Ah, but 'crap' wouldn't have invisibly worked in my 'purple poem', below.
Thanks for including your link. I don't even know how people blog. My 22 year old keeps on online, but she feels safe knowing I'm fairly computer illiterate. She's moved home to do her student teaching. I would love to know what she shares with her friends. She's a good kid--loves to dance and sing. So, yea, I've done okay raising them.
Here's my purple poem. I'll leave it till you've seen it. After I read some of your blog (if that's the right word) I'll know if you can relate. Thanks. I'm swamped this morning, so I doubt i'll be able to read any. I think I have adult ADD--i was going to add I bought my first raw chocolate just a couple weeks ago. Anyway, here's my purple poem.
I do not yet consider myself old,
and yet I wear purple
And flowing, hippie, flower child clothes
too young for someone of my ‘mature’ years
and I wear flip flops
with odd little two toed socks.
that I bought on clearance at Wal-Mart
I flop down on the grass or a bench when I’m tired
and eat samples at the health food store,
tasting each new thing that appeals to me,
feeling only a twinge of guilt;
Often I sing as I walk out to the car
full voiced and loud, especially if it is raining,
yodeling, " raindrops keep falling on my head”.
I talk to little children, smiling, often kneeling down
to say hello, even if they hide behind their mother slacks,
For; though I suspect they have been warned of the stranger
who will snatch them and drag them away
just as I warned my little ones years ago,
I yearn for them to trust the world is NOT such a scary place.
I am just learning to spit,
and sometimes I even “slip” and say the word….well you know.
I’ve decided to grow thin,
healthy, sexy and strong
even though I am ‘supposed’ to be getting old and fat.
I splurge on organic honey and raw cashews
and chocolate ginger….
and when “my” healthy soup isn’t at my favorite place
I create one myself with hot water, and what is available,
‘though it feels a bit audacious, awkward and odd….
I remind myself, a bit sternly, that it is okay,
and that I wear purple NOW.
I still make sure the children are kept dry
and clothed, and fed well, even ask them to clean their rooms,
but I go out dancing and kick up my heels,
and realize perhaps I AM setting a good example for them.
I wear purple, I explain, to myself, and others
as they looked shocked at my chutzpah.
I am only as young as I feel IF
I can give up my fears of looking foolish;
I wish I’d given them up years ago,
for I’ve always loved the color purple.