May Angels Watch Over You

So sorry for your loss Mona.

I'm glad I knew your Dad, one in a million.

Love and prayers to you and yours.

Vickie

I know you love the sky ~ Photo by my brother

Heavy Metal

Started working on some metal ATC's for mstrish's April Showers LMAO.

There's a poem, Letter from Nebraska, by Viggo Mortensen, that gave me a bit of inspiration.

The more I read this poem, the more I feel it.

The lasf few lines are

"It never rains. The sun is losing it's yellow and the

clouds are curling up at the edges. The radio playes twenty- year- old

songs

twenty-four hours a day.

I haven't said a word

since April."

I've been listening to my favorite oldies station all day, http://www.wcbsfm.com/

I feel as though I haven't said a word since April 2000, but, of course.....

Script Frenzy takes off on Tuesday, this will be a new experience. I think I'm scripting my

Poe story, maybe play format. It would be a good thing to decide before Tuesday, heh!

My daughter was brain-washed by the Temptations and believed My Girl was written for her because her birthday is in May. Could be worse.

More metal, etching in progress.

Letter from Nebraska~head over to Perceval Press

St. Pelvis!~Saint of the Month PIF from dunglas back in the day at Nness

Tin ATC with copper tape and aluminum inchie, Sharpies

Butterflies Are Free

Spring is here, although it's still quite chilly. Sunlight is pouring through my window and soon the garden will be in bloom.

La Mariposa

Tiene muy lindos colores

La mariposa liviana

Mil encantos la mañana

Tiene la estrella fulgores,

Perfume tienen las flores

Misterio la fuente pura

El campo tiene frescura

El viento canciones suaves

Gorjeos tienen las aves

Sólo yo tengo amarguras.

Mil encantos tiene el día

Flores silvestres el suelo

Y tiene pureza el cielo

Que cubre la patria mía,

Tienen muchas melodías

Los mirlos con sus cantares

Y tienen calma los mares

Después de los aquilones

Todos tienen ilusiones

Sólo yo tengo pesares.
Entre sus broches la aurora

Tiene mil encantos presos

Encanto tienen los besos

De la mujer que uno adora
La guitarra cuando llora

También tiene mil ternezas

La noche tiene grandezas

Que sus crespones estampa

Frescura tiene la pampa

Sólo yo tengo tristezas

No vengas a mí a llorar

Hijo soy de la congoja

El árbol seco sin hojas

¿Qué sombra nos podrá brindar?

Cansado estoy de llamarA la prenda que perdí

Todo es pena para míAunque el dolor no me sacia;

¿Qué he de hacer si mi desgraciame besó cuando nací?

Music: Carlos Galarce

Words: Andres Cepeda

Sung by: Carlos Gardel

To listen to this beautiful song, thanks to Todo Tango:
Si el audio no comienza automáticamente, haga click aquí.
Problemas escuchando el audio ? Haga click aquí para bajar Windows Media PlayerCompatible con PC y Mac.

Photo: Dahlia~R. Trancho

Do You Frenzy?

Oooooh yeah! April is Script Frenzy Month, thirty days to write one hundred pages.

November is for Novels. Don't you just love a challenge? I'm nowhere near ready, but, onward and upward. Yeeee haaaaaah!

email received today, reminders are good!

Greetings Frenzies!
We have officially entered into the final hours of the countdown. On Tuesday, the lights will burn and the camera will roll on Script Frenzy 2008! But for now, enjoy the calm before the Frenzy.
This is your last chance to polish outlines, stock up on chocolate and caffeine, and concoct "symptoms" that you can use to your advantage. Such symptoms, of course, come in handy at work and can be used to explain any sudden absences, daydreams, or frantic dives for pen and paper. Especially if such activities happen mid-meeting while you scribble down a brilliant idea before it fades away.
I can hear Rod Serling's droning voice, "You are about to enter another dimension," and it sends shivers of anticipation through me. If this is your first trip with Script Frenzy, welcome! You are really about to enter another dimension. One where the mad dash toward April 30 will keep words flowing from your fingers and your mug full of coffee. Returning for a second round of Script Frenzy? Hello! Nice to see you again! Remember just last year, the other dimension? Ah, good times. Good times.
Now we, together, will be the class of Script Frenzy 2008. You may know about the new rules, but just in case you’ve been in a work or family frenzy, here’s what has been changed:
All script types are allowed this year. If it's a script, you're in.
April, baby! If you've missed this, ah… ahem. Sorry. You’ll need to flip your calendar around just a bit, oh and perhaps a bit more. Yep. That should do the trick. We're in April!
If it's been a while since you've signed in, stop by the website! It's been spruced up over the last few weeks, including the addition of a writing software page. Of course, I'm not the boss of you, but I highly recommend using scriptwriting software. There are many free options out there. Believe me, the time saved and the hair loss prevented are more than worth it.
The website's page counter will open on April 1, local time. So, get ready to write! Sharpen all pencils, find a way to backup (oh yes, you read that right, the backup reminders start now), and buckle up for the ride. We're going to have a blast this April!

Jennifer "still missing some of the second act" ArztProgram Director

Earth Hour 8PM to 9PM Lights out! You know you can write by candle light.

vt

Urban Mythology and Tantric Sex

We stopped at the Silver Moon Diner for coffee. I still call it the Silver Moon, but in fact, it has been through a few incarnations and reincarnations. I don't remember what it is called now, but that's not important. The conversation in the next booth caught my ear.

"Joey, there was this quiz in Cosmo. Marie and I took it. It's about how fulfilled you feel. Lotsa things, ya know family, kids, friends, your job and of course, sex.

Joey just gave her the look. He sat there, looking like an Elvis impersonator, salt and pepper pompadour, bright blue bloodshot eyes with his gold neck chain peeking out from his unbuttoned shirt collar.

"Don't start with me Gina."

"What? Start what?"

"It's always sex with you."

Gina tilted her head to the side, her long blonde hair a curtain of pale silk.

"Then aren't you the lucky duck. I'm talking Tantric sex."

"Jeez, Gina, save it for the bedroom."

He started laughing that wheezy smoker's laugh.

Gina trilled chick- a- dee giggles.

He paid the check and off they went into the night.

I think they might be heading for Brooklyn, borough of my birth.

Maybe it was an inside joke.

No way this could happen. Were they happily practicing Tantric sex with their own 2000 Anniversary Edition KamaSutra on their nightstand or in the Naughty and Nice drawer?

(don't tell me you don't have one)

I wonder about these things, but why I do not know.

Many strange people congregate in diners.

You may have rubbed elbows with a serial killer,

stopping in for a cup of java after a night's work.

Son of Sam used to trawl our neighborhood.

Hell, he shot two young women a few blocks from this little diner.

Who knows if he stopped in for some scrambled eggs and coffee on his way home, blue postal pants all neat and pressed?

Anyway, I'd rather think about Joey and Gina, the Cosmo quiz and a special book all their own.

I wonder about these things, but why, I do not know.

KamaSutra Tarot~from my obsession with Tarot decks

Bragging Rights

My brother Bob does some amazing photography.

Check out his work at http://www.tranchophotography.com/

He's quite amazing too!

Chance Encounters

"You pray and fast

and you walk according to

the word of God"

He startled me in the parking lot at work. He seemed somewhat distressed, but certainly not threatening. He needed to get close enough to deliver that message. He looked into my eyes. His deep brown eyes had a far away gaze. I just nodded, my usual reaction as the flight or fight mechanism registers. He bowed his head once, did an about face and was gone. I wrote the words he spoke to me in one of my spiral notebooks (vampires). When I reread them, I realized what good advice I was given so unexpectedly. Sometimes a chance encounter can be a sacred experience.

pages from Mandala Chunky Book hosted by pattymae Nness

Meet Me In Oaxaca

Love at First Sight

They're both convinced

that a sudden passion joined them

Such certainty is beautiful,

but uncertainty is more beautiful still

Since they've never met before, they're sure

that there'd be nothing between them

But what's the word from the streets

staircases, hallways--

perhaps they've passed by each other a

million times?

I want to ask them

if they don't remember--

a moment face to face

in some revolving door?

perhaps a "sorry" muttered in a crowd?

a curt "wrong number" caught in the receiver?--

But I know the answer.

No, they don't remember.

They'd be amazed to hear

that Chance has been toying with them

now for years

Not quite ready yet

to become their Destiny

it pushed them close, drove them apart,

it barred their path,

stifling a laugh

and then leaped aside.

There were signs and signals,

even if they couldn't read them yet.

Perhaps, three years ago

or just last Tuesday

a certain leaf fluttered

from one shoulder to another?

Something was dropped and then picked up.

Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished

into childhood's thicket?

There were doorknobs and doorbells

where one touch had covered another

beforehand

Suitcases, checked and standing side by side.

One night, perhaps, the same dream

grown hazy by morning

Every beginning

is only a sequel, after all,

and the book of events

is always open halfway through

by Wislawa Szymborska

Some mighty strange dreams lately. Think I'll head down to Mexico this fall for Michael de Meng's Dia de los Muertos workshop. Sounds dark and dreamy.

Midnight

The full moon fever

startles me from my strange dreams

Are you dreaming too?

vt

Duerme

Canción

Música: Hugo Gutiérrez
Letra: Homero Manzi

Se filtra la luz de la luna por los encajes de la cortina,
y un beso de amor se ilumina
sobre tu cuna pintada de azul.
Yo quiero que cierres los ojos mientras hablamos del hada bella,
por quien, amorosa, una estrella,volando a su frente del cielo bajó.
Duerme, como el hada que en el bosque la noche encerró;
Duerme sobre el trébol que en el campo su alfombra tendió;
Duerme que los lobos a tus sueños jamás llegarán...
Duerme, que la estrella,a tu lado, también dormirá.
La flor es una mariposa que sobre un árbol quedó dormida.
Y el cielo una lona tendida donde camina la luna y el sol.
En cambio la noche es un día,
que va vistiendo trajes de sombras y el pasto del campo una alfombra,
que limpian la lluvia,
los vientos y el sol.
Duerme, que la estrella,a tu lado también dormirá.

One of many Dream Interpretation Books.....Anima Designs

Elvis and the Pope

"People who trust in themselves and in their own merits are, as it were, blinded by their own 'I', and their hearts harden in sin."-Pope Benedict XVI (Found in USA Today, on Good Friday 2008)

This is the end of Holy Week for Roman Catholics. Lent is supposed to be a time for introspection and soul searching with fasting and prayer. I was raised as a Catholic and it is woven into the cloth of my being. Because of conflicts of doctrine, theirs and mine, I am not a practicing Catholic, but cannot deny the influence on my life. Mom, on the other hand, is a devout Catholic and has been her entire life. She still sings in the choir and attends all the religious services throughout the year. My Mom is also a big fan of Elvis Presley, The King. She played Elvis' Golden Records so often I can still sing each song with the same inflections Elvis sings.

Thanks to her love of all types of music, we were raised in a house where you might hear opera,

Gilbert and Sullivan, Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald, Benny Goodman, Latin dance or Elvis at any given time. She also loves canaries and there was usually one singing in the living room. One little guy, Sunset, could out sing any aria she played. She was cleaning his cage one afternoon supplying fresh newspaper, water and food. There was a little birdbath for him, which he enjoyed. Elvis was crooning 'I Want You, I Need You, I Love You' in the background.

We were just sitting there watching Sunset shake the water from his feathers. Mom was listening to The King, smiling. She said "You know this song reminds me of God, 'I want you, I need you, I love you'. Don't you think so?" I really didn't know what to say, but she looked so happy I smiled and nodded. It took some growing up for me to realize that my Mom sees the sacred in almost everything. It took me even longer to aspire to do the same.

Now Mom has the utmost respect for her spiritual leader, the Pope, but doesn't agree with everything he says. It's true, I've been at odds with some Catholic issues, so for Pope Benedict XVI to make this statement does not surprise me. "I Want You, I Need You, I Love You" may have way too many 'I's' in it for his taste, but Mom would smile. It still reminds her of God, perhaps the oneness we all share. We are all spiritual beings on a journey. A little music makes the road a bit easier to travel.

quote from Perceval Press

Photo~Elvis & company Russian nesting dolls from cool Nness swap

CD cover Elvis' Golden Records (yeah, I still sing along :).

Prayers for Peace and Healing

It's Good Friday, a day of prayer and reflection. My sister-in-law/love Mary, my brother Chris' widow, sent this to me today. Mary is an amazing woman, filled with hope and love. I too am a firm believer in the power of all forms of prayer. So simple, so powerful and so appropriate for this sacred day. Here's the text of the message:

In WWII, there was an advisor to Churchill who organized a group of people who dropped what they were doing every night at a prescribed hour for one minute to collectively pray for the safety of England, it's people and peace. This had an amazing effect as bombing stopped!

There is now a group of people who are organizing the same thing here in America .

If you would like to participate: each evening at 9:00 PM Eastern Time(8:00 PM Central, 7:00 PM Mountain, 6:00 PM Pacific), stop whatever you are doing and spend one minute praying: for the safety of the United States, our troops, our citizens and for peace in the world. If you know anyone who would like to participate, please pass this along. Someone said if people really understood the full extent of the power we have available through prayer, we might be speechless. [AMEN!]

Our prayers are the most powerful asset we have. Please pass this on to anyone who you think will pray for our nation

Nurture the living,

Care for the dying,
Honor the dead.

Page from Prayer Bead Exchange Booklet 2007

War Sans Sex

Today is the fifth anniversary of the beginning of this war in Iraq. Quite a dubious commemoration.

The following quote is from the Perceval Press website.
"do NOT, absolutely NOT give up sex to end any war. life is death, death is life, war is not without sex. sex is not without war."

It got me thinking about war and sex. What would happen if politicians who started wars had to abstain from sex for the duration of the war? That would mean our President George W. Bush and Vice-President Dick Cheney would have had no sex for five years and counting. Granted, this might explain some aberrant behavior on their parts, but this is not the case so far as I know. I'm all for 'don't ask, don't tell' in this particular situation. There is such a thing as too much information.

It is a real possibility that if no sex for the President and Vice-President during a war was in effect this war would have been long over. Perhaps, knowing this consequence, there would have been no war at all. Imagine that, the power of sex stopping a war.

I want this war to end, but as an ordinary citizen, have no intention of giving up sex or any of my beloved vices. Tomorrow is the first day of Spring, Friday brings the full moon. Love, war and sex--seems quite natural.

Postcards for Lenna Andrews Tallulah LMAO

When Irish Eyes Are Smiling

New York City has a marvelous capacity for celebration. St. Patrick's Day is a fine example. My daughter and her boyfriend stopped at the corner deli for a six-pack of Killian's Irish Red for our traditional corned beef dinner. Mr. R. the deli man, who is a Sikh, asked if she is Irish. She said yes, and Spanish and Native American and German and Welsh. When she informed him everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day, he put his hands in the air and laughed a hearty laugh. He thought that was an excellent idea. In fact, he thought we should all be Irish or Sikh or Korean or any of the scores of nationalities here in the borough of Queens, for at least a day. Imagine what a city it would be if we all knew a little bit more about one another. I say let's go global with that concept.

We prepare our corned beef the traditional way, boiling it with spices, bay leaves, onions and a carrot. Then we take it to the next level, baking it for a while in a coating of brown sugar, chili powder, tomato juice and beer. Kind of cosmopolitan, absolutely delish. We must have at least four kinds of Irish soda bread, with and without raisins, I love caraway seeds and some that tastes like cake. All are sampled, all are so good. Traditions are important, but nothing is carved in stone as far as celebrating St. Patrick's Day. New traditions begin and continue for new generations. Here's to the Irish and the celebration of diversity in this great city.

Pic~Shannon & Christine

Rambling Research

Lately my home has been filled to capacity with people and paper. People come and go, but the paper, books and art materials seem to take on a life fo their own. I've been purging my collection, which actually feels very theraputic, but I've quite a way to go. It's just that I love researching things. True, I can get a bit carried away with reams of paper and assorted books piling up around me. I haunt library book sales and love the smell of books, old and new. When I was a child I would walk to the library and stock up for the week. The first book I remember taking home at the age of six was Norse Mythology. To this day I am intrigued by myth and legend. History is right up there on the fave list. I tried to organize my note taking by using beautiful journals and notebooks, but somehow I always go back to huge spiral bound notebooks that students use for school. I end up pasting notes and sketches all over the pages if I happen to use napkins or receipts for my musings. Everybody finds what works for them. Kind of.

My notes for Poe are mingled with my vampire novel. He'll soon have his own spirally book.

I've also started to consolidate notes on the Siberian Ice Maiden which have been multiplying at an alarming rate. I wonder what Siberia is like this time of year?

Hey Chris, Happy Birthday

Beautiful baby
the nurses named you Peaches
round, golden snd sweet


A true flower child
California your home
Good friends, family


Suddenly you're gone
We miss your wit and laughter
Legacy of love


Mi hermano, mi amigo


Pic~ Rob, Chris, Vickie one happy summer long ago

One Down, Two to Go

Our now notorious Governor has resigned. Best of luck to David Patterson, our soon to be new Governor.

Now if only GW and DC would follow his example.

My Elliot sums it up quite well.

vt

Scandal and Scoundrels

Ironically, my daughter wore her Impeach, Remove, Jail T-shirt to work yesterday before

the Spitzer debacle hit the news I'll be wearing mine to work tomorrow. Then there's our commander in chief and vice- pres. Yikes!

I don't even have a haiku for this.

Out of Africa

Today I received a letter from my sister Floride, who lives with her family in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Now Floride is not my sister by birth, but fate has joined us through Women for Women, a magnificent organization which allows me to lend a bit of assistance while Floride gets back on her feet.

My daughter and I were doing our share of ranting and raving . The present administration and our New York governor, Elliot Spitzer, give us plenty of fuel for that fire. We know how blessed we are to live in a country where we can protest and usually no one will come to our home in the middle of the night to murder us or carry us into the jungle. The little I do to help one family have a better life in a country so far away from us geographically and politically can have a ripple effect. We teach our children by example for better or worse. I feel honored to know brave and beautiful Floride. Her strength gives me hope and inspiration.

I visited Africa many years ago. There I met some wonderful gracious people and learned a few lessons about how Americans are perceived by our neighbors. I travelled alone so conversation was easy and candid. It's the old story, if you could see yourself as others do you probably would be surprised. It was a lesson I did not forget.

Summer 1985

Africa, my soul

lush and turbulent, you call to me

proud and diverse, overflowing

with people and promise

Lush and turbulent, you call to me

My dreams of you disturb my sleep

with people and promise

so ancient, so new

My dreams of you disturb my sleep

leaving me excited yet afraid

with people and promise

so many perish needlessly

Leaving me excited yet afraid

proud and diverse, overflowing

So many perish needlessly

Africa, my soul

vt

Dolores y Milagros

Nanowrimo has inspired me for several years. National Writer's Month is November. We are encouraged to write a novel of 50,000 words in that month, a worthy challenge.

My first attempt was a story of two young girls, Dolores and Milagros, who find an abandoned baby. I lost the story when my computer crashed, but I found my notes and rough draft of the beginning. It's about secrets and children. When things slow down a bit I'd like to get reaquainted with the girls. Right now I am listening to Francisco Canaro y su Orquesta featuring Carlos Roldan singing tangos from the 1940's. I'm sure Milagros and Dolores could not keep from dancing either.

I found thirteen pages from 2004 so here's a taste.

My name is Dolores for Our Lady of Sorrows. I don't think my mother meant to wish me a sorrowful life, but sometimes that is just what it seems to be.

My best friend is Milagros, which means miracles. You may see the tiny silver charms which adorn colorful shrines. They are milagros, too. Glistening petitions to heaven, shimmering prayers to a higher power. Prayers are what we need today. Big time prayers. We need wall-size milagros and roses galore to fill the room with sweet scent floating to the clouds where saints look down upon us in dismay. Perhaps the angels, who were never human beings, feel some compassion for us. Yes, that's what we need, for it was compassion that got us into this situation. My mother says we don't really have problems. They are situations.

"You see Dolly, just because I don't have enough money this week to by you new sneakers does not mean we have a problem. This situation will change next week and you will have your sneakers. No problem, just a different situation.

"Well Mama, I get your meaning, but my situation is a problem. Please help me now because all the saints and our dear Lady can't tell me what to do."

But Mama's voice is silent. She is up in those clouds with the saints and Our Lady and God himself. She was on a first name basis with God. She prayed often and sang his praises loud and clear. I hear her voice on Sundays, pealing like a vibrant bell above most of the other church members. We sing along, carried by her pure joy of song. I hear her when I close my eyes to pray. Today my prayers float upward and disappear like wisps of smoke becoming invisible in the air. I feel almost empty, far away. I'm sure she is with the most powerful group in the stars. She was a powerful woman, yet so gentle, so kind. My heart aches.

"Dolly, we have to tell my Mom. This time she has to know. She will help us do the right thing."

"Yes Milli, but I'm afraid."

Mrs. Santana is a formidable woman in her own right. A no nonsense, get down to business type of lady. You know, just get to the point. She is also a very fair person, a character trait I admire because I tend to tip toe around important issues.

Milagros charms for ArtErratica Swap

embossed shim aluminum, blue seed beads

Hola Mellisa!

Crossing the River Styx

I died for love

My heart closed it's eye to desire

My lips refused to whisper te amo

My eyes would not behold the sublime

My heart closed it's eye to desire

My ears deafened to the tender phrase

My eyes would not behold the sublime

And then your voice, your face, your lips, your arms

My ears deafened to the tender phrases

No secret words could break the spell

And then your voice, your face, your lips, your arms

Crossing the River Styx to my soul

No secret words could break the spell

My lips refused to whisper te amo

Crossing the River Styx to my soul

I died for love

vt 3/08

Captured Heart Penster Same Image Round Robin 2

nervousness.org 9/07

stamp Michael deMeng

Haiku One

Storm of emotions

Torrents of cold words rain down

Broken branch, leaf, heart

ATCs leather barbed wire, milagros.

They are in permanent transit.