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Passions in Poetry

serenity's interactive journal

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serenity blaze
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225 posted 03-12-2004 03:50 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

I'm going to catch up right now, and read these wonderful stories again.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....I feel downright decadently spoiled today!

Thanks, so much,

And Cap, I've been a good girl too--I haven't begged you once for a story, and I didn't say a word about that lil star either.

But I'll be patient. *tapping my toe*
Susan Caldwell
Member Rara Avis
since 12-27-2002
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Florida


226 posted 03-12-2004 03:58 PM       View Profile for Susan Caldwell   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Susan Caldwell

"apparently we all receive instructions just before we are born, as to where to go, and what to do next, in life.  They are given to us by our spirit guides who also stay with us throughout life."

There is a book by Sylvia Brown (is that spelled right?) called, "Book of Dreams" that explains it all....


Cpat Hair
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227 posted 03-12-2004 04:42 PM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

Susan, Ser... I'm sorry I have no stories to match these nor to even compliment them... mine are far less compelling than the words shared here.

I'll take a pass on the stories for now...

the star... lol.. one should refer to my application to the DM forum to understand the why...

Sunshine
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228 posted 03-12-2004 04:46 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

...let me find my whip!
Cpat Hair
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229 posted 03-12-2004 05:23 PM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

Here you go Ser... something from memories..cleaned up and fit for presentation here... lol..


In the boundary line of  northern Douglas and southern Wright counties, there are a series of springs which feed from the base of limestone bluffs and from steep sided hills. Their waters combine along a stretch of 10 or so miles and becomes the upper end, the source, for Bryant creek.

Once, not far from the main springs there existed a trout farm where on Sundays, I remember driving by and seeing families with small children and grey haired grannies in lawn chairs. Fishing by the pound, slick colored rainbows and the occaisional brown would sink bobbers to the screams of unsuspecting children only to be dragged across rough grass and added to the days "catch". Idyllic, perhaps, in the ways of then to sit in sun soaked grass and gather the family for outings. Picnic lunch spread on ground and kool-aid stained mouths in grin, it all seemed so simple.

In time the trout farm fell to waste. Families no longer fished by the pound for fun and those children grew into the men and women who fought in Nam or protested the war. It seemed there was more division in family than unity as grannies were stored in care facilities, TV ignored the need for touch, but presented us daily with the body counts while behind black bags were loaded onto transports, or maimed and broken men were helped aboard. Ugly times from my mind, but a few of the trout survived in the cold clear waters and from time to time, when politics could be put aside, or the worries of day to day forgotten, they could be stalked.

At the time, I thought the cast of light lure along brush filled riffles and the sting of cold water on thighs to be great sport. Rarely the flash of pink sided trout on end of line, but if so lucky, a thing to hold in bragging right next trip to the local cafe.

later I began to wonder at the trout... and know the feel of those things in our nature which cause us to bite when hungry. Betrayed by our own nature, we snap the bait and find ourselves hooked. barb gouging us with each turn of head and attempt at run, till the line played out for us is drawn taut and we find the pressure to follow more than we can resist. In the end, we find ourselves like the trout wearied and worn;caught.

I felt that way at 16, married and a child on the way, and it wasn't until years later I began to understand it was truly not how it was. I had made decisions, and those were mine to live with. The hook and bait mine to ignore or to swallow, and along the line, stopped hating the fisher.... and only wishing for swift water with deep rock lined pools... to hide myself in.

Today, I fish when I can. Along brush filled stream and rock pool casting light lures in search of the ellusive I find peace, but learned long, long ago..

catch and release.

seems the trout farm has it right, we always pay by the pound for our catch.
Nightshade
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230 posted 03-12-2004 06:05 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Cpat. wonderful words you have given us to ponder. More memories flood my mind.
I too, found myself married and a baby on the way long before I had ever dreamed. But, everything was "my" decision...nothing was pushed upon me. That is why they call it "free will" I guess. Funny how it takes us so long to understand. Hmmmm....
Enchantress
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Somewhere in time~


231 posted 03-12-2004 06:48 PM       View Profile for Enchantress   Email Enchantress   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Enchantress

Thank you Ron..
You do tell a story so well..and always leave me with a soft smile and a different way of looking at life..I like that.

I also like.."kool-aid stained mouths in grin"
(memories there....)
and
"catch and release"
(I know someone who taught me this way of fishing also.)
serenity blaze
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232 posted 03-12-2004 06:52 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

catch and release...

Yes. and yet?

Memories of going hungry are what cause me to fish beyond my limit.

I need to learn too.

A little more faith and a little less fear.



thanks, Cap
serenity blaze
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233 posted 03-12-2004 08:53 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

And now to tie some loose ends...er? Somebody might want to fetch Duncan.

Though I confess the SWAT team story is a bit anti-climactic. But, as you ladies well know--foreplay is everything.

It was an unusual day for us at the compound. We all woke early on a Saturday morning, relatively free of hangovers too. I woke up hungry to the smell of...was that breakfast? Wow. Cool. I was a little concerned though. It could just be that Twisted #1 had woke up hungry and cooked breakfast for herself. So I stumbled into the kitchen, still half-asleep but curious and found, Oh boy! "Breakfast" was indeed being served up for all.

"Toby" had come in from his offshore job--and he'd returned the favor of a few meals and a place to crash by buying us poor wimmenfolk some groceries, and he went  the one step further to cook for us too.

"Toby!" I smiled with glee, hugging him.

He just grinned and handed me a cup of coffee.

Toby was a serious coffee drinker--he carried around his own personal mug with him and once I made the mistake of washing it for him. I had to bleach that sucker clean too. To my dismay, he'd said I'd ruined it. He liked his coffee gnarly, and he wanted that grunge stain on the inside of the mug. I'd shuddered that day but thought, "okay".

Shrug. One less dish to wash.

But here he was in his bike leathers, happy to be home, and "rich" with a paycheck. He seemed rather proud of himself too. He usually only showed up when the check was gone. But here he was this morning, a biker gentleman, cooking breakfast for his beloved twisted sisters at "The Compound."

I nodded at the stove, impressed with the layout and winked at "twisted #1", who was lounging on her daybed, wearing her standard uniform "teddy" looking like this happened everyday. How could she possibly deserve less?

He'd even brought the paper in, sparing us the long walk through the parking lot.

Ah...this had all the beginnings of a good day. I let the dogs out (our family of dawgs had increased to two now--"Howard" had joined "Bubba" as one of our babydogs--and yep, that's right, his name was Howard Johnson. He was  most appropriately named too, as he just "checked in" one evening. Anyhoo, (grin) in answer to the famous question--it was I who let the dawgs out.

Toby decided to stink up the bathroom with his morning constitutional, and I grabbed the rest of the paper before it disappeared, wanting the Bentwood rocker for my own before anyone else called "shotgun."

Twisted #2 had awakened by this time, and she was nonplussed by the surprise.

(Nothing, but nothing throws her.)

She had snatched a piece of bacon before the kids demolished the rest. I looked up from the headlines only when I heard Twisted #1 address someone through the window.

"What the...?"

I stood and I could see the source of her confusion.

There was a member of the ATF crouched below the window, in full riot gear, looking at us hard, he had his finger over his lips, saying "sssssssshhh."

I looked into the yard then, and saw the unmarked cars parked all around the compound. I guessed that their were four of them--oh, make that five, another had pulled in as I counted.

"I think the Johnson's are in trouble." said twisted #2 with her characteristic nonchalence. What the hell? Shrug. She was hungry and intended to eat, so she fixed her plate, ignoring the drama playing out in the yard.

I watched the agents being joined by detectives from the local police force, noting with horror that in their haste, they'd left the doors of their unmarked vehicle open.

Oh no...


Bubba. My beloved Bubba was out there--and? *wince*--Bubba loved to go "bye-bye."

I was going out there. I had to save my babies!

He had just begun barking too, (he was parking lot born and bred and accustomed to the comings and goings of cars) but his barking frightened me--I was afraid they would shoot him to silence him. So I ran out there, knowing that if there was a car with open doors, I could likely find Bubba sitting happily inside, wagging his tail with anticipation. And yes, there he was, in a brown chevy of all things, and I was completely oblivous to my own appearance too. (I was wearing one of those home-made togas which I just bragged about earlier.)

It was in this state, that I startled a small band of ATF agents, as I hollered pitifully, "Bubba--come!" knowing "Howard" would follow him.

I won't say I heard any click of guns, but I was told by twisted #1 later that her own cop had remained focused beneath her window, his "riot"gun trained on the back door of the Johnson's shotgun house.

"Who are you people?" An agent asked, incredulous but flashing his badge as I replied:

"We live here. Who the hell are you?"

Twisted #2 was still calm, standing in the door, eating her breakfast, saying between bites:

"Karen? I think you should come in now."

OH.

I agreed--but not without my babies.

I hustled the dawgs inside, and we were just, "oh wow", watching a raid unfold before our very eyes.

Then an officer knocked at our door.

"We're going to go "in" now and for your own safety, we strongly urge you all to take the kids, and-the-dogs"--he had looked at me pointedly--"along with yourselves to the back of the house. We're not expecting trouble, but better to be safe."

Of course!

So we all took our coffee cups and headed dutifully to the bedroom of Twisted #2.

Smile.

Actually? no.

Toby and Twisted #2 were not going to miss this.

So they made the motions, twisted 2 even "stomped" to the back with us, and crept out to join Tobe behind the curtains.

The rest of that morning's play unfolded relatively without drama. The law officers kicked in the back, side, and front doors of the Johnson's home simulataneously. What occurred inside, we shall never know. We watched as they assembled the sleepy family who lived "upfront" on the side of the house. I saw each member of the family shaking their head as if to say, "I don't know" as they were questioned.

"Robert" Johnson was not at home.

(That's right, blues fans--Robert Johnson had disapeared; and he left no forwarding address.) Sheesh.

It was all over, except for the questions. Now we shook our heads, watching twisted #1 outside in her standard teddy uniform, offering coffee to the officers and cooing, "What did he do? Really? I had no idea..." as she batted her eyelashes.

Toby was disgusted and twisted #2 just shook her head.

"I'm going back to bed" she said.

*   *   *

Nothing, and I mean no thing "shook" my sister.

I just hugged my dawgs happily as the kids finished breakfast.

Just another day in the life of the twisted sisters.

Nightshade
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234 posted 03-12-2004 09:25 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

...dang...we just have to be related!
Sunshine
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since 06-25-99
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Listening to every heart


235 posted 03-12-2004 09:31 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

Karen?  Keep telling.  Flashes of the real thing...I love it...

Cpat?  I didn't get to read yours until after I just got done with another flash of my own.  Hope you don't mind, but it seems to parallel yours just a tad (or is that ...ba ba dum "tadpole" )...only of course, you know us women...we talk a bit more ...

Sunshine
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236 posted 03-12-2004 09:31 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

I should have known….

My family had gone on a last “full” vacation with everyone home, before my imminent marriage to a young man from another state.  We had already gone past the “silent treatment” of my Mom’s when he had announced he would be whisking me off some 2000 miles, [but that’s another story] and this was the trip of only kin, a few months before the fatal day.

The trip is another story in itself…suffice to say, we’ll stick to the failure part of what I like to call “all the warning signs”.  Seems half-way through our trip, my intended’s friend called to let us know that my fiancé would be all right, only the new Opal had been totaled, but since he had fallen asleep at the wheel, he wasn’t hurt, just shaken up and spending the night, ah, in the arms of the Air Force M.P.’s special holding tank.

My folks decided not to break that bit of news to me until we were almost home – since he hadn’t died, wasn’t terribly hurt or even disfigured, they decided I didn’t need to worry about anything until after we got back.  [Being a Peter Pan sort of fellow as he was, he was terribly likable – they just didn’t hold out much chance for this to “pan” out, if you’ll forgive the pun…but they also knew that I had already taken a stance of putting up for the underdog, so they continued to hope against hope that I would see the light.]

That was red flag number 1.

Red Flag Number 2 came by two weeks before the wedding.  The fiancé decided he would just “take off” for a little trip on his own.  No phone calls, no “I want to get away by myself”, no nothing.  His friends didn’t know where he had taken off to, his family didn’t know  (they were several states away, true, but he hadn’t called them, either) and so, I was a bag of frazzled nerves for three solid days.  When he finally drove in, the mix of kill and hug was so strong I didn’t know if I’d kiss him to death…or strangle him in such a hold as I would put on him.  Again, his little boy outlook on life swung me over until I forgave him, and put aside the three days of sheer hell I had gone through with worry.

Red Flag Number 3.

The night before the wedding, as I lay in my bed in my parent’s home, excited, exhausted, knowing insomnia would take hold, I tried to picture his face.  Nothing but a blank.  Nothing.  I tried to picture faces of other young men I had dated.  Oh, I could see them so clearly, I could even see their pimples and blackheads and cowlicks.  But could I picture in my mind, my fiancés face?

Not on a bet.  

Which scared me.  I wondered what it meant, and finally decided that it must be what they referred to as the wedding jitters.  At eighteen, I really wasn’t paying attention.  I did think…I want out.  But then…what would we do?  All of this food.  All of these people!!  I couldn’t let them down…and the guilt, self laid mind you, but still, guilt, began.  Oh, God.  Embarrass my folks?  I didn’t dare!  This wasn’t a whim! This wasn’t something that was just decided last week!  This had been two years in coming.  I didn’t HAVE to get married, I WANTED to get married, right?  Right?  Wrong.  But the guilt of thinking maybe it WAS a mistake after all…

How could I explain this?

It had to be jitters.

Red Flag Number Four.

The day of the wedding grew glorious.  The weather was perfect, the smiles were all in place, Dad was still cracking jokes and Mom lost her voice.  Nerves, decidedly, or had she screamed to the heavens the night before to somehow show me a way out?  I’ll never know.  It didn’t come to me until MUCH later that the scenario laid out above was quite probably true.

So the doctor prescribed a relaxant for Mom [which really kicked in with the champagne…but I’m getting ahead of the story]…and we proceeded on to the church where I would dress.

The first thing my brother, who was one of my groomsmen, said, was “how many people did we invite, anyway?”  We figured ½ of the number invited would show.  We were not prepared to see the church overflowing.  That’s how much my parents were loved.  We figured 125-150 as we had sent out 300 invitations…over 250 people had come.  Mom refused to figure out how we would feed them all…somehow it would work out.  (It did, but I’m getting ahead of myself)…

So, my family is helping me dress, all of the ladies primping the bride in the most modest of dresses, hand made, hand sewn, all on the budget of the day (for Mom and Dad were going through a financial crisis that we had not seen coming down the pike) and the festivities were, decidedly, on the cheap.  But it looked good.  

Then someone said, “get the bride ready, it’s time.”  That’s all it took.  I froze.  Voices went far and away, down some tunnel that had suddenly appeared.  I could see everyone, but I couldn’t speak.  I couldn’t move.  I literally froze.  My grandmother’s voice came through the fog, it must have been fog, it had gotten so cold in the room.  

“Bring the smelling salts.”

The sharp whiff jogged me, and I faltered, and lagged.  Arms were under me, getting me to a chair.  Suddenly, from somewhere, a sharp resolve that felt like a pin prick bounced me out of the chair and it was “let’s get it done” and I felt as if I were going to a beheading.

I was making a mistake.  But I couldn’t back out of it now.  Not with the church overflowing.  Not with everyone who was waiting.  I wasn’t Katherine Ross, and there was no Dustin Hoffman.  I was making my bed.  

I was going to learn, as time took its toll, you can’t always stick up for the underdog.


Nightshade
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237 posted 03-12-2004 11:04 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Ah yes Karilea. Don't upset the applecart...don't be silly.....don't act like such a baby.....don't you dare let everyone down. Especially, don't do what your gut is telling you to do, while your heart is being squeezed like a sponge. Don't!

    
Sunshine
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238 posted 03-12-2004 11:18 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

Ah Chrislane...I figured you would be the first one here, and understanding as only you could.  I swear, I listen to those red flags now, girl.  I am amazed at how much they waved back then, and all I was doing then, and still doing somewhat today, is trying to please "others".

So many say...get a grip girl, about time to concentrate on yourself.  I truly do not know how, with the one exception, of sticking my nose into my own writing, and being tenacious about that.  Don't you know, though, that the little act of that alone, brings a whole plethora of problems of its own...

sigh.

Sorry.  I'm 52.  My meow is turning [finally] into a roar of some sort.



I love you too.
Mysteria
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British Columbia, Canada


239 posted 03-12-2004 11:47 PM       View Profile for Mysteria   Email Mysteria   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Mysteria

I have really enjoyed this journal and tried to stay quiet – and so far I have been doing that but now Karilea, you've really got me going  remembering one marriage of mine in particular.  (I have two favorites LOL)

We will skip husband No.1, and jump to Husband #2  for now, anyhow, Karilea you reminded me of the cement mixer that was going on inside me the day I married that man and should have listen to my inner voice.  I will really try to make this a brief Reader's Digest version.  

It was February 14th (Valentine's Day,) and we were getting married by a Reverend James Valentine of West Vancouver.  Well you would think right there I should have run would you not?  

My next sign came when we were at the front of the alter.  First, the minister backed up into a fan that was busy running to keep me from fainting I believe he said.  His robe got caught in the blades, and it was torn off in part exposing his wedding outfit consisting of  boxer shorts, and knee-high argyle socks (won't ever forget those socks,) that were being held up with those cute little garter things that tacky men tend to love as much as their combovers.

In about 5 minutes (that seemed like a hour,) the minister finally returned in a new robe but by this time I am just chomping at the bit to either get this over with or I am going to bold, when right in the middle of some promise or other I was making, the power went out!  To this day I still think that was a message from God, as he knew I was telling a fib and wouldn't keep the promise.

Well...not only did that mean no power there at the church full of people, it also meant no power at my future sister-in-law's house where all the expensive Yugoslavian food (that I didn't even like,) was being prepared, for people I didn't really care for.  One good thing though, the candlelight was very pretty for the remainder of that wedding.

So I bet I had the first take-out pizza wedding ever that I am aware of anyway!  We had leftovers for weeks I swear!

Now this part is the absolute truth and my son will swear to it on my behalf as he sure reminds me often enough…when it came my time to say, "I do," right out loud I said, "I do, but for the life of me I am having trouble figuring out why!"  

When my divorce went through just a little over two years later, I vowed to not ever care what people thought again, and to this day so far that it is working!  I was more concerned about letting everyone down that day, or upsetting his Mother who was doing all the food, that I didn’t listen to my inner voice.  That lesson paid off in paving future decisions in my life in a positive way.  So something good came out of it in the long run..

Karen is privy to my wonderful Italian adventure with Husband #2, which I will share another time, if you guys promise not to laugh too much.


Today I'm only moving clouds, tomorrow I'll try mountains.
Sunshine
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240 posted 03-12-2004 11:55 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

"I do, but for the life of me I am having trouble figuring out why!"  

~*~

I'll try to stick to the Reader's Digest version next time, myself...in telling, and in marrying...ROFLMAO...

In all seriousness [get serious folks] this is the best therapy I've ever encountered.  So what? if folks come in and say "Oh REALLY????"  So what!?  I'm not paying for this...and it's what could be used against me in court anyway if push came to shove, so why not take the free version and let it come out, as needs be?

I mean heck...I only get an hour at $175 a shot....if I WERE to go to a person who would say..."Yes, Ms. Rilling, I will see you again in two weeks, and we will go over the reasons why you felt you needed to always stick up for the suck up underdog who your parents felt was not good enough for you to begin with."

Stories...are stories.

The best of them?  Teach others the pros and cons of life.  
Susan Caldwell
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since 12-27-2002
Posts 8464
Florida


241 posted 03-13-2004 09:29 AM       View Profile for Susan Caldwell   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Susan Caldwell

  Good Morning!!  I can't tell you what a wonderful day it is!  Oh the things I have planned for myself today...

Karen~ Believe it or not, I have a SWAT story also...

Master Ron?  Did I ever tell you I grew up on a chain of lakes? (N. Indiana)...I fished but oh I hated it..I wanted to run..not sit in one place waiting for something to come to me...

I can't wait to read more stories (I really enjoyed the husband stories, between us we might have managed to gather all the "bad apples")

I will try to be back later..right now?  I need to enjoy the sunshine on my face...

Nightshade
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242 posted 03-13-2004 10:05 AM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Karilea - you get a whole hour with yours?!!
Gee, I only get 40 minutes and generally my therapist enjoys telling me stories of when he and his wife lived on an old estate in England until my time is up! HELLO....CAN I SPEAK NOW PLEASE?!
  Strange isn't it how "no" is such a tiny word, yet feels the size of a watermelon when you try to get it out of your mouth.


Now Sharon...ROFL.....what a wedding day that was!! Oh, do tell about the Italian!
Sunshine
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243 posted 03-13-2004 10:25 AM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

Chris, that would be IF I were to go to one.  I can only imagine what they cost...it's all relative to the state one lives in - and that's a pun in and of itself.

I live between the thought of "and you think YOU have problems" to "why are you wasting my time?" to..."you need to get out of THAT..."

So...since I have all of you?  LOL...it's YOUR choice to click and read...or just scurry past.  For me...it's great, just laying it all down.  

And then walking away from it.
scorpio
Member Ascendant
since 10-02-2002
Posts 5709
right...there


244 posted 03-13-2004 10:33 AM       View Profile for scorpio   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for scorpio

Ron, there is nothing like stalking fish to re-focus one's mind.  I have a favourite place where the fish know my name.  And I too practice catch and release.  

believe in what your heart feels...

Enchantress
Member Empyrean
since 08-14-2001
Posts 37801
Somewhere in time~


245 posted 03-13-2004 10:45 AM       View Profile for Enchantress   Email Enchantress   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Enchantress

Gawd this really feels good to get it all out, sort of cleanses the soul, at no charge!

*Ser you ain't gonna send us a bill later are ya?*

No way can I top Sharon's story about husband number one!

I laughed so hard I ...well..

My Hubby #1 I met right off the boat...literally, from Germany.  I taught him that driving the wrong way down a One Way street would indeed get him a traffic ticket, as it was NOT the name of a street...LOL...and also helped him with his English.

He in turn taught me how to ballroom dance, be a good haus frau, and together we produced two beautiful, blond, blue eyed children.

We both agree now we should have remained just friends..it would have worked out better than getting married.

Flashback...one strange thing..and Chris can attest to this..
He enjoyed it when Chris was staying at our place which she did a lot to babysit, and would have us play this game..
Chris and I would get on the floor and pretend we were tigers..and he would in turn pretend he was the lion tamer and crack a pretend whip over our heads.

I really never thought much of it until years later Chris and I were chatting and she mentioned how odd it was.

Gee...this feels SOOOO good!

On with my Saturday!!
Enchantress
Member Empyrean
since 08-14-2001
Posts 37801
Somewhere in time~


246 posted 03-13-2004 11:21 AM       View Profile for Enchantress   Email Enchantress   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Enchantress

Just remembered!

Husband #1..is the one who talked me into giving birth to our daughter in a Volkswagon!

Volkswagon of America was giving out College Scholarships to anyone who would dare to give birth in one.

I chickened out in the hospital parking lot at the last minute and they came running with a stretcher to get me.

I must have been....and still am...
serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 02-02-2000
Posts 28839


247 posted 03-13-2004 03:38 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

oh my god...I need some coffee now. And I thought that I had accomplished some olympic style maneuvers in a Volkswagon...

I've got so much yummy reading to *ahem& "digest", and I just skimmed through it and I'm already cracking up!

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

coffee.

sleepy grins (and yes, I KNOW what time it is, serenity typed grumpily)
Nightshade
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Member Laureate
since 08-31-2001
Posts 14673
just out of reach


248 posted 03-13-2004 04:10 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Ah, yes the "lion tamer game" ... it's all coming back to me now. Especially the time NancyLee and I were kneeling upright on the sofa,pawing at the air with her Hubby #1 waving his belt in circles above his head shouting "Up.up...good cats!" in his german accent. That must have seemed so strange and possibly perverse to the neighbour who just happened to be walking her dog and passed the curtainless window!! She stood frozen on the spot, dog tugging at the leash. LOL.
  I find the oddest thing about that time was, we weren't doing drugs or even drinking!!!     
serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 02-02-2000
Posts 28839


249 posted 03-13-2004 05:51 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

LMAO!!!

From the red flags to the "whips" of the lion tamer--all of this is priceless! (Mysteria, you must tell the story about the Italian now, too.)

And Nance? You're expecting a bill from moi?

I should be paying ya'll for the great medicine of all of this laughter...

I'd just like to ask one question of you and Chris (for the guys, since I know they want to know)--

When ya'll were playing the "lion-tamer" game, um, what were ya'll wearing?

 
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