Tag Archives: joy

Celebrate

The griefs are many

but find value in truth that:

Each breath

Each heartbeat 

Each moment celebrating

Each of those

Is a courtship of death.

By embracing 

THIS breath

THIS heartbeat 

THIS moment of joy

Is a nod of recognition 

To infinite mystery

Blazing celebration

Our age is known

By the buried bones

Of our bloodline

Reflected in chosen heritage

And the legacy of their love.

I’m an animal!

I started out as a Mare

A pirate loudly aging

But I soon became an otter

Clinging to my people

Handle to handle

I turned into a fish

Overturned yellow tube

This was unintentional 

I scaled rocks 

Ducking under a sunken branch

Finally back on my trusty steed

I was a floater

Landing in dead pools 

With big rocks and shallow water

Butt’s up was flowing over

Rapids that jostled rapidly 

Happily lapping at the shore

Without good position,

I transmogrified into a T-Rex

Short little arms no water could reach

Neither could any feet 

I magically became a turtle

Floundering on my back

Finally in the flow again,

Mostly sunny haint blue skies with

Partly cloudy wispy white

Lava-floe sun shrieking hotly

A hawk and a turkey buzzard

Circle the sky at different altitudes 

I think out loud, “Ah, what a metaphor for my life.”

Chaos ensued, shenanigans had,

I laughed at myself in genuine mirth

I essentially stuttered downstream 

One challenge to the next victory 

How deeply grateful am I to learn

How I move in the depths 

And handle the shallows 

Ending up beached; engineering solutions 

As I concluded the journey 

I reverted and emerged, once again, Mare, but better for the experience.

HNBR: Day 6

As we prepare to conclude our vacation, there is much that I need to chaw on for a while. Here are some highlights:

My Aunt Lizzy is one of the most beautiful women I know. Fresh from caring for her yard, she lives up to her shirt.

I couldn’t love this picture or I might explode.

This was our last hug before we left. What a treat to be with those hearts!

This naughty lady, bedecked in a pride collar and a satisfied expression had to be wrangled back into her home after taking advantage of friendly greetings and an open door. Ruby is a good girl.

My dad is on his front porch doing dad things.

My mom doing her thing.

Pegs and Jokers was introduced by my Aunt Helen and Uncle Lou a couple years back to my Rents. My mom and dad raved about it sharing how much fun they had. I got it for them for Christmas the same year. Tonight was the inaugural playing. My dad won.

Very intense concentration
Switched to Yahtzee! Old school box with the rules still in it. My dad got a Yahtzee, but Jen wiped the floor with all of us ending up with THREE Yahtzees!
She is the champion!
Dad came in at #2
Mom was a close #3

And then…

Last cow home.

8am comes a return to our regularly scheduled programming. This has been incredible. Lots of information to digest and process before I can sort through this beautiful, wonderful, farted up life. Bless this holy water..

HNBR: Part 2 of Day 4

Our horse team were Benny and Charlotte. Jamie was our driver. She is a full time resident as of 2020.
This is the stable where the horses are cared for. During the warm months there are roughly 225 horses on the island. In the winter months, about 25 stay year round. The majority go back to the mainland and further north than the island. One horse we met named Barry is going to Europe at the end of the season.
This is a church made of stone. So sayeth the sign. Fun fact incoming:
The windows in this church are imported Tiffany glass worth a buttload of $$$. They are now covered in plexiglass because some idiot built a golf course abutting the church property.
Lilacs were everywhere and the scent was ethereal. When you passed each bush it was a step into an immersive nature experience.
Just outside the butterfly conservatory.
The cairn behind us was in a flower garden.
I was commanded by Libbie Landers to stop and smell the flowers. Photo proof I did just that.
Jen did the same thing.
Chicken 🐓
Chicken! 🐓
CHICKEN! 🐓
Wings of Mackinac
Lilacs and tulips 🌷

Next up is our venture into a fluttering haven of lovely.

HNBR: Part I of Day 4

Our ferry company of choice.
At the dock waiting to board the ferry.
Our ferry is about to arrive at our dock.
This is the very faint outline of the 9:30am ferry heading to the island.
It was cold enough for me to buy gloves first thing. This was our front view.
As we neared the island, The Grand Hotel came into view. The boat ride was choppy so not the easiest to capture it.
This is a snapshot of popular attractions.

This is the first stop we made with a bathroom conveniently nearby. Next post will show you more of the day. Jen said today wasn’t boring.

HNBR: Day 2-3

The start of our journey was optimistic and great vibes. The day was brilliant with sunshine. Pine trees for miles. Excellent journey.
I’m on the left, Suey is beaming in the center, Bebop is in the buffalo plaid, and Madam President Jen is glistening. Met for drinks and dessert with the second batch of my fellow Poll Dancers. Earlier we broke bread with Lynda and spent time shopping for our church meeting.
Just south of Cadillac, MI, Bestie doing her best Vanna White.
The black spot on my teeth is a blueberry from the pancakes my loving dad made for us this morning. The grin we share is because we’re almost to the Mighty Mac.
We are driving on the bridge between the Upper and Lower Peninsula of Michigan. The bridge sings a song of descending tones the slower you go. We should nickname this trip “Left Lane Closed.”
We made it! Woot! Yeehaw! $4 to drive that bridge. It’s a tourist trap. 
This is a pasty. It’s a meat pie with potatoes, rutabaga, carrots, and traditional spices. This was a 7 on my scale. This one was dry even with gravy. Jen was not a fan, so…
She got us matching bracelets! Then we had to find her a place to eat.
A woman recommended this place. Jen ordered a cheeseburger 🍔 and Jalapeño poppers. She rated the burger an 8/10. The meat had a really good good flavor which got overpowered by the condiments. The poppers were large and juicy but overpriced. 8/10. Overall a solid 8 on the scale of Jen.
Note they serve POP here, not coke or soda, just POP.

As we were leaving the drive in we needed to moose 🫎

Me moosing
Jen moosing
Together we amoosed ourselves.

As if that were enough! We also trained ourselves. Engine to caboose:

Long before Jen knew me I once spent a week at a school camp where breaking table rules made you have to kiss the moose. 🫎 I was not puckering up.
Bunny ears on the moose because I’m 12.
The whole train
Petting a weird dog
Weirdly petting a dog

The day was dang near perfect for me. 9/10. Jen had a 7/10 day because we rode in the car, got food, and went swimming. I’m either easily pleased or I need to up my expectations! Jen said she was bored today.

Bob’s backyard

Just after shooting this video, a goldfinch joined the party. A red-bellied woodpecker also came to enjoy the offering of black oil seed.

Bob returned home after 6 months of being gone. He’s in such a good mood I had to scrape him off the ceiling with a spatula. My Beastie and I moved everything out of his apartment and back to his house.

Mocha enjoyed a pup cup today with deep passion.

It was all over her face.

In other news, last year I asked to do an art installation in the local park frequented by people who walk, run, stroll, etc. on the paths. The city said no, they don’t allow any kind of signs along that pathway in the park.

I sent them samples of the signs I wanted to place. Like “If you’re here, you’re awesome!” “You’re amazing!” “Keep going, you’ve got this!” “You are loved.” But they still said no. That irritated me enough that I made and gave out over 300 1” buttons that said, “Be L❤️ve”.

Although that sated my thirst for a bit, I wondered if I was thinking too small. Turns out, I was!

As part of the Stewardship drive at my church, anyone who pledged for the year got:

I didn’t have permission to post this person’s picture so I disguised 🥸 them. But the SIGNS!

I designed them with a bit of editing and encouragement from my Bestie (Jen Stark suggested Live Joy) and input from Lóre Stevens (Create). Now, those signs will be all over my city all because I was told No. HA! Each one a stake of rebellion and I’m bursting with joy!

You can order here

Suicidal Hotdog

We went to The Greens for my dear friend Steven’s birthday party.

The we is my friend/client Bob. He was a bit reluctant to go, but he quickly learned that people he’s known forever were in attendance. He and I had pizza, soda, birthday cake, and quite a few laughs.

Steven was absolutely charming as always. I was so glad I got to spend time with him outside of church. I wore the snazzy jacket he made which made people gush, then gasp in disbelief when I told them who made it. I think both of our egos were well stroked.

The reason I mentioned the suicidal hotdog is because of this:

Who thought it was a good idea to make a hotdog beg for you to eat it? Notice his eyebrows. I know it’s a he and probably designed by a man, because:
The weiner is bigger than the bun! Let’s not even talk about the fashionable socks and shoes, okay?
Bob wore the perfect shirt to make this photo happen by pure kismet. It made me giggle something awful. Note the ejaculating mustard bottle in the hotdog’s other hand.
…which entirely makes THIS picture even funnier. What can I say? I have the humor of a 12 year-old boy.
The front of Bob’s shirt also says “Bite Me” which is from a bait shop he went to years ago.

My people were all there. It was delightful fun. The music was quite a mix from several decades. Trivia was to be played later in the evening but Bob and I went back to his house so he could shower and do his evening routine.

I’ve been staying with him since last Thursday morning when Covid hit where he was staying. This has pros and cons, my being here. I miss my solitude, but I love the adventures we’re having. He’s funny, smart (although he commonly talks badly about himself which irritates me), and, like me, has the humor of a 12-year-old. I’m okay with that.

You are so very loved. I am so very loved. Fuck the world’s bullshit. Love is ALWAYS the answer.

Hands of a Creator

“I don’t have the personality to be God.” I stated to nobody in particular. “I just can’t bring myself to allow others to worship their perception of me.”

I have found myself on the top of a pedestal. I’m not really certain when that happened, but when I’ve heard others talk about me, whether to my face or behind my back, I found myself precariously perched on top.

I consider myself a good human, not a good person. A good person isn’t allowed to make mistakes, trash relationships that no longer work, or draw boundaries around what is good for them. A human, on the other hand, is perfektly within their rights to do any, all, or none of those.

I’m embarrassed when people call me an angel. I know how often I roll my eyes or mutter under my breath while I’m doing something for another human who probably can’t do what I can as well. I feel negativity, but I allow it to pass unless it’s harming me or someone I love. I’m emotionally fly by the seat of my pants. I give because I enjoy the feeling I get when I do. But, in spite of that, it’s harder for me to feel joy when doing something for myself (at this time.)

I can’t tell you the last time I laid one of my beloved paintbrushes to a canvas to create. Yes, I’ve been writing which is cathartic in getting my thoughts out, but painting is coloring in the emotions that are overwhelming. It focuses them in a different way than words can. It allows me to express emotions without self-criticism or judgement which I tend to do in words.

When I write, everything has to be in order. Everything has to make sense to myself and for others. Every idea that pops into my head is best written down so I remember what is important to me, what my goals are, and how I’m going to do what makes me happy.

Art, in any of it’s forms, is a way for me to run around emotionally naked. It encourages me to let go of the control I think I need in the written word. With colors, forms, shapes, patterns, etc., I can bring the darkest, the most joyous, the mundane to a life that is visible. It allows me to fight my demons in public without holding onto them any longer. I miss that.

Yet, here I sit typing away as if this is the only way I can be “seen”, when at the beginning of this writing, I talked about the pedestal I’m perched upon. I want to jump off of that pedestal and spread my emotional wings again. The euphoria I feel when I do that is worth it. I’m making time as we speak to allow space for something so crucial to my well being.

I don’t have the personality to be God, but I have the hands of a creator that are longing to spring anew.