Sunday, February 28, 2010

Menopausal Momma - The Song

This entry is dedicated to "Oody Booty", fellow writer and author of "The Change" - a fine rap tune dedicated to the precursor of this songs title: Hint - Oodie's subject matter rhymes with "frustration" but starts with the letter "M". You can figure it out, especially if you are a woman.


Beneath the soft fluffy covers
I cuddle and dream
of soft sandy beaches and beautiful things.
Blankets pulled close to
My gray whiskered chin.
But all that stuff stops, after she climbs in.

Round 2 or 3 am, I notice it's cold
The Sheets are all wrapped round
My knobby old toes.
There's a bruise on my thighbone
Where last I got kicked.
While next to me she moans, "Its Hot Flashes, Again!"

Chorus

Yeah, she's my menopausal Momma
Erupting in the night
An estrogen spoutin' fountain
Of thrashing heat and light.
But she's the sweetest little thing
I've ever seen,.
So I just pull the covers up,
And go back to my dream.

As the morning sun arises
She dreams her happy dreams,
I'm still in a coma half asleep
And looking at her laying there
You'd never ever know-
Lies a raging, menopausal volcano...

Repeat Chorus - The End

This morning, a tiny little girl waddles down the beach furiously waving a long handled net with a red scoop on it's end. Her grandparents wobble along after her laughing with delight as their grandaughter flings netfulls of sand joyously skyward, as this - my personal balcony playhouse continues to unfold.

My beautiful wife (the object of the above written tune) is curled up on the sofa finishing a book she began reading yesterday. While the volcano is thus occupied, I think I will head out to my beloved beach for a run on this early Sunday morning.

Maybe I'll even pass the same small girl and dream of the days when my own children were young, holding daddy's hand on a beach and gleefully flinging netfulls of sand toward the skies above. As always, I will give thanks to all those who have gone before me for another day of life, love and menopausal bliss.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Waves on a beach...continued

Thanks to my beautiful wife, without whom this blog would not exist and also to faithful readers and others...without their encouragement, there would be no reason to write it.

The tiny blonde haired lady approached ever so slowly, carefully scrutinizing the slope of a dune on which I sat, soaking up the late afternoon sunshine.

"I don't know what you're looking for" I joked, "But I'm not getting up. Its too hard!" She laughed lightly and said I was perfectly fine where I was. Her name was "Diane", she had twenty-two grandchildren and as it turned out, was searching for treasures in the sand - far away from where most of us elderly folks explored the shoreline. I asked if I could see some of her treasure.

Digging into a little white fanny pack with her knobby fingers, she extracted three of the most exquisitely formed shells I had ever seen. Two cone shaped bluish ones that looked like versions of the Olympic torch and one rounded caramel colored shell with a dark black cat's eye in its center. They were all incredibly small and beautiful.

It wasn't until the next day that I was struck by the thought of how a chance meeting with a lady looking for seashells in unusual spots can serve as a metaphor for things we should be looking for in life. Most of us cruise down the sand sweeping its surface for miles and miles trying to discern many types of unique things upon its surface, always looking at the big picture - awaiting life's next big moment. How often do we take time to look for and appreciate the the little treasures that God gives us on a daily basis?

Eventually, Diane left me and continued her methodical search of the dunescape behind me as I sat alone with my thoughts. I vowed that I would take daily enjoyment in every moment that I have left on this incredibly wonderful planet no matter how small it is. Every day in the paper you can read about others who aren't as fortunate as most of us have been so lets all keep our eyes peeled for tiny treasures...even if you have to go around someone sitting on them.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

WAVES ON A BEACH

Haven't you ever wondered if things you've done in your life had meaning to anyone but you? Isn't it of some importance to be remembered for something special or interesting that has occured while you have existed in this world?

All I hope to accomplish in this blog is to share creative thoughts and especially, memories with others who share this same desire. I'm sure that all of us also hold the secret desire that we could be given the gift of fifteen minutes of fame. Wouldn't that be something!

Like waves upon a beach, there are limitless forms to our creativity and backgrounds. I hope you enjoy the shape my "waves" have taken. I look forward to surfing yours.

2-16-10

After a very long car ride and several adventures along the way, we did make it to Gulf Shores, Alabama, safely. Our condo is just about everything we could have hoped for. It's kind of like looking out your window and thinking you're on a beautiful cruise ship. Shoveling snow is just a vague unpleasant memory and the long trip was totally worth it.

Gotta go...coffee to drink on a sun-drenched balcony and beautiful beaches to explore.

2-18-10

Eileen has gone to the computer store seeking a fix to our wireless computer Internet connection. This is the reason we couldn't send e-mails. As I write this, I am out on our condo balcony gazing at the Gulf and thinking about the different textures and hues the ocean has. Every day brings a new look - something I haven't seen before.

Yesterday morning the water was as flat and blue as the surface of a gigantic felt covered pool table. Today, gazing over the top of our aqua colored railing, it looks rippled, full of millions of tiny wrinkles broken only by longish patches where the light breeze hasn't distrubed its texture. Who knows what palettes tomorrow will uncover.

It's time to go. I promised my beloved wife I would get my run in so we can go exploring when she returns. There is a "social gathering" in our condo lobby at 4 p.m. that she wishes attend, provided we get back in time from a nice long stroll on the sugar sand beach.

The only thing that could be better about this place is if all my friends and family were here.

2-20-10

An old woman clad in a blue parka shuffles slowly by the ocean's edge, bending over every few feet, squinting and looking for seashells. Her husband ambles along beside her.

On our balcony I am drinking a small cup of hot coffee in the early morning and wondering where in the hell the years have gone. It seems almost laughable to me, the changes that have overcome our once youthful bodies - the old man, the old woman and the old me.

Gazing over the railing watching the old man in his red and white leather jacket teeter clumsily backwards trying to escape a tiny wave rolling upon the shore, the changes become immediately apparent. Nineteen sixty-nine was a lifetime ago.

Where once Frisbees were flung with reckless abandon by scantily clad college students, functional weather gear and old folks with hip replacements reign. When I consider the alternative however, it is truly good to have a few aches and pains yet still be relatively ambulatory as the "golden years" continue to flow past. In fact, I feel somewhat like a spring chicken down here.

I can still go for a five-miler on the beach in the soft sugar sand; Eileen and I even played "Pong" ( a game involving paddles and a little rubber ball) on the beach yesterday. When we met some of the other folks in our condo complex at a recent open-house, I referred to us as "retiree virgins". That term drew a few laughs.

Old man and old lady, shuffling for seashells down by the seashore - I'm not laughing at you. I am hoping that by the grace of God I can stay in this world as long as you have, even if it means a bit more slowly.

Thats' it for today - gotta run...literally.

2-22-10

Eileen broke the news to me as I sat on the balcony, again sipping my morning coffee;

"Bill, Sandi Martin passed away".

The ocean this morning is the color af slate and none of the early risers walking on the beach would notice the contrasting colors of gray upon gray. There is not much difference between the shade of the water's surface and where it meets the sky. Sandi old friend, my heart goes out to you and your family.

She hired into the post office shortly after I did, in early 1981 if memory serves me correctly. Sandi was large, smoked like a chimney, worked like a dog and was unabashedly - proudly Polish. Most of all, her family was everything to her.

I watch the retirees below me as they shuffle along the sand, beach chairs slung over bony shoulders, heading for strategic spots on the shoreline. Do all of us realize how truly lucky we are to still exist on this wonderful planet? There is so much we simply take for granted.

At least Sandi was able to get off on a medical retirement a couple of years before I left the post office. She got to enjoy her two grandsons, "spoiling them rotten" as she used to boast. I imagine the boys, her brother and son will have an immensely large hole in their hearts for many, many years to come.

Time to go eat some shredded wheat, take my cholesterol medicine, check on e-mails and above all...be grateful for yet another day on this glorious, beautiful balcony. Wish all of you could be here, Sandi especially.