To All Mothers & Mothering Types Everywhere

Funny how sometimes when you’re looking for one photo
another will appear. (The same is true for music cds and socks.)
There is always something wonderful waiting to discover.

I was looking for the photo of Jim’s mom, Ann, sitting outside
our front door on a white plastic chair about twenty years ago,
but found her instead in this one at Kelly’s Christening in N.S.

(That’s Nova Scotia  in the life of this humble blogging gal.)
My plan is to repost the photo below, highlighting some moms.
To all mothers and mothering types everywhere — THANK YOU! 

Happy Mother’s Day!!

Jim’s mom, Ann was 95 in this photo, and lived to be 97.

Happy to report my mom and all her 4 sisters — Aunt Loy, Aunt Inez, Aunt Freda and Aunt Tilly are well and happy.

My sister’s “little” girl is now 11, and her son Austin, is 5.

And, yes, my sister is a fox! And currently single, way up there in Canada-land.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

How To Touch Up Your Roots At Home, In 14 Easy Steps

1. remove bra
(yours or any consenting adult’s)
🙂
(dye can stain)
2. wrap old towel around shoulders
3. take “before” photo…

4. make tea
5. color hair
6. drink wine in bath
7. forget to take “after” photo
8. let 2 weeks pass.
9. take this today…

10. add Easter dinner photo hubby took 2 days after colorment
11. remove old toenail polish…

12 eat salad
13. write this
14. post

Those were 55 words for The G-Man!

P.S. Yes, I KNOW I need to file and shape my toenails.  And I WILL! All in due time, my buds, all in due time.

🙂

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Linda You’re More Than Just Snippets

Linda you’re more than just snippets
of the shine on your bike I learned to
fly down the street to the store on,

more than your sailboats of eyes
that shined up a thousand Sundays
we swirled in worlds of jump rope

and wore our beach glass tiaras,
our driftwood treasures on window sills,
us so sure we’d one day be ballerinas,

2 girls in fluffs of hand-me-downs,
your colors usually late morning glory,
mine in clouds of salmon and rose.

One day I’ll see photos of you and me,
ones tucked into albums somewhere in
the gardens of our mothers’ collections.

Us on beaches at picnics, and smiling near
snow mobiles suddenly quiet in winter’s hush,
the naked birches dreaming of July’s eyes.

In the photo above — for my readers, are me,
your sister Melody and my brother Pat. 1969.
Linda, you up there dancing with Pat now.

You dead a few weeks ago at only 47
from a massive heart attack while driving.
Patrick killed in a crash when he was 16.

You and he maybe chatting daily now
at barbecues and such, endless parties
up there with all our ones long gone

and Einstein, Montessori and Cole Porter,
Heaven one constant garden party brunch,
champagne 24 / 7. No dishes ever to do.

Always thought I’d see you again.
And I will. Just not at this level my
elevator of time is still parked at.

Remember our last day in Grade 1?
Lori wore her long pink flower girl gown,
I the pale yellow one above, and yours

all October ocean blue with those little
diamonds of possibility stitched into the hem.
Remember? We had popsicles that day!

Then sang every song we knew on the
bus all the way home, three Big Girls soon
moving all the way up to Grade 2.

Linda if I never told you I loved you, it
was only because I still hadn’t learned how.
So, I’m saying I love you now. And you’ll

always be more than just snippets of 
those candy necklaces, caramel flakies,
greasy fries, and eventually, nips of rum

on the beach where all the time in the world
still stretched itself across the Bay in streaks
of gold I’ll always remember your hair as.

With love from Jannie

xoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

That’s my One Shot Wednesday Poem.

She Writes A Ballad — in 55 words

Is it the kind merry
men in tights wooed
young maidens with?

The kind cowboys
sang ’round campfires
after eating beans?

The kind of ballad
damp teens swayed to
at sockhops in 1979?

Or the kind a free bird
in some hotel in California
would climb a stairway to heaven
for front row tickets to hear?

Those 55 words of (mostly) fictional persuasion are for our host — the G-Man.

Post your own 55 — it’s funner than sucking on tequila-dipped french fries.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

We All Know — a poem

We all know
we should be
doing dishes

folding laundry
sweeping floors
baking cakes

writing novels
songs and letters,

getting new clients
flatter abs and
firmer buttocks

while simultaneously transplanting ferns
and whistling tunes as we hide
in the dunes by the seaside,
plus a bunch of other stuff

instead of blogging poetry.

But should is an “s” word
best kicked to the curb.

And tho a clean house
might lift the spirits,

love knows it’s really
sharing poems on the Net

not money, muscle or Mr. Clean
that makes the world go ’round.

That was a poem for One Shot Wednesday.

Jannie’s current toenail paint is Sally Hansen’s Diamond Strength in “Peach Pave.”

xoxoxoxo