This Road of Mine

I want to mop  the floor.  Really.  I do. I love mopping floors. Looking down at a perfectly sparkling clean floor brings me a Zen-like peace. It sorta tells me that all is well when the floor is clean. Life is better without dust bu nnies haunting and taunting me.    But I haven’t been able to mop the floor. It’s impossible right now. So is cooking a meal, washing my hair, or getting into my car and running over t o the local CVS. Yes, I consider it fun times browsing a fully stocked pharmacy like CVS and Walgreens. Don’t ask me why, it just is.   I cannot do these things because the other morning, while I was minding my usual business of procrastinating, the world started to spin and wouldn’t stop. I mean the entire planet went topsy-turvy in my head and would not stop. Naturally such turbulence caused great nausea, in turn causing an exorcist-like expelling of everything the ancestors and I have ever eaten all over my pretty home, including my happy-making brand new lime green 1800

These days I am participating in near anything that makes me a better human being. So now there's Lent. I haven't given two cents about Lent before. I don't want to give up the best things in life. Why would God want that from me? Like coffee. One would think I'd give up coffee for Lent, since I love it so much. Not a chance in heaven or hell. God made coffee. God made coffee so good. Why would God want me to not enjoy the smooth deep taste of dark roast and miss out on how thrilled I am to be alive when sipping on its absolute yumminess? Huh? God loves us, right? Then my love would want me to enjoy the very best things in life. Coffee is top 10 for me. So, coffee's off the table. Sugar? Ok, I have a serious problem with sugar. I would give it up, not just for God, but for my health. But I cannot commit. Sugar goes in my coffee. Deal breaker right there. And I would just give up the rest of the sugar, but I think the point is to go all the way, 100%, yeah? GAS

Welp. The Barnes Clan has successfully sent my father, Mr. William Aaron Barnes on his way to his next adventure with style, grace, and with heavy but full hearts. I do hope there are safaris and airplanes for him to pilot there, where ever that may be.... But you know how there's beauty in everything? Even the dark stuff?  I kinda love that about life. I'm a kind of girl who could be, in my dramatic-like way,  experiencing the end of the world (again), crying and feeling that all is lost, but stop for a moment to look at a lovely moon, a pretty bird, a stunning human.  Because ying and yang are real guys. In the midst of this two week familial journey toward our patriarch's final resting place, there were equal parts sadness and joy. I mean, I saw bad behavior, and I saw good, humble gestures of compassion. I saw inconsolable tears, I heard roars of laughter. I saw divisiveness, and a coming together. I saw me struggle through my own journey in this, while simultan

Winter is not my season. It's not warm. It's not hot. It's cold. It's even been known to be very cold. Like today. And it's not even winter yet. The only thing I like about winter is hot chocolate, coffee, my two sets of fleece sheets, my three sets of flannel sheets, my thick fleece throw, my fleece-lined leggings, the car's super wonderful heat, my portable heater (I have three, its a big house), hot tea, soup... get it? Anything hot or warm. Most anybody who knows me knows that I don't go many hours in the winter without talking about how winter is - just - not - my season. I'm that girl in the "Boys of Summer" song. (singing = You can see me - my brown skin shinin' in the sun - I got my hair combed back - sunglasses on baby.. .) enjoy song here But things have been strange lately (like the last few years). When I go outside in the cold winter air, unless its windy and bitter - winters aren't so bad.  It's almost neve

I stay alive because: Of quiet morning drives to work, the fresh new baby day ahead of me, deep summer-green leaves all around me - reminding me that life is so temporary, so fragile, so very vibrant at times. I stay alive because: I let soulful eyes meet mine every day, some full of joy, some full of pain, some full of such great hope that maybe, maybe somebody loves them. I love them. I love you. I do. I stay alive because: Chocolate cake, and sautéed spinach, and morning coffee, and good music, and thought provoking movies, and soul touching conversations, and sitting at my favorite window looking out into the very alive world and sometimes the very quiet world, and the smell of morning, and old/new/good friends, and Sundays, and pretty things, and being put to sleep by the moon at my window and being awakened by the sun tap dancing on my face, and my sweet love showering me with sweet feelings are all just too irresistible to not want more of here in this lit

Don't get mad. I think you might get a little mad, but I've got a truth to tell. I didn't always love Maya Angelou's writing.  It was just "okay" to me.  I loved some other author's works much much more than hers. I guess I liked make believe at the time more than I cared for a truthful story. Spin me a tale, entertain me - that's what I wanted. Maya didn't serve flowers. Just raw truth. But I bought and read her books because as a proper English Major I am supposed to and they look good among the other authors of the black canon section on display in my well-loved and cherished bookcase. Don't judge me... However, I LOVED Maya.  I LOVED Maya's presence.  I loved loved loved the moment she opened her mouth to talk. (Even when her long thoughtful pauses kinda annoyed me cause it turns out I'm not terribly patient.) Maya was: So Calm. So Regal. So Wise. So Patient.  So Beautiful.   So Dignified.