My Portfolio of Short Stories and Articles

Chinks in My Armor

I have grown up a lot in the past few years. But before I tell you how, let me say that growth wears different hats in life and it is not only just measured in chronological order, (age determinate), but also in terms of progress, success, achievements and personal bests. I am happy to say that my growth has included all four metrics in varying degrees, and that it did not just happen by nature. As it is in our age progression, we should naturally grow in wisdom and understanding.

Sometimes it was mostly an uphill struggle because I was trying to do it all on my own. There were lots of times when I was ready to give up, throw in the towel, concede defeat, but I didn’t. I persevered and as I continued to do so, I had no idea that although I was metaphorically speaking on a battlefield, I was in fact growing even in the middle of my fight, and even because of it.

Before I learned to pray, I had to learn two very important lessons; what prayer was and how it worked into my life and how to do it effectively. What I actually had to learn about spirituality and how God would work in my life was how to listen for his voice. I was clueless as to how I needed to “fix my life” and as so many of us have done, I finally tried seeking God’s help when nothing else would work. It was the best decision I had made in a very long time, one I would never regret and one that would continue to reward me for the rest of my life as long as I stayed close by his side.

You must understand that although I was raised to attend church dutifully and to pray, I was not taught anything about a relationship with God, and that prayer is a two-way conversation that means listening for as well as talking to God. I had no idea at all that Satan (the enemy) is very real and that his job is to keep opposition, negativity, self-reproach, doubts and worry front and center in our lives, and that it is a daily; sometimes hourly fight against him and his demon friends to keep him in his place.

Knowing that God loves me unconditionally, that even if I don’t see things happening right away, and that he is definitely working in my favor has become one of the most enlightening revelations in my life. I wasted so very many of my younger years trying to solve my problems, bear all my burdens, alone. To me prayer was limited to “The Lord’s Prayer” and if I did pray my own prayers they were almost always selfish ones and I was totally ignorant of the fact that I was asking him to do things and give me things that he was absolutely no part of.

Now I know when to pray to the Father, and when to pray to God; always with thanksgiving and bringing my supplications to him “in Jesus name”. In other words, I have learned how to pray effectually and with patience and that prayers do not have to be a long drawn out speech but a simple and honest conversation from the heart. God just wants to know that we love him and his son Jesus, and that we have given him our hearts and our willingness to listen and obey.

I used to be a “judgmental extremist” meaning that I judged everyone and anyone by my standards. I was manipulative, full of strife, argumentative, selfish and miserable. I was lonely and often felt left out because others got tired of my extremist personality and obnoxious ways, so often I felt secluded, but to my way of thinking they were the ones who were wrong, not me. What surprised me the most on my journey of self-discovery was that I was compensating with attitude for things lacking in my life, and the important things were lacking in my life because I had no self-control.

Learning that stability and self-control are major factors in having real peace and victory in my life was a startling revelation. Coming into knowledge of the truth about who I am, and how life can be lived with joy and happiness regardless of my circumstances has been wonderful. I have begun the learning process that teaches me that I don’t have to say everything that I think, especially if it will be something hurtful, sarcastic or will cause a rift in a relationship.

I am making progress in controlling my thoughts. And I am grateful for the roller coaster ride because it has shown me how fabulous it can be when the ride slows and steadies itself.
With a humble and a grateful heart, I am who I am, and that person is pretty special!

Women of a Certain Age...

What exactly does that mean? Women of a certain age? I'm sure that the answer to that question will be dependent on who's giving the answer. There can be several approaches to an answer, and just like in any case the perspective differs. Let me tell you what it means to me, and you can decide if you agree or maybe you like your point of view better and would want to share it. As always with any of our posts, we welcome comments and diversity in opinions.

So, let's look at this. When women start to tick off the birthdays on the calendar after the milestone age of "50", for some of us it may start to feel as if it’s all downhill from there. Turning fifty can be a fabulously exciting time for most women, and it should be because it marks the close of one part of our lives, but it also ushers in what should be the best years of our lives! Most of us will have experienced the empty nest syndrome and while that in it can be a little sad, it shouldn't plaque us with sorrow and cause unnecessary heartbreak. Sure, we all miss the kids once they've gone off on their own whether it is to pursue higher learning, going directly into the workplace, get married (yikes!).

Look at it this way. Menopause is a vital factor in this point of our lives, and that by itself can bring so much freedom! No more periods, no more feminine period products, and I personally loved this one...you can wear white all summer without fear of accidental leakage! And speaking of summer; what about being able to wear that skimpy bikini any time you want? Goodbye Mother Nature...it’s been nice to know you but ...see ya!

Okay, let's discuss the other fantastic advantage of menopause; you are available to your husband 365, 24/7 without constraints. The freedom and the pleasure of being able to get sexy any way you want to minus the unexpected surprise of Mother Nature (sometimes she didn't knock; she just came on in) is enough to empower us women like crazy. What a grand old time the two of you can have with this liberating change in your lives.

And then there's the PM's: PMS, PMD, PMDD. No more of that stuff ruining your life for days (and sometimes weeks) at a time. Periods were expensive and not just having to buy all the feminine sanitary products but there did the high cost time it stole from us have to spend time in bed from painful cramps and headaches and depression. We can't get those lost days back. Then last, there's no more need for birth control. Just the thought of a brand new sex life sans birth control can make menopause even more attractive.

But seriously, after years of taking medication for cramps, headaches, pregnancy prevention and the like, we should be singing from the rooftops at having to get a well-deserved farewell to that time of our lives. And I know we've heard this over and over before, but here's my spin on it; NO, NO, NO, going through "the change of life" does not steal your femininity or woman hood from you! Sure it is a change of life...you bet you, but for all the right reasons.

Yes, we fifty-plus women are "of a certain age". We certainly are the proud, the free, and the fabulous! Getting our lives on every day, taking care of business, and are certainly making a difference everywhere we go!  We are not the ordinary; we are the exception and guess what? We ROCK!!

 Sex and the Single Grandmother

Sex and any Grandmother may raise a few eyebrows and even a few shocked “gasps” from some readers, but it was designed to arouse your curiosity. I do strongly believe that it is a subject that is worth talking about, and one that gets labeled “taboo “because of our ages, and/or our marital status; in this case we are addressing the “Single” grandmother.

Society tends to think that single mature women who have raised their children and in some families their grandchildren too must abandon any kind of physical needs and quench any sexual desires in order to conform to what is expected of us. I say that opinion can come from several different directions, and I’m going to talk about two popular ones.  I’m going to speak quite frankly about the mature woman (hence the “Grown Folks”) and her role in the sexual part of a relationship, based on my own experiences.

Although I have never lived a life of total promiscuity, I have had my share of adventures. Some memories used to remain in my mind as unforgettable, while others faded away into oblivion where bad thoughts go. These are the ones that were best forgotten anyway. There were whole blocks of years in my past life where I would dedicate “thinking” and planning time to my escapades. Fact is I did enjoy re-living the events and the men I had shared them with.

 I would often relive these events on nights when I was lonely, feel sorry for myself, and without a man to spend my time with.Sadly, this was almost the norm for me. I’d pour me a tumbler of my favorite Scotch and put on some music. The music I favored during these pity fests always told a story about breakups, loneliness, heartache, and pain. The yearning that I heard in the voices of the singers I listened to echoed the same yearning I felt inside as I sat there for hours; sometimes by candlelight and other times in the dark.

You see, I’m referring to a time in my life that spanned a total of nine years; from ages forty eight-fifty five. That is a long time to be wandering around in a dry and desolate desert of a life. And it is way too long to have spent so much of my valuable time wishing and hoping and dreaming and scheming to try and make things happen that weren’t supposed to happen in the first place. I know now that there are two important lessons I learned from this eight year exodus and they are 1.) You can’t hurry God and 2.) You can’t ask God to finish something he never started.

 I’d like to think that I would have benefited greatly from knowing this during these years, but something tells me that it wouldn’t have had much impact on me then. I was determined to do it my way and to have it my way. I thought (oh so very mistakenly) that love would grow and blossom in the bedroom, and the real secret to a man’s heart was in my sexual prowess. 

And I’d like to leave that statement to your imagination. Allow your mind and your senses to free-fall. You are with the man you desire and probably fancy yourself in love with, and you are together in a passionate embrace that spins out of control and leads to the bedroom. Here you abandon yourself to him completely and without guile. You can’t get close enough to him; can’t hold him tight enough. You are all over him and want to drink in his very essence and the only thing on your mind is his pleasure. The only thing you see behind your closed eyes is a soft, purple haze and you feel your senses suspended in time where there is no beginning and no ending.

Well here I am at the present time at age fifty eight. And I still believe that I have those same emotional feelings and the very same sensuality within me; after all I am still very much a woman. Here’s where I am different though. Even though all of those powerful feelings are dormant right now, I know that mutual physical attraction coupled with strong sexual know how is not the recipe for a successful and lasting basis for love. It is however, perfect for a purely physical relationship. But, how truly rewarding can that be? How long can two people sustain themselves in something that has no real basis?

In its right place it can be a deliciously tempting and satisfying main course if put together in the right kitchen. That kitchen (only a metaphor) is the committed bond two people share with each other, monogamously and with integrity. We all want something real in our lives; that is "solid" as a rock. It gets real hard to hold out for the absolute best when we are faced with long and lonely nights, and often days too that stretch ahead of us seemingly without end. Oh, and let's don't forget about being around other couples! Geez! How uncomfortable can that get, right? You all have heard the old saying "the loneliest place in the world is in a crowd"?

And here is the caveat to my story; that kitchen that we want for ourselves should be built according to the Master plan. No Do-It-Yourself construction allowed. If you want your kitchen and all the others rooms in your house of love built to last and to withstand strong winds and storms, then this is the only way to go. Taking the time to review your designs, and purchase only first rate materials and with the Master Builder as your top man you can’t lose. And great sex will be the crowning glory of your union. Don’t worry; it’ll definitely be worth the wait.

We don’t have to conform to the pressure of society. As grown folk we naturally know what we are doing anyway. We have wisdom, insight and years of practice at our disposal. Let’s use them to our best advantage. There is no longer the need to “prove ourselves” to any man. Let’s promote ourselves as women of greatness and hold out for nothing but the very best and for what can be rightfully ours.

It’s Mostly Relative…A Humorous Look at Family

Where would we be without the ability to laugh and poke fun at ourselves? I’m not sure if laughter is the best medicine, but it sure is great medicine…I’ve heard good things about it. Like I hear that a self-prescribed hearty thigh slapping laugh can cure male pattern baldness. And it doesn’t matter if there is nothing really funny going on around you, just a really good fake laugh can be similarly effective. How cool is that?  Well if that’s true then I have a cousin who should set his timer so that he gets in his daily doses of guffaws to treat that rapidly retreating circle of hair he’s got left.

Speaking of family…and let’s do (speak of family that is) and reminisce about the hilarious stuff that goes on at family reunions. Family reunions are hands-down the best times of our lives; either young or old. You just can’t beat the Big Four F’s of this annual gathering…Family-Fun-Fellowship and Food! So here is my take on a family that we can all identify with.

There’s no better group of folks on the planet to poke good nature fun at than family. Sometimes we need to drop the serious facade and the falseness and bourgeoisie and just get down and funky with our loved ones. Who has not had an uncle or two (or three) who will inevitably be the annual family reunion clown? You know the ones that are usually named Bubba, Leroy, or June bug, who will get tipsy simply from sniffing the cork from a bottle way before they even tip it up for a swig. They sit under a tree and take ‘nips’ from bottles of 200 proof homemade shine. And when they are sufficiently ‘tanked up’ they wind up on a roll entertaining us with ‘legends from the wood’. These tall tales are usually centered on them walking ten miles round-trip to school in their sisters shoes with the heels chopped off in six feet of snow in a jacket two sizes too small carrying a molasses bucket with cold biscuits and butter in it for lunch. I know because I’d heard accounts like this for years because it was one of my late Daddy’s favorite yarns to spin. He loved repeating this for as long as I could remember before he passed on, and if it wasn’t a grain of truth in it from the beginning, it became true simply from the re-telling of it over and over.

Then there’s’ the dowager sisters in the family who are the Aunts or as most of us call them ‘The Aints’ (which is an old-time way of saying ‘Aunt’) you know them as Aunt Maybelle, Aunt Mildred and Aunt Pearl. Everybody has an aunt named Pearl. These are the ones who have been in the family the longest and have the most power and what they say…goes without question. They rule over the whole family like joint Commandants of the Third Reich, and they are the ones who either give the dishes others bring a blessing or a death sentence. They decide what foods go on the menu, who makes the potato salad and the macaroni and cheese, whose banana pudding should be ‘put out’ at the front of the serving table and whose sweet potato pie doesn’t get served at all.  And whose cornbread is mealy and whose turnip greens are too bitter.

Years later I would realize that those dishes the Aunts had so-called banned from being served had actually been tucked away in the back of the ice box to be divided up among them after the gathering was over and all the folks had gone home. This was the true reason for the bogus censure, and it was also the reason why they declined any offers of help clearing up the kitchen and washing the dishes.  On an unrelated note this probably was why all of the other adults (especially their own children) boasted of the long-suffering of these hard-working women.

After performing the requisite taste tests in the kitchen these Grande dames pass the final judgments on the food with as much pomp and circumstance and as much severity as a county judge. And if anybody tries to come into the kitchen while they are ‘sampling’ they had better be dying or pretty near it because nobody intruded on this sacred ritual and young children were definitely not allowed to enter the inner sanctum of the kitchen unescorted. But then, who would want to go it alone anyway? I learned this lesson the hard way; and when I got older, I always discouraged the younger kids with a warning that if they went into the kitchen while the Aunts were sampling, they would disappear down the rabbit hole and never be found again!

I remember the year I was about nine, and being so thirsty at a summer family gathering that my throat was in danger of closing up so I ventured into the kitchen for a glass of water. I was hoping for lemonade but oh well…I’d gladly settle for water. The other grown folks outside in the backyard wouldn’t allow us to drink anything out of the cooler, for fear of having to face the Aunts wrath. Nobody ate, or drank anything before the blessing was said over the food under penalty of law, no matter how hungry or parched one might be.

Well, as soon as I turned the corner of the kitchen, Aunt Mabel looked up and saw me. She was so intimidating standing there looming over me, big meaty hands on her wide hips and her eyes boring into me as she looked over the top of her super sized eye glasses.  I stammered out while scared to death that all I needed was some water. But I was admonished without haste and told to get back outside and get my water from the garden hose. So, I got… but not before I got a good look at the table where each of them already had a plate filled with food, and I could swear I saw Aunt Mildred shove a huge bite of chocolate cake in her mouth, while Aunt Pearl was licking her pudgy fingers around a chicken wing. Yet these other two put in their two cents worth echoing what Maybelle had said. It was a miracle they didn’t choke with their mouths so full trying to eat, swallow and talk at the same time.

Yes, I got for sure, but I took the time to slip quietly back to peek in the kitchen and I saw Aunt Pearl gulp down some brown looking liquid from a glass that was sitting on the table beside a tall skinny bottle. Then she and her sisters cackled and poked each other like they were sharing a really funny private joke before they finally decided to get up from the table and join the rest of the family so we could eat.

And last, we have our dear cousins in the family food chain. The boys had names like Junior, Skeeter and Main. Every family can count on having a boy cousin who’s six feet, 250 pounds at twelve years old. One who can be found hiding in the basement, secretly gorging himself on leftovers while everyone else is outside playing horseshoes and kick ball. Then, one of them is bound to be the mean one who won’t play fair and is always teasing and shoving around the younger children. Let’s not forget the one who thinks he’s big man on campus, and prides himself on being a know-it-all.

Not to be outdone by the boys, the older girl cousins were always snapping and popping chewing gum when they were out of sight of their parents. They got together and giggled and talked about boys and tried on lipstick they had stolen from the local five-and-dime store. Their hair was pressed so straight and slicked down with so much grease that it wouldn’t even stay inside of the rubber bands that held their ponytails. They had names like Kay-Kay, Nay-Nay and Marcella.  One would always be so pretty and wear really beautiful clothes but would be dumb as dirt, one would get good grades without actually having to study but have acne and wear glasses, and one would be overweight and have to wear special shoes and couldn’t run fast and was always so mean because she couldn’t keep up with the others.

Yes as we look back over our childhoods, and remember our family reunions, Christmases and other get-together s we do so with a special fondness. Not only can we recall the many eccentricities of the older generations, but we can recollect the irony of the dialogue and the events we shared with them with good humor and even a bit of longing for the simple and uncomplicated times of years past.

The next time you’re in a bit of a blue mood, and you can really use a good laugh; don’t force the joviality with pretense. Go get the family photo albums and get comfortable in a cozy chair. Close your eyes and let your mind conjure up the voices of the past and stir up within your heart the funny stories and tall tales of your childhood. Visualize yourself and your passel of cousins running in the backyard, playing hide and seek, or sitting Indian style on the back porch playing a game of jack rocks.

I can guarantee it’ll be good medicine for you. 

Grandmothers are Looking Grand

Grandmothers began their exodus into change years ago...right off the top of my head I would say about twenty years ago. Now, mind you, I don't have any statistics or pie charts to prove or disprove this statement. It's merely a theory based on my memories of the grandmothers I've known for a while including my own two; way before I had the wonderful life-changing experience of becoming one myself. My most cognizant memories of them had them wearing big, heavy oxford type shoes, wrap-around aprons, braids and hair buns, cotton house dresses with little lace collars and little black round-toe 1/2" pumps to church. The wardrobes of grandmothers has progressively differed during the past two decades, and now here we are in the 21st century and we are stiletto-wearing, up-to-date hair fashion mavens and some of our society's most well dressed women. 

Our ages are indeterminate. Our makeup is of the very best quality designed to enhance and compliment rather than to just cover up and disguise. Our colognes and perfumes are seductive and sassy worn in just the right amounts on precise skin points. We approach shopping for our extensive wardrobes with a zeal that is no less than that of a child waiting for the last day of school, strategics and planning for every possible chance we may have to wear that pencil skirt with that certain tailored shirt, or those skinny jeans with the high heeled boots and our leggings (this year they are jeggings) with that "ever so adorable" pair of suede ankle boots. Our purses must be roomy enough to carry any item that we may even possibly need including wet wipes, i Pads, smartphones, to an extra change of underwear (okay...so you are free to let your mind go where you please with this one.)

All this is being said to enhance the view of how we are today. And what a truly wonderful thing that is! To not be stereotyped as a little docile chubby cheeked spectacle wearing  person sitting in a rocking chair with a bag of yarn goods by her side. Although this is a very nice image to summon up and it certainly is a pleasant scenario, but for years in the past this was basically the only way Grandmothers were portrayed. If we do chose to sit in a rocking chair, it usually is to put our feet up at the end of a busy day and enjoy a sunset, or a sunrise, or even in the middle of the day to relax and take a breather. Sure, knitting is still an enjoyable past time and one women of any age can enjoy. The whole point here is that TODAY we do whatever it is we do because it is a choice we make and not the norm. What I'm saying is as simple as that. Nothing complicated or anything, just that we see and value ourselves as a jeweler might assesses a precious multifaceted gem; rare, brilliant and priceless.

Stay tuned folks.