The Year That Was 2010 ~ On The Shores of Hats and Change

**Each year I write a twelve month recap. It is much more for my benefit than my readers. Feel free to help me put last year in perspective though. I hope you'll do this on your own blogs. It's a great exercise in self-evaluation.**

Let's start at the beginning. Since I neglected to summarize the year 2010 in my usual fashion, I'll venture that the year of 2010 was ultra busy. Makes sense. What doesn't make sense is the ultra speed at which time is passing. Oh, I know the clock is ticking along as it should, it's the way of the Universe, but there comes a time in one's life when you'd rather slow it down a bit. So, I give you two years in one today. What the last 24 months have been like in my life and where I think I'm going in the year 2012. Part One in this post and Part Two to follow in a separate post.  Don't worry. I'll go fast.   2010 was a year of poetry, photography, friendship. I dated a lot. I had fun. I swam in the ocean. And kissed sea-worthy gents in the rain. So much I learned about unseaworthiness.  And men who aren't gentlemen at all. I wrote prose I'd put off for years, perhaps inspired by the changes I welcomed in my life on a personal level. It was about time to step into the water. Come along.
January 2010 January held fleeting toe-curling kisses, a prayer service at midnight, presidential discouragement, blabbermouth blogging, in my own little world I began the journey of Zen. In the world at large we watched the devastation in the land of Haiti.    The year began, as it always does for me, with a visit to this Quaker church at midnight on New Year's Eve praying for peace with the other steadfast parishioners who come every year to sit in silence and contemplation. Quakers are good for that. It's a lovely thing.  I couldn't pass this sign by, now could I?  

It was cold, raining and foggy. 11:30 pm on New Year's Eve. That did not stop around 50 individuals from walking into the Friends Meeting House and praying for peace as the new year began.

My seat. My pew. My view.

 This blog post gets the most visitors of any Mimi In a Minute I've ever done.  It was called Raise The Red Flag of Courage: Tiger Would I needed to inform Airport Security of a few crucial issues. 

About airport body scanners: Now we have to show our naked innards to the TSA because the world has gone slap crazy.Even royalty!! I am now going to have to buy pencil skirts without the Crown emblem sewn in for identification. I'll just start monogramming my tush to save time.
And while I'm at it and past my 60 seconds anyway....HOW LONG will it be before our naked selves "accidentally" get uploaded to the internet in some colossal "accidental" breach of online security? We have more accidental leaks in this country than newborn babies.

These things keep me up at night. They give me a headache.

It's simple. If you had a blog and a traffic widget you could keep up with people.

Sigh.

And January got colder, murkier, silently void of common sense.

 I Voted For This??! What is happening to my country? What did my vote stand for?
Why is the dream shifting into something I don't recognize as hope?
Politics as usual in Washington has become politics as usual in Washington. Again.
We are STILL in Iraq.
We are sending another nightmare to Afghanistan.
Nobody can find a job.
We have spent enough money on this useless war to feed and clothe half the children in
Trillion dollar debt? Trillion?
Did I mention we are still in Iraq?

It was time for Zen and not a moment too soon.



So I looked around and started changing things to suit me and only me. Taped to my refrigerator I now have a goal for each room. Not a look - an environment.
Some rooms are already in the desired state. I just had to change my mind about how to use them and rearrange a few things. I've finished the kitchen and living room thus far. I am taking my lovely time too.
(another part of my new Zen personality. No rush. No panic. No blood pressure. No heart attack.) Zen In The Castle
I hope I have enough garbage bags.     February 2010 During the month of February I wrote two stories I'd been meaning to put to paper for years. One involved classic cars and the other classic ignorance. It brought the snowstorm of the century, my red hat on white fluff and a poem inspired by Dr. Seuss. Snow. Lots of snow. Memes. Lots of memes. Cue the UNValentine Grumpy Day.  Add that to a wild ride with Daddy in a precious blue Ford and you've got yourself a memory. And I finally wrote the tale of bigotry I'd wanted to write for ages.  But first, the world's car industry needed a tune-up. I needed a car.

1-800-Call-Toyota

Pffft! Toyota listen.....

Some people change lanes.
I change shoes.


I just thought my gas pedal was sticking because I got the leopard print 3-inch stuck behind the floor mat. My vehicle did not come with instructions on how to safely disrobe on the exit ramp. And NOW you tell me I've got a real problem here.

And then the Baptist men showed up, who most certainly would not have approved of my footwear.

Twelve deacons, a pastor, and me... in the bowels of the big old Baptist church of the south. I sat waiting for further instructions. Good little girl that I was.
Pay attention.

As the thirteen loud and boisterous back-slapping men opened the door for me to enter the hallway outside, after head-nodding prayers and amens to the amens to the amens, one of the deacons asked the preacher where he got his coat.

He said and I quote, “I got it off a n**ger.”

They all roared.
I’d just held hand-holding heavenly court with all of them.
I suddenly wanted to wash my hands.

So with hate on his lips and Jesus in his heart, he introduced me. For at least twenty minutes I would have a captive audience - a waiting crew of congregation sitting in bondaged pews of unsuspecting bigotry, putting their trust in thirteen leaders who discriminated loudly in the hidden places of prayer and staunchly scorned in silent rebuke any ounce of free thought or progress so much so that a woman couldn't utter a proper amen. Oh, but I could sing.

Pay attention.
This is where Mimi goes awry.
Again.

I only wish I'd worn the red dress.

To make matters worse it is the month of Cupid. And I am alone.  All the single folks in the world are alone. Alllll God's chillin' are alone. And in no mood for tin foil. We all needed an UNValentine Grumpy Meme. At least I did.
4. How many roses make a dozen?
Men need to understand this. Women want flowers. Flowers that smell. Flowers you can water. Flowers that come from a florist. Flowers that can be delivered to our door or workplace with much ado and fanfare. Flowers you can show off to your ex-boyfriends. Flowers to make your girlfriends jealous. Flowers that say "I care enough to spend take out a 2nd mortgage for this bundle of love, my love."
We do not want to eat tin foil.

 Pigtails In a Pine Tree

His  mission that day was to teach me to drive a straight gear with a clutch before I got my learner's permit. These are my verdant memories of that fateful day.
Lots of pine trees, lots of cussing, pigtails, a thick Sears Roebuck Catalog to sit on,  and Daddy's big shoes.
"You mean you couldn't see that pine tree?"
"I saw the pine tree, Daddy. No..I...well....I didn't see it in time."

"Why didn't you put on the brakes? I told you to hit the brakes!"

"I forgot where they were."You hurt my foot!!"  I said with tears rolling down my face which only made him feel worse.... and thinking to myself that I would never learn to drive this stupid car. I needed a manual for the manual transmission class. And I'm sitting on a department store. Typical.

Nothing made him madder than when I cried.  I think I would like to do that lesson over.
I wouldn't have cried.

March 2010

With March came winds of attic discoveries, bucket list memes and squirrels. Shadowy poems from the ceiling of the castle. A long lost painting came back into my hands, noise and more noise from people who just wanted to make noise to hear their own voice began to test my sense of peace and quiet.  And sometimes animals. There was....

Panic In The Attic

Things were looking up without that nutty squirrel around.
And then I looked down.

I gathered her up and dusted her off. She looked perturbed with me really.
Lying face up in a box beside the Monopoly Game.
A long ago present from my mother
a bride doll with green eyes like her own

Daddy is gone. Time to wake up. Time to wake up for both of us.......

All that Zen cleaning and re-organizing led to the discovery of the diary.  Homer rats me out to my readers. That dog!

Here's the 1st juicy entry I found from 1974:

 And she calls herself a writer.

Flowers on the ceiling. flowers outside in the woods of Bloggingham's cold wintry earth, Flowers on canvas and buds everywhere!

....there's a flower on my ceiling
For the longest time she bloomed
unnoticed
by me

Whether on the ceiling or growing from the ground, I want to write about them.

Then Facebook  got a little crazy.  So I wrote a meme about it to get it out of my system. The  FaceTwit meme (that's Facebook + Twitter for all you non-blog speakers) was anything but simple. I mentioned some clown named Mr. Anonymous whose mission was to push my online buttons in a mean but strangely familiar way. Games and very weird vibes. Doesn't he know I have site trackers? Hmmm? Seriously!  Get.a.life. People need to mind their own business and stay out of mine.  I said that, didn't I... Just because I put myself out there for millions of people to read doesn't mean they have to read it. Does it??!! Oh, Mimi,  you are so naive So the mighty meme asked: 


 What is Farmville? I do not understand why people are asking me for margarine.
I’ve written to FACEBOOK management about this. It’s WHO-VILLE, people, WHOville. Not FarmTown. Not Cracker Barrel Round. Not Peanut Butter Frowns. . WHOville. (why am I rhyming?) As in WHO the heck are these people? See. They should have asked me first. That makes sooo much more sense.
BTW: I need to borrow a can of lard and a tinfoil skillet. 

I became friends with friends of friends of friends and their friends I didn’t know were their friends who might be friends with ex-friends who used to be friends with me or my friend's friends and then his friend said why is her friend on his friends friends list....which can get a girl in trouble unawares.  I don’t worry about it anymore. I can’t avoid everyone with an axe to grind, a Mafia war to win, or a cow to milk. It’s the nature of the Facebook beast. Social networking connects things you don't want connected. I've had to learn to deal. You can't untie all the tethers.

END. OF. SERMON.

Needing to climb back into the Zen cocoon, I clipped and snipped in Bloggingham's flowering trees,and pretty soon, in the year that was budding with creativity,  Mimi Picasso arrived on the scene.

she liked the unadulterated

curves of a girl


falling into shades of the deepest deepest
blue
oh what a wild mess she was
that girl
she liked the way the words brushed
the petals
and dips that go nowhere
they
should

 April 2010  April was no fool. Neither was I.



I went into the closet of hats and romped on the floor only to be thrown into my own dungeon for a meme violation. The nerve! The state of affairs in the world began to worry and irritate me and I ranted anew and anew (is that possible?) Not to fear. Spring Flings Eternal with this crazy meme by Yours Truly. Oh, what fun I had writing this one.    All was good and right with the world, except for the spakes and sniders that showed up in various asinine and sundry forms.   I stepped over them and kept writing, launching Peace Globes 2010 seven months early. 

Then things began to get weird.  You doubted?   Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned..and sinned...and sinned... (Mimi In A Minute # 21) WHY is the legal standard different for sexual predators in the priesthood than it is for sexual offenders in the general populace?

Remove them. Arrest them. Convict them. Period.
 God help the children of this world when adults can't tell simple right from wrong.

 Some things just need killin'...


The phone rings. It is my ex-husband.
"How could you raise a boy who can't chop off a snake's head?! Who are these friends of his? "

"What is the matter? Why are you blubbering?" asked the boy's father.

"Because the snake in the grass got a reprieve while I wasn't looking and I had to kill a spider in my own shirt. It's been a horrible day and I need to shower with Clorox!"

He could not stop laughing long enough to even continue the conversation at which point I hung up on him for the fifth time in two weeks and vowed to never ever ever speak to another man for the rest of my life. He will be thrilled.
Read Spakes and Sniders to see who died.

The Hat Said

 When I'm feeling unseemly and ragged, spidery and bosom-bitten, I visit the hat closet right here on my blog. It always cheers me up and is one of my favorite whimsy poems. Oh, but it's about love you see. And hats. And love of hats. I had a LOT to say...

It tells of a life I live backwards you see
Not to find her or flaunt her
But just to be
Me

Silly little blog. The pen kept moving.

April was one hell of a month.

Never mind that.

Spring Flings Eternal

Spring has flung and fling has sprung. It is time to put your imaginary hat on and step outside the box into the world of fantasy. Spring! Love! Lust! Pheromones! Broken hearts! Dares! Parties! Beaches! Trips! The world of flinging! Ahh....the romance. Ahhh...the migraines.

In my writing, in my relationships, in the resurrection of me.
I like it.

Read A Slow Red Drop To The Floor

Soon it was time for peace globes. My grandfather's clock emerged unscathed from the purging of Bloggingham's walls and rooms.

It is fitting that the clock shows up now.

Because it is time for the next phase of peace globes to begin.
All across the world at different times and days and hours and in villages with no clocks at time - it is time. From 50 countries and the others we will add this year, it is time.

From that creaky old floor to Bloggingham's sanctuary - it is time.

The Announcement came. And so we got ready to fly.....

Kites 

And Love, Oh Do Not Forget

And I watched

In the lens of the love

Of my boy

And my boy

in a place

it remains

And no finer words had I ever heard

Than the mystery of boys on the wind

One lagged behind

The other ran strides

and one kite

That just wanted to fly

I wrote a Gratitude Meme. 

What else?

May 2010

May came with kisses from a fabulous kisser of garlic and onion fame. I dared him to kiss me in the rain. Good move, Mimi, good move. I photographed flowers a lot, murdered a maraca, watched my dearest friend marry her childhood sweetheart and wandered back to the trees on my Grandpa's farm. I needed a whisper or two of direction from him. He gave me much more than that.

Peace. And the wisdom of waiting. Stillness. Sometimes saying nothing is saying everything. 
I found this to be true as hell-April morphed mercifully into May.

I Take Thee, Vanilla, To Be My Wedded Wife

One of my dearest friends was getting married. It was a smashing occasion. So to speak.

I don't intentionally cause trouble everywhere I go.

It just happened.

All I wanted was a piece of cake ya see. And whatEVER was in that glass.

I merely walked by!

I swear it!

And wham.

You won't believe what happened.

What a day! All they wanted to do was get married!  It was such a scathing catastrophe I had to find some solace. Perfect. My grandfather's home place. In the woods. It had been ages. Me And A Memory Lane

But the wind....it kept kicking up dust and reminding me of a few things I'd rather not be dealing with at all.  Surely somewhere in that needle blown afternoon I'd find an answer to the puzzles left lately at my door. I could use Papa's wisdom. He would know exactly what to do and say. I so wanted him to pop out from behind a droopy limb and let me tell him what was troubling me.

He didn't.

So I sat under the branches of his childhood and listened to what the wind said.

Pondering where or not to chase that rabbit down the hole. Hmmmm...maybe I'd better not. Not a good idea when alone in the middle of the middle of the middle ....oh, you know.


Then I met the nastiest stumbling block I've had in a while. His name was Influenza. A hospital stay, an ambulance ride, an infection. Man, what a spring. The things I ask in memes. Then of course I have to answer myself. The Under The Covers Meme 8. Completely dark or nite light?
I am not 12. I do not need a nite light. I do stump my toe a lot. Maybe I should reconsider.

24. Bedtime ritual?
Brush hair 100x as taught by my great-grandmother, who never in her entire life cut her long dark hair. It was so long she could sit on it. She was 90 when she passed and still had the most elegant hair put up in a French twist.


I hope great-grandmother isn't reading this part though. Enter Garlic Kisser. Man, could he kiss.  But alas, he ultimately showed his true garlicky colors in the car after dinner.  Bad move, Mimi, bad move.

Maracas were murdered in the making of this meme called The Last Time I Murdered A Maraca When was the last time you……

rolled your eyes
at my mother this afternoon. She sent me to my room. The problem occurred when she realized she'd actually sent me to HER room....which used to be MY room once upon a teenage time.
She was not amused when I jumped on her bed.

June 2010

I met bloggers Ferd (The Best Parts) and his lovely wife, Gail. We talked blogging and more blogging, kids, photography, our careers, houses, music, family, dating rules, rule breakers, deal breakers, piano lessons (yes Gail!) birdwatching, traveling, new beginnings, romance in my life (Gail had sage advice for me let-me-tell- you the woman should write a book), marriage in theirs (ahh...they are so sweet together) and even some of you were discussed. Were your ears burning? They should have been..but only in the kindest of ways.  I had a meltdown of allergic proportions in the car one Saturday morning, and still found no shower in the car. Imagine!

Poetry struck again. 

In Pools of Blue Stars

come boldly entangled
in layers
of red
 
the night shall bear witness
to said and unsaid

The Globe

"How much do you want for this globe?" I asked.

The store owner laughed. "You can have it," she said. "It's not worth much. You're welcome to it." Have you ever been so delighted you wanted to squeal and jump in a stranger's arms?

She wondered how holding the world might change her life.

 

Ever stuck in a situation with no where to go but under? I needed a shower.  And fast.

10:20 I leave the shirt to soak and say 3 Hail Marys to make up for the cussing.
10:21 I leave AGAIN.
SIDEBAR: **I forgot to tell you about the floor** I'm stripping the hardwood and re-polishing the floor. Board by board by board. Just call me Cinderella. It is a huge area including 2 hallways. It will take longer to get this done than it will take them to collect all the oil in the Gulf. Why is this important? Because...

10:22 In the car. I break out in hives. Apparently from the floor cleaner on my skin.
10:22 In the car. I text 2 Johnny-on-the-spot friends.

"Hives. Tell me I won't die."
"Take Benadryl and shower, now" said the voice of calm.

I have no Benadryl or shower. I am in the frickin' car!!

Mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi!

My Maestra knew how to push me into facing the inner first and gave me the courage to let it fly from my fingers and voice. Of course, there are consequences for this teaching philosophy.She knows where the bodies are buried.
You don't think all that opera drama is just onstage, do you?

A reunion with my gifted mentor, teacher, and friend.

 July 2010

Beaches, kissers, ducks and quacking people. All showed up in the month of summer that was July. A fine time I had. It was the month of tangled hair. In more ways than one.

And then the Cherokee Girl and I had a candid conversation. But not before Baby Boy found weird wildlife in the middle of a lake. And he didn't know what a "circumstance" was.

Sigh.

"I'm so glad you listened to me. That is toooo close!"
Come ON, Mimi. It's just a turkey with duck feet. How does it swim?
(I am so not there.)

I Love It When A Day SideQuacks: Turkey Ducks and Clams

one of my favorite excursions with Baby Boy

Monday Mimisms ~ You Should Be Kissed and Often

My choice was to end it before it really began. Maybe it's not possible to have it all. Maybe you can't find knee-buckling kissing and a man of integrity in the same person. Maybe I'm asking too much. I don't care how much my toes curl if their lips tell lies in between the sighs.
(That rhymed.)

What would Scarlett do?

A plethora of kissers showed up. One after the other. It was kismet!

Rarely have I felt more relaxed than this summer. It was epic me-time. Thanks for letting me share it with you. I promised myself that not a summer would go by for the rest of my life that did not include toes in the sand. I mean it.

Beach Blogging in August, sand, castles (for real!) sunrises and sets
pier fishing, walks, storms on the sea
and me
what a great month

Curly waves

windy waves
tangled hair
I do not

Thinking about NOTHING AT ALL is phenomenal!!!!
I fell asleep in my chair (until someone stole my chair which is another story altogether), I had not one troubling thought in my brunette head and not one care in the world. In fact, a time or two I thought to look for my thoughts but thought better of it. Follow?

August 2010

  brings a much anticipated soul vacation to Atlanta, Georgia. The plan? Meet up with bloggers and epic friends, Starr, Kidlet & company plus a disappearing entourage of people changing plans. Nonetheless, we had a great time. I found another beach in parts north. What a great summer!

Do you know how hard it is to maintain royal dignity with a vinyl umbrella attached to your body?  Flying Umbrellas and Floating Chairs

And then I found it. 
A girl could  go through her whole life with a million pencil skirts and
not
one ofthese

It Went So Well With My Hat

hat

Goodnite Beach

or is that good morning. I'll see you soon again.

Cherokee Girl

I tried to wash my freckles away in the morning dew when I was 8 years old because she said they would disappear.


Forty-five years later I'm still trying to get them to do the same thing. 




Stop the presses. My sweet Baby Boy has entered the world of formal education.
I write. And weep.
You are embedded and brimming over with all that is good in this world and I am proud of you, but I would like a word with you before you go out to conquer the world at recess.

There are a few things you need to know
An Open Letter To Baby Boy on The First Day of School

About that eraser.

It doesn't just erase wrong answers, it also makes room for better ones and brighter ideas.

With Baby Boy off to school and so much to look forward to...
We sent our peace globes into space with NASA's Face in Space program.

It was awesome!

September was quiet. Very quiet. And full of daddy memories.

October 2010

brought the 10/10/10 phenomenon. We all blogged it and lived to tell about 11/11/11 even.
Time for peace globes to crank up. I finally made peace with Facebook even if they are NOT very user-friendly. Nonetheless it was time to write
  "How to Put Your Peace Globe on Facebook"

And man, did you ever.

All the annual albums are there. Have you found yours there?

The 20 Day Countdown Begins. I asked, "You have a voice. What will you say?"

Your words began to take on power. As they always do this time of year.

On the 15th day 'til launch, a blogger touched my heart.

What she said was so simple really. And yet so complex. What she said stirred me to action again and again and again you see....What she said, what she said, what she said.  OH. What she said.

It is the reason I keep this movement going. It is the reason our words matter. It is the reason we blog the peace on a global level from hovels and homes turned stump posts for peace and platforms of passion. Oh. What she said, what she said......

Whenever I feel that no one is listening, that none of this matters, that our efforts are not being felt, I read this again.

And always. Always. Always...my heart flutters, I get tears in my eyes and I remember why.

She said:

I cannot stop the bullets and the bombs.
I cannot bring our soldiers home.
I cannot quell the suffering of the millions.
I cannot overthrow a corrupt
government and establish true democracy.
I feel that I cannot be heard.

Until today.

(thank you for the inspiration little Chocolate Girl)

 I can't believe it's been a year. It seems like only yesterday to me. But on this day in 2009 just a few days before peace launch, my dad made his flight away from this Earth. I reposted The Bargain in his honor.  

And this day, of all days, I need to find words.

November 2010 
was eventful. Artists from all over the world sent in one-of-a-kind works for Peace Globe Day. It was some of the most beautiful artwork we've seen. Gifts from the sea and Canadian shores graced my home. Peace globes became tangible. Weren't they always?

It started like this. Reeeeeaaaaally? Wow. We're honored. Thank you!

We are named by The Top Ten Blog as one of Twitter's Top 10 People of the Week.

I fainted.

Apparently the hash tag strategy is working. Tweet and use #blogblastforpeace #peace or #blogpeace

Two Canadian Women and A Mission of Peace

They sent gifts to me from across the sea.

I can now hold some of these peace rocks in my hand....from her Atlantic to mine.
They bring me great comfort and joy. 

Debra Percival and Dawn Drover. Extraordinary peace bloggers and women of integrity and friendship. What blessings this movement has brought of us.

Along with amazing photographer Aamir Mohammed at the website Dreaming In Pixels they collaborated on this year's peace globe creation. She writes:
  I sent him the  photos and explained what I was looking for... not "quite possible" but,  his knowledge and ingenuity managed to bring to life my concept! Of  course, I (also) wept when I first saw it...

Internationally acclaimed artist, Alicia M. B. Ballard creates a stunning work for peace globe day.

And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, the divine Jamie White, retired editor from Washington, author of Durward Discussion (and my friend) commissions the wonderful Colorado Bob to make a peace globe video. The bears start to sing. It's fantastic!! A huge gracias to both and may many more such collaborations take place in the name of peace. What could be better than a combination of John Lennon, polar bears and Give Peace A Chance?
Not much, I'll tell ya.

According to Google searches and stats we are making noise and news. According to the blueness of FACEBOOK pages we are making noise and news. And according to Goodnight Gram who knitted a peace globe, "Peace is worth it." See?

She knits a world. And we all come together again for what has become my favorite day of the year.
Another Dona Dona Pacem begins. Another BlogBlast For Peace is created. Another day of inspiring surprises from people who stop on this day and speak words that matter.
I took my cue from a love story.
Write on My Heart Every Word ~ Dona Nobis Pacem
For all her many quirks and eccentricities and no matter how many times the wigs flew off or the cigarette dipped in the morning coffee cup, he gifted her with unwavering love and devotion. Sometimes it was eye-rolling twinkled-eyed devotion - but devotion nonetheless.
She was and would always be the love of his life.

The most eternally rich experiences in life make no sense at all. 

He learned to surrender.

No. I take that back.

He loved to surrender.

And that is the word we must put before any attempt at laying down of arms. I found his Cokesbury hymnal and made a startling discovery.

Would you like to take a wild guess where his page was turned down?

Here in Bloggingham tonight, bound to my grandparents' memory is a small bouquet of wild pink peace mums laid on a bed of uncommon love, shaped oddly like the sound of a far away tune in a church full of cheer in the middle of plowshares and pruning hooks. 

"Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more."

Maybe we keep asking for the same struggle and getting exactly what we ask for because we’re not ready to lay down the most powerful weapon we have

Love

Their love got me to thinking about...well...love

I Wonder I Wonder What Manner of Man

She smothered the ruffles
Smelled through the torn shell
And wondered what manner of woman
Was veiled

How odd to find one of life’s most beautiful treasures in the middle of a smelly store poked with an odious orange sale sticker.  A plastic hanger, a yellowed stain, sad wrinkles. Dreams on sale.But why did it call to me so? Why on this day?
  I had a lot on my mind.

Skin Cancer? Holy Moley!

So that's what the Lady Doctor said. We'll call her Dr. Derriere Derma.

And thus began the story of the 3 moles. 

We'll call them Molly (#1) Milly (#2) and Sully (#3)

Me?

I was just sulky.

"But that's the one we've been WATCHING. I KNEW I should have been watching. SOMEbody should have been watching and it certainly has not been me. I'm doomed!! All this time I've been watching the wrong thing, Doctor Death #1 has been watching the wrong thing and besides, I can't even see it unless I contort myself at an excruciating angle in the bathroom mirror. How am I supposed to watch something I can't see? What kind of convoluted medical advice is that??" You KNOW I'm a hypochondriac. I shouldn't be told to watch things I have no peripheral power over."

It's in the Constitution.

How did my mind go down that whistle road?

Oh because I smell her chicken

and I see her apron

and I feel the tablecloth in my fingers

and I still hear the grace

Wishbones and Whistles ~ her love of chicken, my love of her

 What happens to the missing socks?
Until they appear on a milk carton they won't get the respect they deserve. I feel sorry for all the lonely little single socks out there. Don't you?

Single Socks and Prison Blues. Might behoove me to listen to pay attention to the sock monster.
Could my love life get any better in 2010? 

December 2010

 I Slept With A Polar Bear

But alas, our torrid chilly affair ended when I reminded him that we were polar opposites. MEN!

 Bohemian Books and Beds of Gypsies
 All I had on was a blue bathing suit and a pair of flip-flops. And I didn’t care. Where are your shorts?? did not even begin to describe the diatribe going on in my head from the mother-voice I hear periodically when faced with near auto collisions - you know the one - the always-wear-clean-underthings in case you’re in a car wreck warning. I ignored her question in the land of the sand and closed the door of the secret convoy vehicle with a giggle. Half-naked was no problem during the summer that was closely akin to the most freeing time in my life. Ever.

It's time to get back to the ocean, don't you think? This year seemed tied to the shore.

It's time to bring this year to a close even if I am recapping it two years later. at the beginning of 2012. As I said earlier. I've been busy!  I learned a lot writing this post. If there's one thing I know for sure...there's no place like being under the watchful eye of Bloggingham's Moon. A lunar eclipse to end this sometimes loony year. How appropriate. 

Goodnight, 2010.

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