Category Archives: Music

Feel Good Day

I feel good today despite the fact that there is a woman in Starbucks right now disrupting the whole place with her loud words, noises and insane rants. I was ” close to complaining about her, but then I realized there might be something “off” about her that would account for her behavior. I guess I’m more sensitive to that. I can’t help but hear their conversation and she is just not making any sense. God help me to not hear, but she is just being very loud. So, for today, for this one post, I will concentrate on why I’m feeling good at this moment.

The most immediate reason I am feeling good is that I just followed up on an application for employment by just showing up. I saw the manager of a local A.C. Moore store, inquired, asked questions; and though I have no answers right now, I am confident that he will remember me when he goes to look through the applications he has. I need a good sign and if life won’t hand it to me, I must make them for myself. So, if you’re thinking that this is hardly an uplifting reason to feel good, I’ll assure you that it is. It’s a big deal to me. Granted this is no guarantee of securing a job, but at least I DID something positive to that end and THAT makes me happy.

Recently I was invited to display my pendants for sale at the Charmed Butterfly. Go check them out.  They showcase independent artists and the work they do. Pretty soon my name will be listed under their “Artists” list.  Pretty exciting! This shop is way out of state for me, in Scottsville, VA; and is owned by someone I call my friend. Though we’ve never met, we have spoken over the phone and though we live so far away, I often think of her and feel grateful she is out there. The reason that I’m feeling particularly good today about the Charmed Butterfly is that I finally got a package out to her carrying my creations. Wow, this could be the start of something good for me. I just hope I’m ready- be ready for anything!

“Four Strong Winds” is playing on the sound system and it brings back really nice memories of learning how to play the guitar and practicing. This was one of the songs my mentor insisted I learn, though I had no idea how it was supposed to sound. Since I cannot read music, I play almost entirely by ear. Most of our list was like that. He loves mostly country music by the “good ol boys”.. the old masters like Hank Williams, Sr. and his contemporaries.  This song, though, is not country, folk, I think. I miss the guitar so much, but I can’t seem to make time for it… ah Anthony would scoff at me and, indeed, I would, as well. “…. GET ME A WHOPPER, GET ME A WHOPPER….” just infiltrated my strain of thought, being said to nobody. Nobody left to get a whopper. Geez, we’re in Starbuck’s! OMG… they just left. Thank goodness, but there’s no excuses now not to concentrate on this.  To pick up my thought where it was screechingly severed I will report that I still have my guitar, a Yamaha f-310, sitting in my closet patiently waiting for me to take her out so we can make some beautiful music together.

One of my favorite songs is “Greensleeves”, a melody from long ago, Middle Ages maybe. The more modern song with the same melody is “What Child Is This”, a Christmas hymn. I loved to play this on my guitar, sooo beautiful.  Well, the other day our family visited the Morris Museum up in Morristown, NJ.  There was a very interesting exhibit there on “Musical Machines & Living Dolls: Mechanical Musical Instruments and Automata from the Murtogh D. Guinness Collection” with a collection of all kinds of antique music machines. After our visit, of course we stopped at the museum shop, prices were very reasonaboe, by the way, and I purchased one of those tiny music machines you find in music jewelry boxes. The tune is “Greensleeves” and Gabriel immediately put a claim in for it, even though it was really for me. Now, that was two weeks ago and I’ve not heard him playing it recently. Yesterday I got into a singing for a spell and one of the songs was this Christmas hymn. Wouldn’t you know it, Gabe immediately came in and asked me what the song was that I was singing. I told him and he responded that it’s the same as his music box. Momma was so proud of her little boy! He’s got a good ear, I think. It was hidden because for so long he had a terrible hearing loss and recently it seems to be corrected for good. He’s been going to a specialist for years now, ever since preschool. HA.. for a long time he’s been singing off key and I had resigned myself to the fact that this might not be a good avenue for him to pursue. He just loves to sing and play the drums… Yeah. Everything is a drum to and drum sticks.

There is so much to be grateful for….

Greensleeves ~ What Child is This?

Yeah…. Justin is the first one to comment about my new music!

Just for the record, this is an old melody, maybe goes back to medieval times, the name, “Greensleeves” The lyrics are here.

Then somebody wrote a beautifully written Christmas Carol, set it to this music, and called it, “What Child is This?”
The lyrics are here.

Oh wow… forgot to mention that this is one of my most favorites to play on the guitar…. I can go on and on with it. It’s when I get into those zones that my creativity comes out.

I Could Not Ask For More

I Could Not Ask For More
by Edwin McCain

Lying here with you
Listening to the rain
Smiling just to see the smile upon your face
These are the moments I thank God that I’m alive
These are the moments I’ll remember all my life
I found all I’ve waited for
And I could not ask for more
Looking in your eyes
Seeing all I need
Everything you are is everything to me
These are the moments
I know heaven must exist
These are the moments I know all I need is this
I have all I’ve waited for
And I could not ask for more

I could not ask for more than this time together
I could not ask for more than this time with you
Every prayer has been answered
Every dream I have’s come true
And right here in this moment is right where I’m meant to be
Here with you here with me

These are the moments I thank God that I’m alive
These are the moments I’ll remember all my life
I’ve got all I’ve waited for
And I could not ask for more

I could not ask for more than the love you give me ‘Coz it’s all I’ve waited for
And I could not ask for more
I could not ask for more

When I read lyrics like these, I think about more than my love for The Drake. I cannot help thinking that I’ve finally found my lifemate, the man I have waited for.  Just as our bond is a strong one and growing every day, I cannot deny just how fragile it all really is. I can’t help slipping out of the present and into the future, a possible future without him. I know, Sometimes I am so morbid and I could justifiably be chastised for imagining a time without him, because of what it would mean to have happened.  I know people who have been left alone in the world and with added responsibility of a family to care for alone.  I can’t voice it, but there is something inside me that has always been so macabre. It’s part of my Dark Side, part of my life; and as such, I must live with it and try to keep it at bay as I ride the tides that well up without warning. Maybe in order to be well grounded, we must have intimate [working] knowledge of all aspects of life, I really don’t know.  I went to counseling at one time and she theorized that it might be a survival mechanism. Uninvited, I imagine certain scenarios, then picture in my mind what I would do in those situations. I have to admit that I do “try out” different responses in my mind, but it’s all very frightening while it’s happening.

Sometimes they are wake up calls as to how to protect Little D or what to keep him away from, or a reminder to know where he is at all times… because of “what can happen”. Again, all very frightening and very real while I am in the throws of it. Before I sought to limit my experiences, they would hold me fast and I would actually live out (or it felt as such) what was going on in my head. Maybe as a survival thing, I discovered that I could pull myself out of it and now it’s a matter of being aware of what is happening and knowing that if I can’t handle the emotions, I could cut it off. It can be very frightening and draining, emotionally and physically. At first, I thought that I was crazy and I’ve always been an anxious worrier; but this counselor gave me a handle of what it might be and the more I think of it, the more I think she is right.

I hope I don’t sound crazy to you guys, but these thoughts came out even though I intended on writing about something else, so maybe it’s important for me to let it stay. I’ve always been that way. Once I write down my thoughts, I have a sense that they should stay because they are my first, deepest thoughts, and take my lumps if warranted. It’s a part of me, and as such, contributes to whatever you find appealing about my writing. And so, keeping the above intact, I will continue….

This song expresses everything I feel for the Drake. I feel that I could not have asked for more, let alone receive such a man. I’ve waited a long time…. I know that must sound like an old record, but it’s been the running theme my whole life. Yet, whatever happens I will be forever grateful. Whatever happens I’ll always treasure our life together, however long, or however brief. I am also reminded of “The Heart Will Go On”, by Celine Dion, the theme from The Titanic. Now, THAT was a love story for the ages if there ever was one.

Heart, mind and soul
are forever changed
because of you, my Eddie.
You will go on in my heart
no matter the future.
I love you.

I Made It Through The Rain


I Made It Through The Rain
by Barry Manilow

We dreamers have our ways
Of facing rainy days
And somehow we survive

We keep the feelings warm
Protect them from the storm
Until our time arrives

Then one day the sun appears
And we come shining through those lonely years

I made it through the rain
I kept my world protected
I made it through the rain
I kept my point of view
I made it through the rain
And found myself respected
By the others who
Got rained on too
And made it through

When friends are hard to find
And life seems so unkind
Sometimes you feel so afraid

Just aim beyond the clouds
And rise above the crowds
And start your own parade

Cause when I chased my fears away
That’s when I knew that I could finally say


First, I am pissed because I had to copy and paste this post from BlogDesk. Still waiting for someone to get back to me regarding this issue I am having. Grrrrrr!Okay, let’s get on with it….

Ah, Barry always speaks to ME. If you know this song, you can hear the loneliness in the music and his voice; but then, you can also hear when he comes out of it.

Music and my art always got me through the rough spots in my early years, especially Barry Manilow. His music, his voice, touches the very heart and soul of me. His OWN music, not really the other music he does… plus, I am speaking from the 70’s and 80’s. He speaks to love, and love speaks to him, through him to the world. I thought that if Barry could get through the rain, I certainly could. Critics might think his music predictable, starting at a low point, then building up to, finally, a magnificent climax; but that is exactly what I love about his music.

I’ve always been an artist, though at present, I have not drawn anything at all. I can remember at a very early age, maybe 4-5, I drew a dinosaur, a stegosaurus, to be precise. Heck, nobody believed that I did it. Then I drew that head of a fawn that was an art test from the TV guide, you may remember it. Again, everyone thought I TRACED it, despite the fact that it was done on a heavy brown paper bag.. and was bigger…. geez. I always drew animals. I loved doing horses… beautiful and magnificent…. well, my young mind thought so.

Whenever I was working on something, I went into a trance-like state, not looking up until I was done. I believe that I was Spirit-driven… it had to be. I could feel myself getting drawn into the object I was working on, becoming a part of it, almost. I worked from either still life, or a picture and probably could have gotten into restoration, but did not have the self confidence to pursue anything back then. I did briefly attend night school, “Art in Advertising”, but I soon discovered that field was way to competitive for me. Also, in taking the classes, I felt that I was not creative enough for advertising. I am actually glad that I dropped out of that because I believe that my talent is a gift from God, and as such, is meant to be shared and not paid for. I am sure of that. I get so much joy from making gifts out of my artwork, crafts, knitting, whatever, that I could never ask for money. I’ve found that I have many creative outlets; so the fact that I seem to have lost my talent for drawing is not so bad because I know that it shows up in many other areas.

Color me Diversified!

I Can Feel How Much You Love Me

by: Lonestar

Every time our eyes meet
This feeling inside me
Is almost more than I can take
Baby when you touch me
I can feel how much you love me
And it just blows me away
I’ve never been this close to anyone or anything
I can hear your thoughts
I can see your dreams

I don’t know how you do what you do
I’m so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I want to spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever
Every little thing that you do
Baby, I’m amazed by you

The smell of your skin
The taste of your kiss
The way you whisper in the dark
Your hair all around me
Baby you surround me
You touch every place in my heart
Oh, it feels like the first time, every time
I want to spend the whole night in your eyes

Every little thing that you do
I’m so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I want to spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever
Every little thing that you do
Baby, I’m amazed by you


Heard this on the radio today and………….. remembered.

I remembered how love feels. People too often get caught up in the rigidity of every day life. Our schedules get in the way of spontaneity, thought and feeling the feelings and some thing inside always suffers. Life as a couple may not notice right away as both people might be blind to it; but eventually, somebody notices and slight manifestations of negativity start to occur. The little idiosyncrasies that we find endearing start to bug us.

A lot of what brings people together is taken for granted over time in the sense that we have a “knowing”, but deep feelings are not allowed in every minute of every day. What is happening is that they are skipping over the very reasons that brought the couple together in the first place.

Just because we “know” why we are together does not mean that we should tuck it safely away into storage. We must keep those reasons in the forefront of our thoughts and keep them pliant in our minds. We must always be ready to take the time to express our love, even if it’s in little snippets during the time you are together. A slight touch on exposed skin, a long meaningful look goes a long, long way. The eyes are the windows to the soul. Look long and deep (if allowed) into your love’s eyes. What you will find there is no less than amazing. Eyes that address and acknowledge you every day are transformed into the twinkling, beautiful essence of why we love…. and they go deep.

There IS a certain amount of security that comes with “knowing” we love and are loved. It makes every day life so much easier, and difficult times easier to weather. However, when the feeling part is missing, our relationships become one dimensional, like cut-outs of Barbie and Ken. Stand them up. Put the clothes on them. Take the clothes off. Put the clothes back on. Take them back off again. Period. They can’t even have sex…. oops I said it. Notice how I said it, “They can’t even have sex.” Add a bit of “feeling” and that can be said, “I can’t wait to make wonderful, beautiful love with you.”


With feeling, every day monotony transforms into colorful fantasy. With feeling, comes spontaneity and playfulness. You can be level headed one minute, and throw your lover on the bed the next second. Where did that come from?

Look inside.

Head Down, Chin Up!

I will now take you into the realm sacred to women, though invokes a horrible fear. This is the place where no man may enter; no man may look upon…… EVER!!!

Women in general go through so much to make ourselves “presentable”. Most of us wear makeup, perfume, accessorize; but we do more than that. READ ON AT YOUR OWN RISK! We shave our armpits and some shave their whole bodies. Why does this society shun hair on the female body, yet, it’s okay for men to be hairy apes, back and all? Why must our preteen girls feel embarrassed into shaving their legs so young because they don’t want the other GIRLS to see them in gym class?

I bring this up because there is a stigma attached to female body and facial hair. Is it that if a woman doesn’t get rid of it, somehow people assume that she does not practice good hygiene? I used to work with an Italian girl who shaves every bit of body hair that dared to grow on her person, and I mean everywhere… for her husband. I will not judge her or say anything about her practice, but why is it that if she didn’t, she would comment about how she had “missed” doing it in the morning like it was such a big deal and a terrible oversight? What little she had could hardly be seen by anyone in the office.

You may be asking yourself, “Why is she writing about this?” I chose to make a big deal about this to emphasize what I deem a social injustice. I, myself have a severe situation of facial and body hair hanging out on my very person. I was born with it, it’s in the genes. Yes, I am saying that. And YES, it’s in the genes. I am of Mediterranean decent and it’s prevalent (and sometimes runs rampant) in people of my ethnic background, which is Italian.

I’ve always had very dark hair against very light skin, VERY visible. My mother and my sister had the same thing, but they had much darker skin than I. My mother taught us to use bleach, but I had hair on my chin and neck and the bleach stuff just didn’t stay put long enough to be effective, plus more often than not, I burned myself with it, producing even more noticeable burns that stung for days and I had to walk around with burn marks on my face. I tried depilatories but they burn, too. Oh, and you can forget about waxing! I said, “Later for that!” Finally desperate, I took my dad’s razor and shaved my face as well as my legs and underarms. My mom found out and almost killed me, figuratively, because doing that will “make it grow back faster and denser.” I can tell you that is a TRUE statement, but it was my easy way out.

I was stigmatized and ashamed to be seen, yet, I hated all this extra stuff I needed to do to be “acceptable” for the rest of the human race. All the girls and women I know are preoccupied with the removal their hair, if they have any extra. No matter how often I shaved, I could never really get rid of the stubble and sometimes I cut myself… and well, you guys know that story. Even though I have male hair, my skin is female and too sensitive to tolerate daily shaving, so I must make sure that I time my “shaves” to coincide with any events that may be going on so that I have a clean face and neck. I even tried electrolysis, but that did not work, either.

One day, while commuting from high school on the bus, I saw this middle aged woman sitting in front of me and she hardly had any hair on her head. Could have been for any reason from cancer treatments to early hair loss; but what really stood out to me, and changed my life, was the fact that she did not cover it up with a hat. She held her head high, apparently indifferent, and that affected me deeply. I am so grateful for her fleeting appearance in the show that is my life.

From that moment on, I decided that I was not going to be preoccupied with hair… well except the hair on my head. To go one further, I decided that God gave me all this hair to use for a positive. I have a way with little children. They like me and I like them… I can talk to them on their level, and they know that I listen to them. I will let a child stare at my stubble and try to project positive-ness by seeking eye contact and smiling. Sometimes they ask questions and I will answer. I don’t want the kids to be afraid of it, you know? Impressions are formed at a young age and my goal is to reach the kids out there and show them that there is nothing to be afraid of and that people can be approachable and satisfy their curiosity. Maybe this is my way of transforming this curse into a blessing…. one kid at a time.

I have a little one right here and he already knows that there is something “different” about my face and neck sometimes. He touches it. He runs his fingers over it and he knows, at 2 yrs old, that something is up. I cringe, however, when I think about his classmates and what they might say to my baby. I can see myself “cleaning” my face every day in an effort so that the kids at his school(s) do not find a reason to taunt him. Sigh. I have to stop myself from thinking about it from now.

Where does this general aversion to something normal come from anyway? What is so-called “normal”? I believe this topic ties into having (or developing) the capacity for tolerance of people who are “different” from us. I am talking about facial hair here, but it applies to the disabled, the elderly, different races, cultures, etc. It can apply to any differences we see around us.

I don’t know. I do know that this piece is totally disorganized with thoughts coming from all angles and absurdities; but I just had to get it out. Maybe before I get to post it, I’ll clean it up a bit…. Oops, too late!

By Janis Ian

I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth…

And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say “come dance with me”
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn’t all it seems at seventeen…

A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said: “Pity please the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve”
The rich relation’s hometown queen
Marries into what she needs
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly…

So remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
In debentures of quality and dubious integrity
Their small-town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received at seventeen…

To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
the world was younger than today
when dreams were all they gave for free
to ugly duckling girls like me…

We all play the game, and when we dare
We cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
That call and say: “Come dance with me”
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me, at seventeen…

All The Time

After my last post about the Drake and Valentine’s Day, I’ve been wanting to post something that balances the scales a little bit. Oh, and I preface by saying that the following is not motivated by anyone online, here; but from my “other” life.

As you may (or may not) know, I am a stay at home mom… so no income actually flows in from my person. Even though people say that raising a child is a job, and my part of this partnership, AND I must say that I agree with all that…. I still must say that I find it hard asking for money for myself and my own entertainment. I do know that I am entitled to money that comes in from my drake; but I’m too independent that way, and I am used to having my own money, however little it ever was. My Drake knows this and leaves me $$$ every week so I do not have to ask for it. We have a special “place” and there is always something in there. Whenever I go out, he gives me $$ even when he knows I have it from our little treasure chest. If that were not enough, he gives me $$ specifically for gas for MY car.

Today, I went to Ikea for a small bookshelf for Little Drake’s books and got the okay for $100.00. Good Shopper Mommie found one, not the one I really wanted; but for $30.00, she could not resist. Then, she bought some stuff for herself and for the house. I have told Big Drake that I will pay him for my private stuff from babysitting that I do every other week and he said, “OK”; but I know that when it comes time to pay him, he will tell me to forget about it…. so here there it is.

I absolutely KNOW that some people will judge my drake because he doesn’t follow the accepted husband protocol for Valentine’s Day. Do they know what goes on the rest of the time? Do they know how his mind works, or for that matter, how our relationship works? No. What is even worse than that is the fact that I hate to be asked about how we spent the day/night, really meaning, “what did he get you.” The last thing I want, or need, is to feel that I must recap everything else he does for me the rest of the year to justify not getting a gift that cuts the mustard in their eyes.

All The Time
by: Barry Manilow

All the time I thought
There’s only me
Crazy in a way
That no one else could be
I would have given everything I own
If someone would have said you’re not alone

All the time I thought
That I was wrong
Wanting to be me,but needing to belong
If I had just believed in all I had
If someone would have said you’re not so bad

All the time, all the wasted time
All the years, waiting for a sign
To think I had it all
All the time

All the time I thought
There’s only me
Crazy in way that no one else could be
I can’t believe that you where somewhere too
Thinking all the time there’s only you

All the time, all the wasted time
All the years, waiting for a sign
To think I had it all
All the time

Guitar Groopie

My Yamaha F-310

This is my Yamaha F-310 Acoustic Guitar. Isn’t he a beauty? You can’t really tell from this pic because I had to scale it down quite a bit.

I wrote about how I came to play the guitar in my post, “Soul Harvest” if you are interested in knowing the background. It was a time in my life when I was just divorced, broke, living in a closet I called a room and really alone for the first time in my life. I had always felt lonely, but I was never really, totally alone. It was scary, yet I had my first sense of independence just that I had no money to do anything (requiring money). I learned a lot of free or cheap things to do during that time and going to Starbucks on a Saturday afternoon with a good book was my “special” thing for myself after a week of work. I could sit there all day in a nice comfy chair, and nurse a coffee for as long as I wished. This was my first introduction to this concept of being able to hang out somewhere for practically nothing; as was my first introduction to Borders, a book store chain, that actually allowed people to sit all over the store on couches or on the floor in the isles to read whatever they wanted without the pressure to buy anything. So cool…. Remember this was back in the mid 90’s for me.

Okay, in walks my guitar and guitar lessons. This was my new BF for a good long time. I spent many hours playing, learning, blending with it and the music. I had always loved the sound of guitars. They seem to reach deep down and touch my soul. The music, whatever kind, really stirs me. I love the baritones up to the sopranos, each one touching me differently and in a different place in my body…. I can feel the resonance deep inside myself. I gravitate to long, slow, haunting sounds, much like what I’ve got playing now, which is why I put it up here. The opening stretch of music. I love Evanescence’s “Bring Me To Life”… well that’s not guitar, per se, but her voice. Other guitar playing I like is on Bob Seger’s “Turn the Page”, Meatloaf’s “Bat Out of Hell”, the pretty sound of “Greensleeves”, Savatage’s “Christmas Eve in Sarajevo (12/24)”. Anything that is expressive.

I remember the frustration I felt when I could not play the first chord I learned which was the jazz style “G”. That one is one of the hardest to finger. Your pinky has got to fly all the way up to the last string, while your first 2 fingers are squished together, fingering the lower ones. I was crying like you would not believe, but I got it. I learned all the basic chords and taught myself a lot more by downloading tabs for the chords. The minors really touch me. I will say here that if you are a musician, please excuse my musical speech because I have no formal training and don’t read music.

The first song I learned was by ear, AND it was one that I was unfamiliar with. My mentor, Anthony, is a country music lover and wanted us to play “The Convict and the Rose” by Hank Williams. A very easy song as it only has 2 chords, but I had no idea of how it should go. I floundered for a good long time until I eventually I got it. We had a little list of songs we did when we got together which was the nicest time I ever had up to that point. Much to Anthony’s delight I was very comfortable just playing the chords to his lead guitar.

I soon classified myself as a “rhythm guitarist” because I was only interested in learning chords and not the harmony. Partially because I cannot understand sheet music. It’s not that I’ve not tried, I just can’t get it. Not a surprise to me because I am severely mathematically challenged. I just don’t get it. I really liked the idea of playing chords with feeling, or with sort of a melody. I can’t really explain that better. Anthony had friends who played guitars, too, and we all got together a few times. They were all men, so I was inhibited by my shyness as I couldn’t get that “guy thing” out of my head. One of them was very kind and very cute and he even made a CD of his original songs. His musical mastery intimidated me all by itself, but he kindly complimented me when I accompanied him on “Leader of the Band” and “Scarborough Fair”. Every song we played, I wanted to play it slower. I wanted to savor every note, every vibration. I played a version of “Nights and White Satin” much slower than it’s usually done and it sounds beautiful. It was my favorite song to relax to. Oh, got to mention that I loved to be able to sing and play at the same time. Music and words forever blending together to form something beautiful, but words and music are distinct in their own way, much like a marriage. Ever like the words of a song, but not the music or visa versa? Music and words that are done right touch me like nothing else on earth ever could.

After I learned the basics, developmentally I came up against a stone wall. This means that I was playing the same way all the time and could not break out of that groove. I was told by Anthony to just keep practicing and eventually, it would happen, so that is what I did. One day, I did break out of it. I don’t know how it happened, but my hand suddenly did something different and I liked it so I kept doing it. I was elated for awhile, but then, I got entrenched in THAT groove and could not get out. I guess there is nothing wrong with that because the playing still sounds the same, but I got bored with it and anyone would. As with anything else, musical growth is essential or you just stagnate right where you are forever. I stuck with it, though, little by little I played less and less. Then with making wedding plans, then with the birth of our son, the guitar just stayed in the closet to this day. The only time it saw daylight was when I moved my closet to another room to make room for my son’s things.

Ah, now I am seriously thinking about taking it out again. Something I am really hesitating on because of the limited time I have to myself as it is; and I can only take it out when my son is safely gone to sleep in his crib. I know. He will want it even before I get a chance to take it out of the case. I have tolerated him getting into my stuff. I have tolerated him destroying my stuff; but this is one thing that he cannot be allowed to even get into a position to destroy. Despite my feelings, I am really eager to have my son be exposed to it, see what it can do. He is just too young and doesn’t get the concept yet that he needs to take care of his things…. (sigh)

Will close here. I want to say so much more, but a lot of the songs I loved to play escape my memory, but I’ll write more as things unfold here.

Soul Harvest

Soul Harvest

I am a sucker for niiiiice guitar……..Just an introduction to my new songspot. It’s called “Cry with the Angels”, performed by White Train, from the album “Soul Harvest”. I don’t know about you, though I love the other song, it was starting to get to me every time I accessed the site. You will probably see more changes in the songspot as I can’t really stay with one, anyway.Here is a link to the information of the album. You can hear all songs on the album(CD) for those of you under 30 (or so). Unfortunately, I was unable to find the lyrics to post here. It seems to be a special compilation album.

Ah, so as this is not just a little filler for lean writing times, I will tell you a little bit more about myself. Little Drake has been sick and is more demanding than usual. Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to write more tonight when I get outta here for a few hours A-lone.

I love acoustic guitar music and I play guitar when I can… which hasn’t been for around 2 years. I’ve been itching to get back into it but hesitate because I’m afraid Little Drake will want it and will break it. I simply will not be able to take it out when he is up, which leaves 2 hours or so in the day time and after he goes to bed. Doesn’t seem so bad on paper, but add that to all the other stuff I want to do.

But really, learning to play the guitar was the best thing I ever did for myself. I always thought it would cost me more money than I had to learn and BUY a guitar. It was post divorce time and I had really tight finances. I had met a guy, older than I, the self help group that I belonged to. Anthony Mitek… “the eccentric one.” He was… either you hated him or you loved him. That is Anthony, divorced forever and threw jabs a women whenever he could… in his lovable way, of course. Anyway, he had made an announcement one night at the meeting that he was going to have surgery and needed someone to come and take care of him, make sure that he would be fed, etc. He is a polio survivor and their bodies can have an extreme reaction to anesthesia. I volunteered as I really had nothing in my life at the time and thought it would be a good thing for the both of us.

To make a long convelescent period short, we got to become friends during that time. It was convenient for me to sleep there, lay out his breakfast, go to work, then come back at night. I washed his dishes and maybe even dusted and washed his clothes… no big thing really as I loved the bantering back and forth. You could just be yourself with Anthony. You could tease him and he laughed and then gave it right back… it was fun. Oh, forgot to mention that he was/is in a long term love relationship with his Gibson Dove Guitar. Beautiful and I loved visiting with Anthony to hear him and his friends play.

One day he told me that if I was interested, that he would teach me how to play the guitar. Whoa… I just couldn’t believe it. I was so excited on the inside, but I told him that I would have to think about it because I knew that I had a big obstacle ahead. I needed to buy a guitar. I set my limit at $100.00, not even knowing how much they went for. Soon after, I went to a BBQ at my sis ter’s house and her brother-in-law happened to be there. I mentioned that I was looking to buy a guitar and that my friend was going to teach me how to play. Jerry, the BIL, said that he had one that he could sell to me because his son was wanted an electric one. I hesitated, embarrassed that it would be too expensive; but agreed to go to his house and look at it.

Man, it had me on the first string I picked. The sound was so rich, so full, so me and what I wanted. It has a tremendous body and knew right away why his son didn’t want it… because even I could hardly get my arm around it to pick the strings and his son was a peanut of a kid at the time. He had just gotten it for the last Christmas (this was July) and he only played it during his lessons; so for all intensive purposes, I’d consider it a new guitar. Miraculously, he wanted $100.00 for it… WOW… talk about God going shopping for me! God bless this man Jerry… really. He could have easily gotten more for it, but he probably knew about my financial situation through my sister. This is yet another instance in my life that God took care of me.

So, I learned to play chords. I fell in love with chords and “labeled” myself a rhythm guitarist… which was good for Anthony because he always wants to be the lead guitarist. I strove to play chords in a melodical kind of way. I taught myself lots of chords and made up my own chord progressions to practice, downloaded tons of songs and joined a few guitar groups. Later on, I enrolled in a guitar class at the nearby college and learned tablature… cool. I could play the melody of “Ode to Joy” by memory…. real cool. Then baby came along and my beloved guitar stayed in the closet permanently…. now peeking out! I know he will come out soon… and I’ll be ready with a brand, spanking new set of D’Addario Phosphor Bronze strings.

Baby meets Baby!

Que Sera Sera


I apologize for posting this so late. I know that some of you were waiting to see whether I am prego or not. The test came back negative which means, no, I am not pregnant. The doctor wants me to have a back up test done, but I have a feeling that I am not having a baby. I want to thank everyone for their support and prayers for a favorable outcome.

Favorable? What does that mean? Are we happy about the results? I would not say that we are happy at all; but I can tell you I am relieved because a baby will not be subjected the diabetes corrupting his mother’s body. Diabetes that would all but guarantee the baby would be at high risk for the disease him or herself. Oh, no… not a chance that I’ll need another test to confirm that.

I have been thinking about the Julia Roberts character in Steel Magnolias. I think she had diabetes and ached for babies and had them, and she gave her life for her babies lives. She horrified her mother, with whom she had an extraordinarily close relationship, by begging her husband to make her pregnant; or that is what I got from the movie. I remember the funeral scene at the end with her two children left motherless. Of course you just knew that the women in the town who were the close knit crones of the beauty parlor would all help to raise those children. Well, I really have no such support system here. We have family that are so far removed geologically and with their own obligations that I can’t rely on anyone helping my husband to raise my kids if something ever happened to me. Sure, we know who we would like to raise our son if we both passed, but not just one of us, currently on my mind, me.

If the test result was positive, then we would deal with the situation as best we could, wholeheartedly welcome a new little bundle of joy. In fact, we really would like our son to have a sibling to grow up with and stay rooted with during his whole life.

At least now I can focus on the diabetes without the weight of having a life inside me being affected by what happens to my body. No baby trying to grow and being denied nutrients it needs to live by a dying or dead placenta.

It’s times like these, however, that I must bring to mind my faith in God and that there is a purpose to everything he does. Everything about my last pregnancy was punctuated with the hand of God guiding my condition and events, leading straight up to the birth of my boy. Even the pitfalls and perils turned out to be for the greater good and safety of my child and myself… but that is a post for another time. I am convinced my not being pregnant now is also the work of God and I trust in Him. I talked with DH when he got home and he insists that “it’s not over yet”, to which I replied, “Why? Because you are not a limp biscuit?” DH has the strongest faith and acceptance of God and life that I’ve ever seen. I cannot help but ponder his words and the relevance they have on our future. Que sera sera.

candles in the snow

I cannot help but include this little song I remember from my childhood, sung by Doris Day.

Que Sera Sera

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here’s what she said to me.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
Here’s what my sweetheart said.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Now I have children of my own
They ask their mother, what will I be
Will I be handsome, will I be rich
I tell them tenderly.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

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