"Why I Bleed Pink" Revised

I originally wrote "Why I Bleed Pink" as a rant. Someone in my family posted as their Facebook status, " I have nothing profound to say, does anybody else?" I then commented, "I Walk for Breast Cancer". Well, that led to a thread of mocking comments directed towards me. Anyway, that's all water under the bridge and to me it didn't devalue my statement and there's nothing that ever will. So, for the friends who have read this rant before and are bored with it, so what, read it again, I have added to it. To those friends who are new and have not read it, I hope you enjoy it. For all of you, please read with an open heart and compassion. You never know, the person bagging your groceries,  serving your dinner or cashing your check at the bank could possibly be fighting the biggest fight of their life for their life.

In July of 2010, I spent some time in a hospital waiting room with truly the most outwardly beautiful woman I have ever met. Her name was Uli and by the end of our candid hour long conversation I was convinced her beauty went bone deep. Uli, a mother of five, was about to begin her third fight with Breast Cancer. One of the questions I asked her was if she was angry. She said: “ Not at all. One in seven women get this disease, so as long as I concentrate on the odds I can take comfort in the fact that maybe by me getting it three times, I have some how prevented two other women from such a fate. Besides I have already beat it twice, so there are no surprises for me and I would much rather fight it myself than watch someone I love go through it.” 

Without knowing it Uli made an impact on my life that day. My heart was deeply touched by her words. I developed a deeper respect and admiration for another woman than I have ever felt in my entire life and she was a total stranger. But that was double edged because my heart was also completely broken. Uli had given birth to and was raising five sons. A truly miraculous feat and that alone should have made me admire her. Her strength was clearly evident in her poignant words and I told her so. She said Cancer was the absolute worst thing in her life and even though she was stronger for it, she did not want to be remembered for it. However, I sit remembering beautiful Uli with breast Cancer anyway. Uli should be in my memory simply as a beautiful and strong woman, without Breast Cancer attached to it. No women should be remembered for the worst challenge of her life. Every woman who is a mother, sister, daughter or friend will do unnoticed amazing things everyday.

From this I learned to recognize all of the ordinary and amazing things people accomplish everyday and appreciate them for it. I also made up my mind that I was going to honor Uli for helping me realize this before it was too late. Most likely the time has already past to find a cure for our generation but for the next we may be just in time.

I will walk for my daughters and every other pre-pubescent girl who has no idea of the challenges she will face as a woman. I will donate my time and money to find a cure to eliminate a disease that affects, demoralizes and destroys so many families. I will spread the word until I am sure I have been heard and I will do it all with pride.

I decided to share this with you today because I have been asked by several of my friends why I keep making so many Breast Cancer posts and why is it so important to me. Also, because I was mocked the other day for saying “I walk for Breast Cancer is a profound statement“. It may not be an intellectual or deep statement to anybody else but it is to me. Because, it would be stupid of me to not support something that has touched me so deeply.

In the two plus years since I first wrote this, I have come to bleed other colors too. Lime Green for Lymphoma, Black for Melanoma, Periwinkle Blue for Esophageal & Stomach Cancer, Gold for Childhood Cancer, Clear for Lung Cancer and so on. 

It's my heart that does the bleeding. The term " bleeding heart" has always been so disparaging, but I don't really care. Because, to me all it means is that I care deeply and have great compassion for those who are fighting this disease. In my life I have been incredibly touched by Cancer. It has taken the lives of several people who I have loved very much and it has taken lives from people that I love very much. Cancer currently threatens the lives of several people who I hold very close to my heart and can not imagine my life without. Even still, when I look at these people, Cancer is not what I see. I see their hearts and their love for me. I see their sense of humor and how they can still make me laugh even though life is kicking the crap out of them. I see strength, determination and will that I admire and am in awe of.

My Dad, a.k.a. Papa, had Esophageal Cancer. Yes, I said “Had’ he fought like Hell and beat it! But when he was sick he had to be on a feeding tube and needed twenty-four hour care. One afternoon he said something to me that, until the day I die, I will never forget. 

He said, “Corky Grace, Ya know, I've been thinking. I am deaf. I can’t use my legs. I can’t eat real food and I have a little bit of Cancer, but there is nothing wrong with me. I could really be a lot worse off “  My Pop is an amazingly tough man. 

Last winter I had my own Cancer scare and I am still at risk and always will be. To be bluntly honest, we all are. So if you feel like rolling your eyes when I say I bleed Pink or Lime green, then go ahead, because I will bleed anyway and I will keep bleeding until, God willing, Doctors, Scientists and Researchers find a cure.

Sadly my pops Cancer came back and he wasn't so lucky this time. We lost him on October 1st, 2016. The last words he said to me were, "Be a good girl blondie , but only if that means you can still be you." 

I'll never stop Pop, R.I.P.

Thanks for taking the time to read this it means a lot. 

Love Gracie, your Snarky pen pal

My New Best Friend

  

    It was a crappy day, I mean the worst day ever. There is no way I can describe to you the level of effed up this day was and you know me, I only curse when absolutely necessary. Let’s see, first the hot water got cut off in the middle of my morning shower. I had just fully lathered up my shampoo when icicles began to hit me in the back. I tried to duck, run, I don’t know something and I slipped. I tried to grab onto the shower curtain for support, but it ripped right out of the hooks and I fell hard, hitting my face on the faucet on my way down. So, I had only been awake for about ten minutes and there I was, laying naked with freezing cold water pounding on me, shampoo and blood in my eyes and a blinding pain in my head. You’d think this would have been enough bad luck for one day, but that was not the case.

    
    When I got to work my boss reamed me for almost an hour, for missing a deadline that I really had no knowledge of and I swear she made up just to have an excuse to make my life hell. Then for the remainder of the morning she took every opportunity possible to shoot me her best dirty looks.  She’d done this type of thing several times over the past few months and all I could do was wonder why today out of all days did she feel the need to do so again? Not long after my hour long butt chewing my ex decided to go bipolar and harass me via his new smart phone.
   
    When I took my twenty minute lunch hour to grab a bite to eat, my bank card was declined for $7.50.  Really $7.50? I know I am bad at managing money, but I am sure I’d know if I had less than $8.00 to my name, so I called the bank and learned that my account had been hacked.  What next? I wondered as I walked back to my office hungry and broke with my head still pounding and totally pissed off.  The second half of my work day consisted of more dirty looks and phone abuse. A few hours later when my work day was finally done, I left the office only to find my car being towed. I tried to reason with the tow truck driver. I begged him not to take it. I stomped my feet and everything and when I did I broke the heal off one of my boots and they were not cheap! Breaking my boot was the tip of the camel, no..  the final iceberg, the straw that broke my back! What the heck ever! In one pocket was my phone that was buzzing non stop. In the other was the loose change that the tow truck guy let me collect out of my center console, which was probably only about fifteen dollars, but weighed like a thousand. I was standing there in the rain soaking wet on one intact heel with mascara running down my face, a black eye and pounding head. I needed booze in a very bad way.

     I started to walk. I passed the salad and pizza joint where I had bought my lunch almost every day for the past three years and took a mental note not to ever go in there again after the embarrassment I had suffered earlier in the day.  As I limped, I passed a few department stores and various eateries, then finally, a bar! I thought I was going to have to hobble on one heal for miles before I found one. As it turns out, Wet Willies is just a few blocks from my office.  I wondered why I hadn’t ever heard of it before, but in that moment I wasn’t gonna dwell on it. Like I said, I needed booze and fast.

I pushed the door open a little harder than necessary and headed straight for the bar, sat in the nearest stool and motioned for the bar tender.

“What can I get ya gorgeous?”  He asked.

“A shot of rum with a rum and coke to chase it please.” I mumbled as I was thinking, Gorgeous? Really? What is he on?

“Bad day I take it.”

“Let me just say that there is no possible way it could be any worse.”

“I’ll pour ya an extra shot, don’t you worry, it’s on me.”

“Thanks.”

As the bartender walked away to get my drinks I wondered why was he so shiny? The thought quickly left my mind when the stabbing pain in my head returned. It had been coming and going all day as if there was a tiny man inside my head trying to drill his way out through my left eye and of course, he had to take breaks just long enough to tease me.

I decided to try and ignore it for the twenty-ninth time that day and bend down to get a good look at the damage I’d done to my boot.  I broke the heel off the other boot and just as I was sitting back up, someone sat next to me.

“Pssstt, Hank, iz dat you?” It Slurred and in that moment I realized that the smell of alcohol that lingered in the air was not coming from the bar itself, it was coming from this guy, woman, I don’t‘ even know the correct term.

 By then my drinks were in front of me, so I took my first shot and stared in complete bewilderment and before I could even reply I heard,

“ Wow, that sure is a nice wig Hank. A little wet though.”

Seriously? Did this person really think that I was Hank with a wig?  The worst day ever had just officially gotten worse.

“You must be using that new cream that Mona recommended. Your skin looks amazing.”  He said and followed with a belch.

“Excuse me, but my name is not Hank and I don’t know anyone named Mona.” I say in my snottiest tone. Then I take my other shot.

“Oh ya, Ooops sorry, I mean, Harriett.  How do you like my dress? Does it look like a good fit? The cotton feels so good next to my skin and the lace on my panties, one word, heavenly”

Then for the first time since I walked into the bar, I took a moment to look around at my surroundings. To my left are several men and women all dressed in leather dancing together on a small stage. As I scope the room further I see same sex couples enjoying each others company, some a little too much and my shiny bartender, well he wasn’t shiny at all. He was sparkly. Every inch of his exposed skin was covered in body glitter. I wasn’t even gonna entertain the part of my curiosity that wondered what was going on under what little clothes he was wearing. Was this really happening? The discovery of a bar within walking distance of my office, the one tiny light that came out of the whole day, my new favorite place was a gay bar? My day had just officially gotten even worse than worse.
At that point I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I just took a huge gulp of my rum and Coke, asked the shiny bartender for another shot and played along.

“Yes the fit is perfect.” I say  “Where did you find such a lovely dress?”  This poor man, his dress looked like a curtain in my grandmothers house and his boobs were almost up to his neck and lopsided. It could have  been due to the fact that he was leaning so far to one side that he could barely sit on his stool, but I was not gonna do the research.

“I have to tell you the truth, ever since the first time I put on my wife’s bra I have been completely happy. I sometimes wear her underwear underneath my slacks to work and I feel so, so I don’t know, alive. I know my confidence has boosted. You know that  promotion and raise I got last month? Well I owe it all to my wife’s purple lace thong.”

“Aren’t you worried that the wifey will notice that you’re wearing her undies?” I asked out of honest curiosity.

“Boy oh boy Ha… ah… Harriet, ya, she almost caught me last week. I forgot it was Friday and she was feeling ya know, frisky?”

There was that pain in my head again, effing little man find your way out already!

“Oh ya, she wanted some Friday night lovin did she?” I say as I motion the glittery man for another shot.

“Ya she’s an animal on Friday nights, but I was able to excuse myself to the john and slip them off before she noticed. She’s an animal my wife, sometimes I don’t even know what hits me and on Friday nights and Sunday mornings, she has her way with me before I even know what’s going on. She can’t get enough of me. Poor thing, she gets so wore out that she has headaches for the rest of the week.”

“ So friend. what are you calling yourself these days and what are you drinking tonight?” I ask in a giggle.

“Gutter ball just like always, …it’s what we always drink.” He looked at me with a very confused expression and blurts,  “Wait. You‘re not Hank at all! Who are you and why are you pretending to be my buddy Hank?”

Then, at that very moment I heard something that cleared my head and made me feel as if the sun was shining down directly on me. An all too familiar voice yelled, “Albert! I knew I’d find you in here!”
 My boss came storming toward us and grabbed my new best friend by the ear and she was livid. I heard an all to familiar tone in her voice when she screeched, “I told you last week that you better not ever step foot into this place again! Get your bag, I am taking you home!”

Then boss-lady and I made eye contact and I smiled beautifully at her. I kept smiling big and bright as the look on her face changed from anger to pure embarrassment. The little man in my head flew out through my ear, I decided that my $250 boots looked much better without the heels and  I joined the folks in leather on stage and danced my troubles away, but not before I heard boss-lady ask Alberta, “Why are you wearing my mothers nightgown!?”

There's Always Tomorrow: "The Wedding Ring"

　

Today was going to be a day of purging. Cleaning out closets and cupboards. Letting go of old hurts and needless things. A day that was long over due. She’d had three cups of her favorite coffee and was on a great roll. Just when she was satisfied with the pile of relics that would be donated to Good Will she decided to keep the momentum going and do some dusting. With a fresh towel and a can of Lemon Pledge she started in her bedroom. Her headboard, and entertainment center were spotless. She took great care in making sure to spray and wipe every inch of the old oak furniture. When she went to do the same to her dresser all progress stopped. For some reason she’ll never know, she opened up her jewelry box and picked up her wedding ring.

She stood there just looking at it. She tried to slip it on, but the extra weight she’d put on since the separation had made it impossible for her to get it passed her knuckle. She remembered the night they upgraded the Diamond in the engagement ring half of the set.

They were at The Mall shopping for odds and ends and when ever they did this they always stopped by their jewelry store, dropped off her ring to be cleaned and picked it up on their way out. On several occasions they would take a moment to “just look“ at bigger diamonds. It was always just for fun. She never really thought she needed one. But on this night, when the sales girl slipped the one karat pear shaped diamond on her finger, she fell in love with it. She looked at Richard and told him so.

“Maybe next time.” he said. “I just don’t think we can afford it right now.”

So they dropped off her ring to be cleaned anyway and went about their shopping tasks. When everything on the list was crossed off they went back to pick up her rings. When the girl handed her the ring it wasn’t hers. The wedding band was, but it wasn’t her quarter karat diamond that she’d worn for the passed eight years. It was the one Karat Pear shaped diamond that she fell in love with several hours earlier. She struggled for a moment. She looked from her husband to the jeweler with pleading eyes.

This is not my ring, She thought. I love this ring, but it’s not mine. What do I do? Should I say something? Should I grab Richards arm and run out of here and deal with it later? Then her conscious got the best of her and she whispered to her husband,

“This is not my ring.”

“Yes it is.” He replied.

“Babe no it’s not. Look!”

“Honey, it’s your ring.” he said with a look on his face that she knew well. He was proud.

She looked at the sales girl who was smiling and nodding her head.

“You did this? How did you do it?”

“Are you happy?” He asked.

“Yes. Very. I love it. I loved my other one too, you didn’t have to do this.”

“Shhh.. It’s already done. Lets go home.”

“I love you so much.” She said as she hugged him and kissed his neck.

“I love you too, more than you’ll ever know.”

She stood there in her lemon scented bedroom sobbing. It was the most romantic thing that he had ever done for her. It was one of the best moments of their marriage. Of her life. She’d never felt more loved. She belonged to him and she loved every bit of it. That was all gone now. Someone else belonged to him and she belonged to no one. She was totally alone.

What should she do with the ring now? Should she sell it? Save it for a rainy day? Give it back to Richard? Today was designated to be a day of getting rid of old hurts. When she really thought about it, her ring wasn’t a hurt. It was a beautiful memory, or maybe it was both at the same time. She decided that she didn’t have to decide right now. She put it back in her jewelry box, closed the lid and told herself to keep on dusting. As for what to do with her ring, well she’d Google the etiquette on that tomorrow.

There's Always Tomorrow: "The Old Coat"

The Old Coat

　

He called in the morning and asked if he could come by the house and pick up a box of his things. Camping gear he'd left behind when he moved out. After hanging up the phone she walked out to the little shed in the back yard to make sure it was where he said it might be. He built the shed the summer after they bought the house. It was the first of many things he’d built in all the years of their marriage. She watched him take measurements and cut wood through the kitchen window. She always loved the way he looked in his tool belt with sweat dripping from his brow. He was her man and she was proud of that. She often bragged to her friends about how he could fix anything. Build anything.... As the years went on she complained that he never painted the little shed like he promised he would. "We'll do it together" he'd say. "It will be fun." Would it have mattered if she never complained? Would they have still drifted apart? Would he still be here?

She struggled with the door a moment too long because her slight frustration with the rusty lock and latch quickly turned into panic. She was anxious about what she was about to do. She knew that once she stepped into the shed a lifetime of wonderful memories and disappointment would consume her. Something she’d been able to block out until this very moment. When she stepped inside the first thing she saw was the large green Rubbermaid tote with “Hunting and Camping stuff” written on the side with Sharpie. She traced the words with her fingers. A lump built up in her throat as she remembered how she used to tease him for his poor penmanship. Then a slight giggle to herself because he knew it was true and never objected to being harassed for it.

She opened the tote and his old green coat was on top. It had blood stains and some of the seems were coming undone. There were several large pockets down the front and a grey patch on one of sleeves that she had sewed on for him many years ago. The coat used to hang in their hall closet. She hated it then. She told him it smelled bad and was probably crawling with germs. She asked him several times to just throw it away and get a new one, but he wouldn’t hear of it. It was his grandfathers coat, then his fathers. It had been in his family for over fifty years, “It was lucky!” He’d say. “If you wash it or have it cleaned, you’ll wash the luck away.” He shot his first buck while wearing that coat, a ten point. It was one of the proudest moments of his life. He shot many other deer while wearing it and by the looks of the tattered heirloom, it was obvious. Three winters back when Richard returned from one of his trips he didn’t unpack the coat, it stayed in the shed with all of his other gear. She remembered that day perfectly. She felt both guilt and satisfaction at the same time. It was one of those moments that she wished she could go back and change. Tears filled her eyes as she picked up the coat and smelled it. It wasn’t offensive like she expected. Like she remembered, so she breathed in deeper. The coat smelled of aftershave and earth, it smelled like her husband. Rain and sweat, campfire and strength. Everything that made Richard the man she loved. Her mind jumped from memories of camping with him to deer hunting trips without her. All the passion when they fought and then made love. All the moments she wished she could go back and change and the ones she just wanted to go back and relive. To remember. To feel.

She knew sooner or later she was going to have to accept the fact that she had to let him go. She hurt him and he was happy now. Happier then she’d seen him in a long time. Possibly ever. She’d been successfully avoiding him for months now. Afraid that if she looked into his eyes she’d fall apart, so she made sure not to be home when he came by the house to pick up the last of his things.

That night she laid in bed lost in her memories. Smelling her husband and allowing herself to love him for one last night. Just as she turned off the lights she received a text message from Richard,

“Hey my old coat wasn’t in any of the boxes and I need it for next week. Have you seen it anywhere?”

She turned off her phone and told herself she would call him tomorrow and tell him she had the coat, but tonight she wanted it to stay where it was. Wrapped around her.

Literally Lifesavers

Here is a short story I wrote a few years ago for an online magazine called, Braingunk. The only rule was that it had to be exactly 500 words. That is a lot more tricky than it sounds. It's the first thing I had published. Some of you may have already read it, but for those of you who haven't, Enjoy!
                                                         
                                                         Literally Lifesavers


 Today was one year to the day since Private C. Johnston received his High school diploma. A short time later, he kissed his mother and sisters goodbye and shipped out for Vietnam. Today he was in a small village just off the Moi River; a location he had been in several times in the past few months. Most villages gave Casey an uneasy feeling, it weighed heavy on him not knowing who the enemy was. It could be an 11-year-old boy with kind eyes and a sad smile. However, in this particular village he knew he had at least one friend. She was a 15-year-old girl named Phuong, and whenever his eyes met hers, Casey was overcome with emotion. He instantly felt very protective over her and wished there were no language barrier between them.

“I am so sick of this heat!” Complained Casey, as he filled his cheek with Gold-Bears. The guys in his unit spent their extra money on tobacco, and often busted Casey’s chops over his love of candy.

Every time Casey saw Phuong he shared his candy with her, Lifesavers were her favorite, so he purposely stopped eating his stash of them in order to make sure he had some on hand should they meet again.

As Casey shoved his bag of candy into his pocket he saw Phuong out of the corner of his eye. She looked incredibly sweet even with her torn dress and dirty bare feet. As she approached him, she smiled and he was glad that nobody else was aware of the fact that it was her smile that helped him go on everyday.

“Get over here” Staff Sergeant K. Scott muttered. Casey then diverted his gaze from Phuong and headed into Sergeant Scott’s direction. He was standing about ten feet away in the doorway of hooch. When Casey approached him, what he saw made is stomach drop and he was glad that all he had eaten today were a few Gold Bears.
Private J. Bonner was laying on the dirt floor in a pool of blood while a group of NVA regulars stood around him with U.S. Marine issued M-16 rifles. In such a case, there is only one thing to be done. Remain calm.
Casey cautiously walked toward his wounded brother in arms and knelt beside him. “Click” “slide” “click” The sound of a round loading into the chamber of a gun echoed in Casey’s ears. He could feel the hard cool steel pressed up against the back of his head just below his helmet. Then in the same instant the voice of an angel filled the room and his heart. Phuong was yelling, pleading and crying. She grabbed the arm that held the Colt M-16 and removed it from Casey’s head.
Relief filled the small room as the other NVA’s lowered their weapons. Phuong’s tear filled eyes met Casey’s as he scooped up his wounded comrade and walked out of the hooch with both of their lives.


http://braingunk.com/main/braingunk-500?start=12

My Favorite Time of Day

In the Morning Just Before Dawn,
when the Sun is just Peeking over the Horizon,
the Sky is Brilliant Shades of Purple and Orange.
The Air is Cool and Fresh with new
Perspective and Possibilities .
The only sounds are the Birds Awakening and the
Desert Bunnies scurrying to their daytime Hideaways.
This is my Favorite time of Day.

In the Afternoon when the Sun is Full and Bright
The Heat Warms my Body and Connects it with my Soul.
My Children are Belligerent with Joy and Laughter.
The Glowing Sun Brightens their Cheeks and makes
Them Smell of Sweet Sweat and Earth.
My Prideful Heart Swells as I watch the Miracles
I have created Run and Play.
This is My Favorite time of Day.

At Night the Sun Slips away to Warm Someone else.
The Moon is Revealed and makes the Dew on
the Grass Sparkle like an Ocean of tiny Diamonds.
A Crisp Breeze Cools the Days Sun from my Skin.
Everyone is at Peaceful Rest except for
The Crickets who sing me their Nighttime Songs.
It is too Miraculous Not to say Thanks and Pray.
This is Truly my Favorite Time of Day.

Tough As Nails

 On this day nine years ago one of the toughest women to ever walk the earth passed away and for those who had the honor to be loved by her it was a day of great sorrow.
Charlene Anne Fore had an unusual perspective on life. She literally lived one day at a time and thanked her God everyday for each one she was given.
Early in her marriage her husband was in a terrible car accident that broke his neck. He was paralyzed from the neck down and doctors told them he would never get out of bed again. They had a toddler and an infant to provide for and take care of, so this was unacceptable to either of them. With persistence and determination she worked closely with his doctors and therapists and eventually he regained the use of his upper body. For years she helped her husband at home everyday with his exercises so he wouldn’t lose progress.
 A few years later her sister for whatever reason could no longer care for all of her children so this tough as nails women helped her. She took her seven-year-old niece into her home and raised her as if she were her own. She also cared for many other family members from time to time over those years. Welcoming them into her home if they needed a place to sleep or take refuge. If one of her children’s friends needed help to escape a bad situation or just hide out until they sobered up she was there to help. When the other mothers in her neighborhood had to leave their homes to go to work she cared for their children also. When I say she cared for all of these people I mean it in everyway. She fed them, clothed them, taught them and loved them. The first time I read about Mother Theresa, I knew she must have inherited some of Mother Theresa’s gifts. The unconditional love she gave was endless and I could never fully explain or illustrate it for you. Even in her death she helped eleven total strangers improve the quality of their lives by being an organ donor.
 Char had a smile that could light up a room and a temper that could clear one. She was ridiculously kooky, annoyingly eclectic and simply beautiful. Her sudden death shocked many people, devastated some and totally wrecked a few. When she died it made this world a less caring place and it never even made the news. Rest in peace Nana Aunt Char Mom, I miss you everyday.

"Bucket List"

Bucket- 1. a deep, cylindrical vessel, usually of metal, plastic, or wood, with a flat bottom and a
semicircular bail, for collecting, carrying, or holding water, sand, fruit, etc.; pail.
2. anything resembling or suggesting this. (Dictionary.com)
Ok, so now you all know what a Bucket is, however; that is just a “ A drop in the bucket”, which is an inconsequential amount in relation to the quantity of information that I am about to share with you. Before I share, I have something to ask. Have any of you ever worked in a “Bucket brigade” ? Where a long line of people pass buckets of water hand-to-hand from the nearest water source to the site of a fire, in an attempt to douse it? Or have you ever played “Bucket ball”? Which was the original term for basketball. It originated by attaching milk buckets to a second-story window and tossing any ball of choice up into them. Well if you have done either of these things, you probably have “Sweated buckets”, or perspired profusely and that might have made you feel as if you were about to "Kick the bucket". You know, die. The phrase comes from an old-school suicide technique. The despondent person would stand on top of a bucket with his or her head in a noose, then kick away the bucket and… bleck!… Lights out. Well before you “Kick the bucket”, you may want to work on creating and then crossing some things off of your “Bucket List”, also known as a life to-do list. Better yet, a list of goals or accomplishments you would like to attain before you go meet Elvis.
Everyone has some idea of what goals they would like to accomplish in their lifetime. Goal setting is a powerful process for thinking about your future, and motivating yourself to turn all of your wants into realities. The process of setting goals helps you choose where you want to go in life. If you know exactly what you want to achieve, then you’ll know where to direct your efforts. Writing it all down and putting your goals or wants in list form, may help you focus and turn those notions into not only a life to-do list, but a lifetime plan of action.

Some people are list makers in general and to them a “Bucket list” is no different than a shopping list. Writing it down and crossing items off one by one, gives them feelings of accomplishment and satisfaction.

Others feel that having a “Bucket list“ is creepy, in a way, it means they are dwelling on death and they would rather take each day as it comes.

Then there are those who are fiercely independent and don’t need a “Bucket list”, because when they want to do something, they just do it. They have no need to make lists for things such as wants, goals or hopes, because they would rather be out doing than sitting and writing it all down. I love these people. Their confidence and determination is something to truly be admired. Sadly, I am not one of these admirable folks.
I have a “Bucket list” and it currently has thirty-two items on it. I frequently add goals and cross others off at random. Some of my listed goals are private, many of them are just silly and a few of them will most likely never come to fruition. I say that because, I haven’t yet discovered a fountain of youth or a money tree, which by the way are both on my “Bucket list” along with…
Drive a tank

Ride a bull 
Learn to scuba dive and one day dive in The Great Barrier Reef
Learn to play Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” on the piano
Climb Mt. Whitney

Hike the Heart Rock Trail in Crestline Ca.
Go on a T.V. Game Show

Dance in the rain with someone I love
Run across The Golden Gate Bridge

Go on a cruise to anywhere

Learn how to play Chess

Own a piece of Tiffany jewelry
Finally finish reading “Sense and Sensibility”

Write a book and have it published

Swim with dolphins in Hawaii
Visit The Trinity College Library in Ireland
Visit Canada in June and watch whales as ice burgs are crashing
Go to The Museum of Art in Philadelphia and run the stairs like Rocky, then go eat an authentic Philly Cheese Steak sandwich. And so on and so on…

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” ~Mark Twain~

If you think my bucket full of bucket information doesn’t amount to a bucket of spit, then take it with a grain if you like. I promise not to weep buckets, because a leaky bucket holds no water. Further more, I am a gut-bucket and when we have all gone to Hell in bucket and our past is nothing more than a bucket of ashes then none of this will really matter anyway, so buck-it.

"Ballerina Vampire" By, Kaylee Rae Smith

One day, just before Halloween an 11 year old girl named Rae asked her mom if she could start dance class, all of her life she had dreamed about being a ballerina, but her mom was always too busy. A few weeks ago her mom got a new job and didn't have to work so much anymore, so she agreed to let Rae try a dance class. As soon as her mother gave her the good news, Rae ran up stairs as fast as she could and started to jump on her bed the only thing she could think of was, I can’t believe I’m finally going to be a dancer!
It was the first day of her dance class.
What am I going to wear? she wondered to herself, not having any idea about what ballerinas wear to dance class. Rae looked through her drawers and just decided to wear her old sweats hoping she would fit in.
When her mom’s car pulled up in the parking lot Rae jumped out before her mom could even stop the car and once she did Rae was already running toward the building.
 “Rae get back here! You have to wait for me.” said her Mom, as she read the sign that said Miss. Laura’s Dance Academy. When they walked in Rae quickly became jealous over how much better the other girls looked. Rae’s mom scooted her into her class, Rae was a little nervous.
By the end of class Rae had already made a new friend her name was Stella she was a new to dance too and was much nicer than the other girls and Rae hoped that they would be real good friends.
“ We have class every Monday” said Miss Laura “And next Monday make sure you all wear your Halloween costumes and we will have a party!”
“Ok we will have her all dressed up, see you then” Rae’s mother said to Miss Laura.
When they got home Rae ran straight to her room as she always did. She closed the door behind her and started to put her Halloween costume together, Rae decided to be a Princess Ballerina.
The next week seemed to be one of the longest weeks of Rae’s life. Every night before going to sleep she laid in bed staring at her Princess Ballerina costume hanging perfectly on a hook on the back of her door.
Then, finally it was Monday and Rae took her time getting dressed up. She wanted everything to be perfect.
On their way to class, Rae's mother told her how beautiful she looked. When they got there Rae saw that Stella was dressed up as a vampire.
“Your Vampire costume is great and your fangs look so real!” said Rae, as she walked up to Stella.
“Thank you your costume is really pretty” replied Stella.
When all the girls were in their places Miss Laura said, “Ok class let’s start by telling everybody what we dressed up as shall we?”
“We shall!” replied the class. Mary was a cheerleader, Maggie was a fairy and Joy was a witch.
“I’m a vampire” said Stella.
“And I’m a Princess Ballerina” said Rae.
“All of your costumes are great!” said Miss. Laura.
 Rae and Stella had been having so much fun talking to each other that when class was over they didn't want it to end.
“I wonder if your mom will let you sleep over at my house” Stella asked Rae.
So they immediately ran to where their mothers were standing and talking to each other.
“Can Rae can spend the night?” Stella asked her mother.
The four of them had a discussion and then the mothers both agreed that it would be okay. Rae and Stella were jumping up and down and cheering they were so happy.
In the car Stella’s mom was looking at Rae with a face that to Rae, looked like she was about to eat her. Rae thought that was a little weird. When they pulled into the driveway of Stella’s house, Rae thought it was strange that all the windows were black and thought that maybe it was part of their Halloween decorations. When they got inside the house Rae could barely see anything because it was foggy.
“Did your mom get a fog machine for Halloween?” She asked.
“No, we just like it like this. It helps my parents relax.”
When Rae got used to the fog and was able to focus her eyes she saw that there were coffins everywhere. She was sure that there was something strange going on, nobody likes Halloween that much.
“Want to come upstairs and see my room?” Stella asked.
“Yes!” Rae said and she hoped that Stella’s room would be normal, but it wasn't. There was a purple coffin next to the wall.
“Wow your parents are great at decorating for Halloween!” said Rae.
“Can you keep a secret?” asked Stella.
“Yeah of course” Rae said.
“These aren't decorations Rae, they’re real. I’m a vampire” said Stella.
Rae replied, “HA HA of course you’re not.”
“I am, I swear it.” Said Stella in a very serious voice.
“Well, if you really are a vampire prove it!”
Then before Rae even new what happened, Stella bit her and blood went squirting everywhere.
Rae screamed and put her hands over her neck to stop the blood. Then Stella went and got her a towel.
Rae said “I cant believe you just bit me!”
“How else was I supposed to prove it?” asked Stella.
“Am I going to turn into a Vampire now?” Rae asked.
“Some people turn after they get bit and some don’t. You will only turn if it’s is what is meant to be.”
“I don’t know but…” Rae couldn't even finish her sentence “OUCH!” she screamed. “What was that?”
Stella told Rae to look in the mirror. When she did she saw that the blood on her neck was all gone and her fangs had just grown in.

Blue Dress Pink Stroller

In my town there is a woman, beautiful in her own way.
I see her on the sidewalks of Bear Valley almost everyday.


Today she was wearing a blue dress. She wore it yesterday too.
She’s dressed as if she’s headed to a senior prom in 1982.

Her hair is a frizz of black with chunks of gray. Her skin, beautiful brown.
I wonder how many miles her feet have traveled in this God forsaken town.

She has bags under her eyes. They are dark and carry a blank stare.
I feel the moments that they show her light are unfortunately too rare.

She, like many women, is pushing a pink stroller with her life inside.
But unlike those women, it’s her clothes and toothbrush along for the ride.

She has no baby, no husband, no family and no home.
For if she did, these sidewalks she’d have no need to roam.

She makes her daily visits to the recycling center and the Mall.
When I put myself in her boots, I wonder who’d come should I call.

Tomorrow when she wakes, she’ll fluff her dress and put a pin in her hair.
She’ll lock up her mind and her heart and put on her blank stare.

She’ll walk the sidewalks of Bear Valley Road carrying her pain.
Next time I see her in the Mall, I will ask her for her name.

Three Hundred and Sixty-Six Days

I wanted to write something in honor of Memorial day. Just a little note to acknowledge the brave men and women who make tremendous sacrifices to fight for our country and their families who endure it all. I have never lived a military life and have no true understanding of how that life really is, but this is how I imagine it to be.....

Things have really changed around here in the past year and yet they are exactly the same. Using the treasures we’ve collected over the years from around the world, it only took me a few days to turn our barren new house into our home. With a hammer and nails I attached pictures of our family to the walls, and our roots to the floor as firmly as if we had lived here for our entire lives.
As an Army wife, I learned very early on that the only good in "Good-bye" is "Hello again".
It’s been a year and a day since I have had my arms around my husband. Three hundred and sixty-six days ago I held on to him as tight as I could for as long as I could, kissed him softly and put on a brave face as I watched him walk away with the rest of the men and women in his new unit.
During our separations he trusts me to be the soldier in his place and guard the home front. He’ll never know that I cried uncontrollably for almost an hour before I could manage to get the keys into the ignition and drive back home to our four brats. Who, like me, leave a part of themselves at every stop. Through experience, we have all learned to pack a suitcase and live indefinitely from the contents inside. We pray for a world in harmony, for the flag that leads our man into battle and we also pray that that same flag will not blanket him in death on this tour or the next.
I try to live my life optimistically, remembering the good, and forgetting the bad, cherishing yesterday, while anticipating tomorrow. I will never be rich by monetary standards but my heart is overflowing with the wealth of love and pride I feel for my husband. He fights for my freedom and yours. My husband is An American Soldier. He protects our country from the road, on the sea, or in the sky and today your country asks you to honor him.

I Saw it on the T.V.

Here's the latest writing exercise. The prompt was "I saw it on the T.V." The only rule was it had to be a prose. Embarrassingly I didn't even know what a prose was. I must have been at the beach the day we learned that one in school, so I hit up Google and learned something, I think, I hope. Well anyway, Enjoy!

Wee - By Reno Romero

I saw it on TV. A commercial. I think it was for an insurance company, but I can’t say for sure. I watch so much TV and see so many damn commercials it’s hard to tell. Anyhow, the commercial had a little pink pig in it. It was in the backseat of a car and going “wee” and holding a spinning pinwheel. The driver was annoyed. And so was the kid sitting next to the pig. But I wasn’t. In fact, I was rather amused and started laughing like I hadn’t in a long time. It was refreshing. I laughed long after the commercial ended.

“Wee!”

I told a friend about the commercial and how I wanted a little pink pig that said “wee” in the backseat of my car. That I would take him around town so he can make me laugh, remind me of how charming life can be. But she killed the mood like a typical jaded adult.

“The pig is not real, Reno,” she said.

I wanted to tell her no shit. In fact, I wanted to tell her no frickin shit.. But I didn’t.

“Wee!” I told her and hung up the phone.

Proposal - By Corky Smith

I saw it on the T.V. It was prose. A proposal prose.
A proposal from a handsome man, gorgeous in fact.
It’s stayed with me ever since . It’s stuck in my mind.
And on the tips of my fingers the prose also lingers.
Oh’ fingers. It’s on the tip of my tongue. Stop that!
Back to the T.V. Back to the prose at hand. Oh hands.
Enough! A man on one knee, I think it was his right.
With desperate eyes he looked up at his one true light.
You may wonder if his eyes were blue. Yes they were.
They were perfect. The perfect shape. The perfect depth.
Obvious from the look on his face that he loved her so.
Obvious within her eyes that she loved him just as much.
You may wonder what color her eyes were, blue as well.
But he didn’t clearly see it. T’was not as obvious to him.
His innocent face was beautiful and sadly a bit doubtful.
Her tired eyes were devoted, determined and blissful.
She had been waiting for this moment for her entire life.
Her heart and soul not complete until she was his wife.
“If she says No, I’ll drop dead.“ To himself he had said.
“My Darling, Will you do me the honor and marry me?”
Yes Oh’ Yes! But you should know it‘s my honor too.
It was romantic. Pure blissful love. A dream come true.
I’ve read of it in books. I’ve seen it on the big screen.
They’ll live happily ever after just you wait and see.
I know it’s a true story because I saw it on the T.V.

Execution- By Corky Smith

I saw it on T.V. The man thought he was a genius although his portrayal was hideous.

His hair, his suit, his words. Gelled, polyester, cocky and slurred.
He had a toothy grin that was born of sin.
They were both in college. He was aroused with his own knowledge.

In his mind the woman swooned. Requited attraction only assumed.

His mouth, his breath, his hand. Wanting, sour , like paper made of sand.

She screamed to a deaf ear. The night she met her greatest fear.

He was delighted at the new twist, when she chose to clench her fist.

Her fight, her strength, her will. Determined, unyielding, produced a heard shrill.

Then came his arrest to which he did protest. “No, no she loves me, she wanted this to be." 

Justice served with absolution, for today I watched his execution.

Feed Jake

  In my first year of college, I took a psychology course.  In that class I learned something that stays with me to this very day.
 Sigmund Freud wrote: "Dogs love their friends and bite their enemies, quite unlike people, who are incapable of pure love and always have to mix love and hate in their object relations." In other words, unlike people, dogs are without ambivalence. People can love and hate the same person, on the same day, even at the same time. This is unthinkable for dogs. Some people believe, that it’s because dogs are just not that complex. I believe, they are less confused about what they feel. It is as if once a dog loves you, he always will, no matter what you do, no matter what happens, no matter how much time goes by. Dogs have a remarkable memory for people they have known and an infinite loyalty for the ones they love.
While growing up, my family had several dogs. I enjoyed every one of them, however it was not until I got my own dog that I felt a true bond with an animal. He was a black lab mix. I named him Jake after the country song “Feed Jake”, because that song always touched me. All the other puppies in his litter were getting sick, so Krista, his mothers owner called me and said: "If you want this puppy then come and get him, but he will require extra care.” He was three weeks shy of the proper weaning age and so tiny. For three weeks I got up with him every two to four hours to bottle feed him. This ritual created a bond that I had never felt before in my life.
Jake grew up healthy and happy. The first few years of his life we lived just off a riverbed, so he had plenty of running space. He was never gated in or tied up. He would run and play most of the day and come home every evening about the same time to eat. Sometimes he came home alone and sometimes he brought stray dogs home with him. One time, and I believe one of his proudest moments, he brought home a dead calf carcass. He left it on the front step and joyfully wagged his tail when I came out the door. It was the grossest thing I had ever seen and that is saying a lot.
Most nights after dinner I would sit at the table to do my schoolwork and he’d lay on my feet and keep them warm. He was very protective over me and only me until I introduced him to my first born daughter, Alyssa. When Alyssa was born I was a bit nervous to have such a big dog in the house with such a tiny baby. It wasn’t long until I realized that my fears were unnecessary. He loved her as much as I did. By the time Alyssa was toddling around, Jake had begun to watch over her too. I remember one time she took a tumble in the back yard and he barked to get my attention then ran to her side nudged her with his nose to make sure she was ok. They spent most afternoons playing together in the back yard and in the summer time, Alyssa was more than happy to share her little plastic pool with him. Then when Kaylee was born, Jake had another person to love and the same with Joshie.
In Jakes life he:
Was in several fights with other dogs.
Got tangled in barbed wire.
Was hit by several cars.
Made several visits to the pound.
Dug too many holes to count.
Took a swim in the neighbors pond and ate their koi fish. (They didn’t like that)
He also let himself into their house through the doggie-door to sleep on their sofa.
( The man of the house woke at 4:00 am to find a 100 lb dog on his sofa. He was really not happy then.)
Fathered an unknown number of puppies.
Peed on almost every one of our Christmas trees and chewed up numerous gifts.
He also,
Barked when someone strange approached our fence.
Played numerous rounds of tag and hide-and-go-seek with the kids.
And hours of Frisbee and fetch with anybody who would join him.
He was a jungle gym and pillow for little Josh.
A dress-up doll for Alyssa and Kaylee.
He was a hunting companion and a security system.
He was always happy to see us come home and sad to see us leave.
He trusted each one of us explicitly.
He kept us safe and always gave us unconditional love.

Jake had a very forgiving heart, one of the before mentioned cars that hit him was mine. I actually hit him twice in his later years, because I had taken for granted the speed of his youth and backed into him. The guilt I felt broke my heart and I kissed his stinky head and apologized profusely, but ultimately it was wasted energy, because Jake never held it against me. He never asked for much either. All it took to make him happy was food, clean water and a quick rub behind his ears.
He never complained about us, got angry with us, forgot to greet us, or ignored us when we needed him. Although, we did all of those things to him.

It has been two years now since we lost our Jake. I was working at the track and Josh was out working in the yard. Jake’s health had been getting worse for several months. He had stopped eating and was in visible pain. We had planned to have him put down, but didn’t want to spoil the Easter holiday for the kids, so we had decided to wait until the following week. It was as if our loyal friend knew how incredibly difficult that decision had been for us, so he went on his own. He had been sleeping in the garage and Kaylee walked past him, as she did so, he growled. Growling at any one of us for any reason was way out of character for him. She knelt down by his side as he continued his growl. Kaylee yelled for her dad, because she knew something wasn’t right, but he was out in the yard and couldn’t hear her at first, but when he finally did, he joined her at jakes side as he took his final breaths. Later Kaylee told me that she didn’t want to leave Jake alone. She sat with him in the garage petting his head and telling him he was "a good boy". When they knew he  was gone, they called me on the phone and I came right home. The sadness in my heart over Jake’s death was quickly replaced with the pride I was feeling for Kaylee. Not many eight year olds would have shown such compassion and maturity.
Jake was one of a kind. I am sure many other dogs will pass through my life, but I will always reserve a piece of my heart for Jake. He’s been a good dog.
R.I.P. Old Friend Oct. 1994 to April 2009

Bonus Number of Ten

Me and some of my friends did a writing exercise. We were all given the same rules. One: The promt was "With a bonus number of ten." Two: It had to be comical. Three: It had to be 500 words. 

"Bonus Number of Ten"

With the bonus number of ten dancing in his head Hamilton woke with a smile on his face. This was the day he’d been waiting for, for the past thirty-nine years. A few weeks ago Hamilton got a call saying that had been chosen to be a contestant on his favorite T.V. game show.
For as long as he could remember Hamilton spent Friday nights watching Bingo Bonus with his mother. Every week she would make them a bowl of popcorn and a pot of coffee then spit popcorn bits through the air as she screamed at the television for the entire length of the show. A few years ago Hamilton started sneaking whiskey into his coffee cup, making it much easier for him to tolerate his mothers disgusting popcorn shower as she shouted all the wrong answers at the contestants on T.V.
Hamilton got dressed in his leisure suit, which was a bit snug, gelled down his frizzy hair into a perfect left part and pumped some of his best Christmas cologne on his freckled neck. Satisfied with his appearance he headed up the stairs out of the basement and into the kitchen.

“Good morning.” His mother said without lifting her eyes from her copy of The Enquirer. “What’s that smell?”

“Good mor…”
“Christ almighty! Where the hell are you off to and did you use the whole bottle of that cheap crap? I think all my nose hairs are burned clean off!”
“No Mother, they’re all still there. I can see them sticking out a mile away. Did you feed the cats?”
“Yes I fed those whining bastards! Lucky I don’t shoot every one of um! Useless smelly animals. Now tell me what you‘re up to.”
“I have an engagement down town.”
“Oh, an engagement. Excuse me. He has an engagement” She said to one of the cats. “ What engagement do you have?”
“Just something I have to do”
“Well aren’t you a Mr. Fancy pants?”
Hamilton pet each of the cats as he walked past them toward the door and without another word he left.
In the bathroom of the train station Hamilton stripped off his baby blue suit and replaced it with a black AC-DC t-shirt and tight leather pants. He ran a comb through his hair making it ratted mess. He got the black eyeliner that he had stolen fair and square from his mother and in true Kiss fashion, he applied it to his eyes and lips.
It was well past midnight when Hamilton arrived home and his mother was in her recliner with a lit cigarette hanging from her mouth.
“It’s about time you show up! I thought you might be dead in a ditch somewhere!”
“Geez Mother”
Some freak of nature named Hamster won the ten thousand dollar grand prize on Bingo Bonus tonight. ”
“Oh really? Sorry I missed it. Goin to bed, good night.”
“Good night.”
And with a bonus number of ten dancing in his head Hamilton fell asleep with a smile on his face.


"Bonus Number of Ten" By Reno Romero

This is a true story.
Or maybe it’s not.

But what is true is that Gene loved his girlfriend Pammy. He loved her name.. Pammy. He loved her eyes, her hands. He loved the words she said. He loved how her left eye twitched when she was hungry.

“I love you, Pammy,” he said, on their first date. “I know this sounds weird. But my heart feels like it’s about to blow like a firecracker.”

Pammy didn’t know what to say. Two things were occupying her mind. One: men were always telling her that they loved her. And two: she was starving, her left eye rattling in seizure. The restaurant was new. The manager was a drunk. The cooks sucked.

Pammy wasn’t attracted to Gene’s looks. Wasn’t big on his bald head, his furry eyebrows, his large leafy ears. But he was a successful businessman, very arrogant, and made good money. She liked the money part. Gene’s only blemish—at least in his eyes—was his naïveté, not recognizing his now ex-wife was fucking not one but four different men while married to him. Pammy would hear this story like a broken record.

“She was sleeping with other men!” he once shouted. “She cheated on me! With Gene Weget of Weget’s Appliances!”
But Pammy was different than Lorraine. Wore dresses. Had painted nails. Didn’t snore like a bear or fart at the sight of anything that contained protein. Gene wanted to propose to her, but something told him to wait, to not rush things. But they weren’t getting any younger.

“Were both forty-one,” he told his brother, Darrell, a shoe salesman and championship duck caller. “I don’t want a girlfriend at this age.”

“Better a girlfriend then another mistake,” Darrell said.

Gene also told his brother that there were times he witnessed men staring strangely at Pammy. But Gene came to the conclusion that they were simply admiring her beauty. Even Gene’s pastor, a boyhood friend, seemed nervous when he was introduced to Pammy.

“Pastor John is probably not feeling well,” he told Pammy who seemed flustered herself.

“Men of God carry such a heavy load,” she said, looking away.
Despite that cautious voice telling Gene to hold off on the proposal he bought her a ring.

“I thought I’d never get rid of that bastard,” the saleswoman told her boss. “He was an asshole.”
Two nights before he was going to propose Pammy showed up at his house drunk. Gene hated alcohol. His mother was an alcoholic. His ex-wife was an alcoholic. He lost his temper. They yelled back and forth. They said ugly things.
“Yeah, you’re right, Gene, you bald big-eared idiot! I’m a drunk! Say what you want. Wanna know something else? I’ve been cheating on you!”
“What? I knew it! You Slut!”
“I was even cheated with your pastor! Which ain’t sayin’ much…”
“Get out!”
“You and ten others, Genie little Weinie,” she said staggering towards the door. “A bonus of ten.”

　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

Bra Made of Feathers

Sixty three days since my son left me in this frickin place.
He said I broke his heart with the look on my face.
Almost all the men here are nasty old birds.
Trying to swoon me with their dirty words.
I should dance for them upon a table and make them pay a fee!
I’ll do a dandy job and collect enough cash to go free.
I have a jar of sequence, rhinestones and other treasures.
I bet those birds would love me in a bra made of feathers.
As they’re panting and drooling they will say,
Please take it off Helen we promise we’ll pay.
Yes, I can do this. I’m the young chick around here.
The men all love me and the women all sneer.
For a woman of seventy, I have a great rack.
Once I leave this prison, I will never look back.
I better get to work. The timing is just right!
Everyone will gather soon, for this is movie night!
This dancing plan is one of my best, for giving them all the slip.
But I’ll have to come up with something else or I may break a hip.