chunkacoal

[chunkacoal]

#truth

[chunkacoal]

Mama Taught Me Well

You taught me how to walk Mama;

the steps I now take are on a path of my own.

You taught me how to talk Mama;

the words and sentences I form belong to my own ideas.

You taught me how to pray Mama;

yet the God I worship may not be the same as yours.

You taught me how to love Mama;

though I may not love the same kind of people as you.

You taught me how to sing Mama;

yet the songs I sing may not sound like yours.

You’ve taught me everything Mama;

you did everything you could do.

Your hardest job is at hand Mama;

to do what you must certainly do.

You have to let me go Mama;

and allow me to be what it is I am to be.

You have to trust my raising Mama;

because now it is all up to me.

[chunkacoal]

Ignorance or Insecurity?

Your thoughts?

 The scenario: a large hotel/restaurant is struggling for solutions to make their restaurant profitable. Sales are down by half. A former restaurateur is in the employment of the organization and willing to help. The employee's experience is in the same market as said failing restaurant. The leaders of the organization know the employee's restaurant was successful. The employee shares ideas with managers based on a working knowledge of the industry/market that are ignored.

 The question: Why would the leaders of the organization not make use of an asset and ignore solid solutions from an employee willing to help?

 Back Story: This is not a Mom and Pop business. No one making decisions has managed a restaurant.

[chunkacoal]

HookeD

you fit into me

like a hook into an eye

a fish hook

an open eye

- Margaret Atwood

[chunkacoal]

WALLERIN’

W - willingly embracing negativity

A - accepting the glum

L - lashing out

L - listening to the bad shit

E - excusing your own behavior

R - reliving every wrong done to yourself

I - ignoring the good

N - not caring that you are doing all these things

[chunkacoal]

#CostaRicaBound via #miami

And they traveled beneath a super moon, burning highway and night time and cups of coffee, singing along with Jamey and Trace till the sun peeked over the horizon.

[chunkacoal]

Current mood: screaming hysterically while throwing breakable objects all around my house.

[chunkacoal]

#metoo

The sad truth of the matter is this: if you have a vagina, you are 100% able to tell a me too story. The good news is this: the Divine Feminine is rising and balance is being restored. It will most likely take another hundred years or more, but she’s coming y’all. That’s going to be one hell of an Universal orgasm. Believe that.

[chunkacoal]

#inward and #onward

We all have those times in our lives when we get in what I call “the funk”. Nothing in particular causes it, it seems like EVERYTHING causes it. What it all boils down to, if we are truly honest with ourselves, is that our ego is the main culprit. You know, the poor pitiful me - the how come they instead of me - the never ending battle of ME. I’ve grown to learn that it is in those times that we best serve ourselves, and others, by retreating inward to meditate and reflect on the lessons being taught. When inwardly thinking, we can come to make some sense of all the illogical things that have piled up to make the funk manifest itself. We can look the mess square in the eyes, confront our feelings about it all and resolve to continue on our path of emerging. On the other hand, if we ignore it and try to medicate (food, alcohol, drugs, shopping, whatever vice we like to use as a crutch) ourselves out of it, it only grows larger and more difficult to decipher. By addressing the issue and facing the fiddler, we become stronger and more able to absorb the good energies in our world, while putting our ego in its place. We stabilize and make it possible to continue with our own distinct purpose. I’m sensitive to seasonal changes and some of you may be as well. It is in these times I’m most vulnerable to things, that at other times, have little or no effect on me. It is in those times my ego wants to act out and up and every way in between. Currently I’m confronting issues with things that have unsettled me of late and trusting in the Universal power to show me the Truth, how to cope without hurting others and then to gently move forward. I have too much to accomplish in what time I may have left to allow this to be much more than the equivalent of a fly buzzing my cup while I have my coffee on the front porch. I’m grateful to have learned how to work through such times and hope by sharing these thoughts I can help someone else that may be struggling. I’m shooing that fly away, putting my ego back in its place and remembering the tattoo my daughter has written across her upper left chest in pretty cursive writing - Illegitimi non carborundum. #inward and #forward ❤️

[chunkacoal]

#metalart

[chunkacoal]

At The Ironing Board

The house is quiet, and I’m standing here ironing one of the 30+ shirts belonging to my husband of more than that number of years. The shirts have piled up in the laundry room over the course of several months and as I iron I think to myself: I wonder how many men have cheated on their wives wearing a shirt she stood over an ironing board to iron. I deducted that it was most likely a lot, even though ironing for one’s husband is so 1960′s. 

Ironing is a tough job, what with the having to stand and all. I have a fancy Rowenta iron, bought several years ago on the recommendation of my baby sister. It’s a pretty good iron, beats the $10 Walmart iron all to hell, that’s for sure. I’ve figured out that it takes about 10 minutes to iron one shirt. I had a few extra minutes on my hands this evening and decided it was a good time to tackle that pile of shirts that shame me every time I use the washing machine.

 Once upon a time we were able to send the ironing out to the dry cleaners. These days those dollars are allotted elsewhere and now I do the ironing when it gets done and that’s not very often. In fact, the other day my husband made a snide remark about how he wears a shirt and when it goes into the laundry, it disappears from the closet for six months. Rather than smack the shit out of him, I decided I’d get to the ironing because you know, I do love him and want to do things for him. He would never admit it but he still prefers the “extra heavy” starched shirts from the dry cleaner days but hey, I do what I can with the skills I have. It ain’t always pretty.

I don’t particularly hate to iron, but I can’t say I like it much either. I was taught to iron when I was 10 years old and that job became my chore. As a kid, it seemed the ironing would last the rest of my life and sure enough, it has. I felt it was slightly abusive to make a 10 year old iron but I reckon in the long run it probably did me some good. 

I don’t iron much for myself, if at all. I buy clothes that don’t have to be ironed! What a novel idea. Wish somebody else thought like that! If something should probably be ironed, I just grab it right out of the dryer and hang it up. If it’s a little wrinkled, oh well. I am not out to impress anybody anymore of late. But my husband, he’s particular about his clothes; creases have to be just right. You would never guess that about him by looking at him every day cause he sure enough goes around in some garbs, let me tell ya. But if it’s work or church or funerals and such, yeah, he’s particular and much more conscious about clothes than me. For sure. 

And so I iron and I think about cheating men and I wonder if my man has cheated on me. I say emphatically NO, but there is a tiny nagging wondering in my mind. I’ve believed for nearly 40 years that I am his one and only. I can’t be 100 percent sure he’s been faithful even though I feel in my heart that he has. 

The statistics would point to an exact opposite of my belief: he is a huge flirt (named biggest flirt in high school) and even flirts when I am with him, he has a long string of women in his past and I do mean a long one, the males in his family are womanizers (father, grandfather, uncle - just to name a few), he loves to look at naked women, he’s an aggressive Alpha-Male. Anyone like that is bound to be a cheater, right?

I have no evidence to prove his faithfulness (or unfaithfulness). He has had plenty of opportunity to cheat. We’ve lived apart almost as much as we’ve lived together. Lonely times have been a plenty.

I continue my ironing and as I pull his favorite dress shirt from the warm board and place it on a hanger I decide that it just doesn’t matter. I have a man that loves me dearly and proves it daily and I’ve stood here and allowed my thoughts take me places I need not go. 

I finish yet another shirt; that makes five for the night, two more than I meant to do. When he sees them hanging in his closet he’s going to say “wow” real slow like he does when he’s in awe of something nice I’ve done for him. He’s going to give me a hug and thank me with a sweet smile and a kiss. 

He will look nice in his no dry cleaner ironed, no heavy starched shirts.