

and self righteousness, 

became the mortar that holds us in place.


No one is as surprised as me,

to watch our selves

spin heedlessly towards destruction.


In the face of carelessness,

I set about the bloody task

of tending to wounded spirits and broken hearts.


I implore you for a little care

but my words echo back emptily

as all frequencies are blocked

by the white noise of indifference.


I chance upon our words,

lying languidly ‘cross overstuffed chairs,

entangled in sweat drenched covers,

or trip over them, 

discarded and forlorn,

on treads well worn, leading nowhere.



A word that evokes respect of ancient ways.






In olden days,

worship was my middle name.

and I moved the earth 

with my seasons of change.



I am enslaved,

to clean your house,

bear your children 

and safeguard your heart.



I go about my tasks

but am distracted by the cries

of the small, shackled Spirit

whose promise was subsumed beneath

the weight of her responsibilities.


This then is what’s required

 to make you feel more

 Alive and functioning.


While I die,

choking on my silence,

– Punctured…

Re-Post: The Angels

I keep looking for the feature to re-post/re-blog and can’t find it. Funny thing is I swore that I saw it earlier this week. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? lol

I also tried the new “Copy A Post” feature and it will not work for older posts – go figure. Phooey, so much for time savers! If anyone knows, please enlighten me. TGIF!!

Click here for The Angels.