Graf #4
I am 5 ft 10inches tall I have long blondish red hair to middle of my back and am so pale that most of my skin is fairly translucent and allows you full access to viewing the vast majority of my circulatory system. Curly is not even strong enough a word to accurately describe my hair; I have ringlet curls to mid back just above my derriere that take on a life of their own. They stick up her there and tangle among each other making friends. They curl around my arms and tangle me in their grasp trying to cut off the circulation to my limbs. I have so much hair that it sheds everywhere and I’m often compared to having a pet. I have done battle with them many a time in high school tried to iron them with a real iron which results in 10 minutes before they spring back to life with a vengeance and frizz. I tried a professional grade straightening iron and in about 20 minutes they regain their original form and are pissed and dry for days and will frizz to seek their revenge. I have pale blue eyes the color of windshield washer fluid that has been slightly watered down. I have freckles on top of my freckles here and there but they make good camouflage for some of the blood vessels in my system. I don’t think these things make me unique but these physical characteristics are definitely linked to my Irish heritage. My grandparents at the ages of 7 and 9 respectively and separately immigrated to the U.S. with their folks in 1918- at age 3 and 5 and their values and heritage influence many aspects of who I am and the most obvious being my physical characteristics.
I spent the majority of my growing up years with my folks and my grandparents until I set out on my own at age 18. My family is very large and all the aunts, uncles, cousins, and such are bound by their strong heritage and strict Catholic upbringing. These are people of small means, strong beliefs, extreme hard work and their rewards are measured in the health and multitude of their families. Ah to be the only girl in a sea of all boys .In addition to being the only girl I’m the only child without a biblical name and my aunt used to whisper they knew I was trouble right from the get go because of my name. I have all male cousins and all brothers and am the only girl at all which that does make me very unique. For me it was a burden that carried the weight of expectations that went out of style with June Clever. What makes me unique?...Lucy my grandma had been known to say is my crazy notions of education and dreams that pulled me in directions that led away from the island, family and home. When I married at the age of 22 in college still young by modern day standards but according to my family I was well into my old maid years. I think they only thing they liked about me being is college is the hope that I may find a husband. The idea that I went to work while my husband finished college was when they wanted my head examined as I should be home being a wife and he should have been working. The fact that I had no children and after over a year of marriage was asked in hushed voices why wasn’t I in the family way. Lord knows they don’t use the word pregnant because that is practically a swear word and improper in there eyes. Female relatives asked in hushed voices if there was a problem and steamrolled me with remedies for a cure right up to and including wanting to march me off the physician to be sure I was in proper working order.
What makes me unique is to courage go my own way. I’m a non practicing Catholic and the first person in my family or extended family to ever get a divorce in 3 generations. I have grown into my self confidence which was lost for a while as it was on a hiatus I can easily stand up for myself especially when I’m facing an epic storm. I have developed impenetrable skin of leather. My uniqueness is my strength of soul. My grit that I use to force myself to my feet regardless of how many times I’m knocked to the mat on the floor of the ring and rise again for one more round. The fact that I continue to go into the ring each day knowing I might fall makes me unique I’d like to think when the Irish eyes of my grandpa and grandma gleam down on me from heaven they will see that I am a strong and courageous woman and that too was learned from watching them.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Graf #3 Inventory Part #1
My T.V. Stand
*Owner’s Manual Digital video Disc Recorder (don’t know how to use purchased in October 2009)
*Container of Memorex DVD-R’s (also not useful)
*VCR tape “The Green Berets” with John Wayne
*Nursing Assistant Text Book 8th Edition
*Celebrating Christmas Coffee Book (hundred of ideas used to be an activity director)
*Dr. Shapiro’s Book Picture Perfect Weight loss
*Carl J. Jung’s Book-Man and His Symbols
*The What to Expect When You’re Expecting Book (wasted investment)
*Tom Brookaw’s The Greatest Generation (my favorite book)
*John Ciardi’s 1947 edition of Other Skies
*Quick guide on how to set up DVD-R (might as well be written in foreign language)
Carrie Bender’s A Winding Path (Miriam’s Jounal#2)
Robert Fulghum’s From Beginning to End
*Maine’s Tribute to America Calendar 2002(loved the pictures)
*Sarah Graves‘s The Dead Cat Bounce (Author from home)
*Nora Robert’s Red Lily
*James Bradley’s Flags of Our Fathers
*VCR tape movies Of Mice and Men, Exercise Video by me (was an activity director once), Miracle on 34th Street, Young Guns II, Days of Thunder, Forrest Gump, Apollo 13, Hamburger Hill, Tae Boe Live, It’s a Wonderful Life, Tomorrow Never Dies, Speeches from college of Me, Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer (the one with Burl Ives), Titanic, and Pulp Fiction
*DVD Box set Campion the Complete First Season from the BBC (love British comedy)
*RF modulator with wires galore since the TV is about 30years old (didn’t know what it was called googled it)
Six DVD’s Trade, The Firm, Curious George, Slow Burn, Gone Baby Gone, and the Cozy Cracklin’ Fireplace (yes it’s a fireplace you watch on TV)
*Magnavox DVD+R
*TV non cable ready very old
*One6 inch tall snowman candle
* One brown small mantle clock on top of TV (my gram’s)
*To red candles in 2 old glass candleholders (my gram’s)
* One 2 inch plastic dinosaur named “ Rah” (tyrannosaurus Rex) (would take too long to explain)
*Scrapbooking card kit mostly used assorted pieces
CD box set of The Classics with 10 CDs of all different composers
*Numerous cards to my in-laws with stamps, all addressed and written and not mailed for birthdays, anniversaries and such as didn’t know how the etiquette worked in that regard
*5 Christmas CD’s Dreaming of a White Christmas, The Holiday Collection, A Family Christmas, A Country Christmas, and Old Time Radio Audio CD of It’s a Wonderful Life done on Lux Theater (missed getting put away after Christmas)
*all this enclosed in small brown rolling TV stand about 3 ft by 2ft with one main bottom shelf ,one shelf for a DVD player , and top for TV and place for stuff on top of TV itself
*Sparse dust that I am removing now since I took everything off the stand
Graf #3 Inventory Part #2
This person is obviously either trying to organize a vast number of things into a small space or has it out for the TV stand and wants to see it crushed under its own weight. Maybe she has downsized from a house to a smaller apartment.
She is obviously a reader and has many interests for sure. She seems to like history especially perhaps history of war and sacrifice as evidenced by Tom Brokaw’s The Greatest Generation and James Bradley’s Flags of our Fathers and even a movie about Vietnam like The Green Berets. I would induce this person may have an interest in war and perhaps a personal connection that drives the interest.
She is one who must like stories either written as evidenced by the books or in the film genre as evidenced by the movies. Maybe she likes books and movies that look in to the soul of who we are and how our experiences shape and change us. More evidence of seeking understanding in Jung’s book, Brokaw’s book ,Robert Fulgham’s Book, and James Bradley s book to recall a few from the list She likes to analyze the human experiences in movies like The Green Berets, Forrest Gump, Titanic, A Wonderful Life, and Hamburger Hill. She is a seeker of knowledge and seems to value the process of learning.
She tries to preplan and be organized as evidence by her card organizer. She thinks ahead perhaps but may not always follow through as evidenced in the addressed and not mailed cards. Or perhaps she didn’t mail those ones as she was considering the etiquette of a family shift. She cares for people enough to hand write cards in advance so she must feel a deep connection to those she considers friends and family.
She is someone who has varied interest, is constantly learning, tries to keep organized those things, minutes, and ideas that are close to her heart. She continues to learn and analyze and likes to keep things close by to review. She seems to be a good organizer of small spaces or maybe wants to hold the world record for most stuff on a 2ft by 3ft TV stand
My T.V. Stand
*Owner’s Manual Digital video Disc Recorder (don’t know how to use purchased in October 2009)
*Container of Memorex DVD-R’s (also not useful)
*VCR tape “The Green Berets” with John Wayne
*Nursing Assistant Text Book 8th Edition
*Celebrating Christmas Coffee Book (hundred of ideas used to be an activity director)
*Dr. Shapiro’s Book Picture Perfect Weight loss
*Carl J. Jung’s Book-Man and His Symbols
*The What to Expect When You’re Expecting Book (wasted investment)
*Tom Brookaw’s The Greatest Generation (my favorite book)
*John Ciardi’s 1947 edition of Other Skies
*Quick guide on how to set up DVD-R (might as well be written in foreign language)
Carrie Bender’s A Winding Path (Miriam’s Jounal#2)
Robert Fulghum’s From Beginning to End
*Maine’s Tribute to America Calendar 2002(loved the pictures)
*Sarah Graves‘s The Dead Cat Bounce (Author from home)
*Nora Robert’s Red Lily
*James Bradley’s Flags of Our Fathers
*VCR tape movies Of Mice and Men, Exercise Video by me (was an activity director once), Miracle on 34th Street, Young Guns II, Days of Thunder, Forrest Gump, Apollo 13, Hamburger Hill, Tae Boe Live, It’s a Wonderful Life, Tomorrow Never Dies, Speeches from college of Me, Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer (the one with Burl Ives), Titanic, and Pulp Fiction
*DVD Box set Campion the Complete First Season from the BBC (love British comedy)
*RF modulator with wires galore since the TV is about 30years old (didn’t know what it was called googled it)
Six DVD’s Trade, The Firm, Curious George, Slow Burn, Gone Baby Gone, and the Cozy Cracklin’ Fireplace (yes it’s a fireplace you watch on TV)
*Magnavox DVD+R
*TV non cable ready very old
*One6 inch tall snowman candle
* One brown small mantle clock on top of TV (my gram’s)
*To red candles in 2 old glass candleholders (my gram’s)
* One 2 inch plastic dinosaur named “ Rah” (tyrannosaurus Rex) (would take too long to explain)
*Scrapbooking card kit mostly used assorted pieces
CD box set of The Classics with 10 CDs of all different composers
*Numerous cards to my in-laws with stamps, all addressed and written and not mailed for birthdays, anniversaries and such as didn’t know how the etiquette worked in that regard
*5 Christmas CD’s Dreaming of a White Christmas, The Holiday Collection, A Family Christmas, A Country Christmas, and Old Time Radio Audio CD of It’s a Wonderful Life done on Lux Theater (missed getting put away after Christmas)
*all this enclosed in small brown rolling TV stand about 3 ft by 2ft with one main bottom shelf ,one shelf for a DVD player , and top for TV and place for stuff on top of TV itself
*Sparse dust that I am removing now since I took everything off the stand
Graf #3 Inventory Part #2
This person is obviously either trying to organize a vast number of things into a small space or has it out for the TV stand and wants to see it crushed under its own weight. Maybe she has downsized from a house to a smaller apartment.
She is obviously a reader and has many interests for sure. She seems to like history especially perhaps history of war and sacrifice as evidenced by Tom Brokaw’s The Greatest Generation and James Bradley’s Flags of our Fathers and even a movie about Vietnam like The Green Berets. I would induce this person may have an interest in war and perhaps a personal connection that drives the interest.
She is one who must like stories either written as evidenced by the books or in the film genre as evidenced by the movies. Maybe she likes books and movies that look in to the soul of who we are and how our experiences shape and change us. More evidence of seeking understanding in Jung’s book, Brokaw’s book ,Robert Fulgham’s Book, and James Bradley s book to recall a few from the list She likes to analyze the human experiences in movies like The Green Berets, Forrest Gump, Titanic, A Wonderful Life, and Hamburger Hill. She is a seeker of knowledge and seems to value the process of learning.
She tries to preplan and be organized as evidence by her card organizer. She thinks ahead perhaps but may not always follow through as evidenced in the addressed and not mailed cards. Or perhaps she didn’t mail those ones as she was considering the etiquette of a family shift. She cares for people enough to hand write cards in advance so she must feel a deep connection to those she considers friends and family.
She is someone who has varied interest, is constantly learning, tries to keep organized those things, minutes, and ideas that are close to her heart. She continues to learn and analyze and likes to keep things close by to review. She seems to be a good organizer of small spaces or maybe wants to hold the world record for most stuff on a 2ft by 3ft TV stand
To learn how you can snap pictures and capture videos with your wireless phone visit www.verizonwireless.com/picture.
Note: To play video messages sent to email, Quicktime@ 6.5 or higher is required.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Graf #2
He was 5’9” and so slim that when he turned sideways he literally disappeared. He had a presence that preceded all his entrances. It was an eerie presence, almost like a scent you can’t identify; he was always there lurking around a corner patrolling the hall like a sentry guard. He had dark thin hair with a receding hairline and he was all arms and legs. He wore corduroy trousers and corduroy blazers with shirt and tie and cowboy boots always on his feet. He was so pale you often wondered if he was malnourished and he wore dark small wire rimmed glassed along his nose of his long thin face that further enhanced his small beady eyes. His voice was loud and booming so much you wondered how it exploded from this wisp of a man with a 27 inch waist. He always wore those cowboy boots so your only protection was you could always here him coming if he was moving rather than standing behind a locker or an edge of the wall. (He was so thin he could conceal his presence).You would hear a methodical clomp, clomp, clomp as his boots thumped down the hall almost if the heavy boots were too heavy for the skeleton like man who was directing them down the long corridors of our high school. Back to his voice the constant “let’s move along people you have appropriate places to be, let’s move along keep moving” boomed into our consciousness and instilled fear in all the inhabitants of the halls. He demanded respect and was all serious business all the time no other dimension of personality did he possess. He was both dreaded and feared. He used that fear to keep us all in line. He was a teaching Vice Principal and a Business Education Teacher.
He wielded his power with an iron fist both in his role as teacher of your typing, accounting, business education, or office practice class or in his role of vice principal which included all disciplinary issues and truancy. If you dared to speak in his class instant demerit and detention. His pet peeves were people who weren’t grown up and serious (all us teenagers), people who were hats inside, gum chewers, and anyone who disrupted or distracted from the process of his view of education. If a student dare come in without a note after being absent they sat in his chair in his office until he could confirm with an adult or guardian the reason for their absence even if that meant sitting there all day. Students were very cautious to have their notes in order rather than be sentenced to a day of jail in the. dark dank office of the wolf. The worst for most students was the dreaded intercom announcement calling you to his office. It was small and all dark brown and had no windows. It always smelled of coffee and was organized with the sparseness of military like precision. There were no signs of him having a life outside this job. There were no pictures or personal items. The office had all office equipment, calendar and a few perfectly arranged pencils. No awards or diplomas or posters just dark brown wooden walls that made the room feel even more suffocating and unfriendly. Any unfortunate student that was called to his office walked slowly toward his lair sweating and going over there day in their head trying desperately to find what sin they had committed and worse what would be the punishment the wolf would impose on the guilty party.
The stories of Mr. Seeley long preceded us meeting the real man. The stories of his punishments filtered all the way across the street to the elementary school. We would hear about how an older brother or sister was banned from basketball games for the season for misbehaving or how they had detention for 3 months for fooling around in the hall. He instilled fear before we crossed the road to his high school. Rumors prevailed about him being so strict and focused that he never left the high school building. He was there to catch you sneaking a smoke, a kiss, driving your car fast or fooling around with your buddies in the hall. We heard the rumor that he had hidden cameras, was able to read minds, lived in the school and we believed bits and pieces but most of all we feared the wrath of Mr. Seeley.
Then came the first day of high school all the freshman were required to stand in lobby and register and wait to be escorted in groups to our homerooms. We stood there huddled together already filled with anxieties about starting high school. We were listening to the principal speak about all we did in high school would shape the rest of our lives speech when we heard clomp, clomp, clomp. We all froze in place and it was so quiet you could hear the rapid breathing of your friends. The wolf needed no introduction and he was giving us a speech about being serious when all of a sudden came the words of a heckler. An upperclassman who dared say in an imitating voice “let’s move along people you have appropriate places to be.” We all looked in horror at the perpetrator of this joke and silence ensued as Mr. Seeley moved with wolf like precision and speed to grab him. The boy was literally dragged to the front of the room and the wolf held his hand like a child while he finished his spiel and used the guilty party as an example of inappropriate behavior for a young adult. The boy was red faced and we all were frightened to hear his fate. The wolf explained he was going to enjoy 3 months of detention and the luxury of helping him with a special project on the next 6 Saturdays. The guilty party was so mad but dare not protest for fear of more punishment. Needless to say our first day was filled with many other things but our introduction to the real man not just the legend of the man haunted us and many of us vowed never to cross his path.
He grew in legend each year as I progressed through high school and his punishments grew in severity as the time passed over those 4 years. We saw him yelling in the halls, dragging people away, and he was ever present at all events be they dances, band concerts, plays, or basketball games like an ever watchful eye directing the pulse of our reality. We feared him and most hated him but few dared cross him and those that did well let’s just say it was usually their first and last offense. I avoided him like the plague I avoided the hall and if I was in the hall I always had my pass firmly clutched in my hand stating my official business.
Of course the inevitable did happen one day and I crossed paths with the wolf. It was a sunny day in May 1989 the end of my senior year with less than a month to go and I would be graduating and free of Mr. Seeley’s world forever. One of Mr. Seeley’s most hated rules and most punishable sins was touching, hand holding, or physical contact of any kind especially kissing. I committed the most heinous of crimes in Mr. Seeley’s world; my boyfriend kissed me on the cheek as we rushed our different ways to class and there he stood like an impermeable wall with the snarl of a very angry wolf. We had been caught red handed and there was nowhere to go except to his office with him. His words were like bullets and I remember holding back tears and the speech was endless about inappropriate behavior and the humiliation permeated my soul. The verdict detention for both for the rest of the year and if we were caught again we couldn’t march at graduation. I was even more embarrassed to be in detention and so was my partner in crime but we survived.
Then came graduation day the day we had been waiting and lusting for all these long four years. The wolf in the role of Vice Principal was in charge of all the ceremony, marching practice and such pomp and circumstance. We were threatened for weeks about conducting ourselves as adults, and to not throw our caps because that took the dignity out of the ceremony. We were lined up waiting to march into the auditorium and orders were yelled by Mr. Seeley like a drill sergeant. We graduated and began our march out of the auditorium beaming with joy and hope headed toward the outer lobby where family and friends were already gathering to congratulate us and share this moment. As we exited the gym the loudest booming voice in perfect imitation of the wolf shouted ”let’s go people keep moving,you have appropriate places to be.” The laughter erupted from the crowd in the auditorium and outer lobby. Many of us laughed as we exited and formed our receiving line that we had practiced for weeks with our drill sargeant. Then we waited many with baited breath as Mr. Seeley was always the first with the Principal to go through the receiving line. The brave ones of us giggled the others prayed for Earl the boy who had done the perfect imitation. The wolf approached and walked directly to Earl and broke his own rule and said “congratulations son you do me so well, good luck next year.” We all stood in awe and then we all began to laugh, the kind that hurts you stomach, and so did he and his laugh was louder than his normal yell. He quickly organized the line directing our parents as many had been his students in past years and still feared his wrath. There were tears of joy, hugs, kisses, embraces and laughter and I was thinking how this must be hard for the wolf to endure. I waited with trepidation for my dad and the wolf approached and embraced me tightly in his tiny arms and kissed me on the cheek, I felt my knees go weak and the love that enveloped me was overwhelming and all encompassing. For me it remains one of the most defining moments in my life that was the moment a daughter realized her father was more than the wolf and that she was loved. My worst teacher was Mr. Seeley, the wolf, and my dad.
He wielded his power with an iron fist both in his role as teacher of your typing, accounting, business education, or office practice class or in his role of vice principal which included all disciplinary issues and truancy. If you dared to speak in his class instant demerit and detention. His pet peeves were people who weren’t grown up and serious (all us teenagers), people who were hats inside, gum chewers, and anyone who disrupted or distracted from the process of his view of education. If a student dare come in without a note after being absent they sat in his chair in his office until he could confirm with an adult or guardian the reason for their absence even if that meant sitting there all day. Students were very cautious to have their notes in order rather than be sentenced to a day of jail in the. dark dank office of the wolf. The worst for most students was the dreaded intercom announcement calling you to his office. It was small and all dark brown and had no windows. It always smelled of coffee and was organized with the sparseness of military like precision. There were no signs of him having a life outside this job. There were no pictures or personal items. The office had all office equipment, calendar and a few perfectly arranged pencils. No awards or diplomas or posters just dark brown wooden walls that made the room feel even more suffocating and unfriendly. Any unfortunate student that was called to his office walked slowly toward his lair sweating and going over there day in their head trying desperately to find what sin they had committed and worse what would be the punishment the wolf would impose on the guilty party.
The stories of Mr. Seeley long preceded us meeting the real man. The stories of his punishments filtered all the way across the street to the elementary school. We would hear about how an older brother or sister was banned from basketball games for the season for misbehaving or how they had detention for 3 months for fooling around in the hall. He instilled fear before we crossed the road to his high school. Rumors prevailed about him being so strict and focused that he never left the high school building. He was there to catch you sneaking a smoke, a kiss, driving your car fast or fooling around with your buddies in the hall. We heard the rumor that he had hidden cameras, was able to read minds, lived in the school and we believed bits and pieces but most of all we feared the wrath of Mr. Seeley.
Then came the first day of high school all the freshman were required to stand in lobby and register and wait to be escorted in groups to our homerooms. We stood there huddled together already filled with anxieties about starting high school. We were listening to the principal speak about all we did in high school would shape the rest of our lives speech when we heard clomp, clomp, clomp. We all froze in place and it was so quiet you could hear the rapid breathing of your friends. The wolf needed no introduction and he was giving us a speech about being serious when all of a sudden came the words of a heckler. An upperclassman who dared say in an imitating voice “let’s move along people you have appropriate places to be.” We all looked in horror at the perpetrator of this joke and silence ensued as Mr. Seeley moved with wolf like precision and speed to grab him. The boy was literally dragged to the front of the room and the wolf held his hand like a child while he finished his spiel and used the guilty party as an example of inappropriate behavior for a young adult. The boy was red faced and we all were frightened to hear his fate. The wolf explained he was going to enjoy 3 months of detention and the luxury of helping him with a special project on the next 6 Saturdays. The guilty party was so mad but dare not protest for fear of more punishment. Needless to say our first day was filled with many other things but our introduction to the real man not just the legend of the man haunted us and many of us vowed never to cross his path.
He grew in legend each year as I progressed through high school and his punishments grew in severity as the time passed over those 4 years. We saw him yelling in the halls, dragging people away, and he was ever present at all events be they dances, band concerts, plays, or basketball games like an ever watchful eye directing the pulse of our reality. We feared him and most hated him but few dared cross him and those that did well let’s just say it was usually their first and last offense. I avoided him like the plague I avoided the hall and if I was in the hall I always had my pass firmly clutched in my hand stating my official business.
Of course the inevitable did happen one day and I crossed paths with the wolf. It was a sunny day in May 1989 the end of my senior year with less than a month to go and I would be graduating and free of Mr. Seeley’s world forever. One of Mr. Seeley’s most hated rules and most punishable sins was touching, hand holding, or physical contact of any kind especially kissing. I committed the most heinous of crimes in Mr. Seeley’s world; my boyfriend kissed me on the cheek as we rushed our different ways to class and there he stood like an impermeable wall with the snarl of a very angry wolf. We had been caught red handed and there was nowhere to go except to his office with him. His words were like bullets and I remember holding back tears and the speech was endless about inappropriate behavior and the humiliation permeated my soul. The verdict detention for both for the rest of the year and if we were caught again we couldn’t march at graduation. I was even more embarrassed to be in detention and so was my partner in crime but we survived.
Then came graduation day the day we had been waiting and lusting for all these long four years. The wolf in the role of Vice Principal was in charge of all the ceremony, marching practice and such pomp and circumstance. We were threatened for weeks about conducting ourselves as adults, and to not throw our caps because that took the dignity out of the ceremony. We were lined up waiting to march into the auditorium and orders were yelled by Mr. Seeley like a drill sergeant. We graduated and began our march out of the auditorium beaming with joy and hope headed toward the outer lobby where family and friends were already gathering to congratulate us and share this moment. As we exited the gym the loudest booming voice in perfect imitation of the wolf shouted ”let’s go people keep moving,you have appropriate places to be.” The laughter erupted from the crowd in the auditorium and outer lobby. Many of us laughed as we exited and formed our receiving line that we had practiced for weeks with our drill sargeant. Then we waited many with baited breath as Mr. Seeley was always the first with the Principal to go through the receiving line. The brave ones of us giggled the others prayed for Earl the boy who had done the perfect imitation. The wolf approached and walked directly to Earl and broke his own rule and said “congratulations son you do me so well, good luck next year.” We all stood in awe and then we all began to laugh, the kind that hurts you stomach, and so did he and his laugh was louder than his normal yell. He quickly organized the line directing our parents as many had been his students in past years and still feared his wrath. There were tears of joy, hugs, kisses, embraces and laughter and I was thinking how this must be hard for the wolf to endure. I waited with trepidation for my dad and the wolf approached and embraced me tightly in his tiny arms and kissed me on the cheek, I felt my knees go weak and the love that enveloped me was overwhelming and all encompassing. For me it remains one of the most defining moments in my life that was the moment a daughter realized her father was more than the wolf and that she was loved. My worst teacher was Mr. Seeley, the wolf, and my dad.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Graf #1
White so white that my grandmother used to so say I was so pale that if I had kids they would be transparent. My skin on my hands especially is so pale and sensitive. You can see all the veins as they transverse the tops of my hands and fingers like little roadmaps. Roadmaps! That may be what the hands are perhaps they are roadmaps to the life you have lived and are living presently. They say eyes are the windows to the soul so I was trying to discover what hands are in comparison. They are basically a roadmap of where you have been and where you are going.
My hands are very dry from years of working outside as a young girl piling wood. They are cracked all over the tops from constant hand washing when I worked as a C.N.A. There is a 4 mm scar that is red and raised from an unfortunate accident with a knife while camping. It slipped and went in quite deep and required 4 stitches yet it is an unimpressive scar but definitely is pointing to a place I have been in my life. There are freckles scattered all over my hands part of my Irish heritage with my brilliant white canvas of skin to enhance them on my hands. My fingers and knuckles are relatively small for a woman of 5’10”. I have a twisted right pointer finger from an incident with a car door. There is a big scar on the base of my left hand long jagged and quite impressive. My pinky finger is quite crooked from a break. All of these aspects define parts of my journey.
Here are a few things about my hands that really tell about the road I have traveled in life. There is an indent on my left ring finger left from when I was overweight and my wedding ring and engagement ring were strangling my poor finger. I lost so much weight that now they are so big they won’t even stay on my thumb. Its strange how much smaller and slimmer they became and how my fingers shrunk 4 ring sizes with the weight loss. This is a new aspect of my hands in the roadmap of my life. I of course no longer wear a wedding ring since I’m in the process of divorce and they are far too big for my hand but that dent remains on my left ring finger. Maybe the dent is there to remind me where I have been. It’s part of the journey that I have travelled. Maybe it is there on my hand to remind me where I never want to go again ah who knows the jury is still out on that decision. There is also a mole at the very base of my left ring finger and I have always disliked that mole as it took away from my wedding ring and diamond but now it’s just there and we still are not in harmony with one another. I think I mind the mole less know that it is not interfering with the visual view of my ring. Jury is still out on mole too because I might have it removed but maybe it too will leave a mark its mark on my hand.
My fingernails or lack of fingernails is a definite indicator of my life journey. I have no fingernails at all they are down to the skin itself. I’m generally a nervous wreck and I peel them and yes I know it is a dirty habit. Also my cuticles are dry and cracked and peeling so much that I trim them off. I worked as a C.N.A. and we were not allowed to have any fingernails to avoid scratching patients and transferring germs so my cuticles are further irritated by the gloves and constant hand washing. So my hands are telling my story through a quick glance at the condition of my fingernails. I’d love to think at first glance someone would think oh I bet she works in healthcare that is why her nails and cuticles are a mess but I bet they a guess I’m nervous person. So my hands are definitely sharing pieces of who I am.
So if your eyes are the windows to your soul I’m worried because mine are pale blue and there is not much to see in them. I’m hoping that your hands and what they do and have yet to do are actually a canvas that is in the constant state of change. Maybe your hands are a good indicator of where you’ve been but a constant reminder as they change of where you are going on life’s road. Perhaps as I become older the dent will fade or maybe I will like too look at it as a reminder of my journey and what I have learned. My hands are a canvas awaiting the next dent, knife hole, crack, break, or maybe long manicured nails. I wonder what my hands will tell you about me the next time you glance at them.
My hands are very dry from years of working outside as a young girl piling wood. They are cracked all over the tops from constant hand washing when I worked as a C.N.A. There is a 4 mm scar that is red and raised from an unfortunate accident with a knife while camping. It slipped and went in quite deep and required 4 stitches yet it is an unimpressive scar but definitely is pointing to a place I have been in my life. There are freckles scattered all over my hands part of my Irish heritage with my brilliant white canvas of skin to enhance them on my hands. My fingers and knuckles are relatively small for a woman of 5’10”. I have a twisted right pointer finger from an incident with a car door. There is a big scar on the base of my left hand long jagged and quite impressive. My pinky finger is quite crooked from a break. All of these aspects define parts of my journey.
Here are a few things about my hands that really tell about the road I have traveled in life. There is an indent on my left ring finger left from when I was overweight and my wedding ring and engagement ring were strangling my poor finger. I lost so much weight that now they are so big they won’t even stay on my thumb. Its strange how much smaller and slimmer they became and how my fingers shrunk 4 ring sizes with the weight loss. This is a new aspect of my hands in the roadmap of my life. I of course no longer wear a wedding ring since I’m in the process of divorce and they are far too big for my hand but that dent remains on my left ring finger. Maybe the dent is there to remind me where I have been. It’s part of the journey that I have travelled. Maybe it is there on my hand to remind me where I never want to go again ah who knows the jury is still out on that decision. There is also a mole at the very base of my left ring finger and I have always disliked that mole as it took away from my wedding ring and diamond but now it’s just there and we still are not in harmony with one another. I think I mind the mole less know that it is not interfering with the visual view of my ring. Jury is still out on mole too because I might have it removed but maybe it too will leave a mark its mark on my hand.
My fingernails or lack of fingernails is a definite indicator of my life journey. I have no fingernails at all they are down to the skin itself. I’m generally a nervous wreck and I peel them and yes I know it is a dirty habit. Also my cuticles are dry and cracked and peeling so much that I trim them off. I worked as a C.N.A. and we were not allowed to have any fingernails to avoid scratching patients and transferring germs so my cuticles are further irritated by the gloves and constant hand washing. So my hands are telling my story through a quick glance at the condition of my fingernails. I’d love to think at first glance someone would think oh I bet she works in healthcare that is why her nails and cuticles are a mess but I bet they a guess I’m nervous person. So my hands are definitely sharing pieces of who I am.
So if your eyes are the windows to your soul I’m worried because mine are pale blue and there is not much to see in them. I’m hoping that your hands and what they do and have yet to do are actually a canvas that is in the constant state of change. Maybe your hands are a good indicator of where you’ve been but a constant reminder as they change of where you are going on life’s road. Perhaps as I become older the dent will fade or maybe I will like too look at it as a reminder of my journey and what I have learned. My hands are a canvas awaiting the next dent, knife hole, crack, break, or maybe long manicured nails. I wonder what my hands will tell you about me the next time you glance at them.
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