Sometimes the Coffee Stirs Ya

The first line of this poem was shamelessly stolen from a coffee cup cozy at a famous name brand coffee shop a couple of years ago.  Should I mention their name?  Oh hell, why not give them credit.  StarBucks.  StarBucks on State Street near the University of Wisconsin to be exact.  I used to go there with my fella.  <grin>

I hereby dedicate these poems to Larry and Starbucks.  Larry knows the value of a good cup of coffee.

COFFEE (Fall)

Sometimes the coffee stirs ya’
makes ya’ rise up in the morning
a song on your lips, shouting hallelujah!
When it’s a a bag of fresh roasted beans
and you grind it yourself while
the sun rises favorably over the city;
when the brewing takes over every room
while you’re snuggling in bed with your fella.
Some days the October sky is that blue that thrills ya
and the colors have peaked in falls gaudy bloom
so you fill the house with the bright yellow fullness
of Sunflowers. Everything seems so full of promise!
Those are the days you don’t want to miss..
Sometimes the coffee just stirs ya’
Know what I mean?

Sometimes ya’ just stir the coffee…
You know, those days when you’re feeling glum
and it’s partly to mostly cloudy, hardly any sun.
It don’t matter how fresh the beans
might be or how strong you make your coffee
ain’t nothing gonna stir ya’
because today you’ve just got the blues.
The in-pile on your desk just gets bigger and bigger;
the daily news seems to portend the end
of time and you ain’t got a dime till pay day
and Honey, don’t you know, that’s a week away!
Your guy’s out of town; your best friend forever
ain’t talking to ya’ and you ain’t got a clue
what the hell’s tripping her trigger!
You’re feeling almighty low and downright awful!
Some days it’s all you can do to pick up a spoon
and keep on stirring the coffee.
Know what I mean?

COFFEE (Spring)

 Sometimes the coffee stirs ya’
makes ya’ rise up in the morning
a song on your lips, shouting hallelujah!
When it’s a a bag of fresh roasted beans
and you grind it yourself while
the sun rises favorably over the city;
when the brewing takes over the house
while you’re snuggling in bed with your fella.
Some days the dandelions are so yellow they thrill ya
and the lilacs are in full bloom
so you fill every room with the smelly fullness
of their blossoms and everything seems full of promise.
Those are the days you don’t want to miss..
Sometimes the coffee just stirs ya’
Know what I mean?

Sometimes ya’ just stir the coffee…
You know, those days when you’re feeling glum
and it’s partly to mostly cloudy, hardly any sun.
It don’t matter how fresh the beans
might be or how strong you make your coffee
ain’t nothing gonna stir ya’
because today you’ve just got the blues.
The in-pile on your desk just gets bigger and bigger;
the daily news seems to portend the end
of time and you ain’t got a dime till pay day
and Honey, don’t you know, that’s a week away!
Your guy’s out of town; your best friend forever
ain’t talking to ya’ and you ain’t got a clue
what the hell’s tripping her trigger!
You’re feeling almighty low and downright awful!
Some days it’s all you can do to pick up a spoon
and keep on stirring the coffee.
Know what I mean?

Barbara Gavin-Lewellyn

I’m going to try and write a different version of this poem for every season.  I think this is one of the best pieces I have ever done.  Just my opinion.

I should start putting more of my stuff online.

B

Just Meandering

Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps, for he is the only animal
that is struck with the difference between what things are and what
they ought to be.

– William Hazlitt

Gosh, it was a beautiful day today. Bright blue October skies and crisp fall air the way only Wisconsin can make a blue sky in September and October. As I walked Igor down to the dog park late this afternoon, shuffling through the leaves that had been falling all day, I was transported back in time to another day with another dog.

The only thing that was missing was the smell of leaves burning. Well, that and Gram’s apple butter simmering on the back burner, turning into a tasty sludge that I would happily slather onto her home made bread in the winter.

My friend Kathleen and I walked Igor up to the Capitol Square tonight for the last potty run of the evening and enjoyed the relatively warm temperatures and the waning Hunter’s moon over the shoulder of Lady Forward. You could definitely see the face of the “Old Man In the Moon” tonight.

I did four loads of laundry so I definitely got my exercise in for the day. I stopped in at the chiropractor,Aaron Abplanalp,who has set up in the Metro politan Place retail space as Life City and asked if he accepted medicare and medical assistance. He does so I made an appointment. He’s awfully young but then anyone my son’s age and younger seems awfully young and my son is almost 37.

I feel a bit guilty about taking business away from the chiropractor I have been going to but this guy is just around the corner and it would be so easy to pop in to see him. So if he’s any good, I’m going to switch because I know I would get to him more regularly.

Patches is still residing on the dresser but she is getting braver about the dog. Boy if she had claws, he’s have a very sore snout! She has walloped him hard enough to hurt a couple of times so he backs off when she gets that dainty little paw into position. I wish she’d come back to bed with me. I miss the nightly interaction we had with her massage and the purring.

B

Olly, Olly, Olly Ox in Free

The process of learning requires not only hearing and applying but also forgetting and then remembering again.

John Gray, “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus”

OK, I’m going to have to break down and admit to being totally frustrated and peeved as hell. I want to move my Blogs over to BlueHost and have already purchased their two year plan for a fat fee I might add. I’ve been trying to comprehend the whole FTP/Linux/Webalizer thing ever since.

I’ve got the WordPress foundation set up but haven’t figured out how to get my preferred templates over there. I’m having one heck of a time getting my particular distribution of Linux to accept and configure an FTP program properly but I don’t think that would matter much since I’m really not sure what the hell to do with it once I get it, drat it anyway!

What is so frustrating is that I used to FTP all the time. I used to know how to do this stuff. I recognize the basic program structure of Filezilla as being similar to Cute and whatever the heck was the name of the program I used before I used Cute back in the dark ages.

Although I knew how to do it on Windows it can’t be all that much different on Linux especially since the Linux distribution I am using is so similar to Windows you could call it Windows Super-Charged. Especially now that Xandros and Microsoft have agreed to a partnership deal of some sort. I don’t understand exactly what that means but Linux purists are having huge gastric disturbances about the whole deal.

Anyway, my Cronish pride is hurt because I have to admit defeat, humble myself, and go seek help. I’m also worried that after weeks of fiddling around with this, something didn’t click so that I found a way to retrieve the information I know is locked up inside my head. Damnit all, anyway!  I’m finding out more and more all the time, that there are things I know I used to do all the time and did it well, things that look vauguely familiar that I just can’t quite figure out how to do anymore.

It scares me when I can’t get from A to B no matter which route I take. I used to get lost driving once in awhile because I would get scared I was going to have an accident on the heavily traveled main arteries so I’d drive on the back roads.   Sometimes I couldn’t find my way home.

B

Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

 

One of my constant readers <grin> at Living in the Edge of Madness commented that he was glad I got a dog/friend rather than a weapon to protect myself. So I started thinking about all the good stuff adopting this dog did for society that a weapon wouldn’t.

First of all, I saved him from ending up at a humane society pound which is almost a virtual death sentence for many animals. Granted Igor is a handsome animal and has an appealing personality so he has a better than average chance of getting adopted. However, those goofy legs of his might turn prospective adopting families away before they even get a chance to know him.

I added to Madison’s economy by taking him to the Vet here in town and bought him toys and food as well as a new leash and a training collar at the pet supply store. I’ll be spending more on food every month and vet bills twice a year. I’m kind of sappy and since he’s prone to play with his toys, I’ll continue to buy them. The new leash and collar have already paid for themselves in terms of saving my back and arms from untold pain and misery. I really recommend The GentleLeader HeadCollar. Even my son was impressed.

He’s helping me recycle. Every-time I go to the store or take advantage of the food that comes in from Second Harvest I get plastic bags. It takes only 14 plastic grocery bags to drive a car one mile (per the Cap Centre Grocery Store). That is astonishing! I use grocery bags as garbage can liners for my sewing trash bin , the bathroom trash bin and the kitty litter trash bin but I STILL had more than enough to fill a paper grocery bag. Now I can use them as waste receptacles when I’m out walking Igor.

 

I’ll spare you photographs of this.

Trust me, it ain’t pretty…

He’s getting me up off my butt and exercising so I will undoubtedly lose the weight I gained after I quit smoking and maybe more. I’ll be much healthier in no time. I’m beat at the moment but I think I will adjust quickly and it’s not like he’s a power walker. One or two 6 block walks a day satisfy his needs to go rambling. I’m not even sure he appreciates that much he’s such a couch potato!

 

Oh, I forgot the $10 license I have to get from the city. I heard a rumor that there is a $20 fee to take him to the dog parks too. I’ll find out about that when I go to the dog park the first time, I suppose. It’s beautiful out today and I considered going while my son was here visiting with his MinPin but Son said not a good idea with Po–he’s too little and too feisty. He always tries to pick a fight with the biggest and meanest dog with the biggest and meanest owner. My son hates beating people up…

Would you look at these two! Po weighs less than 15 pounds. Maybe not even 10. Igor weighs 38 pounds yet they don’t look all that different in size in this picture.

 

All in all this is a win situation for everyone concerned except for my fat little Calico Cat. She has come out from under the desk at least but now she’s living on top of my dresser. I had to move her food out of the dog’s reach since he has discovered it is much more to his liking than his own food so I put it on the dresser. Then because I felt sorry for her I put a pillow up there. She may never leave.

B

Where Is My Little Dog Now?/My boy, my girl, my pride and joy, bessings all

 

Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone
Oh where, oh where can he be
With his ears cut short and his tail cut long
Oh where, oh where can he be?

Disney?

I am in such an incredibly good mood. Every-thing’s going my way! The Isthmus is quoting me. My Blogs are cooking right along, I’m writing daily without a struggle, I am pretty sure I have found the Dog of my dreams and I am not in excruciating pain 24/7 just 12/3 and 1/2 <snort> Actually, I think I am just finding it easier to ignore the pain because I am engaged in the world and enjoying myself.

I’m this close >< to getting a dog. It’s a choice between a dachshund/beagle mix–a Dachsle and a Yorkshire Terrier/Chihuahua mix–Yorchi. I’m leaning heavily towards the Dachsle because he is cheaper, looks just like my dog when I was a teenager, is low maintenance, and is probably less spoiled than the Yorchi who sounds like a holy terror from the way his ‘Mom’ described him.

The Yorchi is cute as a button but he is four years old and has never been neutered so he’s full of piss and vinegar. It sounds as though he has been spoiled rotten and needs some serious obedience training. I could DO that but do I WANT to? ummm NOT if I don’t HAVE to. There is also the cost. He will cost twice as much as the Dachsle who comes with a kennel and all of his toys and stuff.

I really like the Yorchi’s ‘Mom’ who is my son’s co-worker. And I think I will feel bad if I say no because she really really wants me to take this dog because she has such a high opinion of my son that she thinks *I* would be a great ‘Mom’ for her baby sight unseen. That is so flattering and I am so proud of my son for being such a nice guy that people think *I* must have been a great mother. That is so cool but he deserves so much credit for making the right choices in life when he could have very easily taken the wrong path.

For all the care and heartache
Life has brought to me
One precious gift has made it all worthwhile
For heaven blessed and with great joy rewarded me
For I can look and see my own beloved son

My son, my son just do the best you can
Then in my heart I’m sure
You’ll face life like a man

My pride and joy
My life, my boy
My son, my son

Vera Lynn

The song quoted above is a little misleading since I have a daughter I am also immesely proud of. I have spoken of her before in this Blog. My children are indeed my pride and joy. I have trouble expressing that sometimes. Intellectually I know that what I am about to say is crazy thinking but it is always there in the back of my mind that if things are going too well for me and mine and I express my happiness and pride in my life it will somehow be destroyed.

I need to get over that fear big time because it is putting such a damper on my relationship with my children. I love them so much but showing that love has become so difficult, I am literally subconsciously afraid that *I* will destroy THEM. Maybe by saying these things out loud on this Blog I can dispel that fear. How much more public can I get?

Oh, BTW, Thanks Mom and Dad for installing this huge fear into my ego, id or super ego or WHATever. Lovely.

B

Happy Birthday, Darlin’…I Will Always Love You…

Today would have been Ridchard LeRoy Vickrey (Skip) Lewellyn’s 57th birthday. He died in June of 1999 in a tragic accident at work. Too young, too young…

He used to call me up when he was drunk and this song would be playing in the background:

I Will Always Love You
Dolly Parton

If I should stay
Well, I would only be in your way
And so Ill go, and yet I know
That Ill think of you each step of my way
And I will always love you
I will always love you
Bitter-sweet memories
Thats all I have, and all Im taking with me
Good-bye, oh, please dont cry
cause we both know that Im not
What you need
I will always love you
I will always love you
And I hope life, will treat you kind
And I hope that you have all
That you ever dreamed of
Oh, I do wish you joy
And I wish you happiness
But above all this
I wish you love
I love you, I will always love

I, I will always, always love you

I will always love you
I will always love you
I will always love you

Once when he came to visit me or I went to visit him, it’s been so long ago I don’t recall exactly, he rented “

Follow the Yellow Brick Road

We’re off to see the Wizard, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
You’ll find he is a whiz of a Wiz! If ever a Wiz! there was.
If ever oh ever a Wiz! there was The Wizard of Oz is one because,
Because, because, because, because, because.

Lyrics by EH Harburg, music by Harold Arlen “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz”

I’m off to see my Grandchildren tonight. My nephew will pick me up sometime between now (9:15) and Midnight and take me to Edgerton. He works odd hours and doesn’t get off work until 8:00 PM. It works out good for me because then I can sort of stretch that rule the building management has about not leaving pets alone for more than 24 hours out a little.

I don’t like to leave Patches alone for much longer than 24 hours but she does fine for 36. She’s more than happy to see me when I get home though. I got the paperwork necessary to get permission to have a dog in this building but I don’t have a clue what happened to it. They have to be designated as a companion dog. <heheh> Patches could use a companion.

Not so sure about me. Dogs are a lot of work but there are all kinds of guys in this building who would like to walk my dog if I get one. <shrug> I would feel safer if I had a dog but…

I would love a Boston Terrier or a Boxer. Better yet, I would like a mutt mix of either of those. I’m not all that big on pure bred dogs. The inbreeding is nasty. I saw a cute little rat terrier/jack russel mix up for adoption by its owners that I would be interested in but they say they don’t know how she would be with cats. If she hasn’t found a home by mid week next week I will call them. It would be worth a try to see if she is a chaser.

Oh goodie, my daughter just called and she is going to send a note to school with my Grandson so that I can pick him up rather than having him go to daycare. Fantastico! G and I get along well unless he’s feeling frisky and oppositional. He’s a really smart little boy and he likes to pit that smart little brain against Grammy’s brain. Grammy isn’t used to thinking on her feet against smart little boys.

He also likes to tell “stories.” Last night on the phone he told me he had skipped all the way up to 5th grade. Not too long ago he told me he thought he had flunked kindergarten. He had me convinced he believed that. That’s the third time he has caught me with his “stories.” From now on I don’t believe a word he says until I check it with his parents. <heh>

Update on the adoption process. The mother has decided to fight the state’s decision to terminate her parental rights. It may be three or more years before the baby is released for adoption and the mother could prevail. I am afraid for my daughter. This could get really messy. I am very proud of her for hanging in there though.
B

You Can Be a Part of Blogging History

 

 

 

This came from BlogCatalog. Join Bloggers all over the world Blogging against abuse. Any kind of abuse. Child abuse, animal abuse environmental abuse, employee abuse, substance abuse… Whatever. Blog about it. Help stop the abuse.

 

B

Gotta Have Another Cigarette!

Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Puff, puff, puff until you smoke yourself to death. Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait,
But you just gotta have another cigarette.

Merle Travis for Tex Williams 1947

Boy, you take a couple weeks off from house work in a construction zone and things sure go to hell in a big way. You would not believe the dust and grime all over everything. I’ve been cleaing but as soon as I get it cleaned up it’s dirty again it seems! YUCK!

I’m still in my OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) phase of moving furniture around albeit in a much slower mode than would have taken place at an earlier point in my life. Getting old and decrepit is sure discouraging. Today I decided that the bookcase had to come live in the bedroom with the desk and we’d (me and the mice in my pockets plus Patches, the cat, and the books and one of my spider plants) all be much happier.

I got it moved but I still haven’t got the bedroom floor vacuumed and the popcorn I spilled two days ago is going to become a permanent part of the decor if I don’t get at it ASAP. I still don’t know what to do with the milk carton of computer books. :^? This room just isn’t big enough to accommodate it. I need a bigger bookcase. They are on sale at Shopko but I don’t have the funds. Bummer. Plus where in heck is the printer going to go?

Sitting here at the computer, I am procrastinating getting at the rest of the housework and/or sitting down at my sewing machine and finishing that dress I started a month ago. I washed 3/4 of the dishes this morning before I had my coffee but the pans are still sitting there and I’m just not motivated. I finally got that invisible zipper in right last weekend and now I have to figure out what in heck they are doing with the pockets. This is a strange pattern. More complicated than it looks and I’m not used to reading pattern speak anymore.

A couple of days ago I was prompted to do something physical by the intellectual stimulation of the first chapter of Weston’s book. I needed to digest what I had read so I scrubbed the kitchen floor. My gawd, the filth on that tiny few square feet–I’d guess it’s maybe 5′X6 or 7′. The grit and grime thrown up by the construction on the street is just incredible. My keyboard is literally gritty and I’ve cleaned it several times.

To think I’m breathing this crap. Ugh… My throat is more irritated than usual this time of year what with ragweed in bloom and the molds that are inevitable when we have lots of rain and humidity. Plus there are some kind of trees that I’m allergic to that are pollinating and the grasses. I forget which ones. I had those allergy tests so long ago. Post nasal drip and the gunky crap that I wake up every morning and hack up is gross.

But it’s not as bad as it was when I was smoking. I was allergic to tobacco, too. But that didn’t stop me from smoking, addict that I was. I need to be honest here. I occasionally have a cigarette with friends. I buy them for 50 cents apiece. I like smoking. It’s a pleasurable way to relax for me. But I notice with the Chantix that I don’t get the nicotine kick from it. Which is good. I wish I could find a non-nicotine smoke that I enjoyed besides whacky tobaccy. Maybe I should try cloves.

Thank gawd for Chantix. I don’t think I could have managed to quit as easily as I have without it. I don’t go roaming the halls looking for someone to buy a cigarette from with a gotta have it need. I should just say NO MORE. I worry what I will do when I have to go off of the medication although I have been weaning myself off already and don’t have any cravings to smoke most of the time.

Sometimes I do. When I get frustrated over some piddling little thing like not being able to get that zipper in but then I’ll go and do something else and the urge passes without any great crisis and I’m fine. I can live without cigarettes. The true test will be a big emotional crisis. That’s where I’ve always fallen back on the cigarettes. I need to have a plan in place for that eventuality. Ben and Jerry’s and a hypnosis tape might help. A phone call to my best friend. Writing. Those are all good substitutes.

I’m proud of myself for having come this far. I’ve gone two or three weeks at a time without those social cigarettes so I know I don’t need them. They’re like chocolate to someone on a diet. I cheat. I flirt with addicition knowing that I’m only a pack away from being a full-fledged smoker again. It’s silly really.

B

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave
To the night and the empty skies my love
To the night and the empty skies

Roberta Flack

I am waxing nostalgic today thinking back to the births of my children. My daughter’s birth especially since she has just brought a new life into my life. I’m to become a Grammy again if all goes well. My daughter is in the process of adopting an 8 month old baby girl.

Her mother still has time to change her mind although the state will pursue termination of parental rights if she does not volunteer to surrender the child for adoption. Her brother and sister have different fathers who want them.

I was almost 22 when my daughter was born in May of 1974. Her brother was three years old. She was overdue by one day, the day after Mother’s day on the 13th of May. We had a record high of 102* that day and as we were driving to Aurora, Nebraska where the hospital was her Dad and I saw two tornadoes touch down in distant fields. Luckily they small and they were moving away from us.

I was certainly ready to greet the little person who had been causing me so much discomfort for over a month. She had been in position to be born and I had been dilated 1 centimeter since April 7th. The doctor was going to induce labor on the 15th if she didn’t move out because he was afraid she had decided to take up permanent residence.

I wanted a little girl and Skip and I had a bet going on. Of course we didn’t know the genders of our babies back then. There were sonograms but they were very primitive and they were only done if absolutely necessary and telling the parent the gender of their child if you could tell from the blurry images was considered somewhat unethical. They might abort if it wasn’t the gender they wanted. :^\

We’d left for the hospital much earlier than we’d planned because of those darned tornados. It looked like it was going to be a repeat of our son’s birthing experience. He was born during a flash flood February 5th 1971 in Jackson, Michigan. Skip was not looking forward to a repeat of that and neither was I.

We’d arrived at the hospital at 8 pm at night the night before our son was born just to check if I was really in labor because we lived 35 miles out in the country and didn’t want to leave the city if I was, certain we would be iced in by the next morning. The car had stalled 5 times getting us to the hospital.

The nurses determined I was definitely in labor and further decided that because of the weather and the reports they were receiving from the state patrol, that I should not leave the hospital even though they would normally send me home because I was in the early stages of labor.

It was going to be a long night. My son was not born until 5 o’clock the next morning. I didn’t think-anything like that was going to happen with this baby but I was hoping that my water would at least break before we got to the hospital.

The first thing we did was go to a cafe so Skip could get something to eat. We’d rushed off so quickly he hadn’t had time to eat and neither had I. I knew I shouldn’t eat but I was so hungry I ordered a small bowl of chicken noodle soup easy on the noodles. We lingered at the cafe as long as we could stand it, smoking and talking, but we soon ran out of things to say and I felt the need to be up and moving.

We drove over to the city park and walked around timing my pains until they were at the 5 minute mark. It was now 7:30 and Skip was bored spitless. We got back in the truck and Skip started driving around aimlessly. Then he found it, only three blocks from the hospital. A used car lot.

We drove in and Skip started looking at cars, kicking tires. He’d pause in his perusal to time my pains but while he looked I could concentrate on pacing and riding out the waves of labor pain. We were both happy. Pretty soon a salesman joined us and Skip started dickering about the various merits of one car over another as “a present for my wife here, when she has this baby.” I snickered at that little bit of chatter.

An hour went by and somewhere along the line I had stopped pacing and had taken hold of Skip’s hand, standing there squeezing while a pain came and went and he timed them and calmly talked to the used car salesman about foreign cars versus domestic cars. He was looking at a Mazda.

Every once in awhile he would say something like “Wow! that was a doozy Honey! They ‘re 45 seconds long and a minute and a half apart! Good job! You let me know when you’re ready to go.” and I concentrated on the sound of his voice and the inner workings of my body.

Eventually they got to a minute and a half long and a minute and a half apart and I knew it was time to go. I think that poor salesman thought we were absolutely crazy and maybe we were a little bit. He was probably relieved to see our red pick-up truck driving down the highway towards the hospital.

My daughter was born ten minutes after I got to the hospital. The doctor was there delivering another woman’s baby and he came in to examine me and asked if he could break my water. I said yes and she practically fell out into his hands.

I got my car too! A little powder blue Volkswagen Beetle. But not from that poor salesman who went through the final stages of labor with us. I was totally surprised the day Skip came driving it home.

What I remember most of all about seeing her for the first time is her beautiful little hands. She still has beautiful hands. I love to look at them. They are so elegant. She has long elegant arms and legs too.

When she was a baby she was a skinny little thing and had a little potbelly, huge eyes, and no hair. My sisters-in-law all told me she was homely as hell. I thought she looked like a cute little spider monkey. She wasn’t going to win any pretty baby contests but she was a sweet little thing and you should see how gorgeous she turned out. I haven’t seen any of their daughters since they were pre-teens but I know damn good and well there isn’t one of them that can hold a candle to her in achievment and spirit. Besides she was my baby and it didn’t matter what she looked like, I loved her.

B