Poetry In Motion....

Where I attempt to write a Sonnet, in the Italian form, using lyrics from my favorite songs. This will be a work in progress, so any updates will be on the same post.  Feedback is appreciated.... here are the first 2 lines.


The ebb and flow of tidal fortune
Pushing the day into the nighttime,







*Far Cry, Rush, Snakes and Arrows
Mad About You, Belinda Carlisle

Reflections, Ruminations and Rush

I have travelled back to New Orleans, for a much needed break from real life, to see Rush in concert and to spend time with old friends. I have to admit, that as much as I miss Mike, the kids and my pets, it's nice to have quiet time and to not be awakened by the wet tongue of my dog on my face.

I've had a great sushi lunch with my best friend, Mary, and for dessert we engaged in a little retail therapy and drove around all of our old haunts. I still remember, with crystal clear clarity, the first time I went to her house so that we could get to know each other better. She was waiting outside, under a tree for me, so that mom could find the place. We had salad, giggled over how "fine" Harrison Ford was (and still is. Some men just age well, although I don't see what he see's in Calista, who reminds me of a bobble head doll.) and just had a ball. We became instant BFF's and we have been through many, many life changing events together. I honestly don't know what I would do with out Mary, she's seen me through so much.

During the ride we talked about wishing to go back, so we could do some things over, or not at all. For example, I'd have joined Color Guard sooner so that I could have made the trip to Ireland with the band,  I would have rethought some crushes I had and I would have pursued my dream of singing in a band.  I would spend more time with friends that we have now lost, like Jeff Sibley, and I would be more discerning about others.

I also would have invested in Apple and Microsoft.

All of that conversation yesterday stayed with me as I dropped her off at home and headed back to the hotel to change for the concert, and for the rest of the night and into this morning, I've found myself a bit more reflective than I normally am about my youth. There are huge swaths of those years that I'd rather forget, and some that I'd like to go back and see again; I always remember them with a smile and a few tears of nostalgia. Times were so simpler then.

Dinner was a lively affair, the ride to the arena with a bunch of us all packed into Jason's car (Daniel riding in the seatless back) reminded me of nighttime rides through City Park, jumping the bridges in Mary's car our cigarettes hitting and scorching the headliner, laughing so hard that we cried as we fell all over one another so tightly we were packed in.

Spending time with Jason and Kevin has been great, it always is. Tonight I am hoping to spend time with Tedd and Mike as well, that would be almost all of the old middle school gang together again. Middle School was, for me, the best period of my young years, even though at the start of that important time in between elementary and high school, didn't start off the way I remember wanting it to.

I was always an insecure kid for some reason. I have always felt awkward in my own skin. I still do sometimes. I remember being so excited about starting middle school. I talked mom into buying me clogs (which all of the popular girls wore) and designer jeans, just 1 pair and I got my first curing iron so that I could feather my hair. I remember walking into homeroom feeling unusually confident, only to end up feeling deflated when I saw that the cliques had carried over from elementary; cliques I'd never been a part of since I had only attended public school for 5th and 6th grades and so hadn't known any of those girls since kindergarden.

Then I met Jason, Kevin, Jennifer, Juan, Mike, Tedd and the rest of the gang; all a bit geeky like me, all with so many things in common with me. We were, in my humble opinion, the most creative and imaginative kids on campus. We still are, especially Kevin, Jason, Mike and Tedd. These men just bowl me over, the talent that the four of them possess.

 One of my biggest regrets is that I lost touch with them after middle school. I was the only one in the group that ended up at a different high school, and that was because of where I lived. One street over and I'd have been with them; but after the first year or so of high school, we drifted apart. I remember being hurt over that, and I regret that back then I was too busy trying to be someone I wasn't, I didn't keep up with them.

Life rushed on.

Always searching to fill something that was missing, not knowing what that missing thing was, I strayed away from my dreams or I eschewed them all together, thinking that they were foolish or unattainable. Maybe they were, but I wouldn't know that now, I'm too busy trying to discover myself after all of these years. Depression is so insidious, I really didn't start growing up until my breakdown in 2003, and I am still growing up in a lot of ways.

Which brings me back to this weekend. It's not so much an ennui that I am feeling, or a nostalgia or even sadness. I don't think it's regret, either. It's a combination of all of these. As I write this I am crying, not over how things are now but over how things were. It's not just my 44 year-old self crying either; it's me all of those years ago as well. It's, as my counselor put it, my young self growing up and it's my present self forgiving her for not knowing any better; how could she know any better?

This weekend has surprised me, I wasn't expecting to have these feelings. I'm glad that I am, for years ago, in a different life, I would have repressed them and gone home bitter. I have to keep reminding myself, that I have Major Depressive Disorder and these things happen.

It's a mixed bag. My life up until now, has made me what I am today. Change one little thing and who knows how life would have turned out for me up until this point. I don't regret my children and if I could go back and change anything, then I wouldn't have them. I wouldn't have Mike in my life and I'm not sure that I'd be happy and well. My path was set at birth, and I don't know where it will lead, but I do know that it isn't too late to go back to school and finish my degree. I know that it isn't too late to try the things I wanted to do when I was younger, but was too afraid to do...like having a motorcycle or flying a private plane (I AM going to get my pilot's license!) or even writing, which I (foolishly) abandoned thinking that original ideas no longer existed and I sucked at it anyway. One of these days I will write about that three year period where my depression left me in darkness and my hard fought battle toward the light of normalcy (what ever normal is).

 We all have regrets, things we would have done differently, but those choices, those steps off onto a branch on the road shape us into who we are. The magical thing about life is that you can change and that it's never too late to go for it, so to speak.  Besides, if I could go back and change things, who's to say I'd be any happier? Perhaps I'd still be in the darkness, and I much prefer the light; even if I get all angsty at times and act like a teenager. I think it makes me a better parent to my daughters,who are in the midst of the horrible teen years. I can, at least, empathize with them and encourage them to pursue their dreams and to not hold themselves back out of fear.

No, this weekend has been good, though the regret over those lost years of growing up with my dearest friends is piercingly sad right now. The sadness will fade, the mourning will run it's course and I will have grown up a little more.

Life is good.

Lessons...

Earlier this year, once the routine of housewiffery set in and I discovered that I needed something to do besides sit at home and watch the Judge shows all day, whilst planning weekly menus, I decided that I wanted to further my education.

I don't have a college degree, and to be honest, I don't think that a 4 year university program is my cup of tea any way. I'm just not patient enough for the program; I am more of a hands on kind of girl. Testament to this would be my previous career as a Registered Sales Assistant. I had the honor of working with people and helping them plan for and save for their retirement. I held hands with widows and attended weddings and family events of clients I grew close to. I stumbled into the field purely by accident, thanks to a temp agency and the manager of a branch of Morgan Stanley who saw my potential. I loved my work, and was mostly happy with the men and women that I worked with. Sarah Whitmore, the afore mentioned manager, was an instrumental person in my life.

Some of the people I worked for were Type A assholes (you have to be a Type A to succeed in the brokerage business), but the vast majority were Type A awesome people, who also nurtured and mentored me. I made great friends with clients and bosses alike, and most of my bosses treated me with respect, and trusted me with their business. I never, ever, even with the asses I worked with, betrayed that trust. Some bridges should never be burned, and besides, it isn't in my nature to burn bridges.

When I met Mike, I was in a high position within the firm I worked for; a position earned through the dint of my hard work and integrity. Having smarts was a plus as well. So leaving the industry to become an at home mom was a hard decision. I was so used to working to support my girls, to provide a roof over our heads and food on the table. I actually came to terms with the fact that I would end up the "Crazy Cat Lady Down the Street" at some point in 2009, which is of course when I met Mike.

Talk about your whole world changing in the course of a few months!

I am not complaining, not by a long shot. To be honest, I wasn't sure that I'd like being a homemaker. I had never had the chance to do so, and I didn't know if I'd be cut out for it. Its harder than I thought it would be, and the fact that I used to sneer at homemakers, leaves me blushing for shame these days.

To put it simply, I never imagined this life...a life where the neighborhood kids come to swim in our pool, where I can make breakfast and see the kids off to school. I life where I can curl up next to the most comfortable partner I've ever had. A life with a cat and a puppy who makes us laugh. A life where I have someone besides my beloved daughters to kiss good night and kiss good morning. A home. I have a home.

Lesson One: God always has a plan for us.

Yet, I still have this yearning to do more. As if life weren't busy enough!

Part of the yearning comes from seeing how damn hard Mike works for us to have the traditional life style we have. I am still bowled over by him. My mother has been seriously ill since December and daddy has to work, so it's been me who has been at her bedside at the hospital, and at home; nursing her and tending to her. In all honesty, it's hard, running a house and taking care of her, but if not for Mike and his integrity or his priorities being right, I'd never be able to do this. My mother feels grateful for the sacrifices we make, but to me it isn't a sacrifice...it's a daughter's duty. One that I accept and do with pleasure, even when I see her suffer. I don't want a stranger taking care of her, yet there are so many situations like mine, where strangers take care of others loved ones, instead of family. In this day and age it cannot be helped. Things are the way they are, but the care taking that I've been doing, has fanned the long burning embers of something I wanted to do, but couldn't.

I want to be a nurse.

I have wanted to do this for quite a long time, but could never have done so as a good nursing program requires full time attendance, and I was a single mother with a house to support. Then, one day while perusing the want ad's for part time work, I noticed that there was a HUGE need for part time nurses, and thought that if I were a nurse I'd have no problems finding a job that didn't involve retail. I wanted to work part time, if anything to enable Mike to cut back on his OT...he's a cop and patrols and cops who patrol need to be rested. There were and are days when Mike walks out of the house with bags under his eyes that frighten me and make me want to cry, all of this so that I can be a good daughter to my mother and a mom to my girls.

He humbles me.

Well, the ad's for part time nurses, coupled with the things I've seen, done and learned in taking care of my mother, fanned that long banked flame of desire to nurse. So I've decided to go for it. I'm only 44 after all, not old, certainly still spry and in pretty good physical shape.

Once mom's doctors, and the nurses at the various hospitals she has been in, found out about my desire, they were more than willing to teach me, show me and answer questions. I've been amazed at the whole process, and along the way I've learned quite a few lessons. I've also narrowed down fields I want to specialize in.

For example: I have learned a bit about wound care in diabetic patients. I can clean and dress a wound while maintaining a sterile field. Did you know that you can use sanitary napkins for a dressing on a draining would, as they absorb so much? Neither did I, until a Doctor Nguyen taught me.

I have learned the finer details of a Portacath, how to maintain it via flushing, how to draw blood from it, how to remove and change the needle, which is an L shaped object and needs to go in just so.

I've learned the effects of certain narcotics and how tortuous Narcan is on a patient, but also how it saves lives. I've discovered that suctioning a patient is needed, even though watching one's mother suctioned is hard to see.

I've learned the finer points of intubation and also why Diprovan is called Milk of Amnesia.

I understand why Occupational Therapy and Physical Therapy is so very, very important for patients who are disabled like my mom.

I've learned about antibiotic resistant infections and calorie restricted diabetic diets.

I can prime new tubing for an IV on the first go, no air bubbles with me, no sir!

I can listen to a patient weep, or talk, in the darkest of hours. I can be there with them through the fear, the unknown; I don't offer advice, just the listening is enough.

I discovered that there are so many ways to take care of a person, small ways and large. I've seen the compassion, the genuine compassion and caring of good, no great, nurses toward my mother. Their devotion to their vocation is so inspiring!

These last 6 months have firmed my desire to go into this field.

It all started when my youngest was born, prematurely; weighing only 2 and 1/2 pounds. I saw the care the nurses gave to Adele, and that lit the spark. Mom's ordeal fanned the flames.

I know that I will make an awesome nurse. I will even be able to get past my gagging when other people vomit (it's my weakness, I can't handle puke!), if my desire is enough; and it is.

I know that I will be a good nurse because I have been at the bedside of my mother, who but for the Grace of God, was dying. I know what other families will or have been through, what they think. The helplessness, the prayers they pray.

I know how damn helpless a new mother with a premature child feels. Seeing the tubes, the isolette, the restrictions, the very labor that the baby goes through to survive.

I understand the helplessness of the patient, people who were mobile and active until illness stopped all of that; the impatience and the depression that they experience while lying in bed, unable to do for themselves. I get how they feel like they aren't in control of their lives anymore...like they are just lab rats and controlled by others.

I've lived it. Lived it several times. I understand and I want to bring that experience to my nursing. That compassion.

I am sure that I am idealizing. Nursing is gritty and dirty. My sister is an ER nurse, and the stories she tells are compelling or horrofying.

 But, I want to take care of sick babies, or work in CCU.

Those are my desires, and perhaps they will change, but that is what I want to do right now. Just because I've seen both specialties and I know that I can bring, not only good nursing into it, but life experience. What I wouldn't have given for a NICU nurse to explain things to me, to just relay to me in any small way that she knew what I was going through...to empathize.


I believe that what I am experiencing now will make me a good nurse. I know that this is what I am meant to do.

Which leads me to lesson 2: God has a plan for all of us. Sometimes to road to the fuffillment of that plan is long and hard, but it's a road that has to be travelled.

Anatomy of a Motorcycle Wreck, and Why I will Ride Again

The ride to where I was going was textbook perfect. It was sunny, there were some cross winds, but those were only in the straightaways where there were no trees to shield me. I was so proud of myself (still am) for reaching Tomball (35 miles from home) on my first ride that wasn't around the neighborhood, that after I backed the bike into it's parking slot, I punched the air.

The trip home a few hours later wasn't so perfect. The Sun was shining, but the head winds were truly bad. At least they seemed so to me, the novice. I'm sure an expert rider would have found them challenging, but not scary like I did. At any rate, the first half of the ride was okay, the head winds sucked, but I handled them and even pulled off into a gas station and took a rest at the half way mark. I needed to plan the rest of my ride, as I hadn't taken the winds into account in my plans.

One cigarette later, and after running the rest of the route, which was full of curves, through my head, I was back on the road and dealing rather well with the extra challenge.

Or so I thought.

Looking back on the wreck now, I see my mistake. If the price of my stupidity is leaving some of y skin on Fry Road is the price I have to pay in exchange for walking away, then I'm fine with it. However, I do have to reconstruct yesterday's events so that I learn from my mistakes.

On a long, deceptively sharp curve on Fry, approaching the intersection with Hwy 529, the winds went from head to cross. I had to lean harder on the bike, fine no probs..my posture was good, eyes were where I wanted to be. Then, in the apex, a fierce gust hit me, jogging the handlebars...well the whole bike, actually.

I panicked. Panicked and made a stupid error. Broke the cardinal rule of riding.

I took my eyes off of the road and grabbed the front brake when my wheels weren't aligned.

I remember the bike going out of control, which worsened the panic and I threw my legs out and off the pegs. Then I remember going down, at some point I hit the engine off button (thank you Jesus), and slid about 20 or 30 feet. I remember checking my speed as I approached the curve and downshifting in anticipation of the red light ahead, and I was doing about 50 as I entered the curve and began slowing down, so I figure that I was going 35 to 40 when the crash happened.

People say that when they were in accidents that their lives flashed before their eyes...not me. I distinctly remember thinking this: “You have to be fucking kidding me” as I hit the pavement and slid.

As soon at we stopped I got up and got onto the grass next to me, and two gentlemen stopped and helped me get the bike up and out of the street. I called then texted Mike and then Jason. Mike got AAA to come out and so I spent an hour and a half cooling down in the nearby Jack in the Box.

I got drunk on purpose once I got home and cleaned my wounds. I didn’t want to dream about the wreck, and if I did I don’t remember.

This morning I am sore, well it’s way beyond sore, dehydrated (thanks you scotch!) and mad at myself. No, supremely pissed is a better way to describe it, actually.

What I should have done was just keep my eyes on the road, looking in the direction I wanted to go and rolled a tad more on the throttle until I got onto the small straightaway. Then, I’d have been able to do a rapid stop, or maybe the light would have turned green.  Had I kept my eyes on the prize, the bike would have righted it self and I’d have been fine.

I made a stupid mistake and consider myself blessed that all that happened was I got scraped up and the bike is missing a peg and some paint.

I will NEVER make this mistake again, that’s for sure and naturally I will ride again, as soon as the bike is fixed and my ego is less bruised.  The fun part is going to be telling my parents, (who really don’t like me riding even thought they haven’t told me so) today when I take the kids to see them. I am SOOOO looking forward to that talk with them.

But, I will ride again. I love riding, the smells of the road or the new mown grass, the morning and afternoon of this ride I smelled the freshness of just sawn lumber.  I like the challenge, riding has made me a better driver, I'm more aware of the cars around me. I love the freedom that riding gives me, there is nothing better than a clear day and riding the country roads, especially when I am behind Mike, my arms wrapped around him as we zip along.


So this accident won't stop me from riding, I enjoy it too much to stop.  

My knee

My Elbow

My Shoulder

Yes, Yes, I know...It's been a while....

But I have been busy, taking care of mom, the house, the puppy and the kids.

I have, however, taken a weekend off and returned to my birthplace....New Orleans for a respite weekend.

While it's true I lived here in 2009 and part of 2010, it's nice to play tourist; to return to the places you visited as a kid. Today I slept in, lolling about in the comfortable bed in my hotel. I'm sitting on it as I write this, still luxuriating in the comfort of the many pillows that are just the right amount of fluffy and firm.

So, today I decided that once I got up, I wanted to have a roast beef poboy and then visit the New Orleans of Art. I hadn't been to the museum in a very long time, the most memorable trip being to see the King Tut exhibit back in the 70's. I remember that they painted the street and circle Nile Blue and how much of a production it was for our city.

After dressing, and regretting the fact that I failed to pack a hat, I set off for Parran's poboys...which 10 years ago when I lived here, was a small hole in the wall affair that served incredible food.

It's much bigger today and the menu has expanded as well, but the poboys are still incredible; as a matter of fact todays lunch was a 6 napkin lunch, which for you non New Orleanian's means that the poboy was dripping with gravy. I also had Fried Eggplant sticks with marinara sauce....I ADORE fried eggplant!!!!

 The whole day was beautiful. It was warm, especially in the sun, but the verdant shade of the sculpture garden, the oak's and the moss, cooled me. I had forgotten how pleasant the oasis that is City Park, and as I watched the paddle boats or the picnickers, I recalled the times we spent at the park when I was a girl.  The train still runs, I can remember taking that train around the park; the children still wave at the people who wait at the crossing, smiles wide with the innocent delight of a child. Some of the adults waved too, some a bit sheepishly perhaps, and most likely were only doing it to please the kids. Had I had the time for a ride, I'd have waived.

As I stated earlier, it had been a while since I'd been to the Museum of Art, and I had forgotten how imposing the original wooden doors are...they are about 10 inches thick, and decorated with iron studs and handles. It opened in 1911 and so the centennial anniversary is being celebrated in a year long fete, complete with floral art. Some of the featured art was done by New Orleans institutions, like Adler's Jewler's...I can still hear the time announced on the radio "Adler's Jewlery time is ...." or the TImes Picayune, The Picayune as it was then, who had a newspaper stand made of flowers and a slide show of front pages that spanned 100 years.

I also saw the Faberge collection, a truly beautiful collection, and Japanese Calligraphy. My favorite was this HUGE portrait of Marie Antoinette, as queen. It spanned from celing to floor. I wish that pictures were allowed, forbidden I'm afraid, so that I could post a shot of it. Truly imposing, beautiful.  As it was, I took pictures of what I could...

The New Orleans Museum of Art

Sculpture on the entrance circle.

Verdant and cool.

Part of the sculpture garden.

After my walk in the park, I decided that it was time for me to take a rare nap. So back to the hotel and the heavenly bed in my room. After all, I had a performance to attend later in the evening.

I've written about Jason before...and his band The Flashback Chameleons performed at Dago's Cantina last night. and naturally I attended. After all, true friends are hard to come by, and also I appreciate music, especially when its performed by talented people. Jason and the Chameleons are very, very talented. 

Suffice it to say, I haven't stayed up as late as I did in a long, long time. In fact I didn't make it back to the hotel until 5 AM this morning. Talk about a hard drive back to Houston today...thank God for coffee. BUT I HAD A BLAST!!!!! I also got to see Mike Styborski, am old buddy from middle school who is still as cool as he was then. 

Jason and De De, part of the Flashback Chameleons

All in all, I had a wonderful weekend! I really needed to get away from it all and it was nice to get back home again.

Update on Mom and Other Items

My last entry was on 2/23, one day before my eldest daughter turned 16, and the news was dire.

Well, miracles do indeed happen, my mother pulled through. She has a long, long road ahead of her as she has to recover from the punemonia and also rehab her knee, but I am not complaining.

My eldest, Katie, just left this morning for a week long trip to The Big Apple. She is touring with her school choir, and they will see all of Manhattan as well as attend two Broadway shows and give a concert in front of the Statue of Liberty. I had to drop her off at school for 3:30 this morning, and she was all hyped up...thank God for Community Coffee! She just called to tell me that they landed safely. I know that she will have a great time, my baby is growng up!

I am horrified by the earthquake and the tsunami in Japan...Ive been following the news and watch in awe at the footage of the waters rushing on shore. The fact that entire villages have been wiped from the face of the earth is hard to wrap my mind around. Now the news that a nuclear reactor may melt down is on my mind; I hope that they can get the situation under control and that the fall out isn't too bad.

All in all, I'm for nuclear power, but I'm sure the greenies out there are already chanting No Nukes, etc. Please people! Events like this are very rare and really, the Japan situation is really a perfect storm and from what I've seen they are doing everything in their power to control this.

Wisconsin made me cheer. While I understand private unions, I never really cottoned to public unions, especially if they have collective barganing powers. As for the protestors, well they acted like animals in the storming of the capital building. It was interesting the number of purple SEIU shirts I counted...they're nothing but thugs.

Gas has hit $3.43 a gallon for regular unleaded here in my neck of the woods. I'd like to thank President Obama for the moratorium, and would also like to extend kuddos to the enviro-wackos for preventing the use of the resources we possess in our country.

Way to go, wackos! I can't tell you all how much I appreciate that we continue to be dependant on people whose asses we have to kiss in order for us to get fuel for our cars, busses and trains. I can't thank you enough for the rise in the cost of the food I buy to feed my family, or that my husband has to take on extra overtime so that I can be home for my kids and take care of my mom. He's just a cop and his job isn't that bloody dangerous or anything, so double shifts on the streets of Houston are just a cake walk for him! Not to mention the fact that I really don't need to actually see my husband, or spend time with him or anything.

Also, big thanks for potentially affecting our annual Memorial Day Crawfish Boil! We really don't need to see family and friends, who drive in from New Orleans and Baton Rouge for the shindig, whom we don't see often or anything like that. It's just family and friends and all, I mean really.

So thanks, Mr. President! Thanks enviro-wackos!