tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-211039882024-03-18T21:29:29.157-05:00-Mayden's VoyageMy name, Cora, means Maiden, and we are all on a journey-hence "Mayden's Voyage"
I am a writer, mom, sister, daughter, and friend. I've been a blogger since 2006 and have met the most amazing people in the world because of it.
"What you say- IS what will happen." I am a firm believer in the power of words...both my own and yours.
♥Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.comBlogger448125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-68680123837037437352018-01-06T15:41:00.000-05:002018-01-06T15:41:26.113-05:00The stuff of life<div align="center">
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The "Goo" inside the cocoon, or egg~<br />
THAT is the stuff of life. <img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358757842148221090" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThP2VdbCmPD8ntzxVy-xlLR4YRqPM-N33RwNev8MtBM6OspD-fBXoOHI7e28SqNyj3QavtIvrUFAFtt8jHPhKhfgQIcGwUZ-t_5RYsyH7BodSME3Ihzs4WYvRIj9RgGN5J2UP/s400/images%5B6%5D.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 136px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 111px;" /><br />
<br />
Complex molecules and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">proteins</span>,<br />
Building an unseen structure...<br />
Which will crawl, or walk, or fly- some day.<br />
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358757577770405938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-t-KOebIC1dLJx-vhZ05_waGhOASx9UUyb2UMEY55wdBTpof1OzEPq7t-GnW_iS43j06b67EoJw0jIXXS1uUS0ZACE0LO7CN_SAdlKCx2MARN1J4f0MJV_Wld-xTZ1GtAIzMt/s400/cocoon1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 120px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px;" /> The goo is actually sacred.<br />
Perhaps not holy, but sinless thus far.<br />
A sticky, salty, slush which perpetuates life.<br />
Including the eggs which the fox consumed~<br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358757857034974642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXqA3GgwQ_ZOIFLHsGfchyphenhyphenL70ujb57ZSIXjzdknYs5w03dYFf9EVhbqL5SREBKvs186b4SujW7CcC8U56XNKxLXgRnFTjlpDw0UucxzCtuGza3lfA5mfEsH6WL2dFwLmV0Zzm-/s400/images%5B41%5D.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 118px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 125px;" /><br />
Wriggling in my own cocoon-</div>
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Wet, slimy, and waiting. I wonder,</div>
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Will I have wings, or will I remain a worm?</div>
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358775167396029186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ZyQVTOITQfxVngupbcSC3KBJJEYYsNE1P15doKIw2cSGwKKDJzpvITOTMIIoHdbMdHDKpPrEVFCq54MDGquVgpmpvJxBSybAzC2QDAJhbom9NguS5cHdykFFAOzOGPveLYqK/s400/images%5B38%5D.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 112px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 150px;" /> <br />
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Will I drink nectar, or will I digest the rot of the forest? </div>
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Both jobs are important and necessary.</div>
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Splendor is in the eye of the Beholder~ </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhpfnXT9x0hPfMn6LigPi6bON7YXoTOR8L6oB5Q71qeonF-wKdJznOc93j_0gR5JP1YSLqoklFMiAIScpM_urMjYTFZKpAwdihFuVVJ6C2zK7FVZ0_1N45eUdyeSaXOTkahCG/s1600-h/images[36].jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358757850150776338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhpfnXT9x0hPfMn6LigPi6bON7YXoTOR8L6oB5Q71qeonF-wKdJznOc93j_0gR5JP1YSLqoklFMiAIScpM_urMjYTFZKpAwdihFuVVJ6C2zK7FVZ0_1N45eUdyeSaXOTkahCG/s400/images%5B36%5D.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 129px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 150px;" /></a> </div>
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A <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Butterfly</span> becomes such at the mid point of it's life...</div>
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Lovely to think of, isn't it?<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358775007703256706" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuhxER-q_yR-h2XSwtPpGUI9jnGyVtqV7qvZhfzqeAMR3c06QfseYwhlzdxFGFI2GPgEaYWTESi30Ya4AO_893cs9KSmfe6AZR3zrgahI5I03aXXbLLBURd46uDyGG_ks5zzTp/s400/images%5B47%5D.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 121px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 103px;" /></div>
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Our years of marching on the ground, eating leaves, and gobbling up milkweed,</div>
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Next a time of retreat into a shell and then waiting.</div>
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We dissolve into the goo from which we came, </div>
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And emerge as a creature who gives life. </div>
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Only in it's winged form can a butterfly reproduce.</div>
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And the "Goo" is in her eggs :)</div>
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<br />
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Becoming a butterfly is fine enough,<br />
But I'd rather be a bird of prey-<br />
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358778016830005122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL9HKf840f5IegOVD7RBCSSe1HbeE7pHm_orG_Ty_dusZ0JGh5ZR7geTWxbbet2-S4iYZQTL7O6llM5jtG0CypOovtyqqXRQdon7TxeSZ9hM3NxllPnqR_lsHLiMoPGMpxfIgc/s320/DSCF7093.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /> <br />
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<span style="font-size: 78%;">(I was not holding the bird in this photo, but I did take the shot :)</span><br /></div>
A hawk, an Eagle, an owl...<br />
Terror of the sky, AND the maker of a warm feathered nest.<br />
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<br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358778019947228450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IeSqOkDBpvGEKqMLEBdBXyWKN-51VP8g1yM40Et0IWtcfHu5adTaveb9G9yGytQD1UjS8BqKTN10lQP2La-KwQI3PCz-o4d7SB6H4_A4LpcxDtePjGI32-J4t3zdUd20gCq2/s320/7104crop.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 250px;" /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358778009689848962" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rtgys4fNK-eJp8XimvvSAvMaGhPs1W0jk21mPJ0SGbNidJ_wlB2t6TwRYBWe3sv51pmAmFIRy67mdjKv6HRhbgE6olR3Z-6UnlkZbb6adI5WKOl4CTpp8C_2a2KMHFAS6WkL/s320/7107crop.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 238px;" /> <br />
My outer shell is hardening. <br />
The goo <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">dissipates</span> as the structure inside is almost completed. <br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358757587857023794" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh97t4CrZuSZQwx8DPxLo1sxiFDgGfQs5EFMbnjM_Gh1pPY92Z4_HxhsEq9LrmwlwBYUgOVYTCEtnZ9HaXZ9Ikq0IzXmxBrtU2eR9QaTfIGsJvBSaYtmBA1U7K8fzeF2VdAFyEl/s400/images%5B1%5D.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 129px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 97px;" />Breaking out is a struggle.<br />
The "stuff of life" has made me who I am~<br />
<br />
And staying put is not an option. <img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358781401164404274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWCHQjFVhlNZVqQHFJhJu3AjabygGDsGcsUTLYX9jkIpvJpd9Ki7B_n2a9-Hc1f4A6mSuctlRrU93Bpy3P6utdCeXyhkcNev4rE9Ccno-OXngFUO0v1MKsKkK0Jbzeb_hXKG6/s320/images%5B20%5D.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 95px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 118px;" />Not if I intend to soar~<br />
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358781406581230754" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwKu3UUYmOsOBuVaCcuJ4nClP4ChpddTpj6xbGrGESbWzwiPVTCd5T48jXdK-R5S9Wbjz6yXTfVKQJ7o5AVVHrCd1ZQj32MNPRn0C6JcpGc-doDyY3bR034mWiFqtte29LeuI4/s320/DSCF7112.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" />And I do.Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-82956847819209522672018-01-06T15:30:00.000-05:002018-01-06T15:30:19.128-05:00<div>
My 4yr old nephew, Asher, is spending a few hours with me everyday this week. We have the privilege of meeting up after pre-school, having lunch together, going to the park, or just sitting at my house and watching Tom and Jerry.</div>
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Warning: He is delightful.</div>
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Today when I picked him up at pre-school he asked me, very nicely, if we could play on the shool playground for a few minutes before going back to my house. It was a gorgeous day and I told him we could stay for 10 minutes. He climbed up the monkey bars, and went down the slide, jumped off of things that should have broken bones (he bounced instead), and started a dinosaur dig. </div>
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We left the school and stopped by Burger King. The day was too pretty to stay inside so we went over to a local park to have lunch. On the way there</div>
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Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-52918874235650230172018-01-06T15:16:00.001-05:002018-01-06T15:16:10.737-05:00Winter in Xzanadu<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">A rushing arctic wind blows past, but the cottonwood tree, stretching out over my porch...her dead pods and leaves do not stir, for they are frozen.<br />My whole forest stands still, like a brave naked army before the Ice King, standing up tall and solid in their ranks before the frigid enemy.<br />They may be coated in ice, they may lose their limbs, some may fall in the bitter onslaught, but the defense of Xzanadu will hold. <span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><br />The heat of the heart of their queen rests inside a humble abode, whispering prayers which freeze in thr air as she blesses her forest, yet still, her voice makes it's way heavenward.<br />No ill will befall this place as long as she lives and her love is here.<br />(Or so I dearly hope!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've also got taps running and cabinets along the main waterline open to keep them warm.<br />It's going to be more like a winter-frozen land ♡</span></div>
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Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-12219883198488992942017-12-14T21:22:00.000-05:002017-12-15T11:42:49.131-05:00<em></em><em><strong>A Sweet cure~</strong></em><br />
<br />
<em>"Because there is so little water in honey, microorganisms that encounter honey die as the water in them is removed by osmosis. In addition, as honey is diluted with water, a chemical reaction between glucose, water, and oxygen produces small amounts of hydrogen peroxide and gluconic acid. The slow release of hydrogen peroxide makes honey a mild antiseptic. The acidity of honey also reduces the number of organisms that can live in it. "</em><br />
<br />
<br />
The other morning I was watching my bees, as I usually do for a little while everyday, and I observed several of them removing a dead comerade from the hive. Three or four of them rolled and wiggled the deceased out to the front of the hive, and two of them (somehow) carried her body to the ground. One bee remained with the body of the dead bee, feeling her and walking over her...performing a last rites of one sort or another(?), and then she returned to the hive. I imagine this is something that happens quite often, due to the short life span of my little buzzing neighbors. (I wouldn't exactly call them "friends", nor should I say they are "mine"...because bees belong to no-one but their Queen.)<br />
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Worker Bees die in the summer about every 21 to 30 days, however, this is the same amount of time (21 days) it takes for incubation. Worker bees are all female and do all of the work in the hive. The Drones are male and only live to mate with a Queen, and he dies soon after. <br />
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A honey bee has a single purpose in life: To reproduce the colony. Everything they do, from gathering nectar and pollen, making honey, building honey comb, to laying eggs, and removing their dead...it's all for the survial of the next generation.<br />
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Is this the purpose of all lesser, or non domesticated, creatures? <br />
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I use the term "non domesticated" because I was thinking of my cats, who are both fixed, and care nothing for creating a new generation of themselves. They only want their favorite food and to be petted...and to sleep in a comfy spot on my deck chair.<br />
However, I have seen my cats chase bugs and butterflies for sport. Obviously they aren't hungry- they are having fun. The same can be said of dogs, dolphins, horses, and even bears. Though I hardly consider a bear to be a creature that can be domesticated.<br />
<br />
I guess this train of thought comes from my own inner longing of wanting to be sure I've found my purpose, and that I am pursuing it. I think humans generally have more than one purpose. I think our purpose, or callings, change over time. I know they do. My 20's and 30's were spent caring for my children. My 40's are very different. At 30, with a 6 and 4 yr old, I could scarcely imagine being away from my family for a weekend, much less a week or a month. At 40- (and beyond, I hope) this is not out of the question, and is at times a wonderful reality.<br />
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All that being said though, this morning, as I marveled at the honey bees in my back yard, I felt a little twinge of longing...<br />
Of longing to know my purpose before it unfolds on the horizon. Of seeing the productivity of bees, and the lounging of my cats, and knowing I was somewhere in between those 2 lifestyles. Recognizing the beauty of my life and being thankful for what I have, yet feeling certain there is much more for me to do...Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-40903756047690523362017-12-14T21:20:00.000-05:002017-12-14T21:20:32.685-05:00Relations and relationships...I suppose we all have people close to us who have hurt us...<br />
Friends, or family...<br />
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One of those people played on me today. Someone who has hurt me like no-one else ever has.<br />
<br />
I can honestly say that in the whole world- there is only one person I've come very close<br />
to hating. And even now- I will only say that I don't "hate" her- because I know that hate is wrong.<br />
<br />
More importantly- Hate is destructive to ME- not to her. She could not care less how I feel about her.<br />
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So- she calls...and of course she leaves a message for T- she wouldn't dream of calling for me.<br />
I have sworn that I will not EVER knowingly go any place where she is present. NEVER.<br />
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I'll probably miss a funeral for an important family member because of her...but, whatever.<br />
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So- of course, we haven't heard from her in over a year...and she calls because she wants something. Something that I have- and she thinks she can get it through T.<br />
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I was so angry today I could have split in 2.<br />
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So furious that I needed a good deal of time to myself to calm down.<br />
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She is awful. Mean. Cut-throat. Evil. A User. Wicked. Manipulative. And related by marriage.<br />
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Ahhhh- Christmas brings out the goodness in us, right???<br />
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In the end I made a deal with T...she could have copies of the things she wanted, but not originals. It was the most that I could do...and better than being angry and loathing this woman with all my might.<br />
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T, who knows what this woman has done- all the ways she has inflicted pain- said,<br />
"Cora, you are a good person...I hope you know that."<br />
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I don't feel like a very good person. I feel like old wounds have been re-opened, raw flesh has been trampled on, and yet again- this pitiful excuse for a woman is fooling around in my life once more...but what can I do?<br />
<br />
Be gracious.<br />
Honor my husband.<br />
Let go of my hate...<br />
Feel the Force...<br />
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Can I be a Jedi now???<br />
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Merry Christmas- and love to all of you.<br />
If you want to know who the "thorn in my side is"- you'll have to email me :)Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-2526503374839481312017-12-14T20:38:00.000-05:002017-12-14T20:38:30.209-05:00People Behaving Poorly has been the Rule, NOT the Exception<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Public reactions to the slimy news about men being sexually inappropriate
surprise me. In my lifetime we, as a
society, have moved from the mentality of “Boys will be boys”, to “He looked at
me in a creepy way and then I felt ashamed and violated”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Women, primarily, are coming out of the woodwork to accuse men
in power of basically chasing them on the playground and pulling their pigtails
in elementary school. I clearly remember
being chased (it was a game we played… Boys Chase the Girls, and Girls Chase
the Boys!), caught, held down, and kissed by the boy I had a crush on in
kindergarten. Then I walked around
wiping my face and saying, “Ewwwww! He is disgusting!” All the while feeling quite smug I had at
least been kissed and not had a frog slipped down my dress. It was the WAY we played as kids, and as we
aged we continued to play in a similar way.
We wrote messages on paper passed
in class, a risqué song dedicated to someone via the radio- and all of us were
listening to the same station back then, an anonymous butt grab at a ball game,
or a quick kiss in the parking lot. Go
this weekend, to any high school ball game- look for yourself. Little has changed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Most of us were taught the moral boundaries of what was
acceptable touching and what was not. Some did not get the memo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">However there is NO such thing as MORALITY in Hollywood, nor in
politics. I dare say the Catholic church
itself has paved the way for some of this depravity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Currently we have ladies complaining of being touched, or an
unwanted kiss, lewd suggestions on elevators, and texting/flirting in a sexual
manner as if this was an absolute violation of their personhood. The missing ingredient in most of these
accusations is violence or malice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If anything we are grossly diluting the actual definition of
Sexual Assault, or sexual violation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is where we enter the slippery slope of intention. Men do stupid things. Women do stupid things. There are evil men in the world, and there
are evil women in the world, however-
mostly people are dumb. Sexual
assault is a crime. Being violently
abused or mistreated is wrong and punishable.
Men can be irritating, tacky, immature, and thoughtless, but that isn’t
a crime. Men in power don’t suddenly
become angels or Saints, and the women they work with shouldn’t become weak or
have less backbone in their presence. A
simple, but firm, NO would have put an end to many of the less startling accusations
of sexual advances. However, the ladies I’ve been reading about lately would
rather pout, play victim, and point to the brute. Who, in fact 20 years ago might have been a
brute, but has matured, made himself a better man, and hasn’t the slightest
idea who their accusers are today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Women, and men, who have been truly victimized, are getting lost
in the shuffle of oh-so-many flimsy accusations. Ladies being invited to a hotel room, for any
reason, should be clued in there are other ideas afoot. Men who are applauded behind closed doors,
or at a roast in their honor (Lauer), but bashed in the public spotlight for
butt pinching and creating a sexually charged workplace does not balance
out. A double standard seems to exist,
and a lot of angry and repressed women (in vagina hats) are riding this wagon
as far as it will go, whether they were truly violated or not. I also find it curious that everyone accused
is famous or well known. We are now in
a climate where an accusation equals guilt and that is a violation in and of
itself, and it helps no one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The real victims of sexual assault, by all means, should come
forward, but not go straight to the media, which I believe weakens their
case. Go to the police, call an
attorney, and go to a domestic violence support group. The ultimate goal of a victim is to be a survivor
and not become a different sort of perpetrator, like the kind who ruins the
life of another with mere words. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ladies and Gents wake up.
No one should be abused or violated, although it happens every day. Since the dawn of time people behaving poorly
has often been the rule and not the exception.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">-Cora Blue<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">12.13.17<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-16582269082279734492016-12-02T14:14:00.001-05:002016-12-02T14:14:26.305-05:00Con te partirò (With you I will leave- or Time to say Good bye)<div class="par" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0.5em 0px 1.2em; padding: 0px;">
<div class="ll-0-0" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
When I’m alone</div>
<div class="ll-0-1" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
I dream on the horizon</div>
<div class="ll-0-2" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
and words fail;</div>
<div class="ll-0-3" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
yes, I know there is no light</div>
<div class="ll-0-4" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
in a room where the sun is absent,</div>
<div class="ll-0-5" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
if you are not with me, with me.</div>
<div class="ll-0-6" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
At the windows</div>
<div class="ll-0-7" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
show everyone my heart</div>
<div class="ll-0-8" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
which you set alight;</div>
<div class="ll-0-9" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
enclose within me</div>
<div class="ll-0-10" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
the light you</div>
<div class="ll-0-11" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
encountered on the street.</div>
</div>
<div class="emptyline" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; line-height: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
</div>
<div class="par" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0.5em 0px 1.2em; padding: 0px;">
<div class="ll-1-0" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Time to say goodbye</div>
<div class="ll-1-1" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
to countries I never</div>
<div class="ll-1-2" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
saw and shared with you,</div>
<div class="ll-1-3" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
now, yes, I shall experience them.</div>
<div class="ll-1-4" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
I’ll go with you</div>
<div class="ll-1-5" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
on ships across seas</div>
<div class="ll-1-6" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
which, I know,</div>
<div class="ll-1-7" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
no, no, exist no longer.</div>
<div class="ll-1-8" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
It’s time to say goodbye…</div>
</div>
<div class="emptyline" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; line-height: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
</div>
<div class="par" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0.5em 0px 1.2em; padding: 0px;">
<div class="ll-2-0" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
When you are far away</div>
<div class="ll-2-1" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
I dream on the horizon</div>
<div class="ll-2-2" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
And words fail,</div>
<div class="ll-2-3" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
and, Yes, I know</div>
<div class="ll-2-4" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
that you are with me;</div>
<div class="ll-2-5" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
you, my moon, are here with me,</div>
<div class="ll-2-6" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
my sun, you are here with me,</div>
<div class="ll-2-7" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
with me, with me, with me.</div>
</div>
<div class="emptyline" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; line-height: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
</div>
<div class="par" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0.5em 0px 1.2em; padding: 0px;">
<div class="ll-3-0" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Time to say goodbye</div>
<div class="ll-3-1" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
To countries I never</div>
<div class="ll-3-2" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Saw and shared with you,</div>
<div class="ll-3-3" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
now, yes, I shall experience them.</div>
<div class="ll-3-4" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
I’ll go with you</div>
<div class="ll-3-5" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
On ships across seas</div>
<div class="ll-3-6" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
which, I know,</div>
<div class="ll-3-7" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
no, no, exist no longer,</div>
</div>
<div class="emptyline" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; line-height: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
</div>
<div class="par" style="background-color: white; margin: 0.5em 0px 1.2em; padding: 0px;">
<div class="ll-4-0" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
with you I shall experience them again.</div>
<div class="ll-4-1" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
I’ll go with you</div>
<div class="ll-4-2" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
On ships across seas</div>
<div class="ll-4-3" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
Which, I know,</div>
<div class="ll-4-4" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
No, no, exist no longer;</div>
<div class="ll-4-5" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
with you I shall experience them again.</div>
<div class="ll-4-6" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
I’ll go with you,</div>
<div class="ll-4-7" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
I with you.</div>
<div class="ll-4-7" style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.475px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ll-4-7" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.475px;">https://youtu.be/LWQbuJ24Wzg</span></span></div>
<div class="ll-4-7" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.475px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="ll-4-7" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.475px;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-88967666057565198242016-11-19T21:10:00.000-05:002016-11-19T21:11:21.511-05:00Angels can't be kept...<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
A Bitter film coats my tongue<br />
Dry and unquenchable thirst,<br />
5 too many shots of Bourbon<br />
Sobriety reunites me with my pain</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
Your smile flashes in my head,<br />
What's worse, the burn or the heart bile?<br />
The impossibility of you torments me<br />
I drink, I weep, and I fall asleep..,</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
You, 200 miles away</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
. In a prison of happenstance.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
You aren't free, and I am trapped...</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
attached to you via the soul.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
<br />
I will go to my grave with your name on my heart</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
I can change. I can slip away. But how?<br />
How does one walk away from an angel?<br />
Damn his perfect beautiful kisses.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
<br />
He scorched my tongue and ruined me</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
I feel I will die without him.<br />
I have hope, that maybe, he might be mine.<br />
But some ugly shred of grief reminds...</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
<br />
Angels can't be kept.</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
But I can, and would be again</div>
Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-14838563048833481702016-06-04T19:09:00.000-05:002016-06-04T19:09:31.442-05:00Be careful what you wish for-Over Ten years here...Might be time for something new?<br />
<br />
I am not sure...I wander around here in these lovely hallways and tiny rooms- and I see a decade of work, love, huge losses, and re-building at an age when some of my friends are talking about retirement in 5 years.<br />
<br />
5 more years? Holy cow- I can hardly imagine where I will be in 5 years. Actually, that is a complete and utter lie. I am almost where I want to be in 5 years. If my home had a hot tub or pool (hot tub is coming I do believe)- all I would pray for is a partner. <br />
<br />
Actually. I DO pray for that partner. I know him. I love him. I want him in my day to day life. It will happen, but not now. I am very blessed to know his name, address, phone number- etc ♥ Our lives intersect at certain places, but the bond is big and tight- enough to get us through to the other side. I can not tell you how much I love him because the words have not been invented yet. I might have to work on that.<br />
<br />
Until then- this home maker of 20+ years is in new territory. Single, out in an enchanted forest, surrounded by more blooms and bees (not my honey bees yet- sad face) and gorgeousness than I can ever explain or describe...with a lot of time on my hands to be exactly where I have hoped, and prayed, and dreamed I would be.<br />
<br />
"Be careful what you wish for"- Mr. Gene Wilder once said, "it might come true."<br />
<br />
What a funny notion. There are so many many things I have spoken into reality, much like a farmer planting seeds in his garden- tiny little words disappear into the soil- which need to be watered, and weeded, and given time in the sunshine. Then they actually bloom!<br />
<br />
I think of K-9- and being in her stunning part of the world right after my mom died. It was such a haven for me. Chickens, plants, NO grease down the drain...recycle and burn what you can. Trips to the dump were a way of life. I NOW live that life. Who knew that experience would mark me so deeply, so completely? No, I am not at the foot of a mountain, but all I am missing is the stream out here in deep woods of North Carolina. I am home. At least, I am home for now.<br />
<br />
And that last sentence brings me to the true vortex of everything I am feeling and thinking this weekend. "At least, I am home for now". <br />
<br />
Home means different things to everyone. In the best sense it is the place you grew up, and had friends, and loved deeply, and it gave you good roots. No matter where you were transplanted, and believe me, there are SO many transplants close to me, your "home" built you, and gives you something to fall back on. Perhaps Home for some was a place of terror and a place to flee from? For me, HOME should be a place of safety, even if there is discord, you should be able to sleep soundly and without fear of danger. If nothing else, your bed should be a haven or sorts. It was for me. <br />
<br />
The cherry on my Sundae is a hoard of books with my name on them, and making enough money to not have to work at Bo'Jangles as a manager to cover my mortgage. I am no where near that being a reality, but sometimes I slip into a fear mode and think- omg...what if? What if this goes sideways? <br />
<br />
The worst fear is, "What if I am a fraud?" or, "What if I am wasting my time?" Or- ummm...how am I going to manage being 80?<br />
Lord-as if I will live that long- lol!<br />
<br />
You know what- really? This all boils down to one big ego trip..."What if no one likes me?"<br />
<br />
It's easy to be someone special when you have a crowd around you cheering your name. I have single handedly eliminated the crowd. Well, some in the crowd died, but I can't count them. I do miss them though.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOXO_CZvt93IMSrQnuRX2Jgq7JUHaLbSZD93lYEkZSP8cim3gJUdZfw7Ejbzm73sUj1MnWq52R4AK1A0gSwQ56Snjwk6ES5pYFSL7LW6uvD9mHy8IAIeIc-bMv83uPcXdX6es/s1600/resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOXO_CZvt93IMSrQnuRX2Jgq7JUHaLbSZD93lYEkZSP8cim3gJUdZfw7Ejbzm73sUj1MnWq52R4AK1A0gSwQ56Snjwk6ES5pYFSL7LW6uvD9mHy8IAIeIc-bMv83uPcXdX6es/s320/resized.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>
<br />
Ten years. Wow. I have come a long way baby. Maybe down a long winding- and out of the way- path, but it has still been a long way!<br />
<br />
Love to you all... I will be back, in some form or another. Might be a fun idea to make this place a secret known only to the ones near my roots?<br />
Perhaps so.<br />
<br />
-Cora<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
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<br />Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-26071817782729774282016-04-26T22:51:00.001-05:002016-04-26T22:51:46.563-05:00Walls and Threads<br />
<br />
Restless and wondering,<br />
With an achy soul,<br />
I want what I can not yet have,<br />
Longing- fills me with ashes.<br />
<br />
Time-<br />
A creation we invented of minutes and hours,<br />
When in truth, it is made of words,<br />
Kisses, and conversations.<br />
<br />
Time is about breathing,<br />
and laughing, and weeping,<br />
but mostly,<br />
It is about love.<br />
<br />
A Love I can not always touch,<br />
A Love I can not hold at will,<br />
A Love I watch weakened by losses,<br />
A Love I crave with all my being.<br />
<br />
The sunsets come and go,<br />
The flowers bloom with fierce glory,<br />
My blueberries hang heavy on the branch,<br />
And I seek to dull the ache in my heart.<br />
<br />
Why? Why not embrace the pain?<br />
Why not let it motivate?<br />
Why not let ache and desire push me...<br />
Rather than drag me like a dead worm on a hook?<br />
<br />
While in labor, I did not sleep.<br />
The sheer unadulterated agony made me vigilant.<br />
Nothing would stop me from holding my baby,<br />
Nothing less than death, at least.<br />
<br />
Life, Death, Pain, Love-<br />
These are the walls of our reality.<br />
Kisses, tears, laughter, friendship,<br />
These are the threads that cover our being.<br />
<br />
Cover me in kisses, and tears.<br />
Wrap me up in your friendship and laughter.<br />
Help me utilize the fire of my pain,<br />
As I dump these ashes and tend to my soul.<br />
<br />
-Cora Blue<br />
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<br />Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-34396297639517692932016-01-28T23:49:00.001-05:002016-01-28T23:49:48.183-05:00BreatheToday was an odd day-<br />
After an ice storm, and a quick trip to Savannah for an expo- and meeting wonderful people and having a marvelous time...this afternoon I found my self weeping in the car all the way home from work.<br />
I think they call it "let-down".<br />
I am on the verge of doing big things with the company I work for. I am about to buy MY own home in the middle of a beautiful forest. My daughter has been very sick- but I think we have it narrowed down to gallstones and kidney stones (poor kid- both at once!). My divorce was final in December. My mom's birthday is on Monday and the ache I have over missing her is really beyond description.<br />
I have multiple story ideas for children's books bubbling and shouting for attention in the back of my mind, but all I can focus on now is writing contracts for new clients, and working with corporations for their business, and trying to come up with an extra 5k for closing on my home. (Money is coming, but tied up in the courts at the moment.)<br />
Sigh.<br />
Add to this my heart...someone I love beyond description is under an enormous burden. I want to swoop in and fix what can not be fixed, heal what can not be healed, and add love to a heart over come with grief. His heart is like a sponge filled to the brim- and it just can't absorb too much more.<br />
My love for him is like nothing I've experienced in a long long time.<br />
<br />
My life is kind of like a central train station. Engines and carts are being moved into place, but nothing is coupled yet. I have at least 12 things which need to connect- and they are coming together, but for now- all feels like chaos.<br />
I don't like chaos.<br />
I remember reading about it in Paradise Lost- "<span style="background-color: #e5e0c3; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify;">Chaos rules a realm of confusion on the edges of Hell"</span><br />
Yes...that is the place where I reside at the moment. It is as unlovely as it sounds.<br />
Sigh. The smart thing to do is keep my head down, like the work horse I am, and keep moving forward. Plowing the field until all that needs to be done is completed. The desire of my heart is to skip out to the beach for the next 12 days and sit in the sun- and at this time of year it's pretty cold unless I am going to florida. Or the caribbean. (my imagination is getting expensive!)<br />
Or just stop.<br />
Being still is not easy for me...<br />
Which is why I have some sneaking suspicion that is what I am actually supposed to be doing.<br />
Kind of like the end of a yoga class- where we all lay down on our mats and breathe. No matter what poses we did, or how hard they were for me to conform to...that last 5 to 10 minutes of being still is the biggest challenge. And the best reward.<br />
Everything is going to work out. The money will come. The house will be mine. I will be on 5 acres of heaven in a place no one can find me unless I give them the address. I will pause, and unpack, and shift my mindset to my books- but right now I am on a pitiful boat carrying me across the sea of confusion and near the edge of hell- white knuckling my journey all the way. What I should be doing is laying down, and remembering how to breathe. <br />
Why is that so difficult?<br />
My daughter texts me every now and then and simply says..."Breathe mom...breathe."<br />
<br />
She knows me so well.<br />
♥<br />
<br />
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<br />Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-40807718474226761562015-11-17T10:51:00.000-05:002016-01-17T19:58:37.635-05:00Yellow StarThistle...part IIYet, as she towered over me...smirking, all I could say was,<br />
<br />
"But he didn't break my heart. He Marked it. He changed it. He reminded me of how it feels to be loved".<br />
She immediately diminished in size by a third.<br />
Eye to eye- facing what was really a demon of sorts which I had left to grow and mature on the manure of regret and sorrow in the fields of my own soul- I realized I could manage this weed.<br />
<br />
I asked her, "Does anyone walk away from an encounter with the divine and remain unchanged?"<br />
She shuddered. I asked, "What is the first thing the divine always says? FEAR NOT!".<br />
Why? Because they are too wonderful, too profound, too glorious for us to understand without collapsing with fear."<br />
<br />
The weed began to turn brown and shrivel.<br />
<br />
By now- I am towering over her...shouting "How dare you try to corrupt something made only from love? How dare I allow you to take root and suffocate the flowers in my garden heart?! How dare you tarnish my memories of him with your slander and lies?!!!"<br />
<br />
She could barely whisper, "What about your pain? What about your loss? What about the void he left in your life?"<br />
<br />
"GRIEF!" I shouted, "Is a LOVE word!" <br />
<br />
With a shudder and a tiny whimper the prickly monster fully wilted and collapsed.<br />
***********<br />
<br />
<i>Weeds are interesting creatures. Their roots can go deep and lie dormant for a very long time. Roots have to be pulled up and burned. Even part of one left behind can cause problems in the future. Keeping a vigilant eye on the garden is necessary even when it appears there is nothing untoward lurking in the ground. </i><br />
<br />
**************<br />
<br />
That beautiful man peeks in on me every now and again. His love is real and so is his beauty. When I see him or hear him he still makes my heart flutter. I am drawn to him like a moth to a flame, except this flame will not burn me...it simply bathes me in light and reflects his goodness and love.<br />
<br />
Yes, my heart was marked, and he is not capable of breaking it.<br />
His graceful ways and thoughtful words, in the midst of his own burdens and struggles, are fresh air and sunshine to my heart. <br />
To paraphrase an old movie, "He makes me want to be a better woman". <br />
<br />
Which is precisely what one would expect in an encounter with the divine. <br />
<br />
♥♥♥<br />
<br />
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David...by Michelangelo<br />
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<br />Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-71985676876268387652015-10-21T10:34:00.003-05:002016-01-16T12:19:34.877-05:00Yellow StarThistle<div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: #353a3d; font-family: 'source sans pro', 'helvetica neue', helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 26.1px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-top: 20px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3; color: #3d85c6;">He was simply the most beautiful creature I had ever heard or seen in my life. I can compare him to none I have met before or since.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">His voice reached the interior of my soul first. It was perfect. No accent, no nasal quality, but pure, manly deep but not overly so, like a perfect merlot- full, mellow, with notes of music and romance. The mere sound of his voice wrapped and filled me with comfort and bliss.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">His skin was flawless, ringlets behaved in his precisely cut hairstyle, his Italian nose was both classic and perfection, teeth straight and bright, a smile so warm and welcoming one couldn’t help but feel taken in by it. The dimple I discovered when he smiled and the closely trimmed beard which was beginning to turn white made me come completely undone. He was absolutely divine.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">Acutely aware of his infectious charm he perched behind a casual façade- as if to dim some of his own brilliance. His self confidence was mesmerising. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">He carried it within him the way a mother carries a new babe in the womb- surely and deeply. His glow was undeniable.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">He didn’t walk into a room like other people do, he was fluid, I would almost say he glided. There was nothing ungainly about his steps or his movements. Everything he did, from opening the car door, to washing a dish, to cooking a turkey was done in such a way I would have sworn it had been rehearsed. Never once did I see him flustered or shaken. Even in dealing with a hysterical woman, he was calm and unruffled. He was ever as tranquil and beautiful as a still lake at sunrise.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">I loved him urgently, swiftly, and completely, though I was warned, “That man will break your heart.” I paid no heed, but a minuscule seed of worry was sown into my inner core and quickly forgotten. A seed, much like a weed, which began to take deep roots before I ever noticed its tiny shoots on the surface of my garden heart. That weed much like kudzu, was impossible and fruit less.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">He made love to me like I was the only woman in existence. I felt I was his angel, yet knowing full well I am much closer to the type described as Hobbit folk. The passion, the laughter, the shared stories and the way we reveled in each other was sublime. Our time together was too short. One of us was always having to leave, and the distance between us was bothersome and painful to me, but he took it all in stride. I took his self-confidence to mean he was sure of us, of our connection. Our interactions were not casual...though there were languid moments of delight, and sparkling ones of laughter.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">His gifts were utterly unique, thoughtful, and timely. A jar with favorite chocolates and hand written love notes for my birthday. Flowers for my arrival- pink, my favorite color rose. Music filled his house. Beloved tunes of his previous life, and new ones picked out for me. Dancing for no reason-except to dance and hold the person you love closely. Sunsets and moonlight and shooting stars were ours, and nothing was impossible when I was with him. No harm would come to me while in his embrace.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">And then…</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">In one fell swoop I lost him. My divine being withdrew his wings and pulled away swiftly…almost as swiftly as I fell in love with him. A responsibility as big as keeping the moon in orbit fell upon him; and while fearless in his new role, he was unable to hold on to me. With grace, yet determination, he cut the tie he’d bound me with- never suspecting he’d also severed the cords of my heart.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">I bled profusely. I wept like a little lost child in the middle of dirty Calcutta. I crumpled and fell to the ground like a used Kleenex, and my world was filled with searing pain. I searched my heart. Was there no way I could assist? No use for me in his new role? Couldn’t I remain attached as a cheerleader, or a bringer of dinner or flowers?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">Ahhh…flowers. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">As I looked inwards- there it was, the Weed. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">It was so big and thorny and overgrown there was room for little else. It grew with rapid speed and complete destruction without the divine to keep it in check. It stood tall and stared back at me when I faced it. Internally she towered over me. She was as frightening as my lover had been beautiful. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">Without eyes and tilting her yellow head somehow she smirked at me.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">Her words echoed in my gut, </span><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #3d85c6;">“That man will break your heart”.</span></span></div>
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Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-33652744363907413792015-09-26T22:55:00.000-05:002015-09-26T22:55:06.123-05:00Dante's Inferno- LOVELove is more unitive than knowledge in seeking the THING, not the THINGS reason; :Love is bent on finding a real union- though this can only be constituted by knowledge.<br />
<br />
Love wants to find the thing that is tactile. Love wants what it can put it's heart, and hands, and lips on. It wants warm flesh, and a knowing smile, and soft sheets, passion, and laughter when all is said and done.<br />
<br />
<br />
According to Dante-<br />
The effects of love are enumerated as "such":<br />
* Reciprocal abiding - together by choice<br />
* Mutua Inhaesio- mutual indwelling<br />
* Of lover and beloved together<br />
* a transplant- "out of the self into the other"<br />
* ardent cherishing of each other- with zeal (was Dante a woman or what?)<br />
* a melting- liquefaction- so that the heart is unfrozen and open to be entered<br />
* a longing in absence<br />
* heat in pursuit- fervor<br />
* AND enjoyment in presence..fruitito<br />
<br />
Then...what of fear?<br />
And honestly, this is where I have fallen short...fallen short of fear because there was never any need- and yet, now there is.<br />
<br />
"Without the discipline of service and obedience, fear remains formal and does not spread over the whole known reality of existence."<br />
<br />
As a kid I knew all too well if mom or dad threatened corporal punishment it would come surely and swiftly. I abided by my word out of the fear of what they would do to me if I lied. Being untruthful was a magnificent sin in my little world.<br />
Once I expanded beyond my little world- I realised that lies were something people did every day- with no remorse- and no consequences.<br />
<br />
Yet- as I age- I fall back into the undeniable value of trust, and truth, and being who I say I am. Even if I admit to being faulty, or broken, or blonde (flighty) at times.<br />
<br />
In this moment I am alone. There is no one to call (with more authority than me) if I end up in a rough place. My kids, my siblings- my friends, all still look to me. I am Mom, and the Eldest, and a pillar to most people who know me.<br />
<br />
In love...what I long for and want to offer- is shelter. <br />
<br />
Not necessarily a place to lay your head (though that would be fine)- but a place to lay your heart. A place, like a manger, where the most important being in the world (to me) can rest his sleepy head.<br />
And wake up feeling new- and strong- and awesome. <br />
Mostly because my Love found it's union- and my wisdom could attest to my loves finding. <br />
-CRB <br />
9-26-15<br />
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<br />Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-54443664285670171812015-09-14T21:25:00.003-05:002015-09-14T21:25:53.238-05:00New day"Wisdom trumps feelings."<br />
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-Cora Blue<br />
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without a doubt- this is true. Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-23834453106782787052015-09-02T21:31:00.001-05:002015-09-03T08:12:58.490-05:00Enough.<br />
<br />
The moment you doubt in yourself,<br />
The moment you give way to another-<br />
The moment your happiness depends on ___?<br />
Is the moment you fail altogether.<br />
<br />
In this landscape of broken dreams,<br />
Is the moment you see WHO you are,<br />
Beautiful, ugly, perfect, or shattered-<br />
A planet, or a fallen star....<br />
<br />
The sweet moon shines on me tonight-<br />
Forgiving all of my imperfections-<br />
I glow in the thought- of maybe just maybe,<br />
I AM my own version of heaven....<br />
<br />
IF I smile at each fear, IF I welcome each change,<br />
IF I step out in faith when I must-<br />
Love will find me- love will bind me,<br />
And love- of myself- will be simply enough.<br />
<br />
-CRB 9.2.15<br />
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<br />Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-85952800548064740862015-08-26T11:14:00.001-05:002015-08-26T11:14:50.471-05:00Stuff from a long time ago...I forgot about this place...<br />
http://maydenpersona.blogspot.com/<br />
<br />
:) Fun to look back and remember ♥Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-46186308168195249702015-01-15T16:00:00.001-05:002015-01-15T16:00:13.703-05:00Lifetime<br />
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A lifetime she said,<br />Slowly turning her head,<br />And smiled at the man of her heart.<br />Whatever is left, we'll make it the best,<br />Each morning we'll kiss at the start♡<br /><br />A lifetime she whispered,<br />Forgetting all winters,<br />Only thinking of spring-<br />Of flowers in bloom, while honeybees zoom,</div>
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and the man who made her heart sing.<br /><br />A lifetime can be lived in a moment,<br />Or it can span 100 years,<br />Millions of seconds of joy and pain,<br />Of laughter, learning, and tears.<br /><br />"A lifetime", he whispered, and nodded his head,</div>
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while holding the one he loved so-<br />I've waited long- you are my hearts favorite song,<br />For a lifetime, I'll never let go.</div>
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CRB</div>
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Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-88712951874897898772014-12-28T22:44:00.002-05:002014-12-28T22:44:22.018-05:00Comfort, Illness, and transparencyIn my earliest memories of being sick as a child- my mom was always present, and ever providing comfort. She held my hair while I hugged a trash can, brought a cool towel for my face and forehead, and poured a tiny glass full of ice and cola for me to take tiny sips from. Her care was equally diligent for a bad cold, or a an injured limb- she was present and she was helpful.<br />
<br />
This week I suffered from a terrible bout of food poisoning. It was most likely the norovirus, which has a quick and violent beginning, and leaves the the body weak and drained. Re-hydration is tricky because you don't want to do ANYTHING to trigger the retching again. Mom's advice about tiny sips echoed through my head multiple times. It was good advice then, and it is good advice now.<br />
<br />
Aside from the unfortunate realtor who came by to show the house I am living in (while I was on all fours in the bathroom over a rug thinking I would cough up my liver)- I battled this illness alone. No husband hiding on the other side of the bathroom door...no kids asking me if I wanted tea. <br />
No Mom to hold my hair, or reassure me I would survive, or laugh at me when I said out loud "At least the Ebola patients get to die after a few days!"<br />
But, she was there in spirit. <br />
For several hours I was praying I could join her in heaven, but it all passed (no pun intended!), and I came out of the ordeal several pounds lighter and had a new appreciation for suffering alone. In one way it was a relief no one was around. I was a disaster. In another way it was enlightening...to be in pain, unafraid, but helpless and kind of seeing myself in a pure form- because no one else was there- I didn't have to be concerned with their reaction to my misery. <br />
I suppose we have all tried to put up a good front for people we don't want to worry with our pain (unless you are a man- and then nevermind. I have never met a man who wasn't a complete and total baby when he was sick!)<br />
Anyway, back to mom. I think she was probably the last person with whom I was totally transparent. The only person I have ever trusted enough with all of me not to run away shuddering at what was inside. <br />
<br />
I want that again. Obviously I can't have my mom back, but I do wonder if there is another soul on the planet I can fully trust with my heart, and my guts, and my thoughts. I hope so.<br />
However, even then...I don't want them too close if I get food poisoning again. <br />
Some things are simply better left unseen, unheard, and unknown.<br />
<br />
:)<br />
<br />Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-5945295534294854802014-12-28T22:08:00.004-05:002014-12-28T23:04:53.799-05:00Blast from the pastI probably shouldn't post this again, but it seemed to be a fitting way to end this year- with a joke :)<br />
(This video is at least 6 or 7 years old!)<br />
Next year is a new ball game, and I am in it to play and play hard!<br />
And I'll try to come up with a better joke :)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpdPo9FD3LI">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpdPo9FD3LI</a><br />
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<br />Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-78046899617071435212014-05-29T15:13:00.000-05:002014-05-29T15:13:42.133-05:00Reasons or Results?<br />
<br />
I'm tired of all the reasons, which is why I don't have the results I want. Need. REQUIRE!<br />
Time to compile my first book...<br />
Past time.<br />
Last night I went to a writers conference, and several of the members I had met over a year ago and they were "planning, thinking, chewing on, dancing around"...writing their books. Those people are published now.<br />
<br />
I am published in multiple forums and in Europe. Not all writers need to write a book, but my mom definitely expected me to publish one. Actually, I think she expected me to publish many books. One of the ladies I met, Lee, has always reminded me of my mom. Last night, with all the beauty and kindness of her spirit- she pulled me aside and said, "Cora- where is your book?"<br />
I bit my lip a tad because for a split second it wasn't Lee who was asking me...<br />
It was MOM who was asking.<br />
<br />
In truth, the book is already written. I just have to put it together/edit/and publish it. I will self publish- it's definitely the way to go in the beginning. I'm not a new author (lol...getting a bit too old to be new at much of anything these days! :), but a new "book author" is within sight.<br />
<br />
It's funny- someone reminded me of the first paper I ever wrote in Creative Writing when I was 8. I wrote about Aliens and meeting one, and how nice they were (though they were very different), and it was such a happy little story. My teacher was very surprised. I didn't know why. Now, as I think of the 8 yr old little girls I know- it would surprise me a little to discover one was writing a genre which mostly consisted of older male writers. This was back in 1977. (Carl Sagan did not have much influence in my life, but maybe more than I realized?)<br />
<br />
Anyway...the TIME IS WRITE-<br />
and I am expecting better than reasonable results :)<br />
<br />
<br />Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-38890585605403566062014-05-15T11:44:00.001-05:002014-05-15T11:44:56.063-05:00I made the news again :)<a class="" data-reactid=".11.1:3:1:$comment10152148512393233_10152148543823233:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$range0:0" dir="ltr" href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.newsobserver.com%2F2014%2F05%2F12%2F3854923%2Fask-the-experts-company-car-wrap.html&h=LAQFBc9ln" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: #fafbfb; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.newsobserver.com/.../ask-the-experts-company...</a><span data-reactid=".11.1:3:1:$comment10152148512393233_10152148543823233:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0" style="background-color: #fafbfb; color: #4e5665; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"> <a href="http://news%20article.../">news article...</a></span>Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-85762042929403252642014-05-14T23:30:00.000-05:002014-05-14T23:30:00.761-05:00Eyebrows are awesome...The things we take for granted are various and many. Especially here in the United States of America. <br />
Clean water comes on every time I turn on the faucet. The electricity here is operational 99.9% of the time, unless we've just had a hurricane or a natural disaster. In fact, the times we have been without electric current I have worried we are TOO dependent on lights and refrigeration. My parents remember when electricity and televisions came into being. My kids can scarcely imagine a time without computers, much less running water and 500 channels of nothing to watch. <br />
But I digress-<br />
Many of us recall a time of cheap gas and big cars, and (oddly) a refill of coke would cost you an extra .50 cents. Houses were cheap, hospitals were a place to die, and only women of a certain means were able to get their hair dyed, nails done, and eyebrows plucked to look like Ava Gardner.<br />
She was gloriously amazing... (and from about 60 miles from where I live!)<br />
These days things have changed. <br />
Probably to our demise and undoing.<br />
Of all the modern conveniences- including the ice maker, microwave, and awesomely comfy bed warmers (I do mean the electric kind- kudos Ande :)-, not the iron pot full of hot coals one would drag across the sheets!), one glorious, yet terrible, product has made it's way into the homes of millions of Americans.<br />
Waxing kits.<br />
Yes...I mean waxing kits, the kind of thing which should be left to professionals at all costs, and never EVER used on eyebrows.<br />
Ever.<br />
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<br />Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-58691718297164088682014-05-14T23:29:00.000-05:002014-05-14T23:29:21.311-05:00The Moon tonight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I sat outside alone tonight-<div>
Letting the moon pour over me...</div>
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I realized the Moon- He is a MAN</div>
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And love is all He seeks.</div>
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He reflects the light of a golden sun,</div>
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A lover always just beyond his touch-</div>
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And how are you and I so different?</div>
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Longing for the perfect "such and such"?</div>
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The smell, the feel, the leather glove,</div>
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Made for you- and you alone.</div>
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The touch, the way- the perfect fit-</div>
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Like muscle around it's bone.</div>
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The man in the MOON was smiling-</div>
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He's in love with the "girl in the world"-</div>
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But I'm a fool to think it's me-</div>
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An aging- simple girl...</div>
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And yet, I felt his love come down,</div>
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and cover me in light-</div>
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He whispered- unabashedly,</div>
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That "I" was his delight-</div>
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"Few take the time to revel in me",</div>
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He said, without remorse,</div>
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But those who do- and find the truth,</div>
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Will find an altered course!</div>
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And so- I sit here tonight-</div>
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Touched by a wild full moon.</div>
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And I wonder- is he a lover I can trust?</div>
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Or not?</div>
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Thinking of Ande, Sean, Brian, Foamy, Ted (wherever you are!), NYD, and the rest of my beloved bloggers in this space. I so miss you.</div>
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cora.blue@hotmail.com-</div>
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or- you are free to text me at 919.903.4188- seriously- all my phone stuff is free :) I'd love to hear from you ♥ </div>
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Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21103988.post-35017372799350501812014-02-12T22:34:00.000-05:002014-02-12T22:34:03.135-05:00Idiots and heroes...all on the same icy road.First of all I live in, and love, the South. <br />
People from here, in general, are good natured, easy going, and are willing to jump in and help out in a crisis. Forget the stereotypes, though I admit they have their place in the world, people FROM the South are often kindhearted, thoughtful, and well intentioned. Yes, we have our share of greedy dumbasses, but for the most part, we embrace people from all walks of life and consider the needs of others above ourselves.<br />
Today, on my way home in the snow storm, I had to pause to reconsider my roots, my kindness, my manners, and my ability to deal with idiots. If I'd had my Bersa 380 with me all bets would have been off. I have never seen such an astounding group of ill prepared, STUPID, and inconsiderate people in my entire life. I can only assume they are transplants from the North or the West Coast. Yes, Yankees, or damn foreigners! No one born and raised in this neck of the woods could be so incompetent. However, I do admit a snow storm of this intensity is enough to make anyone a little stupid- it was/is really bad.<br />
My dad, who is from Indiana- always told me, "Snow is fine to drive in, but ice is another story." From him I took my cues when it came to driving, and I've always felt that snow was "doable", but ice was something to be avoided at all costs.<br />
Apparently some people can not find a way to drive on a wet road, much less one covered in snow. Triple their incompetence when it comes to ice. When ice is involved- please alert the morgue- because you will have an influx of deserved visitors! (at least I hope so)<br />
<br />
My first clue trouble was ahead was when I drove down the empty street next to my office and saw a woman, near her home, stop her car in the middle of the street, to wipe her windshield with a scraper brush. Yes...she was half a mile from home, and stopped- IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD, to clean off her windshield. A little further down the street several people, whose cars were not in ditches or off the road in any way, had exited their vehicles- apparently, just to walk around in the snow. <br />
The main roads, as you can imagine, were impossible to traverse.<br />
My Google GPS took me a way home I had never been before...avoiding the congested streets and areas with reported accidents, it took me through the housing projects- where apparently people have no cars- and they simply congregated on the corners to see if anyone would break down. It was kind of like Firefly having to coast through the really horrible part of deep space- and hoping they wouldn't be raped, cut up, bbq'd and then murdered for merely being in the wrong part of the solar system. Obviously, I made it through unscathed. Or at least I think so.<br />
<br />
An hour out of my way, and surrounded by Asians and Indians in tiny cars, I found myself on a familiar road, yet mysteriously at a stand still. No one was moving, except for the tiny woman from India (who had abandoned her car and was walking) who wanted to talk to other motorists who were at a standstill. She was very cute, and when I rolled down my window to listen to her, she kept insisting everyone up ahead was stuck. <br />
I chose to believe her and turned around.<br />
I sort of wondered if we were all headed into an internet sort of scheme- only a highway version.<br />
<br />
I took the very road the police had warned us against. A long, curvy, hilly sort of road that had not been plowed or treated in any way. Of course, this road, while being free from any sort of city treatment, was also free of all idiots. No one in a little car would brave this particular street. Even Santa would have been wary of it. I, on the other hand, was pretty sure I could manage it, and if I ended up in a ditch, at least no one would see it- or find me until I was properly dead. Heaven forbid I be found in a ditch and not properly dead...I could not bear the embarrassment of all that!<br />
<br />
In less than 10 minutes I was home. A giant truck about 200 yards ahead of me had made a perfect path for my 4Runner to follow along in. No idiots, no abandoned cars, just me and the beautiful snowy road was ahead of me. No one ran into me, or scratched my truck, or rear-ended me. It took over 3 hours to get home, but I avoided all the zombies on the road.<br />
Wait, I meant...idiots.<br />
Ummmm---<br />
Wow.<br />
They WERE just like Zombies.<br />
OMG.<br />
<br />
I really should have had my gun with me.<br />
Augggghhhhh!<br />
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<br />Mayden' s Voyagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03169575773884459343noreply@blogger.com7