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My 16 yr old daughter is very disrespectful and argumenative refuses to do chores and believes that if we don\'t let her do what she wants we are abusing her. And she is also very verbally abusive. Not only to us her parents but her younger sister as well. She has reported her father as being abusive which he is not, but on one occasion when defending me he did tap her hands which pushed her hands into her mouth and caused a cut in her lip.
She has a bf who\'s ex con mother has pushed her into saying all manner of statements that are totally untrue to DCFS. We don\'t know what to do she threatens us almost daily that she will talk to the state if she feels unhappy.
Susannah
You must act immediately. Your possible choice of actions:
Marry her off to her bf, and let his ex.con mother worry about her.
File statuarty rape charges against her bf assuming he is over 18.
Give her to the DCFS.
Tell her she is adopted, and you are sending her back.
Patrice
i want to go out with this girl named blaklie, we went out before and she dumped me and she said that she just wanted to be friends but then she came over one night and we desided to go back out so then we asked our parents if we could but they said no and now i want to go out with her but knowing that our parents wont lets us go out i just dont know what to do can you please help me with my problem
kevin gibson
Patrice is dead! She died of old age in a nursing home. The obit said her body was discovered yesterday morning, and she had passed away sometime in the previous week or two. You know how nursing homes are!
She couldn't have possible helped poor Kevin anyway, as she was the prototypical nut job. A more messed up life is difficult to imagine!
Me thinks that Kev is suffering from the Tom Sawyer syndrome~ if you are forbidden to do something it becomes irresistible! If there is no one to tell you not to skip school and go fishing or swimming, it looses much of its attraction. In our modern world, the solution would be to kill both sets of parents, and sell the movie rights for millions. What do you think?
Love,
the Ghost of Patrice
"Jolly Joe"
Hoo~ray for Jolly Joe, he's welcome everywhere ................
It's time for the Old Joe Polka Show! Last night was from deep in the heart of white soul country~ Minnesota! Happy music for happy people! I managed to stay awake until the magic hour of 9:00 pm for this much-anticipated event, only to have to turn it off after about 15 minutes because I had become over-stimulated! How exciting to finally get in touch with my roots! How the heart pumps when a little German "Um~Pah" band is playing! How I long to don authentic Bavarian dress and polka my brains out!
Ramone has always adjured me to "get in touch with my roots", musically speaking. At last I have found the touchstone that reverberates in my DNA! And now that Ramone is retiring, we can take polka lessons and dance every night of the week! He will be so happy~! ;~)
Love.
Patrice!
"Raccoon"
The darling little raccoon that has taken up residence with us loves to roam around at night, turning over things in the basement, terrorizing the cats, and taunting the dogs. It seems to be addicted to cat food, having chewed into a sack, then plastic tub of it. Did you know they can open medal can lids? They can~ with ease.
Now the cat food resides in a secure location in the kitchen. End of problem, you'd think. Not! The raccoon just seems to love being here with all of us! We had another encounter just after dawn, as precious guest was sampling bird seed in the platform feeder. He decided to leave when he noticed all of us looking at him. Molly helpfully escorted him to the edge of the property with pomp and ceremony, and then quite a long way beyond, by the sound of her distant barking.
Love.
Patrice!
"Our first apartment"
It was so tiny that the whole thing could fit into my present bedroom. And the kitchen was little more than broom-closet size.
We would laugh and argue while we cooked, competing for the 2 working burners of the stove. I always pressed my body against you when we passed, even though the kitchen was not that small. We would taste each others dishes and lips, sometimes abandoning the our culinary art for love-making on the floor.
My huge, well-appointed kitchen should be a cooks delight.
Why does it seem so sterile and empty?
Love.
Patrice!
"Nashville"
Went to Nashville yesterday to take the 1958 Martin D28 for restoration. It will be expensive, but well worth it. Went to Centennial Park for a bit too.
I hadn't been in Nashville since Susan lived there (long time). It seems to have gotten sleazy in some areas~ shame. Back home in paradise today~ where are you?
Love.
Patrice!
"Untitled by choice"
I am not a cook.
I keep house after my own fashion.
I am not a housekeeper.
I grow herbs and fruits and vegetables and flowers.
I am not a gardener.
I drive cars and trucks.
I am not a driver.
I sew.
I am not a seamstress.
I am girl, woman, crone.
I am child, wife, mother,
All, not one.
I am
Not defined, categorize, filed away.
Pigeon-holed, limited,
Labeled.
The I that I am
Is the earth and all its elements,
The seas and the skies;
The universe and the cosmos
And beyond,
Unbound by time and space,
Existing through
Love
Now that it is written, it seems an arrogant atitude to have~ guess that is because I didn't say what I really meant in the
right way. I write, but sure as hell am no writer!
Patrice!
"Last Night"
I dreamt of you again last night. A dream filled with all the longing of a 15 year old girl waiting for her first date, first dance, first kiss. My yearnings were so fierce that I thought I had conjured a spectre of you, only later realizing the you were really there in person with me. We held hands as we wandered among the trees by a river. Your laugh rang out , startling the birds to flight. I laughed too. So loudly that I found myself sitting bolt upright in bed ..........alone.
Love,
Patrice!
"Valintine's Day"
I have something very special planned for Ramone for Valentine's Day. His favorite meal and a professional massage (with a happy ending). That way, he will hardly notice that I am gone. I will meet you at nine. I am counting the hours!
Love,
Patrice!
"The Moon"
Last night I dreamt of the moon as a living entity, neither male nor female, locked in its dance of fascination with the earth, watching us, perhaps with compassion. While it is only a satellite, it exerts such powerful influences over our little world. The moon effects women's cycles, urges babies to be born at certain times, creates the ocean tides, and even land tides, though they are small and subtle by comparison. It has inspired worship and fear, poetry and art, and the creation of science that would allow man to walk upon its surface. By the moon, we know when to plant, when to harvest. It has its own place in language~ honeymoon, silver moon, evil moon, hunter's moon, harvest moon, mooning over someone, lunatic for moon madness, and on and on.
In my dreamscape, the moon was enormous, 50 times the normal size. I stood on a low hill overlooking broad plains in all directions. As I stared up at the glowing orb, it began to communicate with me on some non-verbal level, growing ever larger, like a lover's face drawn to a kiss. "I was once a part of earth, and we will be reunited soon. You have nothing to fear, because this coming together will herald a new age of understanding for all." The moon was now so close that I could feel its gravitational pull. I lifted my arms and drifted gently into its face.
Patrice!
"Should"
There is really nothing you must be and there is really nothing you must do. There is really nothing you must have and there is really nothing you must know. There is really nothing you must become; however, it helps to understand that fire burns and when it rains, the earth gets wet.
Patrice!
"My Attitude"
Have been reviewing my emails to you. I really didn't think they were offensive, just teasing you. Did it really engender the trailer hitch comment? That hurt my feelings, but, I was trying to pretend that it didn't.
And what did I get on the phone tonight? That was an insulting ass-chewing if ever I heard one. I don't know how to be who you want, or think I am. Believe it or not, I would try for you. The more I learn about you, the less I know. Why I am I so fascinated with you? Besotted might be a better term. This is said not to flatter or insult you, it just is. I would like more than anything for you to have a good opinion of me, but somehow I doubt that's so.
I will try to follow you guidance tomorrow when I am not so sleepy. (Selfish hedonist) May I tell you one more thing? My mother was the kindest person I have ever known, no pretence, it was just who she was. I always wanted desperately to be like her, not just another spoiled brat. I do have to work harder at it than most, but I want to be just a tenth of the person she was. When you say I am being fake, it cuts to the quick~ because I guess you are right.
Ming The Merciless!
"Your Attitude"
God did not intend for you to be ten percent of someone! The Lord, your Lord, my Lord wanted you to be 100% of the person that he saw fit to be here! You! Doing the Lords work is doing what you want to do! Be A Selfish Hedonist Person! We need Patrice and we need her now! Where have you been?
Ming The Merciless!
"Driven"
It was summer again in my dream last night. Soft breezes like caresses on my bare skin. The top was already down on my '62 Jag XKE. At first, the leather seats felt cool to my bottom, but they quickly warmed as I rolled down the long drive. Then I was driving, driving very fast, alone in the warm night, my hair flying out behind, becoming one with the car almost as if it could anticipate my desires before I shifted gears, hurtling through the darkness, rushing toward something unknown.
The tires protested as I entered a sharp curve, no brakes, the force of my will holding the road, sliding into the "sweet' spot now, accelerator to the floor, I shoot from the curve, as out a catapult. Racing through the countryside, how familiar it all is, is this France? I only know I have been here before long ago, this winding road leading along the seashore.
I can see the white caps of the waves from the cliff road, smell the salt. Where am I going? What safe haven am I trying to reach? I only know it is farther along this road, many miles ahead and I must hurry. I am happy, so I begin singing, the wind snatching the notes from my mouth, whisking them up to the heavens. Only a little longer, and I will be at my journey's end, have heart's desire.
It is disappointing to awaken before arriving, discovering what lay at the end. This always happen in the driving dreams. Will I ever dream that I reach my goal? Or will achieving that goal in the daytime world simply erase the dream.
Patrice!
"Dreams"
We were in a restaurant, and all during the meal you were casually rubbing your thumb over my nipple, making it diamond hard. The waiter asked if we wanted dessert, and you said, "Damn right!" Then stood up and swept everything off the table, pushing aside or removing any clothing that got in your way.
Then, you tossed me on the table and began the most passionate, love-making I have ever known. It didn't seem important that others were in the restaurant. I kept thinking, "This is really happening! It's not a dream!"
Patrice!
"Dreams"
I have vivid dreams! The heart pounding, take your breath away, Technicolor kind. Last night still seems real.
I was walking down a long, elaborately decorated hall, wearing a filmy, blue dress. I was conscious of the way the dress moved against my body because it was all I had on.
A whole lot of things happened that are boring and romantic and then we were dancing and you reached around me, cupping my bottom with your hands, and pulling me hard against your body. Then I realized that fine wood runs in your family!
Later we made love on the beach, and I still had sand in my hair when I awoke.
Patrice!
"Couch Potato"
How do you get a football couch potato off the couch? Or recliner in my man's case? I know the season will be over soon, but I'm beginning to get frantic over not hearing his voice other than the occasional shouts of "Yea!" Or, "That ref is blind!" etc. We've been married too long so the black negligee didn't work.
Help!
Anne!
"Couch Potato"
Your husband loves competitive sports, so why not give him a little competition? You should hire a young, virile handyman and arrange to have chores for him at game time. Be sure to make sandwiches for the handyman, watch him work, hand him tool, and so on. I bet hubby can hear giggling and music over the game. And you can always get very quiet!
That should bring him running to see what you are up to.
Or you can resign yourself to learning to love the game!
Patrice!
"Ramone"
After Ramone had the audacity to banish me to the guest wing, in my own house! I gave him the boot! Took back all the clothes, hand-made Italian shoes, the Rolex, the Porsche, everything! I did give him enough money to get that primer-colored car of his from the storage yard. He promptly drove it back and parked in front of the gate. Can you see it? A junky in a 75 Chevy Impala! He was actually living in the thing! This went on for a couple of days, until he climbed the wall and set off the alarm system.
Ramone was crying and begging! Apologizing for everything he had ever done. And I detected the hand of the master behind it all. What did you do, Ming? Coach him on technique? Tell him what to say? Let's face it, Ramone is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. But when he had real tears in his eyes........... well, it was very touching, even though I can almost hear you saying, "Pull a hair out of your nose. Then you will cry." And yes, it worked. I let him back in. Way in!
Patrice!
"The Guest Suite"
Well, it seems that I have been banished to the guest suite. And that certainly doesn't constitute treating me well. Did you tell Ramone that you never allowed mammals in your bed? Perhaps he wants to copy the Mingster?!
Or, it could be that flat-assed crack ho at work. She is admittedly younger than I am, but she could star in The Young and The Breastless, and she has what Ramone always called white woman's ass syndrome ~ square and flat.
Maybe you should threaten him again!
Or, I can crawl out of this pitty pool, suck it up, and go on.!
Patrice!
"2007"
A new year is here, and with it comes great opportunities for the future. While many make New Year's resolutions to give up bad habits and form good ones, few take the time to consider their mindset. We all live with many assumptions made over the decades, never quite realizing that the only constant in life is change. As people and circumstances change, so must our assumptions about them. Out-dated assumptions can prevent us from seeing the wonderful opportunities that are all around us. Don't let obsolete assumptions make a sumptuous ass of you!
Patrice!
"Christmases Past"
The ghosts of Christmases past have been whispering to me of childhood holidays, opening the floodgate of memories. A patchwork of colors, sounds, and aromas that can still evoke such clear pictures. Going with Daddy and my Grandfather to cut a cedar tree, cheeks and nose burnished a seasonal red from the cold. It had to be a cedar with little blue berries if possible because I loved blue. They had to remind me that a tree must be small enough to actually fit inside the house too, or I would have opted for the 80 foot one in the middle of the clearing. Riding home with them in our 1954 navy blue Ford truck, the tree obscuring any possible view behind. Hearing Bing Crosby sing White Christmas on the radio, Daddy whistling along with Bing. The flurry of excitement or panic that accompanied getting the tree inside and set up without breaking things. Playing Christmas music on the record player while we decorated the tree, all in blue or silver because I loved blue. Followed by hot chocolate and coffee and Aunt Nell's fruit cake that had been "curing" in brandy wrapped cloths in a big tin since Thanksgiving.
The long school vacation that never seemed long enough. Sledding down Clark Hill (dubbed Suicide Hill by us kids) in scratchy wool caps and scarves and gloves. Going caroling with Methodist Youth Choir.
All the family gathered together by a table groaning under the weight of too much good food. the laughter, the sweet loving faces, those are the things I remember, not the presents that seemed so important then. Growing old has a way of giving a patina to all the wonderful days while veiling or erasing anything bad. Maybe aging isn't so bad...........................
Patrice!
"Macallan Fine Oak"
I recently recieved a bottle of Macallan Fine Oak purchased in London. There is no indication as to its age other than it is designated "Whiskey Makers Selection" How do I determine how old it is?
Thanks,
Joe Batten
Turn the bottle upside down! The bottling date will be molded into the bottom of the bottle!
Patrice!
"My wife has been cheating on me"
I've never written to you before, but I really need your advice on what could be a crucial decision. I've suspected for some time now that my wife has been cheating on me.
The usual signs... phone rings but if I answer, the caller hangs up. My wife has been going out with the girls a lot recently although when I ask their names she always says, "Just some friends from work, you don't know them." I always stay awake to look out for her taxi coming home, but she always walks down the drive. Although I can hear a car driving off, as if she has gotten out of the car round the corner.
Why? Maybe she wasn't in a taxi? I once picked her Cell Phone up just to see what time it was and she went berserk and screamed that I should never touch her phone again and why was I checking up on her.
Anyway, I have never approached the subject with my wife. I think deep down I just didn't want to know the truth, but last night she went out again and I decided to really check on her.
I decided I was going to park my Harley Davidson motorcycle next to the garage and then hide behind it so I could get a good view of the whole street when she came home. It was at that moment, crouching behind my Harley, that I noticed that the valve covers on my engine seemed to be leaking a little oil.
Is this something I can fix myself or should I take it back to the dealer?
Thanks,
Victor
The answer should be obvious. All Harleys leak like sieves. That's why they have to use 70 weight aircraft oil. It would probably be best to return the Harley and get a respectible Japanese bike that knows how to keep its oil on the inside. Maybe a Suzuki or a Honda!
Patrice!
"Deer Hunting"
November is such a festive time of the year in western Kentucky, especially for those of us who live in the country. It is the time for hunting deer, legally and otherwise. A time to field-dress the carcass or remove the trophy head, leaving the bloody, butchered mess to rot someone's yard simply because they live "out in the country". What rustic dweller hasn't known the joy of seeing their lab or beagle drag a deer leg or rope of intestines in through the dog door?!
That is, after all, what bucolic living is all about. And the consequences don't end there. One can expect nocturnal flatulance of tear-gas intensity, diarrhea, and blood-flecked vomiting from the canid members of the family, if not an emergency visit to the vet.
It also goes far in explaining the foul reputation that all deer hunters are beginning to enjoy here, even though not all are pouchers or venal cretins.
Maybe we rural folk wouldn't mind if we didn't post our property against trespassers and hunters. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if we didn't put out salt licks for the deer. It might be more acceptable if we didn't enjoy watching the deer drift into the yard to eat apples under a full moon. After all, it is apparently acceptable to throw cans, bottles, junk food trash, and old appliances on property just because it is in the country. ........? NO! It is a despicable practice of the morally destitute. Just plain old bad manners.
Patrice!
"Patrice"
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Thank you,
Patrice
"Interpreting a dream"
I need some help interpreting a dream I recently had. I was walking down a road when I saw a horse. The horse let me touch it and that made me feel good. I either told the horse to knell (or without words spoke to it) and I think I even bent down to show it what I wanted.
It got down on its knees and let me climb on. I wrapped its mane around my hand thinking to myself that I needed to take special care to get a good grip.
It started to walk and I urged it on to a faster pace. When the horse reached a slow run, I started feeling like I was slipping off the back. I thought that (without a saddle) my pants were too slick and my legs weren't strong enough to hold on. I thought to myself that I would like to go riding again, but I wanted different pants.
I slowed the horse down and eventually walked it into a pleasant field that I perceived to be fenced in. I slid off the horse and petted it the way I did when I first saw it.
I love horses but I've never dreamed about them. What do you think this dream could mean?
Be thankful that you weren't forced to diagram Jabberwocky naked in an auditorium full of Asian men. As long as your dreams are pleasant, what does it matter? Freud would probably have a field day with all the symbolism in your dream. There are many little books available that intrepret dreams too. To me a dream is a dream. Some are horrible, some are so wonderful that you never want to wake. Basically, dreams are little movies we play every night to keep from going crazy when we are awake. If you need it to "mean something", why not save money to buy a horse?
Or, your dream indicates a Predication toward horse f___ing. I bet you never missed an episode of Mr. Ed. "Oh, Wiiiiiiiiiiilber!" You obviously want to rip off those slick pants, (and just why were they slick? Hummmmm? ) And gallop bareback!
Get a man! Or a woman! And try to forget this sick obsession with horses. Or I will report you to the Humane Society!
Patrice!
"The handicapped stall"
The other day I was at the super-market when I became ill and needed to use the restroom. There were 3 stalls, very clean. The handicapped stall was cleanest. I'm not handicapped, so I took another stall. Even in my urgent condition I was able to maintain my deep respect for the handicapped.
I sat on the toilet. The evacuation was swift and violent and odiferous. I was appalled by my own odor. Through the stall I a man at the urinal, another at the sink washing his hands (or putting on a show of it). As my inner stench filtered through the stall, one of the men let out an exaggerated, "Whew!", as the other guy laughingly replied, "Tell me about it."
I was embarrased, but glad they didn't know who I was. Or so I thought. Later, back to shopping, I saw two men off to the side giggling and staring at my shoes. From my shoes they were able to ID me as the smelly guy in the stall.
Patrice, what can I do to stop this from happening again? Should I remove my shoes before entering the stall? Or is there a way to disguise my shoes? I rarely use public restrooms, so I'm not asking for myself alone. There must be others who have been equally embarrassed by the same situation. What would you recommend? Please don't make this a priority as I know there are others with more serious problems. Thank you.
Don't take your shoes off in a public restroom, no matter how clean it appears. And try not to be embarrassed about the incident~ it happens to everyone eventually. As to it not being a priority, perhaps it should be. If this is a frequent occurance, you should see your doctor. There are many medical conditions that could cause these kinds of problems, from simple to serious illness. If your health checks out, talk with your doctor about taking charcoal capsules or other supplements that might help.
Patrice!
"My first boyfriend"
I have my first boyfriend now but I like somebody else kind of. My boyfriend is kinda mean to kids without friends too. And the other boy, I like him and he likes me back but feels left out so hes going to ask another girl out tomorrow. What should I do?
You don't need a boyfriend who is abusive. It may only be verbal and directed at others now, but he could turn it on you someday (and probably would). He may become physically abusive in the future. I can tell you are a bright girl, and that this bothers you too. Stay as far away from him as you can~ he could be dangerous. a medical question
"A medical question"
I have a medical question for you. Just exactly, what is the "miniscus"(sp?), and what is its purpose?
Also the picture that was on the site, is that you? And how did you ever keep that dress on?
J. Gordon!
The meniscus are the cartilage covering the ends of the femur (thigh bone) and the tibia (shin bone) where they enter the knee.They evenly distribute body weight across the knee joint to prevent joint injury.
Sometimes an injury or degenerative aging causes the meniscus to tear. These tears can be repaired surgically, or a combination of therapy, exercise, steroids, and anti-inflammatory medications. The treatment is determined by the serevity of the tear.
I hope your question is academic, because meniscus tears are very painful. As to the photo of me, it was taken when I was much younger~ about 6 months ago. I have replaced it with a more recent one.
Ah, how well I remember that dress! I held it in place with confidence! And surgical adhesive! Lots and lots of surgical adhesive!
Thank you for your questions. I hope I have been able to help in some small way.
Patrice!
"Gum"
How do I get gum out of hair?
Kathy!
Grab the Peanut Butter, and thank George Washington Carver! Your old favorite is not just for baiting mouse traps, making children's sandwiches, and charming birds and squirrels to eat out of your hand. It also helps remove gum from hair! You could also try ice to help it flake out. If you have a really large, nasty mess you may have to break out the scissors. If it is extensive or very close to the scalp, I would recommend a good hairstylist to do the surgical procedure. Good luck, and ponder giving up gum.
"Patrice"
"Drained and Confused"
I have a conundrum with which I am hoping you can help. I met a really nice, clean-cut, All-American boy on MySpace (at least I think that he is a boy--you never can tell with people you meet online). Let's call this one the "Good Boy". He lives in Memphis and I live somewhere in the center of the great Commonwealth of Kentucky. First we exhanged emails, then began a telephone correspondence. We have never met in person.
Another boy, let's call this one the "Yucky Boy", whom I have unfortunately met in person, and with whom, incidently, I had a ten month long "special relationship", is going to Memphis this weekend to celebrate his birthday with friends. He invited me to go along, and I declined, not wishing to waste my precious weekend slumming with drunken reprobates, such as they are.
Then, I thought that a weekend trip to Memphis with other "friends" might be the perfect opportunity to meet the Good Boy: No pressure, limited in time, I wouldn't be stuck with him for an extended period of time if he came to visit me and it didn't work out. The problem is that I would have to spend the entire rest of the weekend with the Yucky Boy and his friends, my ostensible reason for going to Memphis in the first place, which is an unsavory thought at best.
What do you think I should do?
By your own admission, the relationship with Yucky Boy is over. Let remain so. It would be wrong and dangerous to use him to meet (potentially) Good Boy. If you wish to pursue a relationship with Good, do it on your own time, not Yucky's.
This is less of a connundrum and more of a perspicuous concept.
Patrice!
"Social Parasites"
I recently quit my job because 1. I have everything paid for and then some in savings and investments. 2. I see no future for the U.S.A... so what's the point of chasing theoretical white picket fences that will eventually be burned to the ground by predatory social parasites? 3. I hate.
How can I still have a positive, fun-loving attitude in a world that wants to destroy me (christian, white, hetero, male who has everything going for him except the rest of the world's approval) out of resentment and a deep based hatred for anyone of my ilk?
Zeb Killjoy!
I understand your frustration with the world today, but don't give up. If everyone like you were to find a little corner of the earth to improve, perhaps it would make a huge difference. You might try volenteering, if not people perhaps animals~ they always need a hero. Be a shinning example to your fellowmen. You might be surprized at how many others you can affect. Try to live authentically for yourself and you may just change the world.
Patrice!
"Absinthe"
I grew up in a rambling old house with my parents and paternal grandparents. As an only child, I enjoyed the adult-child ratio and was pretty much spoiled rotten. What a life! Unfortunately, a happy childhood can be a hard act to follow.
My grandmother grew wonderful flowers and herbs in her garden which she used for seasoning food, herbal teas, and medicinal remedies. She grew one plant that was never used and she thought was not particularly decorative. It was artemesia (wormwood) the main ingredient of absinthe. I have since learned that it was used to cast spells. Not that I ever saw anything of that kind.
I remember asking her why she grew a plant that she didn't think was pretty and didn't used. She was very evasive, saying it was in case she ever needed it. For what, sez I. Well, she replied it can be used to keep fleas away from a dog kennel. We don't have a dog kennel, sez I. Well, it has many other uses, including being used to slow the heartbeat. Why do you want to slow someone's heart beat (me)? Finally she would loose patience with me. "Go see what you grandfather is doing! I am trying to cook dinner! "
I know for a fact that she never made absinthe, the favorite drink of Toulouse-Lautrec and the bohemian crowd. Do you suppose she was casting spell by the light of the moon?
Patrice!
"Tatoo View"
While shopping yesterday, I noticed a man earnestly gazing at my cleavage. I asked if he wanted to see where I was tattooed. He replied with great enthusiam, "Yes!"
"Good," I replied, "we can drive over there now."
Patrice!
"Squirrels"
Patrice!
"Summer Rain"
Abruptly the wind arrives sending the hummers scattering for cover. Not a gentle breeze, but a blast from an open freezer, deliciously cool, but eye-stinging with gathered dust. The corn and sunflowers flatten themselves before its fury. The trees bow in supplication, trying to touch the earth. Then the rain. Surprisingly soft, like a benediction. I am intoxicated by the smell of scorched rocks and earth quenched and cooling. Rain streams down my face like tears of joy as I run for the house.
Patrice!
"Mother"
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seamless ebb and flow
joys, ideas, laughter
where does one begin
other end
no demarcation
no boundary
now
me solitary, self alone
grace and beauty vanished
with her
the sorrows were all mine
Patrice!
"Autumn"
The time of bittersweet remembering.
Come to the cabin built of hand-hewn poplar,
Where the rafters still smell
Of the fires of autumns past.
Come to me when the woods are blazing
Gold and scarlet,
Fragrant as a crisp apple.
Come to me when the wind whispers
Secrets and promises and dreams.
Come to me in autumn.
Come.......................
Patrice!
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