Category Archives: The Hen

New Year Surprises

It’s New Year’s eve and somehow, even though I know it’s absurd, I always have this romantic notion that it should always be spent with the one you love. It’s a symbol of the love that lies ahead for the new year and it says – I choose you. I want to be with you. I love you. But of course, I have to vigorously shake myself awake and then come to terms with the reality of the situation.  Another year gone. Another year ahead. And no one special to share it with…

Just yet…


She sees him. His deep, brown eyes fixed on her, twinkling with desire as they caress her curves. He beams a broad, toothy smile and almost appears to stand taller, straighter, puffed out, proud – as if to say “hey, check me out “. As she draws nearer, his hungry gaze lingers longer than normal. Is more direct. Almost intrusive. Ravenous. He’s longing for some reaction, a sign, a signal telling him to proceed with the unspoken flirtation. Meeting his intense gaze, she shyly returns the smile and then quickly averts her liquid, blue eyes. The heat begins as a slow creeping in her toes. Coursing through her long legs, causing them to ache and throb. Her abdomen burns with fire and as the searing heat rushes upward, she’s certain the blood red fire flushing her chest and face has exposed her secret passion for him. Her breath catches. Their eyes lock.

And he knows.


“…Heart is beating loud, she doesn’t want it to stop

Moving too fast, moon is lighting up her skin

She’s falling, doesn’t even know it yet

Having no regrets is all that she really wants

We’re only getting older, baby and I’ve been thinking about you lately. Does it ever drive you crazy?

Just how fast the night changes

Everything that you’ve ever dreamed of disappearing when you wake up

But there’s nothing to be afraid of

Even when the night changes

It will never change me and you…”                           One Direction


Barefooted, she gingerly steps onto the icy cold concrete of her tiny balcony. She momentarily stands there in the darkness. Eyes closed. Quietly listening to the street sounds. Breathing in the crisp night air. Finally, opening her eyes, she exhales a silent sigh. He must have been quietly watching her as she stood there in the cold darkness. Nervous and anxious. Gift in hand. Unable to speak for fear of startling her. Is it karma or fateful Divine intervention? Because he suddenly appeared under her balcony looking like a love struck Romeo pledging his everlasting love to Juliet. His gesture sincerely surprises her and genuinely touches her heart. Giddy, she accepts his gift and without hesitating, warmly hugs him.  …

Secret passions coming to fruition.

Where do they go from here?

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Far Better Things Ahead

“There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind.” ~ C. S. Lewis

The Christmas Can Can

I absolutely love the holidays…the crisp, invigorating weather, the delicious aromas, the fanciful lights and displays…even the melodious holiday music is a must. It’s cheerful and much like a young child, I am always brimming with excitement during this time of year. I’m not; however, one of those Christmas obsessed individuals who begins creeping in a bit of Christmas tidings on Halloween or even as early as Thanksgiving. But – the day after Thanksgiving is fair game. The Autumn décor is promptly boxed and replacing it in record time; wintery garland, red bows, handmade wreaths, white bright lights, and tons of tastefully selected knick knacky items that complete the Holiday ambiance. Every item has its place. And once complete, I love sitting back, sipping on spiced cinnamon cider, and basking in the seasonal radiance. Ahhh.

What I can do without are those who wholeheartedly dislike the holiday shopping crowds. I am certainly not a person who enjoys shopping on any regular day but even I know how to behave during the expected last minute shopping rush. So, to the Mister who barked off that he “just loves how people just effing stand around” while rudely pushing past my line of shoppers unloading their carts, I say this – Lighten up!

Holiday Blues

It’s raining outside and expected to continue up until Christmas. I really love the cooler Autumn and Winter weather but absolutely hate the week long dreariness. Anything longer than 3 days, and gray skies begin to weigh heavily on my heart.

So what’s a girl to do? I have the next 2 weeks off from work and absolutely nothing planned. No where to go. No one to see. Just me and Chicks #2 and #3.

I miss the Holiday festivities. Parties. Driving around looking at the lights. Music. Family. Cooking for more than 3 people. Friends. Traditions. Laughter. Even getting dressed up in heels and a pretty outfit.

Things change. We all change. Family traditions change. What was once valued, morphs into what’s important to someone else.  Schedules get in the way. New relationships create new traditions. Commitments are refocused. Reestablished. Realigned.

…and it all saddens my heart.

Stop!

Just think how amazing it would be if everyone were all on the same mental page. Seriously. My bestie co-worker friend, Ms. B and I finish each other’s sentences, often break out in song in the middle of conversations, and somehow always manage to sync random sentences to song titles and phrases. We’re weird. We know it. We accept it. We have fun! It’s definitely the best part of my day…my work day, that is. She and I are complete opposites. She’s black. I’m white. She’s disorganized. I’m almost neurotically organized. She’s LOUD. I’m only loud when I need to be. She’s messy. I’m always picking up after her. She’s ADHD. I’m focused. She flies by the seat of her pants. I like to have a plan. But even with all the differences, we have the same love for laughter and our work day is filled with non-stop laughs and giggles. We’re like Yin and Yang. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Peanut butter and jelly. Mutt and Jeff. Bonnie and Clyde… and any other crazy, balanced, and complimenting pair you can think of.

Students come in, make a disaster of the media center and she hisses at them in her Sméagol voice, telling them she’s about to “manifest”. I do my best not to bust a gut as I tidy the mess. Likewise, she lets lose a hearty belly laugh when I release the wit monster. We’re good for each other. We bring out the best in each other. And when one of us is a little off, the other provides a little comedic relief. She’s like my family and no one gets us like family.

It’s been a tough week. IE: Book returns from 22 classrooms, re shelving probably close to 1000 books , Christmas store, 3 days of special teacher lunches, absentees, demanding teachers, and on and on…and honestly, if it weren’t for my opposite gal pal sista from another mista, I’d need a prescription for some Z bars…or a bottomless wine cellar. I have neither and really, all I need is the shenanigans we create between the two of us. Thanks Ms. B for keeping me sane even if our laughter always makes us appear insane to the rest of the humorless lot.


From shenanigans to the Twilight Zone -> home.

Chick #3: Interrupted my thinking by loudly singing “STOP!” Followed by, “It’s hammer time!”

I cut my eyes over to her, waiting for the next random outburst. “STOP!”  To which I concluded, “In the name of love!”  Chick #3 giggled and sang back, “STOP! Collaborate and listen!’ Chick #2, not wanting to be bested, “Stop! Don’t touch me there. That’s my no no square.”

I looked up at her and in all dry, seriousness asked, “Square? Shouldn’t that be … triangle?!”

She left the room.

~SE

Careless Love

Originally written in The W(H)INE Monologue April 2014

An old blog I wrote but never posted…

For some, expressions of love are simply expected tokens taken for granted. For others, expressions of love are insignificant and forgotten. One is equally bad as the other because they both represent just how careless people are with their love and those they claim to love.

Careless love #1 – The sweet, sweet boy presents his beautiful girl with a dozen pink tipped roses as a gesture of Valentine’s love. She hungrily grabs the roses and beams a toothy, joyful smile. Eyes twinkling, she crushes her face into the bouquet and inhales their intoxicating and rosy scent. She girlishly tells her beau, “Thank you” with a kiss on the cheek.

She’s enamored by the attention and his affectionate gesture and yet, when she arrives home, she carelessly tosses the roses on her unmade bed. She rushes here and there, hurriedly preparing for a sleep over with her friend and bolts out the door. There they lay, discarded among her clothes, in their clear cellophane wrapper, thirsty for a love’s touch and a quenching vase of water.

Careless love #2 – He wakes early, softly whispers, “Happy Valentine’s Day” and warmly wraps his arms around her before falling fast asleep. She lies there thinking, “maybe this time he’s actually bought a card or splurged on a bouquet of wild flowers”. She’s not the rose type of girl but wild flowers brighten her mood just as much as they cheer up any room. With excited thoughts of the day ahead, she snuggles into his arms and sleeps a little longer.

Later, she wakes and gingerly places his Valentine card on his desk. Like an excited child on Christmas morning, she searches the house for some sort of Valentine token. Is it here? Is it there? Where can it be? There’s nothing…and as she goes about her morning routines, she’s plagued by the attempt to rationalize his thoughtlessness and her heart breaks just a little bit more.


Have you ever noticed the symbolism between the Valentine Cupid, his nasty, flesh piercing arrows and the realities of love’s pain? I mean really! The person who coined the phrase “struck by Cupid’s arrow” has a seriously twisted, warped, and sadistic sense of humor. He …or she…was obviously quite familiar with the panging pains of love.

Whether it’s old or new, love is painful. Sometimes that barbed arrow neatly grazes the surface, leaving a stinging flesh wound in its wake. Other times, the dagger thrusts in deep, lodging itself in the most tender of places. In either case, once that bull’s eye searching arrow hits its mark, the pain felt from love’s first embrace is nothing compared to the flesh ripping arrow extraction.


Careless love #2 continued – Distraught, she succumbs to the hurt, pain, and anger of not just one misplaced Valentine gesture but the many…many overlooked, neglected, and seemingly unimportant gestures and tokens of love and affection. The tidal wave of heart wrenching pain rushes over her. She sobs, realizing all the “tokens” have always come from her. She says the “I love you’s.” She never misses a moment to warmly greet him with a kiss when she gets home from work. She hugs him. She touches him. Smiles at him. She holds his hand. She makes his morning coffee and expresses her love in so many ways that he doesn’t. As she fights back the tears, she chides herself and in her head, “This is STUPID! I’m upset about VALENTINE’S Day?!”

But it isn’t just about THIS day. It’s about the other 365 gesture-less days, too. It’s about feeling just as insignificant as the carelessly tossed roses. It’s his lack of affection and attention and his inability or unwillingness to demonstrate his love in a way other than buying stuff that means more to him than to her.

It’s about how careless his love really is.

Fowl or Foul?

Thought for the day –

Mama Hen says, “He who rides behind chicken truck with window down – smells Foul!!”

Oh the joys of living in the country!

Don’t Drink and Dive

Reposted from The W(H)INE Monologue

no swmingCirca 1998
Palm Bay, Fl
A lesson learned the hard way – Don’t drink and dive. And if you do, get close enough to the pool so you clear the edge.
Nice visual, right? Let me tell ya about it.
I, by no means have ever claimed to walk with grace, fall with grace, or simply drink with grace. To clarify – I do drink with Grace but not gracefully. Basically, I’m a disaster waiting to happen and when you add a little liquor to that, it’s only a matter of time before the inevitable occurs and I make a total ass out of myself.
Hence – don’t drink and dive.
You see, a bunch of us were hanging out by the pool, hot tub, garage game room and just having a grand old time. I figured I’d stay put in one place so as not to make a spectacle of myself. So for the longest time, I stayed in the garage shooting pool – where it was safe and DRY. No way was I about to eat tile and play slip and slide through the house. Nope. Not me. You see, I accept my limits and walking while drinking is definitely very limited.
As the night went on, the crowd routinely migrated from here to there an back again but not me. I was blissfully content to sit atop a bar stool next to the pool table, bottle in hand. Then it happened. The cooler went dry and pretty much everyone had wandered back to the pool. Damn. That meant I had to forego my skid proof flooring and gingerly make my way through the deathtrap wet, tiled house to the overly crowded pool deck where there were beverages aplenty. I didn’t really like the idea of pulling a Risky Business through the house and I hated the idea of me being a human pinball even more but when the cooler runs dry, you go where there are refreshments. I’m not sure how long it actually took me to traverse through the house and onto the back patio but somehow I made it and without any damage. Whew. Feeling relieved, I grabbed another drink, found a spot to once again perch, and hoped I wouldn’t need to move again any time soon. That was not to be the case; however, because the already rawdy group was being egged on by my house party hostess in the hopes of instigating a game of pool volley ball. Next thing I know, there’s two highly inebriated teams floundering about, looking like breaching whales as they attempt to make contact with the ball. This one does a belly flop. That one gets hit in the face. Another one sucks in a mouthful of water. Oh, now he’s hanging over the side of the pool gagging. That’s just great! I hear our hostess yell, “Don’t you effing puke in the POOL, dumb ass!” I’m about to wet my pants from laughing when she asks me to get an overthrown ball. Still laughing, I manage to get the slippery devil and chuck it back in the pool. “Hey! Come join us. This loser’s about to hurl” she calls to me as she instructs the water sucking guy to get out of the pool. My belly is about to bust from laughing at the scene before me and I know I shouldn’t, but I stagger over to the pool anyway. Big mistake. You see, alcohol plays tricks…evil tricks…on your depth perception. You guessed it. Objects in mirror are closer than they appear and when you’re drinking, they are farther way than they appear. In my mind, I was on the edge. In reality, I was 1 foot back from where I should have been. Know what happens when you’re too far back for a dive? You have no dive curve and hit the bottom… face first.
What did I tell you about grace? I didn’t play tile slip and slide but I did end up with a pretty gnarly pool smashed mug and I’m happy the entire incident wasn’t any worse.

Moral of the Story: Don’t Drink and Dive

~ SE