In need of a cup of coffee, dark..

I can't see nobody
I walk with my eyes open
And it's as if I am the only mortal that exist here
I can't see nobody but even so, I can see the trees
They all seem very outgoing and gregarious.
Moving over so that the other can enjoy seeing me,
Seeing nobody.

The sun is luminesce, aside from the fact that
I can't see nobody. Obviously, the sun grew limbs
And has eyes because I can't see nobody.
I suppose everybody embodied an atmosphere of gloom.

Side note: one of those days. At any rate, everyone enjoy!
(Written while listening to Nina Simone on vinyl)

Red Shoes

There was a massive attack on Coryphee. Mrs.Prima ballerina's elongated rose tree was in full bloom. Mentally undressed she carried another's lack of, in her beautifully. Extended legs are beaten in the air while supposed, graceful love is growing in her womb. Coryphee, smiled as her seemingly perfect Arabesque pose bleed 90 degree angles of Incertitude. The childhood dream of the Red Shoes, somehow had become her. She as most in her position, wanted the beautiful dainty pink satin slippers. However, she was resolute about making the best out of otherness.

Rather than hinting at the realism of harshness she graced the stage in her pointe shoes. She showed the world that differences are an analogy. Coryphee, saw that HE was what gave her her perfect striking, 90 degree Junoesque type of beauty.

(To my beautiful son who makes me flourish and learn what true beauty and love really is).

Bunkers

Excitement is an understatement when I express my feelings about my four year old finally graduating from sleeping with Mommy& Daddy. Thursday, they delivered a lovely bunk bed set. Peaches and cream ? Not!

Firstly, the delivery was total confusion and unprofessionalism. When the delivery men left and I started loading my girls clothes in their drawers, three of them were broken. Then I was informed that it will take possibly two weeks to get a replacement chest.

To top it off, after my mom had helped decorate and beautify the girls room, they're now fighting to mark their turf. Who will sleep at the top and who will sleep at the bottom? I don't know, but I'm thinking about pulling out the sleeping bags and telling them the joke was on them.

Purple Violet

Today marks the fourth day that I've joined my husband and dog, Violet on some beautiful, early morning jog/walks. I send the kids off to school and immediately the Reeboks hit the pavement. Speaking of which, I must treat myself to a new pair of sneakers because the rubber bottom soles are trying to tell me something. They've been doing a little talking saying, " This is what's slowing you down. Don't fall. We are ladies and we usually don't tell our age, but we are 6 years old. You know that is about 50 in tennis shoe years." I think this conversation may persuade my husband to buy me a nice pair.

Any who, when we first got Violet, I wasn't too enthused. I was not raised around dogs, therefore, I was a bit befuddled as to why we needed another one.However, my husband is a sure-enough dog lover. He saw her once while getting some things for our other dog, Hercules. When he passed up Violet, it was all over. He had to have her. She is a very docile dog who absolutely loves being around people. Between my kids and my husband, I believe she gets more hugs, love pats, and conversations than I do. Maybe if I drooled more and had extreme flatulence (the reason she was kicked out of the living room), I'd have a chance.

All the same, I think these last few days have really been good, not just for my health but for Violet and I (I'm sure my husband will smile when reading this). She has helped me keep up a steady pace, even when I feel like my lungs are about to fall out. Or even when she stops she smells or sees vermin or critters on our stroll in the wooded trails, she helps me get a breather.

If Violet helps me lose about 15 more pounds, I think I'll buy her a purple skateboard like the dog from Rob& Big. I'm sure then, she and my son would probably become the best of friends. Until next time, I'll be jiggling for a cause. Hey, who knows I might even have the stamina to outrun my husband and Violet. Of course, I just woke up. Lol

Sprung

It's a truth (maybe), that every blue moon we want company to come by. You get that lonely feeling...husband is busy, the children are at school, housework is done for the next 5 minutes (smile), and you're getting a little bored. And if you are anything like me, you hate television (excluding Basketball Wives or mostly anything on the ID. channel-shameful). So, you are sitting around and decide to invite a friend over, for a little big girl talk ( at this particular point big girl means not exposed to hours of infant, adolescent, or tween talk).

When you have a huge sectional that basically take up your entire room and has a zillion cushions and 7 throw pillows, how long do you think it takes to re fluff those cotton picking pillows? Strangely, someone decides to sit on the edge of three cushions at one time. Another reason to growl. I can remember growing up and not being allowed to sit on my parents "nice furniture." Therefore, when I pay someone a visit, I esteem it a privilege to sit on their furniture. Often times, I find it more comfortable sitting on the floor than the sofa anyways. That's if you have unsoiled flooring and I wont get up with twenty dust mites clinging to my backside.

Now, getting to the situation where I wished I'd bludgeoned myself for inviting this particular guest over was about a year back. The big girl phrase now becomes a bit literal. We had just come back from eating. The food was great. Hence, the full stomachs. Any who, she walked over to the sofa (mind you she is no Mary-Kate Olsen). The largish fanny pack that was strapped around her stomach from the lunch we'd just had, coupled with the her normal weight, weighed torturous on the spring on my couch so much so, that the next morning I realized it was broken.

To sum it up, (I realized she was full) but she plopped down on my couch, popped my spring, and engulfed herself in my throw pillows. To top it off, on her way out, no courtesy fluff.

Moral of the story, if you don't wish to stand the duration of your visit, sit on the floor, or let me get you a dinning room chair, RE FLUFF. Commonality in Southern hospitality. Until then, please don't contribute to this being my sofa on the side of the rode.