Roses

Click click.....tap tap tap.

She stares at the ceiling, wondering how high up it is.

The clicking is interspersed with the sounds of laughter. Both of these things are entirely separate from her. So physically close but mentally miles apart. Emotionally in another galaxy.

She tips her head back and breathes in deep, smelling her rose scented soap, savoring it.

Why doesn't he savor it?

oh yes, the click click click, tap tap tap, and the laughter, it pulls him away.

She takes a deep drink of her wine, holds it in her mouth for too long, puffing out her cheeks and swishing it like mouthwash.

She leans her head back and stares at the ceiling, sighs.

Click click click, tap tap tap.

The Blue Roses

What is happiness?                                                                                                                              

I'll tell you right now, I don't know what it is but I know what it isn't.

It isn't permanent.

It isn't the deep, musky, blue smell of him.

Well, you think that's what it is, anyways.

Until it isn't.

It isn't his hand softly, slowly reaching out to run his fingers down the very far side of your face. So softly you barely feel it. So softly you think you are imagining it until his hand quickly and heavily cups your soft, round, rose scented cheek.

I thought that could be it,

But it wasn't.

It isn't his words quietly whispering in your ear, telling you that you would be an amazing mother.

It couldn't be that, could it?

It isn't that deep, dark, glowing time of night when nothing can be wrong. The time of night when nothing exists except the goodness of you and him. Nothing is there except for that glowing perfection of what you feel.

That is not happiness.

Even though you think it is for the moment, allowing yourself to bask in the deep, blue, rose scented glow.

It is not happiness because you know it will end.

Maybe happiness is the moments you trick yourself into thinking it could be like this forever. Those perfect moments where you pretend it's right.

So perhaps happiness is pretending.
                             

Giggle Tears

And she packed up her entire life into her car and drove away.

Everything she had ever been was over. 

Life was new and fragile and ultimately terrifying. 

She looked in the rear view mirror a lot, even when she was far out of sight. Just one last look... One more...

Alone for the first time ever, she sighed and even giggled a little, tears randomly falling. 

Heartbroken, terrified and exalted, she drove to her new life, giggling and crying the whole way. 

Lines

The man and woman sit behind me talking overly loud, making me frown and causing the lines in between my eyes  to deepen. I'm always trying to avoid those lines, my mother warned me I didn't want to have those deep furrows that would age my face. 

"I love shrimp but I'm allergic. I can eat it any way."

"I used to be a heavy drinker but I stopped because it was beginning to overcome me."

"Do you know how to make flour tortillas?"

Inane, pointless conversation punctuated by strange, deep truths. Strangers meeting for the first time, stuck together by chance and random airline seat shuffling. 

I'm trying to sleep, leaned over painfully in my aisle seat, and now their awkward silence is making me uncomfortable. I can't decide if it's worse than the overly loud conversation.  

The frown lines between my eyes get deeper. The silence is worse.  

"I want a puppy, but they're a lot of work to take care of."

"My sister lost her baby not too long ago." 

"There's at least one Mexican food restaurant on every corner."

Details no one cares about, words that are forced out for fear of that sweaty, stomach churning silence. 

Now the man gives up and moves seats, leaving behind an utterly inadequate excuse for moving. His excuse sits heavy in the air like sour breath. 

Silence. Sweet, comfortable silence. I lean back over painfully and close my eyes with a sigh. 

The lines in between my eyes soften, then disappear entirely. 

It's Tiny, I'm Planning on Eating it, and I Got it Out of Someone's Driveway.

I bought a pineapple plant. I'm pretty much obsessed with growing a pineapple that I can eat. Too bad 

the little pineapple is about two inches tall right now, and not even big enough for Spongebob to live in. No, I did not buy this plant (or is it a tiny tree?) at Lowe's or a local nursery. I got it out of someone's driveway. Hold on, hold on. Stop thinking that I stole it. Let me tell you how I came upon this treasure.

Previous to the pineapple plant, my newest obsession was garage sales. I don't think my husband enjoys it as much as I do, but I enjoy dragging him along with me.

Now, it was a bright, beautiful, sunny, (and early) Saturday morning. I had located every garage sale within my entire subdivision, which is quite impressive because I think my subdivision is as big as Portales, NM. I had everything mapped out, and I had my fresh coffee sitting in the cup holder. At the first house I found some beautiful, rose colored glass bowls. When I showed them to my husband he just smiled but I'm pretty sure he was thinking "Why is this woman obsessed with dishes?".  It seems there are quite a few things I'm obsessed with.

After such a great find at the first house I was feeling pretty pumped. I could feel it in my bones that I was gonna get some good loot. My definition of good loot might be the same as my husband's definition of crap-we-definitely-don't-need (is that correct to put those dashes there? I don't care, I like them.). As I strolled up to the next house my spirits were high! I just knew I was going to find something amazing.

Seven garage sales, one imitation Dooney and Bourke bag, and one tiny glass cup later, I was beginning to lose hope. My husband was ready to call it quits and I was about to turn back home when.... there, on the horizon I saw one last yellow and red garage sale sign. I had to go, I needed to see what was there.

I pulled up, and immediately I could see it was a bunch of old shoes and baby clothes. While I love garage sales, I do not love other peoples smelly old shoes. I still got out of the car since I was there.  I slowly walked up, knowing this was going to be disappointing. I dragged my feet up and down the the driveway just to get a quick look and not be rude. I was turning to leave when I saw some potted plants sitting off to the side. You guessed it, I am also obsessed with potted, indoor plants. I took my happy self over there and looked.

















What I saw was nothing short of amazing.
It was this little guy----------------------------------->
A tiny pineapple!! A perfect little tiny pineapple plant.

I asked the garage sale lady how much, (even though I was willing to pay any amount of money to have this tiny pineapple plant in my possession) and lo and behold... it only cost $5! Isn't that amazing?!

I quickly handed her the cash and ran to my car with my prize. I wanted to buckle it in but my husband just put it in the back. He didn't seem to think it needed to be safe in case of a collision.

So now, here it sits on my plant shelf that I built to contain the potted plants I am obsessed with.  Apparently, if I cut off the little pineapple guy and plant him, he will grow another pineapple plant. However, I plan on seeing how big he will grow.

I'm pretty excited. 

I'm almost positive my pineapple will grow to be at least this big. At least.

My Doorbell- My Therapist's Pay Day.

The other day I was trying to take a 30 minute power nap after work, before I headed to class. When there's such a small window for a nap, every minute counts. So I was kind of pissed when my doorbell woke me up only 10 minutes into my nap. I decided not to answer it, but in the ensuing 5 minutes I imagined there was a psychotic robber at my front door who was going through the neighborhood pretending to be a carpet cleaner salesman, but really he was just robbing the houses where no one answered the door and murdering anyone he found inside.

Suffice to say I have a very active imagination and have read many Stephen King novels.


I dragged myself out of bed and went to the door. When I looked out the peephole no masked robber was waiting on the other side (it seems like my front door causes a lot of anxiety, right? Refer to my previous blog- "Trolls, Only Cute When They Have Little Jewels in Their Tummies").  I was not happy because my nap was now ruined, and with my 15 hour days, I need that freaking 30 minute power nap. The whole way to class I was thinking about what kind of sign to put on my door to keep people from EVER ringing the door bell.

Two days later I was home from an exhausting day at work. When I say exhausting day at work I really mean an exhausting day spent riding every roller coaster at six flags. I was just about to hop in the shower (cause riding roller coasters and eating onion rings makes a girl sweaty) when I heard the infernal door bell. I swear that little jerk is causing me to have some sort of anxiety disorder. This time I didn't hesitate, I quickly ran to the door. I peeped out the peephole and saw.........


Jehova's Witnesses. Or what appeared to be Jehova's Witnesses. Two young men in black slacks, white dress shirts, and black ties. I obviously realized the real reason they were at my door. To trick me into opening the front door so they could rush inside and rob me and possibly kill me.

Once again, suffice to say I grew up in a small town and I don't feel safe living in a big city.

The end of this story is very anti-climactic. I did not answer the door, and the "Jehova's Witnesses" just went away instead of breaking down the door like I assumed they would.

A while later I was telling my sister the story of these "Jehova's Witnesses" and she told me what I really needed to do was run outside naked with a shotgun every time a solicitor rang my doorbell. See her blog here to understand why she would suggest this solution- http://whatelainasays.blogspot.com/2013/02/dear-god-that-nudity-was-totally.html.  I thought about it and realized this might actually make matters worse if I took her advice so I'm looking for creative signs to post on my door to keep people away.

So who has an awesome, not stupid idea? Cause I don't want any stupid ideas people. No stupid ideas allowed. Only good ones. Seriously.

Post your ideas to my blog or my facebook. Thanks, have a good day, and don't run outside naked with a shotgun.

This is my actual doorbell. Every time someone rings it my therapist gets richer.

Trolls, only cute when they have little jewels in their tummies.

Most days I feel like I'm living the American dream. The one where I live in a cute little red brick house, with neighbors that talk to me over my fence, and birds that sit in the trees and chirp.  It's quiet, except for the birds and the occasional sounds of kids playing, and a few barking dogs here and there. The lawns are green and lush, and most of the women are stay at home moms that drive mini vans and smile at me every time I see them. So it paints a pretty picture, right?

Here's the ugly side of that pretty picture. Home Owner's Association (dun dun dun). These people INFURIATE me.

I was home in the middle of the day, which is an incredibly rare and weird occurrence (kind of like when you find a ball of hair in your cup o'noodles.)

So, I'm sitting down on my couch when......



the doorbell rang.



I sighed because I figured it was a solicitor. I got up, walked to the door and smashed my face against the little view hole thingy so I could see who was there.

Then,  I saw it.

Standing right. there. on my doorstep was a troll. A TROLL.  It's feet had loooong, yellow, sharp toenails. It's legs were covered in black, thick, coarse hair. The clothes it had on were filthy, dirty, rags. The long, muscled arms hung down to it's knees. It's mouth was set in a permanent snarl, and I could see the sharp, yellow teeth within. The eyes bulged out of it's head almost comically, except for the fact that they were terrifying. The large, bulbous nose sniffed the air as if trying to discern whether or not I was standing on the other side of the door.  It's hair was thin, black, and stringy, hanging to it's shoulders in limp, oily strands. 

It raised it's clawed hand and rang the doorbell again. 

I gasped and stepped away from the door.

I heard shuffling and then something slid under my door. I picked it up tentatively, and opened it..

I scanned it quickly and realized it was a notice from the Home Owner's Association telling me to edge my yard and roll up my hose, immediately. Well, that's weird. Why would a troll deliver this? Don't they have better things to do, like eat people who walk over bridges and terrorize medieval towns?

I walked slowly back to the peephole. There was a figure walking away from my door. It didn't look like troll though....weird.

I smacked my forehead with realization. Duh! 

That "troll" was just someone from the Homeowner's Association, delivering this EXTREMELY important message.

I guess trolls don't terrorize bridges anymore, they just threaten hard working people (who barely have time to eat and take showers) with legal ramifications should their yard not be edged within 10 days.

*Sigh*

Man, have we lost sight of what's truly important and worth our time and effort.

What's important to you? Have you become a troll?


It might be ok if I was one of these trolls, cause they can grant wishes and stuff.