I Found the Muse!! You’ll Never Guess Where She Was Hiding!!


A busy Starbucks has got to be one of the strangest places in the world. Now, I’ve been to Starbucks before, this particular one as well, while my son is across the street at a Dr. Appt.  I often come here because it is quiet, I can concentrate on my work or crochet, I have a nice Skinny Vanilla Latte and watch the world go by

I’ve seen some humorous people.

One in particular really stands out, a small presumably homeless woman who changed her stockings in the restaurant then proceeded to apply lipstick while eating pretzels. Another time a I walked in and saw a student sleeping in a comfy armchair. Two hours later when I left he was still there, never moved.

Tonight it is packed. Holiday shopping perhaps? I sit down at a table for four, the only empty spot in the place and watch my Muse flitter about the establishment, traveling from table to table. Listening in on conversations and sniffing drinks.

While I watch her dancing happily about the room a nice young boy (Jewish I think, he was wearing a yarmulke) asks if he can share my table. “Sure, no problem” I respond. I mean what can I say? “Heck no, I’m here to get time away from children, not add another!” So he joins me, at the far end of the table. Within 10 minutes a woman and her two young girls burst in the store yelling about a flat tire and promptly sits her children in the two side chairs next to me and starts them on their homework while she yells into the phone giving AAA directions to her wayward vehicle.

A few minutes later another woman and HER two kids are added to the menagerie, the young boy beats feet outta there and I’m left looking like the person that joined THEIR group instead of the other way around.

It gets better…wait for it….the little imp sitting to my right, where my coffee is….delivers a perfect elbow blow to my Latte covering her homework, her mother’s phone, her arm, the chairs, the floor and a tiny itty bitty bit of my computer with warm…almost hot..liquid magic.

My Muse giggles lightly and and twirls away looking for more amusement, while 15 people (patrons and employees attempt to clean up the sopping mess). A nice lady asked me if I needed a fresh drink, which I of course I accepted, but I’ve yet to see 15 minutes later.

*sigh* Ah….here it is…the Muse must have worked her magic behind the counter. Okay, well…another hour to kill before it is time to pick up my son. What kind of trouble can we get into now?

Confuzed by the Muse

Where does she hide? What does she look like? Where does she store all of my innermost thoughts and ideas? How come she is so inaccessible when I most want a visit from her? Does she find pleasure in withholding creativity? Does she delight in my dilemma? Why do I feel so lost when my fingers itch to type but my muse refuses to cooperate? I’ve heard that to best encourage the muse is to ignore her altogether, but then I feel sad and lonely.

Is writers block a symptom of the hidden muse or the cause of it? If I sit and write without her help, what will I produce? Mindless ramblings of muze confuzion no doubt. Perhaps if I ignore her absence long enough and keep clicking away at the keyboard something worthwhile will burst forth. Maybe not. In the meantime, if you see my muse will you send her home please? I’m aching for some inspiration.

How do you, my fellow writers…deal with an absent muse?

I Strongly Dislike

I don’t like the word “hate”. Not because I don’t hate anything but I strongly dislike using it because it seems….well..so hateful. That being said let me share a few things I strongly dislike.

1) the wind. I understand it has its attributes but it makes me sneeze like a freak…..sometimes 10 in a row. As if I had any interest in the Guinness book of world records for sneezing Pffffftt.

2) incessant sneezing which causes my snotbox to run like a faucet which in turn reduces my nasal area to a raw,red mess. See above for incessant sneezing causes.

3) dead MacBooks. Which then requires me to blog from my iPhone. Which in turn results in no images for YOU because I’m too frustrated to investigate the ins and outs of retrieving images from the phone and posting them to the blog. And really who wants to see a pic of a snotty, runny nose anyway?

4) Shared family desktop computers. The j and k keys are stuck together, from syrup I surmise and the mouse smells like sweat and apple juice. Nuff said. Not using it.

So in conclusion, unless and until my Mac is repaired my prolific words will be few and far between.


You know what they say about opinions….I have chosen to stay out of the political battle waging war on blogs and social networks. I find it exhausting, exasperating even. If they were well thought out arguments for or against something based on facts as opposed to feelings I may have been interested, but sadly it was an emotional rampage based on appearances and half-truths.

It is what it is people! Those who had hoped for normalcy since the counts were tallied are sorely disappointed in the continuing saga that openly continues. Let it go, all the whining and complaining in the world isn’t going to change a thing. Especially those of you who seem surprised or betrayed by your “friends” that dare comment on your posts if they are of differing opinions than yours.

Let me tell you about openly expressing your feelings in a public forum. You are ASKING people to respond simply by putting your thoughts out there. Why is it then that you express anger at their comments? Can’t thoughtful intelligent people discuss things rationally? Is everything a personal attack on you or your belief system?

This is still the best country on earth and as long as we work together it will continue to be so.

Now…Survivor is on and I will turn my attention to some really important voting!

Why Blog?


Have you ever considered why we blog? What is the insistent nagging in our heads to get our thoughts “out there”? Do people really care what we are thinking, what advice we have or experiences we’ve encountered?

Are we so self-absorbed and narcissistic that we can’t keep our thoughts to ourselves? To what gain do we share them?

I seem to have an almost compulsive desire to write. I write my musings, my experiences, my opinion, my desires, my dreams. Considerations of my past. Who reads them? Why do they read them and what do they glean from my work?

Some think its dangerous to reveal oneself in such an intimate manner with “strangers”. Strangers are more dangerous than fiction eh?

I’m rambling this evening….these thoughts and questions flooded me as I gazed at the stars in the Southern California skies. We are so insignificant in the grand scheme of things…..who cares what we have to say?

Letter to My 14 Year Old Self


Look around you….what do you see? The beauty and majesty of Bishop California surrounds you. Do you appreciate it? Do the Sierra Nevada’s give you a sense of awe? They should, you take for granted a life of beauty and serenity and you shouldn’t, for soon it will all be gone. You’ll spend most of your 40’s attempting to recapture the feeling of peace and beauty you have now. These things will come to past and there is nothing you can do to change them.

Next year your beloved Bron, whom you babysit will drown in his families backyard pond at the age of 2. His father, your sixth grade teacher whom you adore, will die in a horrible dune buggy accident several years later. Take the time today to share with them what they mean to you. The loss of these two dear ones will forever weigh on your heart, don’t dismiss this admonishment lightly, as some adolescents are prone to do.

The boyfriend whom you have given your heart, will betray your trust and hurt you so deeply that a wall is built around your soul making it difficult to love fully again. Don’t place trust in someone too immature to appreciate it.

The person you call your best friend will play a part in this betrayal. Use better judgement when choosing your friends. Remember that the ‘best indicator of future behavior is past behavior’ according to Dr. Phil McGraw

Your parents will divorce in the next two years and you will move, never to live in the serenity of the Owens Valley again, though you will desire to do so for the remainder of your days.

In short life as you know it is soon to change so drastically that the impact will be indelibly etched in your soul, rendering your ability to have deep, meaningful relationships difficult.

Never take for granted what you have now, for it is soon lost.

10 Years of Prayer

10 Years of Prayer

 The Valley Mom On: 10 Years of Prayer

I bent over Bella’s crib yesterday to lift her out after her nap. As I gazed into her beautiful sleepy face I experienced a searing twinge. Not a nice twinge mind you, the kind that warms your heart and brings a tear to your eye as you gaze in wonder at your fifth child and only daughter, but a twinge that shoots through your spine, down the length of your leg and nearly brings you to your knees.  I stumbled backward onto my bed (read Bella is STILL in the room with us) and landed flat on my back. Not the most graceful of circumstances to begin with, even less so while juggling a 26 pound toddler who is desperately clinging to your hair for dear life.

Landing with a firm bounce and a loud “OOOfff” brought forth thunderous applause and screeches of pleasure from my two little boys. I looked around at the happy miniature faces and woefully considered “how did I get here, I am WAY too old for this”.  At 39 I’d hoped that my diaper changing days and late night vigils with a colicky baby would have been long past. As I have been hard pressed to learn God’s perfect plans for me and my perfect plans for myself are usually totally different.

10 years ago I wanted a baby and actively worked to obtain one. God spent those same 10 years refining me. He eventually saw fit to bless me with not one baby, but three in less than 20 months. Blessings for sure, exhausting nonetheless. My body is worn, my heart well seasoned and my free time nonexistent but my house is full. Exactly what I’d hoped for 10 years after I’d first prayed for it.

I may be old and beat up, I may have less energy and more gray hair but I have the perfect family for me.  I love my life twinges and all, those in my heart, those in my body and those that often share my bed with sweaty curls and sticky fingers.

Happy Birthday Sean Alex! (2007)

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Happy Birthday Sean Alex!

Three years ago today
A sweet soul joined us on earth
Helpless and small
Tubes, wires and alarms
Spirit unbroken
Strength abundant
Body battered
Breathing labored
Quiet and
Many tears fell
For three weeks
Our angel fought
To heal his lungs
Where machines rattle
and hum
People poke you
Hurt you
Scare you
Home is where this little one belongs
The great doctor proclaims
With his three brothers
Where the warmth of his parents
Their beating hearts
Will comfort him
and heal him
Home he came
To the welcoming arms
of his family
Where he grew
and grew
and grew
Into the beautiful
Brown eyed
Curly haired
Kissy kissy kissy
Big three year old
He is today

Happy Birthday darling boy!

9:04 am est

Friday, August 3, 2007


My Life is Like Ground Hog Day? I Love it Anyway 2007

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Ground Hog Day? I Love it Anyway

Being a stay at home mom is like the movie “Ground Hog” day with Bill Murray. You wake up to the same old people same old routine every day. You could change the routine, shake things up a little and brush your teeth AFTER you’ve had your coffee, but that kind of excitement might kick the earth off its axis.

Wake up, change kids, feed kids, change kids, feed kids, put kids down for nap, fold laundry, change kids, feed kids, bath kids, read to kids and put kids to bed. This might sound simple or even dare I say easy but it is far from either. You have to remember that this routine is multiplied times three at our house and in between all those diaper changes and feeding sessions I have to: break up fights, clean up thrown food, clean pee off the toilet seat 500 times, pull children off the curtains, turn overturned furniture right side up, facilitate therapy appointments and maintain an atmosphere of relative calm lest I appear completely insane.

Easy, I should say not. Easy would be going to work each day after dropping the kids off at a sitter. At least I would get scheduled breaks and a quiet lunch hour and some other poor soul would be doing ¾ of my changing/feeding/refereeing duties.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t have wanted to miss it!” beg pardon? Miss WHAT!? I’m so exhausted I can’t recall what happened yesterday let alone the first step, first word, first tooth or first solid poop of any one of my five children. In theory having ONE child while you are a stay at home mom would allow you to savor and videotape each exciting milestone in said child’s life, but when you have three little ones you are too busy preventing serious injury to life and limb to take notice or pictures.

As busy as I am there are bright moments that stand out like shiny new pennies sprinkled throughout each day. They are so distinct and brief that I can easily share each one with you. When I pick up Steven from preschool and his face lights up like a Christmas tree when he sees me as he runs towards me full Stevie speed ahead and hugs me tight when we meet.

Bath time is another highlight; the children are contained, smiling and fresh. We sing happy songs and play “this little piggy”. When I dry them I hold them close and press their damp curls against my cheek in an effort to imprint the moment on my heart and in my mind forever.

Story time is another fave of mine. The children still smell fresh from their bath; they cuddle expectantly on my lap ready to be whisked to some imaginary destination filled with fairies, superheroes and magic talking trains.

Lastly, when they are all tucked away in their beds, their long lashes dusting their firm, chubby cheeks and their quiet even breaths breaking the evening silence I sigh a heavy sigh and thank God for each moment I am given in the presence of my children. As difficult assignment as it is, it’s the only one I want.

6:07 pm est


Why God Made Moms

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Why God Made Moms

My mother sent this too me via email not too long ago. It was on a particularly difficult morning and it made me smile when I received it. I had heard its contents once before, a few years ago at a teachers meeting in the old days “before babies” and loved it. I wish I knew its author so I could give due credit. Unfortunately since it seems to have been researched and written anonymously it will have to suffice that I’ve announced for the sake of copyright regulations that it is not handiwork of my making.


Why God Made Moms

Answers given by 2nd grade school children to the following questions :

Why did God make mothers?
1. She’s the only one who knows where the scotch tape  is.
2. Mostly to clean the house.
3. To help us out of there when we were getting born.

How did God make mothers?
1. He used dirt, just like for the rest of us.
2. Magic plus super powers and a lot of stirring.
3. God  made my Mom just the same like he made me. He just used bigger

What ingredients are mothers made of?
1. God makes mothers out of clouds and angel hair and everything nice
in the world and one dab of mean.
2. They had to get their start from men’s bones. Then they mostly use
string, I think.

Why did God give you your mother and not some other mom?
1. We’re related.
2. God knew she likes me a lot more than other people’s moms like me.

What kind of little girl was your mom?
1. My Mom has always been my mom and none of that other stuff.
2. I don’t know  because I wasn’t there, but my guess would be pretty bossy.
3. They say she used to be nice.

What did mom need to know about dad before she married him?
1. His last name.
2. She had to know his background.Like is he a crook? Does he get drunk on beer?
3. Does he make at least $800 a year? Did he say NO to drugs and YES to chores?

Why did your mom marry your dad?
1. My dad makes the best spaghetti in the world. And my Mom eats a lot.
2. She got too old to do anything else with him.
3. My grandma  says that Mom didn’t have her thinking cap on.


Who’s the boss at your house?
1. Mom doesn’t want to be boss, but she has to because dad’s such a goof ball.
2. Mom. You can tell by room inspection.She sees the stuff under the bed.
3. I guess Mom is, but only because she has a lot more to do than dad.

What’s the difference between moms & dads?
1. Moms work at work and work at home and dads just go to work at work.
2. Moms know how to talk to teachers without scaring them.
3. Dads are taller & stronger, but moms have all the real power ’cause that’s who you got to ask if you want to sleep over at your friend’s.
4. Moms have magic, they make you feel better without medicine.

What does your mom do in her spare  time?
1. Mothers don’t do spare time.
2. To hear her tell it, she pays bills all day long.

What would it take to make your mom perfect?
1. On the inside she’s already perfect. Outside, I think some kind of plastic surgery.
2. Diet. You know, her hair. I’d diet, maybe blue.

If you  could change one thing about your mom, what would it be?
1. She has this weird thing about me keeping my room clean. I’d get rid of that.

2. I’d  make my mom smarter. Then she would know it was my sister who did it
and not me.
3. I would like for her to get rid of those invisible eyes on the back of her head.