Tuesday, June 29, 2010


This chic is physically exquisite. You know who I'm talking about, we all see them. They are the rare human representative for all those airbrushed photographs in the Cosmopolitan magazines we read in college but we refuse to even look at in the grocery line now. Okay, so maybe we glance at them, never touch them and chuckle at the headlines which always seem to give us a new way to please our man.

Newsflash. Men are not hard to please. Just ask them. They will tell you.

Anyway, I get to meet this chic and she's not even airbrushed in the meeting and she is THAT GORGEOUS. Yet there are no worries because before the meeting I have already decided she has something inherently wrong with her like maybe she can't do math or has a bad temper. I don't know but figure God would not give someone everything, right?

We sit and talk. No, I didn't give her any math problems to do, but I did listen.

Let's just say God does pour a little more in some cups.

I sat there as she openly told the tale of her last failed relationship. How two weeks before the wedding it had been called off and how incredibly devastating it was. She seemed to speak with such wisdom when she said she had tried time and time again to hold on until one day she realized that he didn't want her. And that's when she walked away.

She's twenty-one years old.

The math ends up being that it took me at least fifteen years past twenty-one to admit to myself someone wouldn't want me. It then took me about five more years after that to stop taking it so personally.

Sunday, June 27, 2010


I can't think of a better way to start my Sunday than with some passion. For the sabbath, my friends, I give you raw beauty to stir the soul.



Friday, June 25, 2010


I think some things are just too beautiful and precious to keep to yourself. Charlie gave me this yesterday, and today I'm passing it on to you.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010


If ever a book sang the blues it would be Cormac McCarthy's The Road. After reading the book a couple of years ago I heard they were making the movie, and I vowed then never to watch it. I felt it too personal, that somehow Cormac had delved into some of the greatest fears of my soul. The loneliest parts of single parenthood, places you could not give a name. Yet he did. His voice was a slow acoustic guitar in a dark, smokey room void of even a breath. The song, that Papa's song, sang of loyalty, responsibility and love like no other.

I watched the movie last night. The entire movie. Then I wept.

Sometimes it feels important to think that someone understands something you barely understand yourself. Cormac did that for me in one of the purest, most beautiful songs I've ever heard. A song of hope.

Monday, June 21, 2010

the road

He's grinning. Teeth and shades. The sunglasses remind me of the ones pictured on my Dad back in the 70s. He was in an Arabian desert, flexing next to a jeep with me standing by him grinning. The glasses are gold rimmed, the kind you can see yourself in. Slater has on a similar pair now, and he's waving as he backs out the driveway.

Road trip, the ocean ahead, nothing but time and a full tank of gas. I bend down and force Billy Sue's paw in a wave just to get one last laugh before he turns on the road. I remember this type of excitement, the absolute freedom, and find that as a parent it's just as good watching your child feel it as it is when you experience it yourself. If not better.

Later I've locked the doors, phone my grandmother and find out she and her sister have been talking about how they're worried about me. It seems they're concerned Slater and I were so close that I may be lost without him. I just listen and decide there's no sense in attempting to explain that this feeling has nothing to do with loss.

It's an open road, and this is as close as I've come to taking two trips at once. Joy and gratitude doubled.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

The Dude Abides

There are people who theorize our souls choose our parents. I like to think that's the case. 'Cause, yeah, that would mean my soul performed at least one genius act in this lifetime.

Way to go, soul!

And Happy Father's Day, Bobby Miller, Bull, Diddy, my Slingblade and Dude! I picked you.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Planes, Buses & Automobiles

Delta cancelled our 8:30am flight to Chicago Monday morning.

The alternate flight with United at 2:30pm was then postponed till 5:00pm.

Due to the delay in reaching our destination we had to ride a packed bus and didn't arrive till 8:30pm missing the first day of festivities.

Delta cancelled our 4:30pm shot to Memphis on Wednesday. They offered to put us in a hotel room and on another flight in the morning.

We kindly declined the offer and rented a car turning the ten hour ride into a nine hour one.

Got home yesterday at 4:00am.

There are some great quotes from this trip.

Rusty on a bus full of quiet, orderly people headed to O'Hare when he found out our flight had once again been cancelled....he should have maybe used his inside voice when he EXCLAIMED, "Shea, wake up. WE'RE FUCKED!" Some people don't use the "F" word.

Or when I'm driving the rental car out of Chicago just happy to be in a forward motion, notice the smell of chocolate in the air and point to a Baby Ruth factory while explaining to Rusty that the sweet smell was an excellent sign. He replied, "You've taken being positive too far!!"

And yes, I totally got out of paintball.

All in all, I love home. Love my shower. Love my bed. Love my son and my dog and my office and my coworkers and my computer and everything!!! It's so good to be home.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

well hellooooooo, dark side

I just watched Sarah Silverman's Jesus is Magic and loved it but hated myself as a result.

The latest Coen brother's flick, A Serious Man, led me to think they despise their fans. Then I watched the commentary to see if the boys could tell me what the hell they were thinking. As a result, I hated myself for disliking the movie. But yes, I still think they were telling anyone that watched that movie to go straight to hell.

I wonder if I can call in sick to my trip to Chicago tomorrow. Maybe a stomach virus? Severe allergies? Could I go to the hospital and simply explain that I need an overnight stay to get out of sales meetings and paintball? I have insurance, people!

Maybe I need a nap.

Saturday, June 12, 2010


A dim light whispers through a window overhead, while a scream of urgency forces the eyes open. "What day is it? Am I late for work? Where's Slater? What happened? Who's the dead guy next to me?"

Don't worry, Mom, those last two were thrown in as an attempt at humor.

It's Saturday, and although June is double and triple booked this year, I feel reprieve.

Breathe. Relax. Today will be at my own pace, slow and methodical.

I pull the covers to my chin, adjust the pillow underneath my head, listen to the fan above, feel the cool breeze circulating the room and simply waller in the very moment of now.

Beautiful. I am so grateful for this moment.

Friday, June 11, 2010


Ahhhhhhhhhh sweet Friday, how I do love you so.

Thursday, June 10, 2010


It's black and white film.

There are people dressed for work, carrying briefcases. Walking down busy sidewalks.

It's order.


Everyone surviving, hauling their own load and, in some incredible human dance, not running into each other.

Allowing for enough space, dodging and weaving as needed.

Then there is this one crazy bitch in color, red even.

She's screaming, expecting everyone to listen because what she has to say is so fucking important.

This scene is in my head as a result of looking through some old emails on another computer this morning. I was searching for one of Josh's old writings and, as a result, had to be confronted with some of my own.

It reminds me of something Dad had said, "Treat everyone with kindness 'cause you don't know what battle they're fighting."

The fact that Josh, Mom, Ellen and Chuck still even speak to me is such a miracle of human generosity and understanding. My only hope is that I can be for you what you were for me if you ever need it.

My wish is that you don't.


Dude. Thank you. I'm one lucky girl.

Divorce sucked. I was wearing red.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010


Moments like these can be created just by their juxtaposition to the mundane surrounding them. Coupled with such rarity they make you stop. Sit even if the building's on fire. 'Cause, well, you have to. Instinctually, you know it.

I say he's maybe sixty with broad shoulders and a thickness about him giving suggestion to a life thus far of hard work and healthy eating. His button down shirt is pressed, belt buckle in line with the buttons, and his boots are clean. There is a distinct energy about him. Maybe it's the eyes, the rhythm of his speech. Even a slow talking southern gentleman, which this guy is of the classic variety, can convey a certain urgency to their thoughts without picking up their tempo. It's quite a talent, I think.

He ran for Governor of Mississippi several years back in a Republican primary. He had never held an elected office and never ran for any other seat.

I question his logic. Maybe politics was something where you climbed some kind of ladder. Ya' know, go for mayor first.

"I don't do anything without going straight to the top," he explains.

And this is when he sits down and proceeds to get my vote, although he's not currently running for anything. Truth be known I think he's already got it. Mainly because he seems like a "no bullshit" kinda guy, the kinda guy I like.

"Most people think that the welfare system is something settled on by the Congress or the Senate," he explains and then goes on to say, "but it ain't. It's executive, and a Governor can make some changes. I ran on a platform called 'You don't get a check'."

"They have those little cards now where they just put money in an account for you, but I always said if you can get up and go to the welfare office and pick up your check.....YOU DON'T GET A CHECK."

"If you have ever been convicted of a felony....YOU DON'T GET A CHECK."

"If you can't pass a drug screen, which you'll be given often....YOU DON'T GET A CHECK."

There are several of these, so many so that he could most likely write a thick novel called YOU DON'T GET A CHECK. A bestseller perhaps, especially in the South. This is nothing I haven't heard before, and in the dream that is this piece of land it seems like common sense. So I nod, possibly purr a bit letting him know it's a good forum for his thoughts and he continues.

"I remember one time when we were flying back to Jackson on the campaign trail, and I had all these young men working for me. They probably didn't get more than three hours a' sleep a week. Always worried 'bout what I was gonna say next. They were good. Worked hard. That night I told them the next day I was gonna tell the people about my mobile capitol punishment unit."

"Your what?" I actually giggle.

He continues, "Ya' see, we spend so much money on these guys that kill these kids, paying them with clemency to tell us where they buried their victims, and I'll tell you the United States Constitution never told us to do that. I ain't gonna believe anybody who tells me it did."

"My mobile capitol punishment unit will take care of this issue and save this state all kinds o' money. I tell you right now if some SOB kills his family and walks out of his home with blood dripping from his body we call three judges to that house. We show them the evidence of what this man has done, and we ask those judges to make a decision right then and there. If those three people decide that man's guilty we call the mobile capitol punishment unit up. They come and give that man the choice. He either takes a bullet between the eyes, is drugged till his heart stops or he's burned on his front lawn."

My new friend here obviously likes the burning scenario as evidenced by his further explanation, "Once he's burned we call the family and let 'em know we're throwing his charred body on the street in front of his home, and they have two hours to pick it up. If they don't come in those two hours we have the sanitation unit come and dispose of that body."

Needless to say, those young men working for him during his run for governor talked him out of telling anyone about his mobile capitol punishment unit. I figure he knew they would 'cause even down here it appears that politics trumps common sense and nobody seems to be willing to say what they think nobody wants to hear.

I think that's the bullshit.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

lonely, lonely blog

I have excuses. None of them are all that good. Things have been happening. All kinds of stories. I mean, seriously, how many women are haunted by a ghost who wants to have sex with them?

More to come. I promise.