My Lil' Buckaroo! Trick or Treat!

Boog's first Trick or Treat day. Instead of saying the traditional "Trick or Treat", he made his own version. Plainly spoken "Num Nums!"

love me later~tj

The Hat Box - A Short Story Beginning

There is more to this story, it has yet to tell itself to me, but one day it will. I’m certain of that. I hope you enjoy it thus far. If you see it going somewhere share your thoughts with me. I have a feeling that the lady in the park is going to take Mitchell Carpenter somewhere, I just haven’t a clue as to where ... yet.

‘The Hat Box’

tjs - 10/28/07

The razor lost its sharpness as Mitchell hauls the dull blade over his night’s stubble. He likes to get to the office early since the new policies began. The unisex bathroom, he thought was a bit over the line. He hates trying to share what he considers very private, modest moments with secretaries and woman staff. How this place has gone to seed with the changing times. Mitchell is a man of routine. Change does not come easily to a man with a routine driven mind. Another casual Friday, will the policies never stop. Mitchell sighs as he checks his watch for the time. Where are the days of nylons with seams, heels and hairdos? Where are the men in suit coats and ties, and martini lunches? After a few more swipes at his face, Mitchell is satisfied at the razor’s performance, not that it matters today. He straightens his slacks with a long sigh, and pulls himself up to his full height of 6’4". Mitchell Carpenter is an oak of a man, tall in stature, sturdy with conviction. He has been the very backbone of this office for more than a quarter of a century, closer to a half a century if you round up. His time at the office has seen changes, and change is one thing he could do without. Why today, even the mirror is showing him changes, turning against him. He peers into it and stares at the face looking back at him. When did this happen, he wonders? His hair is ever neat in its crew cut. He declares it salt and pepper, but as he stares, he sees that more salt spilt from the shaker. He is old by anybody’s standards. Now as he looks in the mirror, for the first time the face looking back is old to him. Mitchell has just passed his eightieth birthday. He pulls himself away from the reflection, breaths in a deep breath, and exhales slowly. He is going to need his oak-like strength and strong conviction to see him through this day. Satisfied with his appearance, Mitchell picks up his coffee mug from the counter top. He walks to the door and pulls it slowly open. The office is still quiet. Mitchell, for the past 42 years has used this time of the day for reflection. Generally, the thoughts stay focused on the wheeling and dealings with clients. Today though, he has allowed his thoughts to drift. He walks to the coffeepot to get a refill. As he moves toward the pot, he glances out the huge pane glass window. The sky has taken on a gray tint as the day begins. He fills his mug up and moves to the window, standing still as he gazes out. The weather it appears to him has taken on his mood. Mitchell pans his eyes across the windowpane. His gaze settles on the little park that is situated catercorner from the office. He usually only sees the trees but today he notices that there are buckets hooked to spigots on the big maples, collecting the sap. The seasons go by so fast these days. He glimpses out over the park and notices a woman sitting alone on a park bench. The morning mist is circling her legs obscuring them from his sight. He continues looking at her and notices that she is wearing a floral print dress, an old fashion type he has not seen in years. His interest is piqued and he gazes to the face of this woman. Her age is indeterminable in this light, but she has long flowing black hair that seems to radiate a glow even in the gloom. This woman transfixes Mitchell. She is new to his morning routine. New and intriguing. A body could set their watch by Mitchell’s routine, starting with his first cup of coffee in the morning. Bathroom for eight minutes, refill on the coffee, 3 minutes of reflection and a topper on the java. Always consistent, ever constant this routine of his. Yet this morning, gloomy beginning of a dreadful day Mitchell has found that his attention glued to this lone woman sitting on a park bench at day’s break. Memories dance in and out of Mitchell’s head, just out of reach of his remembering. The woman he sees has leaned over to peer under the park bench. Her hair falling gently off her shoulders. She reaches under the seat and pulls out a box from under the bench. Mitchell had not noticed it at first; the morning has lightened a bit in the past few, moments. He sees that the box the woman has pulled out is now sitting on her lap. It looks like a hat-box. It is a round box with a lid. Mitchell hasn’t seen a box like that for nigh on 40 years, since the time when ladies wearing hats had been in style. . Mitchell shakes his head clear the almost memories cropping up in his mind, at seeing this woman sitting out in the morning mist. The mist had collected into droplets on the windowpane and had begun trickling down the outside of the glass. He sighs. Mitchell takes the last gulp of his coffee, which had turned cold in his mug, he grimaces as he swallows it and goes toward the sink. He meticulously rinses his mug out of habit, and reaches to put it away. He notices that a mouse has been visiting and makes a mental note to write a memo about leaving food out, and to send the janitor a memo to clear the rodents away. He remembers the day and winces. No more memos will be forthcoming from Mitchell Carpenter.

More to come...

love me later~tj

Yup. That's me.

Moi' ♥

Diary of a Woman Crazed

http://www.geocities.com/charmingrebel_xoxo/crazed.html
Just a poem I wrote that I thought I would share.

Sweet Glorious Sleeping Late~

Start:	Oct 27, '07 07:00a
End:	Oct 27, '07 10:00p
Location:	Home In My Own Bed

Nothing is sweeter than sleeping in! I get to do that... It's scheduled in. hehehe

My Ma ...

Lisa Y put out a challenge. Write about momma. Such an easy task, I thought. I have been reduced to a puddle of emotions when writing about the woman I revere most in my life.

My Ma.

She didn't want me. That's how I started out in this life. Daddy wanted me. Ma wanted daddy to stop drinking. They compromised. He got me and she got him to stop drinking. She says she wouldn't have given me up the second she laid her eyes on me. She has never given up on me. Clumsy as I have been throughout this life, Ma has always steadied me. She's picked me up dusted me off and set me straight again.

She has been the my most influential teacher. She has taught me everything I ever needed to know in life. She let me learn to cook at age seven, standing tiptoe by the stove. By age nine I was producing gourmet meals. Her pride in the little things in life gave me a good understanding of what it is to strive for to be successful. Family is the backbone of life. She lives that, and showed me how to as well. Huge family gatherings three or four times a year, babies and old folks, always welcomed. During these times you can't walk through Ma's house at night without tripping on someone. People laid out sleeping in every room. Love and laughter in the moment is Ma's forte'.

She was standing next to me when my children were born. She was standing next to me when my grandchildren were born. She is the foundation of our family. As we grow older the bond between us has strengthened. We are best friends first now, mother and daughter second. There is nothing that my mother doesn't know about me and yet, she remains my biggest fan.

Ma is 69 in November. Her will and tenacity has served her well. She is quirky, adorable, fun and beautiful. I am proud to be able to say I am Shirley Butcher's daughter.

Cloey Jo has arrived October 11, 2007

I met my granddaughter today at 2:59 pm, she arrived weighing 7 pounds 14 ounces and was 20 inches long. She is the most stunningly beautiful baby girl I have ever seen. Looking at her took me back 21 years to the moment I first set my eyes on her mommy. She is her mommy made over, except somehow more beautiful.

love me later~tj

Somedays you just get beat up

love me later~tj

Entry for October 07, 2007 - Hug A Stranger -

If we all went out today and hugged a complete stranger imagine what effect this would have on human nature throughout our world.

FREE HUGS!

Sometimes, a hug is all we need. Free hugs is a real life controversial story of Juan Mann, a man whose sole mission was to reach out and hug a stranger to brighten up their lives. In this age of social turbulence and lack of human contact, the effects of the Free Hugs campaign became phenomenal.

As this symbol of human hope spread across the city, police and officials ordered the Free Hugs campaign banned. What we then witness is the true spirit of humanity come together in what can only be described as inspiring.

Watch this incredible show of human spirit and then I ask you to go out and hug a stranger, 13 million people the world over already have:

How Do You Feel Right Now?

love me later~tj