s o m e d a y

someday is a long, far away word
where patience doesn’t shine.

someday is a trip to Florida
where all your older brothers went…
you waited to go with your family,
and went with the kind neighbors instead.

someday is a corvette when I am 17…
and realizing when you are 16 and a half
that someday was only a white lie whispered,
so that I would look up to you, and love you forever.

someday is walking me down the aisle
in a fairytale wedding, a love that will last forever,
with grandchildren and the house at the shore
and suddenly, someday was no more.

someday is a place that will never be
the place that you want,
or the place you need it to be.

Things You Only Do Once

As experience makes all kinds of marks on your karmic bedpost, everyone has a short list of things they have done that they would never do again. Most folks refer to it as "a learning experience", which all of middle and high school can be chalked up to, but there are those key points that do stand out. The ones that you can still recall make you want to bury yourself in a hill in Idaho, not sure whether you want to be dug out or not later.

I had lunch with a friend yesterday, and the one that got brought up was 'sending the post-break-up letter'. Depending on what era you are from and when it first happened to you, the process is the same. You break up with someone (in my case it had been a boyfriend for 2.5 years), and that whole rest of the day and night you are upset about it. Remember the time we went camping, remember all the silly little nicknames, remember the (blah blah blah) and you're dying inside so you write a majestical letter weaving the tapestry of said relationship in all its splendor.

Then you go and do something dumb-ass. With puffy eyes you address stamp and mail the letter, (or hit SEND now), then crawl into bed.

The next morning you wake up, the sun greets the brand new day, you are filled with hope for starting over (yet again). Then you remember the letter. The simpering, whining, it's not you it's me... whatever you wrote you know that when they read it there is a strong possibility it sounds like you didn't want to break up with them at all (or they see the crack in the armor and OMG there is still a chance) and you're going to have to go back now and REITERATE everything again.

Writing the letter is imperative, NOT sending it important. (see my earlier posting The Draft).

What is something YOU can contribute that You Only Do Once? (no darwin awards please) Please Comment.

Keeping up with the Joneses

Last night my husband and I were invited to a friend's house to eat chinese food and watch the "Lost" season premiere (which had aired two nights prior.) Another couple, "Lost" fanatics as well, were invited to attend. All in all we had an incredibly fun evening, with lots of laughs.
I should clarify that I live in a town where many of my friends have larger homes, better media systems and overall, more money. And while I understand that "Thou Shall Not Covet" was one of the key directives handed down by God, I can't help but envy the new cars, exotic vacations and overall better material circumstances of many of my friends. (notice I said "material". There are friends of mine that are rich as hell and just as miserable. Given the choice I'd rather have less house and more happiness...)

Still, as I sat on with my feet up on the incredibly comfortable sectional sofa, a 52" HD Plasma television positioned directly in front of me with surround sound speakers behind my head, I couldn't help but wish for a similar situation in my own home. Forget that such an indulgence would put my family even further down the financial hole that we've already dug ourselves into. Still, it was hard not to feel a little jealous.

And then, just a few minutes into the program, I noticed something unusual. Sawyer (hard to ignore being SHIRTLESS) was an unusual shade of orange. Yes, the guy had a tan, and yes, he had been on the island for 108 days, but this was beyond your usual bronzed god, Sawyer was bordering on Oompa Loompa territory, he was positively glowing like GEORGE HAMILTON.

When I commented on this, some of the other folks watching brushed it off as Sawyer being tanned from being shirtless so much of the time. But even in the night scenes he was almost carrot-like. And then a close-up of Juliet revealed that SHE had been visiting the same tanning booth.

My husband, the video editor with countless hours of color correction under his belt, whispered to me that the chroma was off on the television, which was why the colors all seemed so saturated.

My jealousy disappated. Thousands of dollars spent on a Hi-Def system and all it took was a little bit of orange Sawyer to take away my green envy.

Notes from the PigPen

How appropriate that my friend should invite me to post on a blog entitled Wallow Press.  Wallowing, among other things, is something that pigs enjoy doing.  And right now, I equate my personal situation with that of my porcine friends in that:

1)  Pigs are fat (they can't help it, people stuff them full of garbage in order to create better bacon)

2) Pigs eat garbage (see above)

3) Pigs live in a sty.

Now, why, you might ask, do I feel I can relate to that?

Well, ever since I discovered that I WEIGH MORE THAN OPRAH (according to her, I think she's fudging her numbers...) I've been WALLOWING in self pity.  Not that I should be allowed any pity, because I am the one who controls ALL THE GARBAGE going down my gullet (see #2 above...)  I could abstain from all the trigger foods that are keeping me in Oprah's neighborhood like Sour Cream and Onion Ruffles and Panera Baguette with butter and Hood Fenway Fudge Ice cream...

Or could I?  Am I able to control what foods I poke my snout into any more than your average Wilbur?  (Charlotte said it best... "Some Pig!")

And as for the sty.   Each day when my children leave for school, I look around at my home with the piles of school papers, endless receipts, bits of Legos and Transformers and dirty laundry and I think "Ah HAH!  Today is the day I will buckle down and clean this place and then when my husband comes home he will see that I've been busy and not just watching a very special Law& Order mini-marathon!  Today is the day that I will BREAK FREE!"

A short time later, I am diverted by something funny on the internet, and out come the sour cream and onion Ruffles, and here come my kids off the bus, and they have homework and taekwondo and dinner to be made and before you know it I'm back where I started at the beginning of the day.  Sigh

Oink Oink

The Draft, by Dawn Haley Morton

i wrote a long email
i saved it
thought you'd hate reading it
because you just want it to be over

so i saved it in my famous Drafts folder
where my best work is...
the painful truths that do not get a chance
to rocket through cyberspace in all their glory

when i see too many
"you didn't do this"s or "i never understood that"s
i know that my truth was spoken,
even if you never hear it, and i never say it.

Welcome to Wallow Press

Whether it was written during the Inauguration 09, at 2am after getting dumped on Valentine's Day, or the trials of being single/married/with children, we'll be sharing some of our virtual ink with you - our faithful readers. These musings are ones that we want to share, whether it be bittersweet (bitter, sweet, or both) or hopeful, or neither. Feel free to comment, this is, after all, a pity party!