SOUTHERN SHIFT

I'm off to Akumal, Mexico today...
I'll catch up with my blogging posts...
In 2012...
And the exciting thing about 2012 is...
I'll be living in Akumal when 12.21.12 occurs.
I'm sure you're aware that 12.21.12...
Marks the end of the Mayan calendar...
And many doomsdayers believe...
That the Mayans predicted the end of the world.
The local Mayans laugh at all the hoopla though...
Explaining that this date marks the end...
Of the Mayan long count calendar cycle...
Signifying that the earth....
Will move into its fifth cycle...
Heralding in a new consciousness.
On the other end of the spectrum...
Scientists have proven...
That our solar system...
Has already experienced...
A change in the cosmic energy...
That will continue into 2012..
Causing a shift in the earth's axis...
And affecting changes in temperature, daylight hours...
Winds, and even how the stars appear in the sky.
New Agers also have their spin on this date...
Combining science with spirituality.
So?
What's your take?
What do you think will happen  on 12.21.12?


Always, Em-Musing

SLEEPOVER...THE MORNING AFTER

The grandchildren were nestled, all snug in the bed,

While my stuffed-up sinuses throbbed in my head.

The kiddies slept soundly, reposing quite nice,

While I searched for a hot pack, a cold pack, or ice.

Visions of their evening’s fun danced in their dreams,

While the mess in my apartment, Made me wanna scream!

Look at them now lying all cuddly and cute,

Dear God!

It took twelve hours for the sugar to work its way through!

How precious they look now in their slumber mode,

While I looked like a hag from the under-world.

They’ll wake up all rested and happy too,

While I still have mounds of baking to do!

I pray that the memories they’ll cherish all of their lives,

Will not be last nights refrain they heard a thousand times:

“If you kids don’t settle down this sleepover is OVER!

I swear I’m going to take your little butts home!

No! You CANNOT have another piece of candy Your teeth will rot!”

“Waaaaaaa!”

“Oh, c’mon, now…

Grandma’s sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.

No, I’m not really going to take you home.

Yes, Grandma still loves you.

Here…have another piece of candy….p l e a s e!"


Hope you had a joyous holiday.

Always, Em-Musing

DOWN TIME

There’s only a ghost a chance…

That anyone will read this post…

With so many absent from the blogosphere now…

But this is a timely tale and I need to tell it.

As many of you may know from previous posts…

I make up and tell ghost stories to my grandkids…

But this story is true. I wouldn’t write it if it wasn’t.

Rewind two days ago…

I was in the vets office, holding my dear cat, Sweetie.

“It’s time, Leigh. You’re doing the right thing.”

I won’t go into the wretchedly sad details…

Because anyone who’s had to put an animal down knows.

But this one detail I’ll share…

Just before the final injection…

I bend forward to Sweetie’s ear and said,

“Come back to me some day, somehow.”

Fast forward to that night…

I’m lying in bed, my pillow wet with tears..

Remembering her cute habits and antics…

Particularly the night last year when the power went out…

My apartment was freezing…

And as always, Sweetie was in bed with me…

But this time instead of sleeping next to me…

She positioned herself above my head, like a cat hat…

Keeping us both warm.

Just then I heard a TICKING…

“What the…?”

Of course my write brain thought—bomb!?

Dismissing that silly notion, I turned on the lights…

And there on my nightstand was my clock ticking—AGAIN!

It hasn’t ticked for four years since the batteries ran out…

And I got a digital clock.

I have no explanation for this.

Can batteries charge up again after four years?

Is that possible?

I like to believe that somehow it’s Sweetie…

But is that possible?

So?

Can you come up with...

A possible explanation?

Always, Em-Musing

DRAGON SEEKING PLEASURE

I did something in public yesterday…

For the first time in my life…

I pleasured myself.

I know people do this all the time…

But I’ve never had the nerve to do it…

Guess I’ve always been too timid.

I also admit…

That when I did it…

There were strangers all around me….

But because it was in the dark…

I felt comfortable doing this…

I figured no one would pay attention to me…

Because they were getting pleasured too.

I…

Went…

To…

THE MOVIES…

By myself.

Yeah, yeah I know…

Not a big deal…

But I’ve never done this before.

I wanted to see The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo..

But couldn’t find anyone to go with me…

And with the holidays fast approaching…

And because I’ve got so much yet to do…

And with me leaving the States again next week…

And not wanting to see the movie in Spanish…

Yesterday was my only window of time…

And I took it.

And wow! The movie did not disappoint.

If you read the book or books…

I predict you won’t be disappointed either.

I think the actors were spot on…

The setting was exactly how I pictured it…

The scenes were whittled down perfectly..

(it was a big book after all)

And the rape scenes were well, graphic—but necessary.

So?

Have you read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo?

Are you going to see the movie?

And…

Have you ever pleasured yourself like this?

Always, Em-Musing

BREAKING OUT OF THE BOX

I visited with Harriet, my neighbor yesterday…

To give her my manuscript, AZAEL’S LOT for her to read…

And surprisingly, she gave me a book in return…

A book of poetry…

Written by her mother-in-law, Doris R.Goldberg.

I opened the cover looking for the publisher.

“She self-published it.”

“Really? Back in 1989?"
 “After getting many rejections she decided to do it herself.”

Walking back to my apartment I thought…

Nothing’s changed—regarding rejections that is.

And self-pubbing had to have been difficult back then…

(sorry for the bad photo, this was the best I could do)

Because without the Internet…

How would an author have marketed it?

Harriet said she placed her books in local bookstores…

But when she died, she had lots of books in boxes.

Lord! This is my fear!

What if after all my years of writing…

All that becomes of it is nothing but…

Stuff in a box?

So?

If you’re pub’d, traditional or otherwise…

What’s your marketing plan?

If you’re not pub’d…

What’s going to be your plan?

 How will your make sure your writing...

Is not just stuff in a box?

Always, Em-Musing

P.S. See an article on one author's self-pub'd success

Doris Goldberg was born in Fall River, MA.

She came from a writing-family of poets,

essayists, novelists, medical writers, and
contributors to international scientific journals.
Doris had two degrees in English Literature,
and edited a weekly Poetry Column for
The Toledo Blade. She served on the
Board of Trustees of the Ohio Poetry Day
Assoc. and won poetry awards sponsored
by state and national poetry associations.

MESSAGE IN A BOX

OK, please don’t think I’m crazy…
But I think my blog's spam inbox is a covert message board!
Really!Yesterday, I checked it for the first time since…well never…
And there’s a whole lot of messaging going on
And I have no idea what anyone’s talking about…
It’s all gobbledeegook…
Codes or something!
But obviously someone understand this mumbo jumbo...
Because there are actual conversations going back and forth…
Between people I don’t know.
I can see it now…
Really bad people who want to rule the world…
Need a forum to communicate…
And I can hear them plotting…
“Leigh Caron on Em-Musing.blogspot…
Never checks her spam inbox…
So let’s use her blog…
To send messages back and forth…
We’ll never get detected!
BWAH HAHAHAHAHA!”
So?
What’s in your spam inbox?

Always, Em-Musing

TIME, YOURSELF

Last week on one of my blog posts…

I spoke about the gift of time…

That I have now that I closed on my house.

This weekend…

I rediscovered a new perspective on time…

When I found an old poem I wrote.
THE CONSEQUENCE OF WHEN
Maybe I’ll take her to lunch. When?
Or invite her over for coffee. When?
Maybe we’ll go shopping. When?
Or take a walk in the park. When?
At least I should call her. When?
PHONE RINGS
“She finally did it! Overdose!”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Obviously finding “time” for others…
Isn’t easy and doesn’t usually have tragic consequences…
But this poem got me thinking about Harriet…
My seventy-two-year-old neighbor…
Who always calls when I come back in town…
Who still decorates her car with activist bumper stickers…
Proclaiming her sentiments on the environment and war…
Who reprimands me for not recycling my plastics…
And who is actually one of only a few people…
Who has read one of my current manuscripts…
And who…
I keep putting off visiting. Why?
Because I will have to give up some of my time?
So yesterday, I recycled/re-gifted a box of candy…
And along with a small poinsettia plant I had bought…
I walked down to Harriet’s apartment to visit with her.
She served me green tea as thin-bodied as she…
And we talked and laughed for hours…
But it’s not like she doesn’t have family and friends…
Because she does, many…
But still she’s interested in my writing, and my future retreat.
In fact, she wants to read another manuscript of mine.
“Are you sure? The protagonist is an old, white-haired woman…”
“Like me?”, Harriet asked.
I winced wondering if I offended her.”
She smiled, “What genre is it?”
“Dark religious horror.” OK! Now I know she  won't want to read it.
“Tell me about it.”
And so I gave her a quick synopsis.
“I like that you’ve included Jewish mysticism.”
“From the Psuedepigrapha and other ancient texts,” I said.
“Can you bring it to me tomorrow?”
“Are you sure? It’s gruesome in parts.”
“At my age, I don’t think anything will surprise me.”
And so today…
I will bring my manuscript of AZAEL’S LOT for her to read…
And she’ll give a gift back to me...
Her time.
So?
With “time” being such a valuable commodity…
How do you find it?

Always, Em-Musing

COVERT EMISSION

If you  want a lesson in being covert…

Look at lowly cold germs…

This year I thought I would escape their wrath…

By not fingering myself.

(if this sounds vulgar, check December 8th's post)

But just the other night, the germs attacked me once again!

“Noooo!” I screamed as I backed up. “Don’t touch me!”

“Mom, he just wants a hug,” my daughter chastised.

“But he’s got snot!”

“All kids have snot.”

“My point exactly! And hidden in kiddie snot are germs!”

“Oh, mom, you’re being silly.”

“Really? Last year each time I was around your kids…

I got sick!”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not. I swear!”

“Maybe your immune system is weak.”

“Oh I see, blame the victim, right? Not nice.”

“Now look, you hurt his feelings.”

“Oh all right…come here sweetie.”

And so I hugged and kissed my three-year-old grandson.

And now this morning…

WAM!

DAMN!

Is it coincidence my throat feels scratchy?

And I’m feeling kinda achy?

See what I mean?

Germs are very clever...

Because what grandma could resist…

Hugging and kissing their snotty little grandkids?

So?

Do you boldly go where you know there are germs…

Just to be “relatively” polite?

Or do you keep stealth?

Oh, and...hey?

Whatcha doing this weekend?

Are you caught up in holiday hoopla?

Me?

Now that I closed on my house yesterday...

I've been given a gift—time...

To write, write, and write on my W.I.P.

Always, Em-Musing

ATTACK OF THE WRITE BRAIN

Like a family member…

Washing the dead body of a loved one…

Before burial…

I went thought my house yesterday with a cloth…

Wiping away tiny smudges on walls.

Though I didn’t have to; I had hired a cleaning service…

I wanted the new owner to see the house I designed…

In all its pristine glory.

I walked through each room saying good-bye…

Memories surfaced, tears spilled.

But I didn’t want to become too maudlin…

So not long after…

I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.

Hmm? Where are my keys?

They weren't in my purse nor my pockets. Nor on the counters.

That’s impossible!

I searched everywhere again. And again!

No keys?

What’s going on?

And then fear gripped me…

What if the house wouldn’t let me leave?

What if it was pissed I sold it to a new owner...

And was going to keep me here forever?!

I fled out the door towards my car panting…

But then…

What if somehow…

The garage door came down on its own and trapped me?

Breathing heavy, my mind whizzed.—how will I escape?

And just as I realized there was no way...

There—on the front seat—my keys!

I was safe!

Phew! That was close!

Urrrrr…

No…

That was silly.

But really it’s not my fault…

Because once again…

I was a victim of…

An attack of my write brain!

So?

Does your write brain ever scare you?

Always, Em-Musing

IF THE GRANDKID IS BENT...

Yesterday's post got me thinking…

That although I showed talent as a kid…

My parents didn’t really encourage me.

Wonder what would have happened…

If they had steered me towards college or other training?

Who knows how farther along I’d have gotten?

And that got me thinking about my grandkids…

And their parents—my daughters…

But, not just my daughters—all parents…

Who push their kids in a multitude of activities.

Are any of those activities the child’s inclination?

Or is it the desire of their parents?

My seven-year-old granddaughter loves to draw…

And so I asked my daughter one time...

“How come you don’t have her in art class?”

“Mom, she does enough. We can’t fit art into her schedule.”

I didn’t push the issue. It wasn't my place.

But now I wonder...

If my granddaugher is bent…should grandma be inclined to meddle?

What do you think?

And what about you?

Did you have an advocate for your writing...

Or other talent that you have?

 Always, Em-Musing

AS THE KID IS INCLINED

I found another treasure chest from my past…

In the attic of the home I sold…

Inside an old wooden crate I discovered:

Poems I wrote when I was eleven…

Cartoon drawings I did when I was twelve…

And a small reel-to-reel tape…

Of a radio commercial when I was ten…

That I wrote, voiced, and made SFX for.

Hee hee…I got cellophane wrap, crinkled it…

To sound like sizzling sausage in a pan…

And said the line, “Mmm, mmm, mmm…

More pork sausages ma.” Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

Obviously at an early age I showed signs of talent.

I can't say that I cognitively pursued those talents...

Because I didn't remember these little treasures till this weekend.

But they were obviously stored in some part of my brain....

Because...

I've written, voiced and produced radio spots.

Did a cartoon strip (using a better artist)….

Written poems short stories…

And currently I write novels.

So?

What about you?

Have you ever revisited your childhood…

And found a treasure chest of your childhood?

Did you have talents as a kid…

That you’re now pursuing as an adult?

Always, Em-Musing

MAGICAL YARN

A long time ago…

In the land of magic and spells…

There was an old wizard…

Who fell in love with a fair maiden…

And what he loved most were her dainty feet.

“If you marry me,” said the wizard,

“I will make you hundreds of shoes…

And decorate them with jewels...

From around the kingdom.”

But the maiden...

Could not imagine sleeping with the old wizard...

And she spurned his advances…

Holding out for a prince…

Or at least a young handsome nobleman.

The old wizard was so hurt and offended…

That he cast a spell on the maiden…

“May your feet and all your ancestor’s feet…

Be cursed till the end of time!”

And there you have it folks…

The reason why I and every member of my family…

Are klutzes! I’m not kidding!

We trip on anything and everything!

Even if there's nothing there!

It’s true!

In fact my feet are so good at finding and stepping on things…

I could hire them to the military…

To help find land mines.

They could just hoist and hover me…

Over an area of land…

And my foot would find the land mind…

But because I’d be safely dangling above it.

I wouldn’t step on it and blow up.

So?

Are you a klutz?

What’s your excuse?

Or do you ever think someone cast a curse on you?

Always, Em-Musing

DON'T GIVE ME THE FINGER!

Now that it’s cold and flu season…

And especially because it’s holiday time…

Everyone is in defensive and offensive mode…

To avoid getting sick…

And doing things to not spread or get germs...

Like cover your cough or sneeze…

Or don’t walk into someone else’s…

Wash your hands frequently...

And staying away from sick people.

But I think the most vital thing you can do…

Is stay away from your fingers...

Don’t scoff!  

All I'm saying is...

Do not put your fingers in your orifices…

Specifically...

DO NOT put your finger in your mouth

No matter how much steak is stuck in your teeth!

Because the last thing you touched…

Could be the door knob to the public restroom.

DO NOT put your finger in your nose…

No matter how much that booger or hair is stuck.

Because the last thing you touched…

Could be the person’s hand you shook who sneezed into it.

DO NOT put your finger in your ear…

No matter how much you enjoy scooping out wax…

Because the last thing you touched could be a filthy shopping cart handle.

DO NOT put your finger to your eye…

No matter how much it itches or has goo…

Because the last thing you touched was…

Well? Do you even remember what you touched last?

See?

To help stay healthy…

Just don't finger yourself.

So?

What do you do to stay healthy?

Always, Em-Musing

ONCE UPON A NOTEBOOK

The other day…

While cleaning out my house that I sold..

(Yippee yay! I sold it! Oh no! Now I gotta haul everything out of there!)

I stumbled upon a notebook in the attic…

Of old writings consisting of…

Two short stories…

And the start of a novel.

I’d forgotten all about them…

After all, it’s been twenty-some years…

Since I typed—yes typed—these words…

And all I can say is:

HA HA HA HA!

HA HA HA HA!

HA HA HA HA!

HA HA HA HA!

These are sooooooooo funny!

Problem is…

None of the stories were humorous fiction…

It was my inexperience as a writer writing…

That was the joke!

I cannot believe I wrote so badly!

Oh sure, the stories were OK…

But everything else?

HA HA HA HA!

HA HA HA HA!

HA HA HA HA!

HA HA HA HA!

So?

Did you ever stumble on your own…

Once upon a notebook?

Always, Em-Musing