MEDIA JUICE

Let me see if I can make sense of this.  Little-1 says in his too-loud voice, “Daddy, Juice.”  And this brings to my attention, several things that I would like to come alive, using my morning blog.  The importance of milk and juice for young children can not be over stated.  Is important to do a couple of things, as morning starts, namely prayers for the opening of eyes and the opportunity to have a normal day, and a healthy breakfast.  Such is the way around my round-table of want-to-be prince and princess people.  We try our best to do the right thing, each and every day. 

Having said that, I want to emphasis The Family Rituals.  Comes down to this for me; It all begins with people.  We must take good care of each other, be it your potato-tot and little people, or strangers across a far-away-sea and ocean.  Tis the season.  Of Goodwill.  And will use this as a lead-in.  I wanted to write a blog about the importance of juice, but something has come up, and now has my attention:  Media Juice.

 

And now there is more.

 

My children are asking for juice, and yes one likes apple juice and one likes blackberry juice.  I like water and coffee, but that does not apply just now.  Juice and it occurs to me, on the subject of Media Juice, that it can be quite potent. And now I can get into the real subject of this all. 

Holidays.  People.  Hoax. 

Seems there is this topic:  2Day Fm UK hospital prank.  Started when Kate went to the hospital for morning sickness.  And the influence from afar is great.  Some folks in Australia at a radio station thought it might be proper and funny, to call the hospital in London and pretend to be royalty and concerned family and pump the poor person who answered the phone for information.  So far so good.  Twas just a little fun. 

And now I read, where a British nurse is Dead.  The details can be found on the internet, but for me its all about Media Juice and what happens, around the world.

 

Clearly something is wrong.  Something went terribly wrong.  And now comes the business of getting counseling for those involved, and lawyers and so much more for those being drawn into this situation.  It is today’s news.  Around the World.  Consequences of Action Taken.  Started in Australia, after news of the royal couple in the UK.  “ Cause No Harm.”  Is what I tell the Littles all the time.  Do not hit your sister.” 

And since Christmas and World Holidays are drawing near, we have in our house a Naughty and Nice List for official use, to determine who gets a new car for Christmas and who gets a plastic one, or in her case, “Another doll.”  As you can see, its complicated.  Can’t take sides.  Have to be careful.  Family Matters.  Love One Another.  And with that I look across the table and ask, “ Well Littles- 1 and 2.  Do you want any more Juice or toast?”  And with that we all agree. 

Play Time. 

Time to have a little fun.  And so now they are off, doing other things, out of sight.  Nanny People take over.  And I am left with my own thoughts and a lot of Media Juice, nobody really wanted.  Have a good day.   

Do No Harm.

 

NOD WINK AND SMILE

NOD  WINK  AND SMILE

I have decided to do a walk-through the rest of December, locking in on the killer-bee style of circling the hive, bouncing from subject to subject, and in the end, just doing my job, without much publicity.  Just woke up and nothing important to report.  Playing video Tiger Woods golf, saying prayers as if in gratitude to all that makes me the great person I will turn out to be today, and sipping tea and a cup or two of soup broth. 

Preparing for my day, and hoping to keep all signs of hope and promise and prosperity above the horizon and rising.  I didn’t plan it this way, but compared to millions, I am having a good day.  Oh so far removed from the fighting and the politics of Washington DC, most things are in a holding pattern, as I greet this new day, intent on visualizing my path through the rest of the month, and into January and the new year.  2013.  Unknown Territory. 

And I plan to nod, wink and smile my way through another year, looking for you and the horse you rode in on.  That is to say, I expect to see more of you, and will start by making time for the little things, like baseball and cotton candy and good drinking water, to be continued and consumed at Spring Baseball, MLB style in Phoenix, Arizona in February and March and April.  The Planning Begins.  Nod.  Wink.  Smile. 

Starting my day.  Looking for you.  Christmas Wish List in hand.  And a bottle.  Just in case you are thirsty or just like Coke or Sprit or something or somebody sweet like me.  Reminding us all.  Today is a Good Day.  And don’t you forget it.  When stuck in traffic. 

Late for Work.

 

I think it time to get my priorities in order.  Set a course and steer clear of obstacles in the way.  Done with far away innuendos of doom and gloom.  Not over concerned that my NFL football team, Seattle Seahawks might lose on Sunday.  Truth is I have my house in order,  and step out to the Supermarket of Good Luck and Good Cheer and Best of All-Things for you, in the coming year.  Past the deadline, of getting everything done yesterday.  Nothing on my plate, except good times, and a nod, wink and smile.  Just for you.

You may be facing a conundrum as the holiday season kicks into high gear.  I have all I need.  I think about you each and every day.  I have found love, and an extra sentimental kiss or two in the laundry basket.  Of course its hearts and stars, found in a special drawing left where I could find it, by The Littles.  Not yet in school, but doing what other children do.  Love Their Mum and Daddy. 

And express it in picture art, and have lots to say when they see you have found the latest version of pop-culture love, expressed in colors and bold lines going everywhere, and now tacked to the refrigerator, just in time for breakfast.  Busy of course, but have time for each other.  And we do it.  Nod.  Wink.  Smile.  And blow kisses to each other.  Love in all the right places.  Begins in the heart.  And warms the room, as we sit down to breakfast.  Full of Love.

We Party On.   It is December. 

On Course. 

Thinking of You. 

No obstacles in the way.

Loving You and Our Children.

Today. 

PUDDLE JUMPING

“Oh Kate.  Morning sickness.”  Nothing to hide and it is out in the open.  Checked into a hospital, and others came later to check on her, husband included.  Is the pinnacle of life, and Royal Littles.  And I recall a story.  Down at your feet and pulling on you, saying:  “Daddy Puddle.”  And instantly I knew a comma was missing, and so I fired back a comment:  “Baby, puddle.” 

And is how this all got started as a father-son or daughter-father conversation, reminding myself that frontier men don’t talk much.  Busy killing time and anything that moves, we call it meat and greet and ole time hunting.  Sparse with the language and not yet reading, we simplify everything.  And that’s how my mind manufactured the idea of long-range planning and giving in to the moment.  And the subject: Puddle Jumping.

 

Royal Children, like regular ones are a gift of life.  Special in every way.  Having said that, we must now prepare for the season of media delight when every move and hesitation is a royal moment to be reported.  Long conversation this will be, as media has something other than killing to report.  Gift of Life.  Royal Children.  And I am almost speechless, but get it out.  “Oh Kate.  Now it all begins.  Puddle Jumping.”  A form of code and logic. 

In the beginning one has to learn, and make it seem as if this is an everyday thing.  And for the Nanny it is.  If you say, “Not really that kind of girl.”  Then we know.  And know we do, to hop, skip and leap across the Atlantic and all the crazy that comes with it.  Oh so many sleepless nights. 

And its just morning sickness.  We should prepare.

Bringing us to the discussion, “Why This?”  Puddle Jumping?  Well, its simple for me.  It can be an adventure of the dimension that is universal.  Sun/Son comes out and now it is official.  Mother of a Prince.  And Princes, too.  Haven’t ruled out the possibility.  Twins.  And don’t forget the comma.  “Oh, boy and girl.  Such a joy to find out.  Put the welcome mat out.  Bring her home.  Was in the hospital.  Morning Sickness.  We want details. 

And no matter what I blog here, let me stress and worry and make the point, what is said is only good for about fifteen minutes.  And with children it all speeds up.  So if you have two, then puddle jumping becomes the norm.  Just saying.  Have Velcro and changing nappies is easy.  So they say.  Up-side down and rolling about, takes a little practice and yet are in the age of no-stick-um, now.  Meaning forget the pins and needles.  Limited crying, but it still happens. 

And now I remember, this can’t be another blog about the rain, and so it isn’t.  Sports.  News.  Weather.  Royal Children.  “Oh, Kate.”

Now what?  Don’t forget the comma.  Need a little separation here.  And ear plugs.  Auto-cipher flows and makes havoc of unpaved areas in your life.  “Wipe your feet, “I mean it.”, and yes, it rained all day today, and then suddenly it cleared up.  Kids and media going a bit crazy from being in the house or in front of the hospital waiting for Kate-News, so we said:  “You need a break. 

Let’s go puddle jumping.”  Excited the kid-phase in cold and wet adults.  Remember the story.  Once upon a time, in a land far, far, away, there was a young person who had this amazing ability to Puddle and Jump.  Skip, leap and hop to the other-side.  Frawg boy.   All-legs girl.  A special treat to watch them grow up and get stronger.  One day at a time, and before you know it they are changing their own nappies.  Is meaningful, in a human way.  Personal Development. 

Life without the puddle.

“Don’t talk about the rain/reign.”

What else is there to say about all this.  Should I stop?  Rain Check.  Has he got it out of his system? 

“Deal With It.” 

But not sure I want to say that to Kate.  Morning and we are just getting started.  Some people go to church.  Pray for relief.  Other go to the grocery store and buy the strangest things.  Oh the stories we could tell.  How to deal with it.  We take turns.  His.  Hers.  Ours. 

And in the end, we realize this unusually high energy, stirring within.  Comes with the twist and turn and fundamental kicking it with you.  Bonding.  Not volunteer work.  Becomes a way of life.  And just the other day, I had enough.  Had to rant.  Blamed it on the rain and some seasonal disorder. 

But now we know.  “Oh, Kate.  Morning Sickness.”  And what more is there to say about all this?  How far will it go?  Across The Pond.  Puddle Jumping Mania.  And the event:  Royal Children:  1-2-3.  Place your bets.  Boy.  Girl.  Both.  All of the Above, and more.

Not talking about it just now, The Reign. 

DISQUISTIONS

DISQUISITIONS

 

Today’s blog may be about my day to day frustrations with everything not me, meaning I am too busy to concentrate on me, and hence go ballistic and global and switch to Google News, when I want to be out of the neighborhood, and acting worldly-like.  And this is good as long as my body gets a little sun, otherwise its Skin Dementia for me, and I start acting a little crazy.  But that is a different ordeal, and today is about dreaming and deferral and compromise. 

Epitome of a Failed Life. 

Maybe.  Perhaps it is nothing more than having too much time to sit around and think about the fatal flaw that encourages crazy talk and seasonal ailments that come with Black Friday and money talk.  And that is where I draw the line.  Have no money, nor money talk.  Staying silent on the subject, but will talk about that elephant in the closet and my subject for today:  DISQUISITIONS .

Working on something I call The Reversal Test, when the sun has gone to visit Florida, and left me behind clouds and torrential downpours that dislodge the essential components of a healthy soul, and leave me experimenting from September to April, with my condition:  skin dementia and the long curse of paleness that overcomes me.  Having said that, I will claim it is both arduous and undesirable, but I am reluctant to just pack up and move in with the in-laws and family that has oranges and shade trees in their backyard. 

Instead I look for a philosophical position that justifies my existence in the far away north.  Having said that I continue my blog, which is for me articles and compositions, and discussions and perhaps disquisitions that could also be:  dissertations and explications and all those things we throw to the wind as paper and origami birds, that tweet and fly around the world, serving as the daily distraction and a remedy for skin dementia and an example of mind over matter, and life without the sun.

 

So I am looking for a mental cure to my condition, and the condition my condition is in.  Visualize myself in Tony The Tiger pajamas, walking into the Writer’s Café in South Beach (Miami ), in search for something that provokes a fountain of youth in me, and more smiles than I normally enjoy at home, this time of year. 

Cold and Frozen Expression of a failed life, losing out to skin dementia and a need to talk about it, constantly.  Comes down to my other life and right and wrong ways to do it.  Exaggerating the consequence and making it sound more important than it is, I venture on.  A vulture in the midst of 300 days of rain.  Broken  down and decomposing as mold spores on the under carriage of self and society, weighted down as a free-falling origami bird, no longer viable to fight the wind and weather and seasonal displays of chaos.  I am.

 

Rain-drenched scum and birds of a different dimension, like Fiscal Cliff and Jerusalem and Syria.  Why do I bother, as I can’t change a thing?  Disquisitions are foolish in the scope of a high-caliber rifle going off, and objects in free fall, hoping for a happy landing, somewhere in time.  And without the sun, this is not happening for me, and no amount of talk or blogging about will make it different.  Not just now. 

But for a change of subject and state of mind, I can mention Christmas and Party Time is almost here.  Get out the lights and the 18 year old bottle of Scotch, which never gets open, but sits there.  Taunting you.  Confronting and comforting at the same time, I think about you walking on South Beach, water bottle in hand, sun-glasses in modern tint and fashion, and most of all I think about the sun. 

And wonder, will I survive this day.  And dream I will be back tomorrow, disquisition ready.  Talking about almost anything that makes him feel better,  living his winter life  and learning how to fold the paper into an origami free-falling bird, that is the symbol of his existence, and the Fiscal Cliff he calls home.

NOTHING TO SEE

Nothing to see.  Perhaps its not what you are looking for, and reading between the lines suggests nothing sinister here.  Mother said.  “Take the broom handle, prop open the eyelids, and wake up son.  Time to start your day.  Put some clothes on, and change your under-ware, but take a shower first.”  That’s how you talk to boys, and starting at an early age, is good.  Slow to see what you are talking about, composition is for English school, and the truth is he grows on you.  Dirty on the outside, nice when you least expect it. 

 

 

Talking about the undiscovered me, and it has been a long journey to an early morning shower and smelling nice when around people.  Hard work made me like this.  Up early.  Get to the job site.  And then, too tired at the end of the day, and if you ask him he would say, “Mother had so many children, she got their names mixed up when telling stories of their youth.”

 

Charm and Character.  Not easy to frame in a picture and hang in the hall.  But won’t suggest there is nothing to see, when looking at my track record.  Circuitous at best, he invites you to the round table of sacred nights and a glass of wine or ale.  Be careful. 

 

The morning after can be revealing and it all depends how much you remember at the bar, how disappointing it is, when he’s gone and you read the note left on the table.  “ Stone Drum has a calling.  Stonehaven, Scotland.  Come find me if you dare.”

 

Nothing to see.  Not much there.  I am not really saying that.  Depends on what you desire.  Landscape promise is more compelling than chasing a boy across the seven seas, or even across the Atlantic.  But it happens.  Eating and drinking and he is available.  That’s how it got started.  The rest was a yearning for travel and lust.  At the time, it was beautiful. 

 

What I saw in my mind, and the projection of us walking the highlands hand in hand, and me, a little slowed down by carrying his baby.  Truth is we never got that far.  Prevailing westerly winds blew us off course, and is true I was comfortable at the Holiday Inn, but without him.  Stone Drum and Stone-haven.  We don’t talk about it very much, when Christmas comes around and he appears magically.  High Ground Approach. 

No death stares.  Nothing to see.  No pictures from the past.  Was in my youth and yes he put notions in my head.  Rocked my cradle so to speak, but barely could afford the ticket to Scotland.  Lands End and so did my man-dreams with him.  Invisible permutations of good times and a good man, blown off course near Stonehaven.

 

Blamed in on the weather and facing east staring into the night, as sand became tears in my eyes.  Disappearing Act.  Round Table Night.  Dark Ale.  Flickering light and no pictures.  Nothing to see, but felt it at heart level.  Gone but not forgotten.  Like a museum piece I yearn to visit, Stone Drum is a favorite. 

 

Even now.  Even in bad weather.  Coming Home.  Older now and understand.  At the time he was all I could see.  Close my eyes and he was there.  Still is.  Frozen in time.    Oh so lovely.  Those days of youth.  Being in Love.  Near a Scottish Castle.  Nothing to see, but a lot to cherish and remember.  Yes, indeed.

pardon my ignorance

PARDON MY IGNORANCE

Time and attention to the tone and feeling of this time of year, brings me to the

Point of no-return, when I tell myself, “Don’t give in to all this junk-on-your-bunk and a stranger’s attitude.  Attitude and Altitude, and standing watch along the border, to see who might come along.  Immigration and Migration, and I now remind myself to put out something for the birds and for the hungry. 

Not to say, “Let’s Talk About It.”, but realize it feels excessive in the downward direction, when you  are being ignored, or just have no place to go.  No money.  Haven’t put the tree up yet.  Not sure I will.  But suddenly I feel like I need to do something, but the list is very long now, The Things We Just Don’t Do  2012.”

Step up and tell all.  That is not going to happen.  I feel awkward about this and am more aware of this than ever before.  Flying affects me.  Attitude and Altitude and standing in line, and then the body scan and imagining what I might look like, with no clothes on and skin and bone.  It is good to have a reservation. 

Hesitation and Caution go with the territory.  Did I mention, I rate low on mingle-ability.  Wall Flower, maybe.  Not really shy, as I just don’t want to be involved, but read a lot and must learn by experience, “No Man Is An Island.”    I’ve heard people suggest, there is a way around all this, but so far at the airport, and if I move an inch, a red light goes off, and my heart starts pounding.  Tell myself, “Too Old  For This.”  And am isolated, so have nobody to ask, “Is this true?”  Flying Affects Me.  Pay the price for getting high.  I do.

 

Letting the season settle around me.  Thanksgiving is over, and am thankful I am here, at the airport and waiting at the curb, looking for a friendly face.  Lost in a crowd of mass-transit humanity.  I want so much more, but that’s not going to happen.  Conspicuously awkward in unfamiliar situations, but I have been here before.  Last Year.  And now I am back, and you are asking, “Why?”

 What’s the point? 

Upside, downside, and now standing in the middle waiting for you to join me.  Where do I anticipate that event to be?  Under the Mistletoe and near the lights, hot chocolate in hand, just seeing you warms my heart and head and hands.  Taking what you give me, I smile.  “Thank You Love.”

Pardon My Ignorance, but this is what I do this time of year.  Travel.  Look Around.  Hope to find happiness and love.  And when I do, it makes it all worth-while.  In the airport.  Out at sea.  Halfway house and not sure when I will be released.  But its not about what you do most of the year. This time  its special.  Looking For Love.  Looking For You.  Everywhere. 

 

And yes, tis true. Even at the airport I hope to find that perfect line with you standing in front of me, going my way.  That’s what happens when attitude and altitude affect you.  And did I mention running through the airport, holding hands with O.J. Simpson. 

 

And the lights go off, people begin to notice you, and its best to just stop.  Look at the ground and realize.  Tis the life.  2012.  In the airport.  Get Real.  Time To Get Searched.  Stop looking for her.  It’s a myth.  Santa is really busy.  Its not going to happen, no matter what they tell you.  Tis the season.  You are alone. 

With your thoughts.

All about love. 2012

Cheers