Monthly Archives: March 2009

in the early garden

tulip buds, bold, pushing up from between their leggy greenery

tiny trillium on emerald beds, slenderly spreading their violet petals

young flame azalea, leaf-bare branches robed in jewel rows of lucent raindrops

young woman with upturned face, tasting the damp

green shadow caress, sigh of hyacinth pink

all, arching into fertile sunlight’s golden embrace

Dreaming in a Morphine Hangover

I spent the last several days in the hospital with what looked like appendicitis, but turned out to be a ruptured ovarian cyst.  The pain of a ruptured cyst rivaled that of childbirth.  I am not kidding.  It sucked holy hell.

The good news is, I got lots of morphine and slept through most of it.  Now I’m home with little orange pill bottles piled around me, with orders to stay in bed and do nothing.  So I’m just lying here, me and my buddy tinnitus, the ever-present ringing in my ears, through which I can hear the sound of children playing out in the sun.  That would be my child, and the two neighbor girls who have adopted her into their pack, for better or for worse (today they brought Ry a sugary Icee Pop as long as my arm. And she’s picking up their valley-girl talk: “Mama, can I, like, surf the web now?”).

We sure do have a different life here in Lebanucky.  I would never have imagined myself here.  Of course I miss much of Austin; there are no topless babes here, no Leslie the homeless transvestite, not too many freaks, hippies or weirdos, not as much vibrant color everywhere – and none of my Austin people.  It’s going to bring me trouble to dye my hair purple, or get the labret piercing I’ve been wanting.  I’m not saying I’m going to go mainstream, for the sake of not rockin’ the boat… but I don’t have to advertise my Wiccan leanings.  It’s good to learn when to reveal, and when to guard.  It takes strength of character and self confidence.  Which I don’t have in abundance, thus no purple hair as of yet.

I have gotten into the local community college, and hope to begin online BSN courses this summer.  I’m just very, very tired of never having enough money.  I want a little piece of land, maybe 3/4 acre, for my chickens, garden and goats.  Yes, goats.  For milk, cheese and butter.  Did I mention I learned to make butter?  Right in my food processor!  It’s delicious.  I will have goats, and I will have butter.  First I’ve got to get my white coat and prescription  pad.  I will be an urban homesteader with a Masters in Nursing.  And I will find a cure for tinnitus.

Last Vegetarian Standing

Today was a big day for Rocky.  Eight months after deciding to be a vegetarian, she went the other direction.   In a big way.  First, she closed her eyes … “Mamas, I need to make a decision…”; when her eyes opened, she had a big grin on her face, and said, “I want to eat meat.”   Not just any meat.  “Bacon!” she yelled, bouncing on her bed and clasping her hands in glee.  “And steeeeeaaaaaak.”

We had a talk about it – you remember where meat comes from, right?  And you’re ok with that?  And we made the rule that she can only eat meat that comes from animals that were humanely treated.  Lets not jump totally off the wagon, kid.

After she ate bacon, we went to the pet store and bought her two baby gerbils.  They’re very cute.  We had told her she could have another pet when we got all settled in to our new home.  I guess she’s smart enough to not ask for a pony.  Or a pig.

Life Cycles

Rukan left early this morning for Ohio, for the funeral of her Aunt Jo.  Aunt Jo was Ru’s “Second Mom”, a truly saintly woman, obviously touched by divinity, and the most beloved elder in the family.  Jo was the first of Sito Leza’s nine children to pass.  It’s The Beginning.  “This is going to be a hard year,” said Ru’s mom.

—————————————————————————–

Rocky and I had just crawled sleepily out of bed when the phone rang.

“Hey, Honey.”

“Hey you.”

“I just wanted to let you know, there’s a dead bunny out on the corner.  Hit by a car.  You might want to distract Ry away from it…”

“Is it mangled?”  I went to the sunroom window and looked out.  “Yep. Mangled.”

“Yeah, it’s a mess.”

“Oh, that’s too bad…”    We have wild rabbits living under our shed; we can see them at dawn, lollopping around the back yard.

“Mama, what’s mangled?”  Rocky came trotting over, with that particularly sleuthful look she gets when she catches us talking about something we shouldn’t be talking about within her earshot.

“Gotta go,” I told Ru, and successfully steered Ry in another direction.  It didn’t last long; the kid is sharp, and she is too curious about the world to let anything slide by.  When we started off in the car to run our errands, she peered out toward where I had been looking earlier.  “Mama, what’s that?  Something died in the street.”

Damn.  “It was a rabbit.”

“Did it get hit by a car?”  “Yes, Baby.”

Rocky was quiet for a few moments. Then she piped, “Can I see it when we get home?”

“No, Ry.”    “Ohhh, why?”     “Well… I just don’t want you to get upset about it.”    “I won’t, Mama.  I promise.”

“No, Ry.”

“Mama, death is a natural part of life.”

I smiled a little, turning into the shopping center, and shook my head.  She had me there.

A Note From the Lepperchaun

Today, there was a Lepperchaun running around our house, making mischief and hiding from sight.  On St. Patrick’s Day, if a kid searches and searches, she might be able to see the Lepperchaun – and then it will grant her a wish.  If she should actually catch the Lepperchaun, it will be obliged to give her its chest of treasures.

And so Rocky, camoflauged in green (which Lepperchauns have a hard time seeing), spent the day looking for the Lepperchaun.  Finally, at the end of the day, she said, “I don’t like Lepperchauns.”  Apparently, she was feeling frustrated at not having at least glimpsed the damn thing.

In the morning, when Rocky wakes up, she’ll find a green shamrock cookie on the table, with this note:

“Me Bonnie Lass Ry,                                                                                                                                                                                                          Thanks for keepin’ me on me toes!   Better luck next year.

Happy St. Patty’s Day!  -The Leprechaun”

Hopefully that’ll make up a bit for the lost Lepperchaun treasure chest.

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Worm Gardener

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Protected: Letter to my Feelings Doctor

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