FUNERALS to FIXTURES!!!

People that is how my mind travels!!
Yesterday, Bill and Hart,added a new kitchen light fixture over our island.
Out with the dinosaur fluorescent, in with stained glass.My semi-loving family calls it, "Pool Hall" lighting. I call it quiet, soft, eight ball in the right pocket, awesome!
You have to understand, for two years I have just stared at my house. Unable to move. Grief consumed our family, now it is a regular visitor. A visitor whom we have become familiar with, and not so fearful of.
Now I can, not only change a light bulb, but pick out a light fixture.
When I flicked on the switch this morning, I looked for a pool cue and a beer, smiled and felt peace.

We miss your light Ward.

Just Like A Prayer, I'll Take you There!!!!!

An old song for Madonna, but I like the theme, she just needed some beads.
Rosary, Mala, Misbaha, Juzu, maybe even Pop-beads. Spirituality on a string.

Praying has never been easy to me, my mind wanders to Budapest and back. My intentions are honorable, but my style of prayer, like Mother Theresa on crack.
I pray for our service men and women and "Flash" George Bush, on his ranch in Texas,pays me a visit. Struggling I roll off some names of people I love and "Bam" mom's bread pudding is calling my name. So I turned to using beads to help my scattered mind.
Everyone gets a bead, and every bead gets a prayer.
At no other time did I need my beads more then when I lost my child, Ward.
In a panic, before we had to go to the funeral home, I gathered up all my beads to take with me. Coming down the stairs with my "prayer jewels" I fell and nearly met Jesus. GD beads! (mom always wanted us to use initials when cursing)
We arrived at the funeral home, Mala beads wrapped around my arm, praying for my life. We began, the funeral director sat very far from me!! He asked if we were ready to look at coffins? I grabbed my purse started pulling out the heavy artillery, Rosary beads. Once I had located "my lot",I stopped chanting "God help me" and "Ward I love you", I turned to the man. " Do you have a coffin catalog, because this praying lady is not looking at any coffins!"
Bead, by bead, by bead, we planned the funeral that day, and my beads continue to guide me in prayer.
Jesus, his mom or dad, whomever will listen. My prayers are always answered.

What Did Miss Scarlett say???

"I do want to have your baby Rhett" or "Clark Gable you rock my southern world" or" I will think about that tomorrow."
You are so right, it is the last quote, even though I think the first two crossed her mind.
My cross to bear is being a southern woman(also my greatest joy), "I will think about it tomorrow, precious!" ( I added precious)
Atlanta has received a "Gadzillion" inches of rain. We are all calling 911-Noah as I type. Our basement is flooded, with furniture piled high and carpet being ripped out, None of it fazes me, I went to get my hair fixed!!!!
I had a DCNW moment, DELAYED CRISIS NON WORKER moment. I fled, no rolling up sleeves for me. I have not even peeked down there!!!!It's just too much. I told Bill to call me when it is time to rearrange things. Time to throw stuff away, wet or dry!!! You may say that is shallow? HA!!! Its survival, in a day or two I will tackle it all, right now, not so much. Ward's death took my strength away,I cannot do disasters right now. Ward is laughing right now saying," I knew you would use my death to the fullest!!!" " Thank you precious, for always making me smile." BUT..Miss Scarlett gets the credit here, she just couldn't think about everything!!! so when Rhett slammed the door in her face, she was thinking" I don't care if you think you are Clark Gable, we have water in the basement, Damn it!!!"

One More Dance Swayze

Patrick Swayze died this week, and I'm still reeling. I have turned over and over in my mind, the entire movie of "Dirty Dancing". I have come to the conclusion that every girl or woman has wished for a dance partner like Swayze. This small movie, with a big heart, made mine beat faster.

Young girl falling for,hunky dance instructor in the Catskills or Young girl falling for, sun burned lifeguard at the beach, same story. May be one of the reasons the movie touched us. It was us, all of us, who were lucky enough to have a fling or two in our lifetime, but especially when we were young and so innocent, like Baby.

Having someone tell your daddy "Nobody puts Baby in the corner!" and then lifts you over their head and tells you, to music!!! that this is the time of his life, GOOD LORD,give me some more of that!!

We just needed one more dance.

What's Wrong WIth Cereal????

My number four son, Hart, is home with us. He has leaped at the chance to hang with his parents for a spell. An enjoyable child,until he screams, "What's for dinner MOM?"

I have been married almost 29 years this October, and raised, or help raise five children. I have changed water into wine,and cooked for the multitudes.I have no desire to, lay it all out!!! every night.

Note, the three living at Arborwoods Drive are all adults. Even Queen Latifah (Emma)needs to step up to the stove, when she slips in and out from college.
All of us are working stiffs.

Hart is home to save money for a condo, or an island, I'm not sure which?

As my Aunt Frances said to each of her kids, "You are my favorite, this week!, but if you want to stay my favorite....!"

Hart has always leaned towards my favorite, he is just an easy to love kid, always has been. I love "um" all, he just leans a little.

Now if he wants to stay my favorite????? What's wrong with a little cereal precious???

PSSSS...Hart cooked us omelets,and bacon and biscuits for supper last night, he is a keeper!!!!So needless to say I pulled out a whisk, sliced and diced and laid it all out, AGAIN....tonight!!!!

They Say You Want A Revelation!!!!!

It was reveled
to me this week that my obsession with thinking about, or moving things around, may have something to do with my inability to confront Ward's room. I have been unable to go into his closet, or into his room. I have probably been in his room three times in two years. I make lists and plans, and then I see his jeans jacket hanging on the headboard, and I stop. I ask Bill and Hart to move out his computer, or couch, and then I tell them to let's do it another day. Some days they also say the words "another day Mom". I have looked at his art and that goes OK, I look at this photos and most of the time that is OK, I can revisit memories with a smile. Removing him physically from the home, not so good. I don't think I can really explain it, and if you understand what I'm talking about, then I'm sorry. Because then you know what it feels like to lose a child, and I'm so sorry.

So what do I do instead of tackling his room? I clean and rearrange and visit all the other rooms of our house.

Our lives have been rearranged and I don't know how to put all the pieces back.

So, I'm trying, one room at a time.

Yours, mine, ours and I dont know where it came from!!

In the car this morning, I was thinking about "my stuff". That could mean a lot of things, but this stuff I was thinking about was things in my house. There is not a day that goes by that I don't look at certain items, and remember the story that goes with certain pieces of furntiure,or objects that are scattered, oh so neatly?,around my house.

In my dinning room, that is never used, is grandmother's hutch and table, Kaye's piano,Tina's grandmother's watercolor prints, Canes from my mother, silverware and china from mom, a table from Adah, along with some Methodist hymnals, Bill's mothers tea set. That is just a tiny dent in the dinning room. All our rooms are filled with stories, that have stuff that belongs to them.

I'm sitting in the living room/converted to the computer room rght now typeing away, and I feel the warmth of my kids college diplomas hanging on the wall, and Bill's from Princton. I feel smart in here!!!! I see Keith's toy from when he was a baby, that Bill keeps on the desk, and all of our kids pictures and on one shelf I have all the clay bowls and what-knots the kids made in school, including my ashtray from 7th grade, which really was a bowl!!!

Everyroom filled to the brim. One time filled with kids, now stuff, but oh how that stuff talks!

"Mums" the word!

I may lean to the left a tad, maybe a TAD!!!and I have been known to dip my toes in the crazy creek!!!but my attachment to things puts me in a category all its own!!

The weather is getting cooler,Labor Day was here,so I thought I would empty all of my annual summer plants and plant some Mums!!! That way they would be huge by October, and still, full as a tick, by November. I had a plan, until I went outside.

My summer annuals were putting on one more show. Blooms on all, peeking at me, and saying " We have one more good month in us". I pruned and picked, and cleaned them up, as if Summer was beginning. I did not have the heart to haul them to the compost pile.

So my Mums will be not be,Pumpkin round by October,I will find some fine fat ones soon enough. Right now, I'm watching the summers last hurrah,and its precious to me.

While "OOOHHHH" and "AWWWWWWE" ing, I heard from the den, " Bonnie, are you talking to the plants?"

"Maybe, I'm just having a hard time saying good-bye" in more ways then one.

All my love, Pat Conroy

I think it was at a book signing for "Price of Tides" and Pat's people said that he only would sign his name. After waiting in a line for hours and having to pee, like a cow on a flat rock, I thought, Hell NO!!! so when it was my turn, I grabbed his sweet fat hands and said, " I would like you to write, To Bonnie, All My Love, Pat Conroy." He smiled and wrote just that, and he smiled again.

A southern gentleman who appreciated a southern lady who needed a little attention!!??

I'm reading his new book, "South of Broad". The prologue sounds like this.

I carry the delicate porcelain beauty of Charleston like the hinged shell of some soft tissued mollusk. My soul is peninsula-shaped and sun-hardened and river swollen.

Merciful Jesus, what a glorious writer. A southern writer. A friend of mine, not really, but we southern people like to embellish!!!

I am hanging on every word, breathing in his story. What a joy.

Thank you Pat.
All my love,
Bonnie

Church Whore

Whore {hawer, hohr, hoo r} noun or verb
1. Woman who engages in promiscuous sexual intercourse, prostitute; harlot; strumpet. Strumpet….

2. Obsolete. To make a whore of; corrupt; debauch. Debauch….


Hooker, hussy, hustler, jezebel, courtesan, call girl, lady of the evening, woman of the streets, slut, madam, tart, tramp.

Delicious words, but is it the right word?

Born into the Methodist church and head sprinkling, “Old Rugged Cross”, page 62 in the Cokesbury hymnal, or is it page 33?
At seventeen I went next door and became an Episcopalian, the cathedral called my name, and Father Cerveny melted my heart, but that is a different story. Thank you Jesus!

The two nearest churches to me are the Methodist coliseum church and the Catholic Church. Distance does matter on Sunday morning; I like to pray in my zip code, The Methodist church has a bookstore and a gift shop, a plus, but no kneelers or stained glass.
So this Sunday I went to the nearest Catholic church, a beautiful building until I saw pale, skinny Jesus hanging on the cross.. No son of God would be that skinny and pale, this Jesus would not have had any followers, and it was horrible. How could I concentrate after that? And I was sitting on Satan’s pews, I squirmed and sighed and tried to listen to the sermon, it was about The Golden Gate Bridge and how it is a lot like Jesus, not the hanging Jesus for sure, but some other golden Jesus. I think I may be getting to crazy for this; I did not get the analogy. All I thought about was, Rose Kennedy praying all the time, and her life being so sad, and I was thinking, I hoped she had a different hanging Jesus to pray to. Therefore, I closed my eyes and prayed for strength of some kind to come into my life and help me be a little stronger through this grief after losing my precious son, Ward. Next, thought, Rose Kennedy again and wondering if all those rosary beads helped her? I thought, Maybe, I guess maybe is what faith is all about?

I left church and Satan’s humidity hit me like a brick, what the hell?

Next week the Episcopal Church, once a church whore, always they say.