All posts by Debra

I write. I've been writing since fourth grade when I accidentally discovered that I had a knack for poetry. At least that's what my teacher told me. Since then I've written to vent, to cope, to complain, to rage, to dream, and to share, though the share thing is still a little new and difficult. I have so much that I need to write, but I fear that if I don't get it done, I'll die with the stories still inside of me. Even if no one else is paying attention, I would like to leave memories for those who love me. So please stay a while and let me know what you think.
Poetry

Fireworks on the 4th of July

fireworksOh, the Fourth of July in the sultry Florida heat!

Passion, anticipation; a day to remember.

A chance to live, a means to escape the confines of polite society.

We laugh and splash in our secret spot.

 

Nothing cools the fire as temperatures rise,

melting away all reason, all inhibition.

The slick water turns skin to silk; we savor each caress.

The fire burns strong in his eyes and reflects back in mine.

 

Alone in Eden, a stolen moment to treasure!

Here we put aside the masks, the pretending,

the game we play with the world.

Nothing held back, no reason to hide our obsession.

 

He spreads the blanket on the ground

surrounded by a canopy of trees.

With Southern Comfort on ice

we explore, discover, entice; the shadows stretch and darken.

 

Oh, the fireworks on the Fourth of July!

Soaring, bursting, exploding! We’re overwhelmed! Amazed!

The bright flashes, the million patterned stars.

We fly as high and drift back to earth, entwined in a languid embrace.

 

No words are shared as we lie there

watching the sky burst with stunning lights where we just soared together.

Poetry

The Bottle

I turned to the cabinet that hot summer night

with every intention of drowning my sorrows
in the bottom of a tall, long-necked bottle.

I grabbed a goblet, filled it to the brim
and raised it to my mouth to savor that first sweet sip.

Heat lightning silently lit up the dark sky.
Cicadas loudly hummed their encouragement,
their sound easily penetrating the closed windows.

I closed my eyes and waited for relief, release,
or perhaps even forgiveness from a higher source.

But like a bottle-rocket on a soggy Fourth-of-July,
my infallible plan simply fizzled
as I savored the last taste at the bottom of my glass.

Refusing defeat,
I put the bottle to my lips
And raised it high for an enormous gulp of numbness.

Liquid heat burned a path down my throat
And spread throughout my body.
My gut wrenched in pain
My lungs sucked in warm humid air
and released it in a whoosh
only to inhale another moist breath.

Then another.

Tears rolled down my cheeks
as the lightning outside gave way to fat drops of rain.

The Sorrows, smug and giggling,
climbed out of the bottle
and with a gleeful shake,
leaped atop my shoulders once more.

I quivered in defeat.
as the sorrows roared in victory.

Oh it brought them such joy and such delight
For my Sorrows had won.

They had beaten the bottle that night.

Articles

How Does Your Garden Grow?

IMG_7333In spite of space limitations, growing a garden has become a fun part of my spring and summer. I live in a north Florida subdivision where houses are built on lots, not acres, and outdoor space is used for landscaping with little room for vegetable gardens. After a little research about container gardening, I’ve grown different types of tomatoes and peppers in pots and grow bags and it’s been quite successful.

I bought Big Boy and Early Girl tomato plants. For the pepper plants, I chose different color bell peppers and sweet banana peppers.

I wanted to make salsa this year too, so I started a little herb garden container for Cilantro.

As soon I had enough tomatoes and peppers, I tried making salsa. I found a simple recipe and made a batch, but it tasted too much like raw tomatoes. My husband agreed. Maybe “fresh” salsa just wasn’t for us.

I looked for other recipes and decided there were certain tastes that I wanted. I like a sweet taste with peaches or mango and even pineapple. I also like it a little spicy. Garlic sounded good and I prefer using lime juice instead of vinegar.

It had to have Cilantro in it and I planned to throw in both kinds of tomatoes and the Bell and Banana peppers I had harvested. Oh, and sweet onion, of course! And if I had any plans for the kids to eat it, it better not have chunks!

The good news is I ended up with a recipe that my husband and children declared to be the “BEST Salsa Recipe Ever.”

Give it a try!

6 cups peeled fresh tomatoes
2 cloves garlic
4 medium sized bell peppers
4 banana peppers
2 med onions
juice from two limes
Salt to taste
½ to 1 cup of fresh cilantro
1 or 2 hot peppers to taste
1 can Hunts tomato paste
1 15 oz can of peaches in natural juice
1 small can of pineapple pieces

Combine first 9 ingredients in a food processor and pulse until mostly smooth. Pour into pan and cook over medium heat for 20 minutes. Lower heat then add tomato paste. In food processor, combine peaches, pineapple pieces and a ¼ cup of the peach juice. Pulse until smooth. Add to pan, stir well, and continue cooking 10 more minutes. Taste test. Add more salt if needed. If a sweeter taste is desired, add more pineapple juice. Allow to cool before storing.

Enjoy!

Short Stories

Crystal Clear

December 27 – (7 AM) – The low hum of machinery outside the apartment building wakes me up from a restless sleep. The red glare of the sun is slyly peeking through the blinds. The sun is always red now, ever since it happened. Jake is still asleep and groaning as he dreams. He’s holding his stomach from the pain. I kiss him lightly so I won’t disturb him and then walk over to the window.

The drilling machines are here. I heard about them on the news, these special deep-sea drilling machines that are going to save us. They are going to use them to search for fresh water underneath the ocean floor. I don’t think they’ll find any.

(9 AM)– I am watching the news. Again. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. With everything that’s happened, you just can’t be too informed nowadays. There’s more talk about the water. It’s all they talk about. The water has changed somehow, not just here, but apparently all over the world. At first people said it was due to nuclear radiation, or an asteroid that passed too close or maybe it’s part of what the Mayans prophesied all those centuries ago.

A scientist is now on the news talking about how global warming could have triggered this somehow. “It’s a natural phenomenon,” he says. Global warming? Isn’t that just a myth? At least that’s what the gas companies say.

They were interviewing a preacher earlier. He ranted about this being only one sign of what he called the “end of days.” He held his head high with stupid arrogance and proclaimed, “It’s “God’s Wrath” due to all the homosexuals and the unholy ways. God don’t like sin!” I don’t really know what to think, but I doubt God would make people that way and then kill us all because of it. After all, don’t they say, “God doesn’t make mistakes!” I know it’s mean to call someone stupid, but that preacher’s arrogance isn’t going to help him in all this mess and just makes him look like a horse’s ass. Does God allow arrogant horse’s asses into heaven? Lord, I hope not!

I think no one really has a clue about what caused it. I do know, however, that someone had better find some drinkable water soon or we won’t be around long enough to argue about who is going to Hell and who isn’t.

(11 AM)– Jake is still sleeping. He clutches his stomach and moans. He drank the water. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know. I was watching the news when the emergency announcement turned the screen red with the flashing words, “WARNING! WARNING!” and the reporter stated that all city and well water in our area was somehow contaminated. It had become acidic. Not in the sense of acidic and alkali p.H. levels like in a pool, but as in deadly acid, hydrochloric acid, to be exact.

A few hours later, another reporter announced that it wasn’t just a local problem. They had reports across the country. The acid was in fresh and salt water, any water that wasn’t already bottled. It was diluted enough that no one realized it was there, at first. But people have died so it’s still potent enough to be very dangerous. I think Jake will pull though. I hope so.

(Noon)– Jake is awake. He’s a bit cranky but how can I blame him? He’s in the bathroom. No one should have to listen to someone vomiting. It always sounds so disgusting, like your insides are about to explode out of your mouth. At least he’s just making low gurgling belches now. I pray it’s a sign he’s getting it out of his system.

I pour us both a small amount of distilled water that we had in the fridge. It’s almost gone. I don’t know what we’ll do when we run out. It’s all the water we have left and there’s none anywhere we can get our hands on. Those damn thieves raided stores, restaurants, even people’s houses. Anything drinkable was taken. Someone has water, but it’s not us. I sure hope they find more water soon.

(2 PM)– Jake shuffles into the kitchen and tries to drink the water I poured, but he can’t keep it down. He takes a swallow and it comes right back up. He gags and chokes, then spits what looks like pink kool-aid into the sink. “Don’t drink anymore. You’re wasting what we have left,” I say. He mumbles something hateful as he heads back to the bedroom. I drink the rest of his water since he can’t. It was good, but it makes me feel so guilty.

(4 PM)– I am tired of watching the news. It’s the same thing over and over. “Our search is desperate!” they say with stern expressions. Yes, I get it already! It seems hopeless. They’ve even tried to neutralize the acid, but it just doesn’t stop working!

When it first happened, I thought to myself, “Why don’t they just import water from other countries?” It was the perfect solution! Hell no! They had already thought of that, but the death reports rolled in like a tidal wave before a deal could even be made. It didn’t matter. Yeah, those freaking Mayans knew what they were talking about. The world is in dire straits.

Scientists are saying that land animals are dying off too. Dumb animals won’t stop drinking the water even with all the dead fish floating belly up in it. Vegetation is also being affected. Trees are dying and smaller plants are shriveling up. Please, God. We need good water!

(8 PM) – I just drank the rest of the water. I couldn’t help it. I was so thirsty. I know Jake won’t mind since he can’t keep it down anyway. I look out the window and see the drilling machines silhouetted by huge spot lights. They remind me of strange prehistoric creatures. Even now there’s still a reddish glow in the sky. I pray they find water.

December 28 – (6 AM) I awoke this morning to the acrid smell of burned flesh. Jake is dead. His stomach burst open sometime during the night and the fluid spilled out, burning a huge hole in the mattress. I am still crying. I just wish he would wake up. This has to be a nightmare. But he won’t move. He’s with God now, so I guess I shouldn’t be sad. He’s no longer suffering. I thank God that I was sleeping on the couch when Jake passed. I could have died too from that horrible burning acid inside of him.

(7 AM) – I am accepting he’s gone and I have pulled him into the nursery so he can rest next to baby Jessica. They look so peaceful lying there together. I can’t help but smile.

(8 AM) -I turn on the TV and there’s no news. All that comes on is that test pattern, the one they use for the Emergency Broadcast System and the annoying beep that goes on and on. There’s nothing on the radio and no signal on my phone. I’m so thirsty but there’s no more water. I drank it all yesterday. Maybe the news will be on soon.

(Noon) – Still no news. Please help me, God. I’m so thirsty.

(3 PM) – Oh My God! I’ve figured it out! There’s no news because they’ve found water! They’ve found it! I know they’ve found it! That’s why there’s no news. The water is more important, not the damn news! They’re getting water to all of us! It’s being pumped into the pipes!

I’m so thirsty. So thirsty. There has to be water! I’ve turned on the faucet. Yes! The water looks so good. It’s good. It’s crystal clear and pure.

It tastes so good! Sooo good!

It doesn’t burn at all.

Yes! They’ve found water.

Jesus, I hope they’ve found water…

…

Flash Fiction

The Blue-Eyed Girl

The blue-eyed girl had it all figured out.  She and her high school sweetheart made a plan. Together they would escape to a life of their own.

Her parents had warned him. “You’re making a big mistake,” they said. She cried because in their eyes SHE was the mistake. She worked and saved and paid for the wedding herself. Who needs that much hatred from ones’ own family?  Not her!

A small town means little distance between folks, but three miles was more than enough.  Mom and Dad never came around; well hardly ever.  She told herself she didn’t care.  Mostly she was right.

That blue-eyed girl had a plan.  College.  Poor people get Pell Grants: that was her ticket, plus the little bit of money she saved. Good grades and a full-time class load meant fulfillment lurked right around the corner. She was not a mistake!

He had a plan too and went off to work with his older brother. He worked all day and sometimes partied at night when he was out of town. Half of each month, he was somewhere else, but he put money in the bank and paid the bills. She was grateful for that.

School, church, work…school, church, work…school, church, work…How could life be so dull at the tender age of twenty? Wasn’t there more? She should have figured it out in high school. The clues were in her face.

“No,” he had said.  “Prom is a waste of time.  We don’t need to do that.”  She had agreed.  Mama wasn’t going to help her get a dress anyway.

“No,” he had said. “We don’t go to parties.  Too many assholes in this little town.”

She had questioned, “But aren’t they our friends?”

“We don’t need any friends when we have each other,” he had whispered. She accepted him at his word and smiled because he loved her. At least someone did.

School, church, work…school, church, work…school, church, work…Her future scared her.  It was bland, boring, predictable. She would finish school, get a job, work, have kids and grow old and wither away with boredom as he sat in his chair, drank his beer and crawled into bed at 9.  Every. Single. Day.

Of the rest of her life.

That blue-eyed girl had a night class in the big city. She drove home in the dark on Thursday each week. That night was different. Bad weather and her new cigarette habit weren’t the best combination. New smokers get high.  The body can’t handle all those chemicals in the blood and the brain gets dizzy. Dizzy brains don’t do well in rainy weather. Dizzy brains agree with sad hearts. Driving your car straight into a tree feels right.

There was no one there to disagree.

Thought of the Day

Old Email

I created this blog with the best intentions. I wanted to write and be able to share that writing with the one or two people who might happen to stop by. And then life happened.

Since starting this page, I’ve been through a few major “issues.”

  • my dad died. My mother and sister had him removed from life support and then called to tell me they had done so. He died before I reached the hospital.
  • my mother decided she didn’t want anything to do with me or my kids. It’s been 18 months since she’s spoken to me.
  • one of my sisters evolved from “pain in the ass” to “bitch from hell”. She’s the main reason my mother hates me.
  • one of my bosses set out to undermine me and came pretty darn close to completely destroying my self-confidence. She’s moved on to another job where she continues to make others want to die.
  • I came to the realization that old friends I had left behind should have stayed left behind (people just don’t change, you know!). I guess it would have helped if I hadn’t look like Shamu when we met in person after 20 years.

And in the process of all this, I sank into a deep depression that left me empty enough to consider calling it quits. It’s a little scary admitting that, even now. Thank God for a husband/best friend who never gave up on me and helped me get things sorted out to a somewhat “normal” life again. And without medication, I might add!

Today I decided to export some emails from one account to another, most of them work related. I have this fear that if I lose these contacts or the info in the emails, I’ll regret it. It’s just easier to hold on to things until you know for sure you don’t need them anymore.

These certain emails are ones I’ve sent over the last 5 years. I saw my replies to the many, MANY demands from that boss I mentioned. Every single time I answered as kindly as possible, but it never did any good. She hated me, but needed me to do the things she didn’t know how to do. (There were a lot of things she didn’t know how to do!) I even discovered how a document I spent hours and hours creating and editing ended up in the hands of a person who changed a couple of words and then shared it as her own work. My boss had forwarded to her. Thanks, boss. The person fancies herself a writer. I wonder who else she copies?

I found emails that reminded me of the time I was accused of not knowing how to do my job, by a person who was mad at me because I wouldn’t let her walk all over me. One day, I’m going to tell the world about that evil asshole. She’s had one daughter arrested already and the other is just as bad. Maybe that’s her own private hell? That could explain why she attacks others. But she’s earned an infamous place in my story. One day.

I found many, many emails I sent to our company’s tech guy. He’s made my life hell since he started with us. From blocking my websites to disconnecting my computer, running me down and lying to my boss and even cancelling an order for software I needed, he’s been on my most hated list for a while now. Reading those emails still makes me mad as hell. His arrogance finally cost him though! I recently got a phone call from a friend in the IT department letting me know that jerk had pissed off too many people and got his ass fired! I went out to celebrate that night!

I think I ‘ll hold on to those emails for a while just to remind myself why I hated that man so much. And the woman with the “sweet” daughters with arrest records. And the worst boss I’ve EVER had.

Yes, I’ll keep them for a while. You see, I’m one of those who wants people to be good and I’m far too willing to forgive. But… I can’t let myself forget.

I have this fear that I am a victim. I imagine have the word written on my forehead for the whole world to see even though I’ve spent my entire life trying to make myself believe that I’m strong, capable, and a protector of others. NOT a victim. MY biggest fear. The evidence seems to be there and yet I continue to deny it! I AM NOT A VICTIM!

And yet.

My emails say I am. The old letters from my mother sneer that I am. The friends who only call me when they need something SCREAM that I am.

And yet.

And yet.

I know my emails, my letters, help me guard my heart against future hurt. But do I really need to guild myself with the pain in those words? I AM strong. And most importantly, I have a family who adores me and I have friends who would show up in minutes if I only asked. Even if I’m not the happy person I would like to be.

I am not a victim, am I? I’m a kind-hearted, loving person who is loved in return.

Maybe I should just hit “delete” and let the words fade away.

I am not a victim.

Thought of the Day

You just can’t fix crazy!

IMG_1248“You can’t reason with the unreasonable,” my father says. He usually shakes his head and makes this statement as I finish complaining about how crazy people can be and how they do or say some of the dumbest or meanest things in order to get their way. When will I ever learn?

My most recent dive into insanity began innocently enough with Facebook a few months ago. I was lurking around reading about all the wonderful activities my friends were involved in while I was sitting at home being envious of their action-packed lives. I noticed that one of my friends had liked a page about rescuing animals in my area. The page looked promising. It appeared to be set up to help our local animal control shelter find homes for its animals.

A Kill Shelter

Sadly, ours is a kill shelter, so I figured this page was a great way to get the word out there about these animals. So many of our community members don’t seem to be aware this place even exists and animals sent here usually have only 5-7 days before they are put down. I instantly liked the page and began sharing photos with my friends hoping someone would be able to adopt these poor babies on “death row”.

Every few days, new photos were posted and I dutifully shared them. With tears in my eyes, I read the captions on the photos of the ones who didn’t make it and I vowed to help spread the word. I was part of the process and felt great every time someone posted the word “SAFE” in the comment box on the photos. That meant that someone had rescued that poor animal. My husband and I had already rescued two cats from there and had taken in two strays as well. We have three dogs too. As much as I wanted to personally save another one, common sense overruled. We had as many as we could reasonably take into our home, but at least I could share the page and the photos with others. And I did.

The Downward Spiral

And then “IT” happened. You know what I mean: that one event that sends common sense spiraling down the drain. The owner of the page posted an angry message claiming the local sheriff ordered the animal control workers to euthanize 17 dogs in retaliation for an “illegal” adoption of a pit bull mix. The shelter has a policy that doesn’t allow adoptions of “bully breeds”. Somehow, one had escaped under the radar and was in a new home in another county. His new owner refused to return him and because of this, the page owner claimed, the dogs were “slaughtered.” She was outraged, and after reading her message, so was I! I wasn’t the only one.

Within hours, word had spread and more and more people liked the page. Messages were sent to friends and those friends sent messages to more friends. The number of people who clicked “like” continued to grow and grow and with all the people came the comments.

Most of the comments were supportive, at first. But the supporters soon took on a mob mentality and began making personal attacks, not only on the sheriff, but on ALL of the residents of our town.

Nasty Comments Grow

The ugly comments grew more vindictive by the hour. The more I read, the angrier I became. I was born and raised here and these remarks were far from the truth. I wasn’t the only offended one. Someone else posted they did not like the personal attack on the people of our town. I followed suite, posted something very similar, and asked that they not alienate the very people who were trying to help these animals. I hoped the administrator who stated several times on her page, “This is about the ANIMALS!” would get rid of the trolls AND the vile comments.

However, the strangest thing happened. Instead of the comments being removed, she removed all of the ones expressing concern about the rude comments. She also removed the comments from people standing up for the town and expressing their concerns as to WHY she would allow these bad things to be posted!

My Dumb Mistake

This was the point where I made a serious mistake. I made the assumption I was dealing with a reasonable person. Are you laughing at my stupidity now?

I privately messaged her and asked why she was allowing very ugly comments but deleting the supportive ones. Comments asking people to be kind and not blame ALL residents had disappeared. I stated that her actions were causing me to question her true motives. Was it really about finding homes for these animals or running down the people of our town? I also wrote that with this lack of objectivity, she was going to do more harm than good by alienating the very people she needed to help her. After all, she was from an area three hours away from us!

I got back a short reply denying she had deleted anything. Of course, she had, I replied. Not true, she claimed. With just a few messages back and forth, I became “the enemy” and she declared I was against her and her cause.

With sudden realization I was dealing with someone not quite on the same level of reality as me, I told her I didn’t want anything else to do with her. “Leave me alone,” I wrote. At that point, I blocked her from messaging on Facebook.

A Personal Attack

She wasn’t done, however. She wrote about me on her page, even posting my name, claiming, “It’s not about you!” She tried very hard to convince anyone following her page what an animal hater I was. Just like sharks that swarm with the smell of blood, a few more trolls came out of the woodwork to write ugly posts aimed at me. I unliked her page and made some public Facebook apologies for possibly leading any of my friends in her direction.

The good news is that with so much mud-slinging and many, many posts, my name is lost somewhere in the muck and likely to have been seen only briefly. Besides, I have my privacy settings adjusted on my Facebook just so I don’t have to worry about harassment from these poor, misled, raving lunatics.

A Bit of Good News

Another bit of good to come out of it is now more people are aware of the issues and want to help. I found out that some of the local middle school students volunteer at the shelter every day. Others are going there to adopt new pets too.

What I find sad, however, is that hundreds of people around the country were outraged about the dogs being euthanized, yet the shelter remains full and has been full throughout this ordeal. Where are all these people when it comes to actually adopting these animals? When close to two thousand people “like” a page, shouldn’t it be a piece of cake to adopt out fewer than 100 dogs and cats?

The Animal Control and local Sheriff’s Office have taken a public lashing over this incident, but what are they expected to do? They have limited space and resources. People don’t take care of their animals, not just here, but all across the country. Puppies and kittens are born at shelters due to irresponsible owners who won’t have their pets spaded or neutered and most of the animals at our shelter right now are there because of “owner surrender.” That means these babies were people’s pets, but are no longer wanted.

All About Good Intentions

I have no doubt that everyone involved had good intentions. Whenever someone clicked the “Like” button on a page to help these animals, it was with “good” intentions. When they tell the world that the “people of (insert town here) are going to Hell,” it was with good intentions. The administrator of the page clearly thought her intentions were good, as she ranted in all capital letters, “IT’S NOT ABOUT ME. IT’S ABOUT THE ANIMALS!” In fact, my intentions were certainly good as I supported and shared the photos of those poor, unloved pets. But did any of this actually save a single animal? It’s doubtful and that makes me ashamed of myself.

There’s another old quote I’ve heard my dad say many times. “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.” It echoed through my head when I realized just how stupid I was to think clicking a “Like” button was going to make a difference. From this point on, I’m going to be very careful about what I like on Facebook and I’ll be donating my time and money to our local shelter every chance I get. Actions, after all, really do speak louder than words.