I wanna make you smile whenever you're sad
Carry you around when your arthritis is bad
All I wanna do is grow old with you
I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches
Build you a fire if the furnace breaks
Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you
I'll miss you, Kiss you
Give you my coat when you are cold
Need you, Feed you,
Even let ya hold the remote control
So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink
Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink
I could be the man who grows old with you
I wanna grow old with you
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
Magic of Christmas
I know, Thanksgiving isn't over with yet, and here I am talking about Christmas.
I really do think there is a magical feeling around Christmas. I just get that warm, gooey feeling in me. The wonderment of Santa. (Who, by the way, I still believe in). The excitement on Christmas Eve. Baking the cookies for Santa and setting food and water out for the reindeer. (They get hungry, too, ya know). I love the lights, the colors, the smells. The way the tree looks when the lights in the house are all turned off. Just taking in the beauty that only a Christmas tree can give with its sparkling lights. I know the lights are just twinkling for me.
I still have to take the girls shopping for their annual Christmas ornament. I let them pick the ornament they want. Most times, we are there an hour just looking and showing each other all the new ornaments. It never is easy to pick just one. The ones they pick are usually the first ones to go on the tree. I make an R or D on the inside lid so we know who's is who's over the years. It puts a smile on my face when we get them out every year.
This year I am wanting to make popcorn string. I would like to use that instead of garland around the tree this year. I like the "ole tyme" Christmas decorations. The paper snowflakes and home-made ornaments. Glitter on pine cones. Paper chains. Angels with lopsided wings and Santas with cotton beards.
I'm glad it's only once a year, though.
I really do think there is a magical feeling around Christmas. I just get that warm, gooey feeling in me. The wonderment of Santa. (Who, by the way, I still believe in). The excitement on Christmas Eve. Baking the cookies for Santa and setting food and water out for the reindeer. (They get hungry, too, ya know). I love the lights, the colors, the smells. The way the tree looks when the lights in the house are all turned off. Just taking in the beauty that only a Christmas tree can give with its sparkling lights. I know the lights are just twinkling for me.
I still have to take the girls shopping for their annual Christmas ornament. I let them pick the ornament they want. Most times, we are there an hour just looking and showing each other all the new ornaments. It never is easy to pick just one. The ones they pick are usually the first ones to go on the tree. I make an R or D on the inside lid so we know who's is who's over the years. It puts a smile on my face when we get them out every year.
This year I am wanting to make popcorn string. I would like to use that instead of garland around the tree this year. I like the "ole tyme" Christmas decorations. The paper snowflakes and home-made ornaments. Glitter on pine cones. Paper chains. Angels with lopsided wings and Santas with cotton beards.
I'm glad it's only once a year, though.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
What is Beauty?
Some things that are said about beauty.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Smoke follows beauty.
Beauty is only skin deep.
Beauty makes the world go 'round.
Ok. Maybe that one is money, but the still the same principle.
I am reminded more often than I care to mention that I don't fit the "mold" of what beauty is. I've been told such things as long as I can remember. After so long, you start to believe what is being said to you no matter how hard you fight it. Sometimes it rolls off you. Sometimes you stare at yourself in the mirror and try to find the flaws others are seeing, even making up things as you do, not quite understanding. Other times what they say sticks with you and sinks its hooks in and won't let go.
Tonight is that night.
When this happens, I usually think back to all the memories I have, that any sane person would have repressed by now, and relive them. Why? Oh hell, I don't know. If I was a poet embarked on living those horrible moments for "art" sake, then maybe, I would understand. (Because we all know poets just write about the hard, depressing, "I'm emo and I'm going to cut myself" times.)
When times such as these occur I cry. I get angry. Sometimes I forgive.
I come up with all these wonderful ideas about how I am going to cleanse my soul so I can move on, only to forget them by the morning. Of course, by then, I just chalk it up as another pity party, tell myself I am better than that and get to the pile of laundry I have ignored the past few days. I am a grown woman that shouldn't be relenting to her childhood nightmares.
That usually helps until the next time. There will always be a next time.
Always.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Smoke follows beauty.
Beauty is only skin deep.
Beauty makes the world go 'round.
Ok. Maybe that one is money, but the still the same principle.
I am reminded more often than I care to mention that I don't fit the "mold" of what beauty is. I've been told such things as long as I can remember. After so long, you start to believe what is being said to you no matter how hard you fight it. Sometimes it rolls off you. Sometimes you stare at yourself in the mirror and try to find the flaws others are seeing, even making up things as you do, not quite understanding. Other times what they say sticks with you and sinks its hooks in and won't let go.
Tonight is that night.
When this happens, I usually think back to all the memories I have, that any sane person would have repressed by now, and relive them. Why? Oh hell, I don't know. If I was a poet embarked on living those horrible moments for "art" sake, then maybe, I would understand. (Because we all know poets just write about the hard, depressing, "I'm emo and I'm going to cut myself" times.)
When times such as these occur I cry. I get angry. Sometimes I forgive.
I come up with all these wonderful ideas about how I am going to cleanse my soul so I can move on, only to forget them by the morning. Of course, by then, I just chalk it up as another pity party, tell myself I am better than that and get to the pile of laundry I have ignored the past few days. I am a grown woman that shouldn't be relenting to her childhood nightmares.
That usually helps until the next time. There will always be a next time.
Always.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Peanut Butter on Toast
That was my breakfast this morning. To be more specific, it was whole wheat toast and natural peanut butter. Yeah, I know. What the hell!!! I'm trying my damndest to get back on the same track I was on a year ago. I felt good but thanks to the stupid respitory infection I got, I fell off the wagon and it left without me, leaving me looking at it drive off in the distance. Alas, I keep trying.
Boy, do I keep trying.
So, anyway.
Am I suppose to introduce myself on these things? I have a hard time thinking of things to say in that respect, so I will just let the blog over time, tell you who I am.
With that, I will go for now. This could be interesting..or boring. Depends on how you look at it I guess.
Boy, do I keep trying.
So, anyway.
Am I suppose to introduce myself on these things? I have a hard time thinking of things to say in that respect, so I will just let the blog over time, tell you who I am.
With that, I will go for now. This could be interesting..or boring. Depends on how you look at it I guess.
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