Picture Perfect in Houston!

One Week Under My Belt!!

2008-12-06T18:30:00.003-06:00

Finally - Saturday!

The new job is both exhilarating and exhausting. My first day I sat on my butt all day long, ate lunch during the long, eight-hour meeting/training, and went home drained, but more filled with knowledge about the company and not so much on the job. Actually, none on the job itself.

Day Two: Tuesday I was asked to shadow a gal whose position is the same as mine, but in a different building. She's terrific and wealth of knowledge! I watched as she took call after call, note after note, and put out fire after agonizing fire. I wanted this job why?

Day Three: Wednesday was more of Tuesday. I spent the morning with my mentor, thoroughly enjoying the learning experience, meeting more people and getting a feel for things in general. On Wednesday I afternoon I returned to my own building and was soon thereafter faced with my first fire. A lady was apparently assaulted by our new elevator doors and was knocked into the elevator, slamming into another patron who was on the elevator, and who told us she "tried" to push the button to open the door. (I have my doubts at to weather she was trying to open it or make it close quicker...) Keeping in mind the building is still new there were also no available Incident Forms. Able to think on my feet in times of high stress, I remembered I had been given a sample Incident Report. I grabbed one out of my new hire orientation packet and saved the day! The lady was fine. And I looked like a hero - I think.

Day Four - Thursday I made my way through the building meeting some of my staff and several of the doctors. No fires. (YEY!)

Day Five - Meetings. Ugh.

And then came Saturday! Open House. I had planned on putting in an appearance. This is the Marketing Department's baby, so I was not required to work. Guess again. I was posted at the reception desk to welcome visitors and have them fill out their door prize tickets. Yup. I was there the whole day. Again - ugh.

Today, at the end of Saturday - I'm exhausted!!! Not so much exhilarated.

I hope I didn't bore you. I think this job will get easier. I want to know it ALL ... NOW. It just ain't gonna happen.

Let's see how it goes next week. If I survive, I'll let you know.

Happy Weekend!

Lori

I am Thankful for....

2008-12-01T19:42:00.003-06:00

Hi Folks, It's been a while, I know. In my last post I had mentioned that we had a tech come in to work on our internet and phones. As I suspected, they installed some kicky new software that ended up blocking us from all contact from and to the outside world. We became prisoners of our own office structure. I suppose we had it pretty easy, but once our wings got clipped, things got pretty dull.

On a brighter note, I attended training and orientation for my new job today. The difference in these two jobs, former and present (new) are unbelievable. The former job hires warm bodies to fill positions no-one wants and pays them salaries no-one with a brain would accept. My new job is impeccable in professionalism, training and expectations. Their emphasis on customer service and employee morale far exceeds what I have ever experienced in a work place. For this I am truly thankful.

And for these...my three beautiful children, without whom my life would be quite dull, indeed. God has truly blessed me.

Becky, Jeff and Amanda.

Holiday blessings to all!

Lori

Yowzzzza!!!

2008-10-29T10:20:00.010-05:00

Here's a little card I've been playing close to the vest, for reasons which would surprise (to say the least) my current employer if they had known earlier.

A couple months back I was approached by a Headhunter (job placement agency) about a desirable position in my current field, at a location a bit closer to my home. "What the heck - why not?" I thought. I went to the interview, skeptical that the company would be desperately in need of warm bodies to fill positions no-one wanted. I arrived to find a very pleasant and clean building, full of friendly and helpful faces. Armed with a list of loaded questions, such as, "Why is the position available? (Translated: Did the former employee hate the job so much they quit? Did the former employee get fired? Were they promoted?") What is the company's turnover rate? (Translated: If everyone hates their jobs here, I certainly don't want to join!) You get the idea.

Anayway, I met with a very pleasant and upbeat lady, who conducted the interview. She was very informative, answering all my questions before I had time to ask. As it happened, I would be replacing her, as she had been promoted! Also, I learned the people there really enjoy their jobs; there are employee inventive programs, rewards, etc. Not bad so far. Then she hits me with the job description. The position requires the ability to get along well with people (I can pull this off on good days), interact with upwards of 45+ doctors on a daily basis (deer-in-the-headlight look - I have done this for the past 10 years with ten docs), and continuously canvas the entire site -- SITE -- not office -- SITE, making sure everyone is in their places and putting out proverbial fires as they pop up. Wait a minute - hold up! This sounds like an administrator position. This was starting to get the creative juices flowing and igniting some excitement in the ole noggin! I was really wanting this position! If there are two things I excel at, they are 1)Creativity and 2)Problem Solving! I have this uncanny ability to be able to think outside the box to solve problems that otherwise conventional means can't touch. I'm a shoe-in!

So, I make it past the first interview and go through a second with the CEO. Wait two more weeks.

I get another call, just on Monday, and I'm offered the position!! Freaking out inside, I think I mumbled something that sounded like "Thank you!" I wasn't offered the position for which I interviewed, however, I will be the Site Supervisor for a brand new surgery center! How cool is that! And for only 12 doctors!! Whoohooo!

Okay, there's a phone guy here to do heaven knows what to my internet connection, so for now, Adios! I'll finish this up in a bit, if I still have access to the internet.

Wish me luck! (PS If there are any typos, forgive me and I'll fix them once I know if I still have internet.)
Lori

Change is Good

2008-10-27T09:40:00.004-05:00

Here we are just a few short weeks after the initial shock that AOL Hometowns will be no more. With the help and encouragement of the Magic Smoke folks we, at least I, have made a fairly smooth transition here to Blogger.

Lately I've also been busy writing articles for an online magazine, which I'll introduce you to in the next couple of weeks or so. I'm on a deadline to get three more articles into their hands, so my time will be a bit occupied until then. Check back for more details.

Enjoy the cool(er) weather! I know I am!

Lori

Life is Getting Back to Normal

2008-10-08T15:56:00.001-05:00

Hello again,

We're almost 4 weeks after Ike. Life is returning to normal, with the exception of my frayed emotions. I think I'm suffering from Post-traumatic Ike Disorder (PID). My former self used to thrive on the excitement of thunderstorms and rain. My husband considered me a weather freak. After Ike, however, I must admit I'm not so much the violent weather lover that I had been all of my adult life. I have digressed to the familiar childhood fears that used to plague my dreams and waking life. The sound of thunder used to set my heart racing, and until Ike, I had not felt that sensation since childhood.

On the bright side, the weather is still absolutely gorgeous. Today is the first day I've truly enjoyed going outside. It was close to 60F at 6 a.m. My grandson told me this morning in the car that he was freezing, and would I please turn on the heater. I laughed and reminded him that he, only six short months ago, lived in Germany and ran around outside with nothing more than a t-shirt and shorts in weather temperatures lower than today's!

Thank you for reading along on my Ike adventure. I hope to never have to describe the destruction and happenings of another hurricane again!! This was my first hurricane experience and I don't wish to have any more. I'm considering moving back to Ohio -- Cleveland -- far enough from the hurricanes to feel safe.

Lori

P.S. I have not had time yet to re-add the photos in the older posts. I'll try to update these as time permits.

Eight Days After Ike

2008-09-21T15:55:00.000-05:00

Here it is, eight days after Ike stomped on us, ripped up our trees and shut down our way of life as we know it.

Today, I was able to get fuel for my car WITHOUT waiting in a line. I even got to go to McDonald's and pick up breakfast for my family instead of frying bacon, eggs, and making coffee on the BBQ (which was fun for a while). More and more stores are opening, and God bless the Kroger Company; they were one of the first stores to open with meat, milk, bread and ICE!

The people who stayed to ride out the storm are cleaning up their yards and trying to get things looking more normal. There are those who left (and we should have, too) whose yards are still a chilling reminder of the horrendous beating we took in Ike's rage.

The roads are being cleared of debris and trees. There is a steady stream of energy trucks flooding the neighborhoods, bringing us hope and power. We are lucky, indeed.

I'll update again in a week.

Lori

2008-09-17T18:05:00.000-05:00

Tags: Hurricane Ike, Ike, Houston storm

Five Days After Ike

2008-09-17T17:45:00.000-05:00

Hello All,

Here it is five days post Ike and I am finally sitting down to put my thoughts on record. There has been a whirlwind (pun intended) of activity, but at the moment I have decided to take a few seconds of quiet time and share our experiences with you.

Friday, Ike Eve, was much like any other fall evening when we knew a thunderstorm was coming. The skies were cloudy, the breezes were beginning to cool off the day's heat and dry up some of the thick humidity, to which we Houstonians have all become accustomed. The clouds were robed in pastel hues of crimson, salmon and amber. There was a tinge of excitement, and dread, in the air.

What soon overtook the serene peace of the evening was a screaming, howling beast who would rip through our lives and leave thousands homeless and millions devastated.

Ike tore into Houston at approximately 2:00 a.m. We knew he was near. We heard his howling announcement. We lay still in our beds, listening to the bumps and crashes outside, praying that our home would remain sturdy and steady in the violent thrashing happening just outside our single-paned windows.

At around 6:00 a.m., we heard nothing. There was an eerie calm and scant sunlight as Ike's Eye peered down on us. A few quiet moments later, he began growling and screaming louder than before, as though someone had not taken his tantrum seriously and he was now more determined than ever to get our attention.

Two hours later, we noticed light coming though our still-intact windows. We dared to venture outside, into the less-severe winds and biting rain. What we saw we had never expected. I don't think anyone had any idea the damage Ike would wreak on our cities and towns. Below are some photos of my own home and neighborhood. My home is located on the northwest side of Houston, 90 miles north and west of Galveston Island. The damage we sustained was mild in comparison:

I am happy to have made it through the storm with our home sustaining only minor damage. We had a small leak that came in from underneath a door and did some minor damage to the carpet. Our back yard fence came down. Otherwise, besides the post-traumatic stress syndrome many of us are experiencing, we did fairly well.
In the few days following the storm, everyone without power, all of us, family and neighbors, spent many of our daylight hours outside cleaning up our homes, yards, checking on each other and being thankful to be alive.

We did hit a few snags, as would be expected after a disaster of this magnitude. Gas was unavailable. Stores were closed. If people didn't make provisions before the storm hit, they would find themselves in severe need in these few days.

Once the power started returning to small sections of town, gas stations and food stores began to open. Folks in gas lines were experiencing three and four hour waits. Stores were letting people enter only a few at a time to get what they could find, if anything. Points of distribution (PODs) were opened in several areas of town. PODs provided ice and water to those in need. We were all in need.

Slowly, neighborhood by neighbohood, power began to be restored. We, my little block of neighbors, are still without power today, thanks to a tree falling on a power line near our section of the neighborhood, while all others around us have power, even those two and three houses to our east. It is disheartening and frustrating, but we are holding out hope that our power will, too, be restored in the few days to follow.

On the bright side, God has seento it to bless us with the most incredible cool front. The nights have been in the mid- to upper-60s, and the days have been mild and dry. I can't imagine having to go through these days in the 90- and 100-degree heat, which usually plagues us this time of year.

Today, five days later, I am thrilled to report that gas lines are getting shorter, more stores are opening, and lives are beginning to return to normal. My daughter has power in her home, which has restored my hope, somewhat, and given me the opportunity to let you know what has been happening in my little piece of land in Houston.

God bless.

Lori

Tags: Ike, Hurricane Ike, Houston storms, eye of the hurricane

Summer Fun

2008-08-26T16:13:00.000-05:00

This entry began as a Summer Fun Photo entry, but after I wrote it, set the photo in, and THEN read the rules, I decided I'd just better leave it as a post. It's not my best by far, but it sure tugs at my heart strings.

We had a very adventurous summer. I suppose the highlight of the summer was during Swim Team.

My middle granddaughter, Kaymie, began her very first year on swim team at the age of 6. She began her 8-week adventure learning her strokes, trying to make it from one end of the pool, to the other end, 25 yards across to the other side. In the beginning, she dog-paddled a few times, then grabbed the rope to catch her breath while attempting her freestyle. Later she learned backstroke, where she excelled! By the end of the 8 weeks she stunned us by attempting and executing an adorable butterfly stroke, a stroke she taught herself by watching the older swimmers.

She won several ribbons and a medal for her backstroke. But what cinched the summer was watching my very petite, fragile-framed Kaymie walk up to accept her trophy for "Most Valuable Swimmer" for her age division. I still get teary-eyed at remembering the pride in those big, beautiful blue eyes.

The photo below shows her busting at the seams, showing off her participation trophy (right), donning the medal she won for her Divisionals meet, and holding her very large, and somewhat heavy, MVP trophy (left)!

Today... Cutten Green Current Swim Team; Tomorrow...Olympics!

School Days!!!

2008-08-25T12:44:00.000-05:00

Yey! Finally! Back to School! I know all you parents of school-aged kiddos are with me on this. How 'bout one big shout out - YeeeeHAW!!

For you instructors and administrators - a moment of silence.....

So, my Sophomore son was a piece of cake to get ready for school. A couple pairs of jeans, coupla shirts, some general school supplies and a haircut. When asked if he needed a new backpack to replace the more than 6 year old one he currently uses, he picks it up, shakes it around, "Nope. This one's still good." Done.

My 13-year-old primadona daughter: Five new "outfits" for her standardized dress school, because even tho we wear uniforms, we must be stylish! Coach handbag with pink leather strap. Two pairs of shoes; 1 pair Nike for school wear, 1 pair LA Gear running shoes for Athletics. School supplies: Beige and pink striped 3 ring binder with matching pencil case and spiral notebook, locker decor, gel pens and matching post-its, "so I can remember my homework pages." Hair: Blonde on top with hilites ("so when it grows back in my roots won't show"), and chocolate brown underneath. Nails: French manicure. Yes, she's spoiled, but she does put all her effort into her school work, pulls off all As, is in Symphonic Band (alto sax) and Athletics, so I can't really complain. Sometimes, you just have to pick your battles. If I have to buy a little cooperation with a Coach handbag and a new do, I'm all for it. Thank heaven for good jobs!!! It takes two incomes to support this child!

Oh, and don't worry about our son. Although he may not make his needs known in the way of daily necessities, like designer shoes and such, his life revolves around his "gaming career," which is a tidy piece of change in itself!

Have a great first day of school, folks! Lemme know how it goes for you.

Lori

Sunsets and Skys

2008-08-21T15:12:00.000-05:00

I love the sky. I'm always looking for opportunities to catch Nature at her finest. My husband always tells me I have my head in the clouds. I suppose he's right.

The first photo is Hurricane Edouard as witnessed by me and all the people in Houston, Texas.

Second was a photo taken while we were in Springfield, Ohio. The weather was absolutely gorgeous, a perfect 78 degrees. If you ask my mother in law, she'll tell you it was sweltering. ;-)

Third and last were taken somewhere just south of Texarkana on our way home from Ohio. There's just nothing more beautiful than a big, open Texas sunset.

Enjoy.

Ohio Caverns

2008-08-21T07:59:00.000-05:00

Hello Again,

I wanted to follow up with more photos of Ohio. These photos were taken more than 100 ft below ground, deep in the Ohio Caverns, located about 1 hour east of Dayton.

The 45 minute tour of the caverns is very informative. The tour guide describes how minerals in ground water drip, endlessly, creating these beautiful stalagmites (form from the ground up) and stalactites (form from the ceiling down). It was explained that it has taken 200,000 years to form some of the larger pieces.

Touching the formations is prohibited. The reason, the guide explained, is that the oil from the human touch contaminates the purity of the minerals, causing them to turn a murky, almost gravy-colored, gray. It was quite sad to see one of the formations in such demise.

Please enjoy the photos below. The first photo below shows the Cavern's oldest formation, dating 200,000 years old or more, standing about 4 ft high.

Pathways of Life

2008-07-30T11:16:00.000-05:00

Hi Again. Just returned home from vacation in Springfield, OH. We visited a section of John Bryant State Park in Yellow Springs, just about 30 minutes or so east of Dayton. The photos below were some of the pathways I fell in love with. I have several other photos, but figured I'd make it a theme blog this time and use some of the pathway photos. Enjoy.

Tags: Clifton Gorge, Yellow Springs Ohio, pathways, John Bryant State Park

Night Bloomer

2008-06-16T11:01:00.000-05:00

I'm not quite sure what to make of this particular flower. It's a night bloomer and grows on a vine. It actually belongs to my neighbor, but it has kindly and generously offered to grow along my side of our common back yard fence. I think it's just beautiful, and in "person" appears very delicate and lacy. If anyone has any idea what it is, I'd love to know.

For Your Viewing Pleasure - Baby Blue Jay

2008-05-07T08:50:00.000-05:00

I figured I'd start with the happenings over the weekend. I love birds, so here's a little photo of a little Blue Jay who quite sadly fell from his little nest and landed in our big yard. Apparently, Sunday was "learn to fly" day in the local Blue Jay community. My daughter and I found several (four in all) young jays fluttering around our yard and in our bushes. This one very small jay, however, was not fluttering nor fleeting. He lay there almost motionless, not quite aware of the danger he was in with the local clan of cats that prowl this area.

I called our local vet to ask what could be done about the little jay. Was there some way we could care for it? Would their office take it in and nurse it to fledgeling age? Judy, the vet tech, who is quite knowledgeable in animal husbandry and veterinary care, suggested I first make a hanging basket, and without touching the baby jay with my own hands, place him in the basket and hang it from the highest branch I could reach. I did. I checked on him two days later and, sadly, the little one didn't survive the ordeal, but he was spared the very violent death that certainly would have overtaken him with the cat population.

It's been a While!

2007-10-03T14:43:00.000-05:00

Hi All,

It's been a while since I've posted. I'm long overdue! We recently had our family portaits done and I thot I'd post one of my favorites for you. I love this portrait. It helps that they use filters to soften the lines and wrinkles on the two of us.

The below photo shows our last two beautiful kids. They're getting so grown-up and more independent each day. Becky is 12 and Jeff is 14. They're both doing terrific in school. Sure, it's still early in the year, but I have high hopes!

Hard Freeze In Houston?? 1/17/07

2007-01-17T16:04:00.000-06:00

NOT!!

Nonetheless, schools are closed, business are closed and you'd think the ice age had struck again! I went outside this morning to assess whether or not to risk my life driving the 20 mile trek to work today. What I saw was not the picture you see above, but what I did see dangling from the leaves on my magnolia tree were icicles the size of my pinky fingerNAIL and NO ice on the roads -- anywhere. Yes, the roads were dusted with salt!

I lived in the midwest for four years; I know winter. We don't have winter in Houston! In Ohio, if the roads were clear of snow, even if it meant it was shoved up the sidewalks in 4-ft drifts, but the roads were driveable, we had school...and work! I guess these Southerners are just not used to temps below 40, so when it hits "freezing cold," the world shuts down. I braved the wet (not frozen) streets today, drove the back roads to my office. I had to. The freeway I normally take had a four-car collision on it, blocking my normal exit. What's with all the panic? It's just COLD outside. There's NO blizzard, people!! Put on a coat, warm up the car, drive a little slower. If you can't do that, then stay home and wait until it warms up to 60 again...tomorrow.

:-)

Swimmin' with da Shrimp!

2007-01-13T21:38:00.000-06:00

Yummy, right?

It's been said I'm allergic to shrimp. I've actually tested that theory, only to find it to hold absolute truth. These delicious, delectable, savory shrimp cause my skin to crawl - literally! Normally I find myself suffering only a mildly irritating itch and slight rash that lasts about an hour. The discomfort has not been bad enough to prevent me from diving in and devouring my favorite seafood! Until last night.

Let me rewind a bit. I underwent a thyroid biopsy two days ago. The procedure itself was not painful in the least, thanks to the lidocaine injection. The recovery and subsequent trauma has created unimaginable discomforts, the least of which is this horrible reaction to the shrimp I ate last night. Now, I realize that the thyroid is the Master Gland. It controls pretty much all functions of the body, and tells all the other Slave Glands what to do and how to react. But I think I really irked Master Thyroid by allowing my surgeon to stick a needle the size of Texas into a cyst with the casing of Fort Knox! I believe my friend, the thyroid gland, is rebelling to this trauma by causing my body to underestimate the amount of antihystamines to deliver to combat the invading shrimp allergens! I have rashes all over my body, starting at the hairline of my forehead all the way down to the backs of my knees, and onto the bottom of my feet - and it's been more than 48 hours since I've eaten those little buggars!

So, here I sit, seeking symptathy, while my body waits for yet another dose of Benadryl to take effect. When it does, I'll nod off to sleep, NOT itch, and hopefully wake up with softer, smoother, more comfortable skin.

If you have followed along this far, let me ask you this: Is there anything I can do to keep from getting these hives besides taking Benadryl -- or stop eating shrimp? Cuz it ain't gonna happen.

Sigh....

One Year (or so) Later...

2007-01-10T11:40:00.000-06:00

So, here it is one year later (almost) and this is the first time I've sat down to pen..er...peck out my thoughts into my journal. Since I can't recall what I last posted, except the blurb on being careful what we say to our children, I'll just give a brief recap of the past year. As you may or may not recall I published my first book. I'm pretty pleased with it and with myself for following through and actually getting it onto my own bookshelf at home. A few close friends and family members own their own personal copies, but that's about it. It's my own short stories and poems and who besides my friends and family would be interested anyway?

The next book is in the works and this one, I hope, will go public and make me a millionaire. HA! Anyway, it deals with a very "now" topic and I believe will be of help to lots of people who suffer with anxiety and fear in their lives. I'd go into more detail, but I think I'll let you wait and read the book. :-)

My oldest daughter, who left with my grandchildren for Germany on 9/7/05, came out to Houston for a week-long visit. I was so happy to see her and we had a great time visiting! She was in shock and awe with all the variety of brands that our local Wal-Mart stocks. Yes, she is from here and has been to Wal-Mart on numerous occasions, but she has been away, in exile if you ask her, for the past 15 months. All in all the visit was very nice and a little sad. I sure didn't want to see her go again. Here she is lying on her little sister's bed hugging our new puppy, Winnie.

Below are all three of my kids, who have not all seen each other (except the two youngest who live and bicker together every day):

My youngest daughter has taken a passion for the saxophone and has made First Chair five tests in a row so far. She hopes to be promoted to Symphonic Band in the next school year, bypassing the next step for band, Concert Band. We told her if she makes Symphonic Band, we'll gift her with a shiney new saxophone - no more used, rented sax!

Let's see...what else...oh yes. My husband has taken on the laborous challenge of painting the exterior of our home. It has taken a while with the weather and it's variable cooperation, but it's almost done and our neighbors seem quite pleased. We chose to change the dark, drab chocolate brown to a pleasant and cheerful cream with dark green trim. We're pretty happy with it, ourselves!

In the meantime, too, Jeff has been pouring all of his OTHER spare time into absorbing the ins and out of trading foreign currency. He's really quite good at it and we hope to have him up and running live at home here shortly!

I suppose that's about it. If you have made it this far, congrats and thanks for your interest in my life. Perhaps I'll pop in a little more frequently and fill in the occasional gaps

PS - Thanks, Hally, for reminding me I still have a blog!

Love to all,

Lori

Weekend Assignment #99

2006-02-20T11:41:00.000-06:00

Hi Everyone in J-Land:

This week's assignment: Weekend Assignment #99: "What do others think they could do to make a difference? It doesn't have to be life-altering, as the smallest conception can bring the biggest results." In addition to things you could do, I'll also add in that if you are currently doing things you think make a difference, you can mention those, too.

Extra Credit: Name someone you know who you admire for making a difference.

This assigment is important to me because it hits close to home as to who I am in relationship to someone who can make a difference. I believe that the most important difference we can make in people's lives is how we talk to our children. In order to produce healthy, productive adults, it is of utmost importance to be careful of the words we choose to use with children. If a child routinely hears "you'll never amount to anything," or "no wonder you don't have any friends," how do you think this child will feel about who he/she is? However, if a child hears, "I love you; I'm proud of you; Great job!" woudln't you think this child will have an advantage over the other? I believe in the theory of self-fulfilling prophecy - if you hear something enough times about yourself, you will believe it and eventually live it.

I do not let a day go by without letting my children each know how special they are. One is very brainy/techy and the other is extremely creative but struggles academically. I am careful to reinforce their strengths, such as encouraging my creative daughter to improve her math skills by doing hands-on exerises (using flour tortillas to learn fractions!). My brainiac rushes through his work and occasionally forgets to turn in his homework, and has to be reminded that because he is so smart it is important to get credit for his work- the only way to get credit is to turn in the work. They're still young, so I don't mind giving gentle reminders.

The first half of my childhood, until I was about 10 years old, was with my abusive, alcoholic father and I heard about every horrible thing there is to say. However, I did not allow his abuse to mold my life in a negative way. I learned from it and decided children do much better with positive, affirming, nurturing words than destructive and hate-filled words.

It is up to us as parents to decide what seeds we will plant in our children. Will we plant fruitful words so that our children grow into confident, productive, and loving adults? Or will we choose the road so many others choose and have no regard for the feelings and concerns of our children? I choose the road less traveled, and I pray my children become better adults for it.

Lori

EC: My mother made the biggest difference in my life by getting us away from our life of abuse. She demonstrated incredible strength as she began a life on her own after never having had a real job, yet continued to successfully raise four children. Way to go Mom!!

It's Official!

2006-02-12T17:50:00.000-06:00

I'm published!! :-) I have created a book which contains all my poems and short stories. I titled it "Mother Winter" after a poem my son was kind enough to comment on a couple of winters ago. If anyone is interested in a copy, just ask. I'll send a link to direct you to where it can be ordered. I'm very excited. I put this book together mostly for my family, and for something to give my grandchildren. I also decided to publish my poems and such at the request of some of you, who occasionally visited my journal. So, now that it's done, and if you are still interested, please let me know!

Always,

Lori

Christmas Wish

2005-12-12T09:59:00.000-06:00

It's been a while since I've posted or played John's weekend assigment, but this was too good to pass up. I feel the need... not the need for speed... just the need to post my Christmas wish. I have two: I would love to visit my daughter and her family who are in Germany, military style. They left with my grandchildren in September and expect to be gone for three years. It's difficult sometimes not to see them every weekend.

And two; I think I would like my husband to have an overhaul. He doens't really need any body work done, per se, but if I could just get him out of his recliner during football season, encourage him to wear anything more than his underwear when he's in his recliner, and maybe make helping around the house more appealing to him - now THAT would be my Christmas dream come true!! A fully-clothed, upright husband who helps around the house. Dream on...

J-Land Magazine Assignment

2005-11-12T15:14:00.000-06:00

Weekend Assignment #85: What magazines do you subscribe to and why? This assumes you currently subscribe to a magazine or two, of course, but I'm reasonably confident most of us do. If you don't have any current subscriptions, however, you can list some of your most recent subscriptions or magazines you want to subscribe to.

Extra Credit: What was your first magazine subscription?

This was a rather eye-opening assignment, John. I really had to do some cerebral work on this one. I looked around my home and realized I don't have any current magazine subscriptions. Then I wondered why. Where do I get my news and information? Home decorating ideas? Parenting advice? Juicy gossip? Ahhh...it struck me like a brick between the eyes; Internet! Yes, I have succumbed to the Information Highway, this new-fangled thing they call the computer world.

I detest watching the news on the television. My husband watches enough of the news for both of us, being a news junkie. Besides that, I hold a firm belief that we are fed only what the media decides is news; not necessarily what could be construed as "truth."

Jumping off my soapbox now, for Extra Credit, I jumped over to Google, my place for information, and did a search on the magazine below. Yes, I'm dating myself again, but to be honest my very first magazine subscription was Tiger Beat, admittedly for the posters of David Cassidy and Donny Osmond. My bedrooom wall was papered top to bottom with my heart throbs. How did my mother survive my obsessions?

Thanks, John, for the time warp. I don't think you intended it this way, but it was a fun twist.

2005-10-06T16:52:00.000-05:00

Weekend Assignment #80: Share a favorite joke. Keep it clean, of course. Otherwise, go nuts.

Extra credit: Seriously: Do people think you're funny?

Here's my favorite joke, which goes a long way toward explaining

A three-legged dog walks into a bar and growls, "I'm lookin' for the man whut shot my paw..."

har har har....

EC: Seriously, do people think I'm funny? I want to say yes, but who wants to think they're not funny? I get the impression that people either think I'm funny because of what I say (I have a pretty upbeat and bubbly sense of humor) or they just think I'm funny looking, which would explain the giggles exchanged during conversations (mostly mine, tho).

I grew up in a house full of kids and it was either joke or be joked. Being the oldest, I had a year of smartness on my younger brother and more on the other kids - I had a year longer to hone my funny bone and come up with pranks and jokes. I have to admit tho, my brother still comes up with some of the funniest stuff I have ever heard. He sent me the joke on this entry. It was so cute, I had to share.

Lori

2005-10-04T16:59:00.000-05:00

This is a photo of a Great Blue Heron, whose nest is in the trees in the background, in Terre Haute, Indana. He was a frequent visitor to our back yard pond, and we ended up naming him Jake. I'm not sure exactly why he got that name. Anyway, if you'll note the sign posted on the grass, it reads, "No Swimming. No Ice Skating." The pond was frozen over and "Jake" appears to be breaking the rules of the pond; he's ice skating!

Rita

2005-10-01T18:33:00.000-05:00

I wanted to take a moment to comment on Hurricane Rita. I live in Houston, Texas, and I gotta tell ya, we knew Rita was heading our way long before she got here. Thankfully, the most damaging part of the storm missed our immediate area in Northwest Houston, but other communities weren't so fortunate.

My issue is this: I've been listening to the media, not necessarily our local news as they reported on the real happenings of our situation before during and after Rita. Where I am irked is the assumptions of the national news media and their pomous comments, verbal blasts, and unwelcomed advice on how Houston handled itself during this serious situation.

Our freeways were jammed. Of course they were. We have a few million people who live in this city, not to mention the lower lying cities closer the Gulf. We ran out of fuel. Our local grocery stores ran out of water and some food items. We lost electricity in many of our cities, some only for a few hours, and others are still without power. Here's my complaint - We, Houston and all the cities in Texas affected by Rita, had a week's time, miminum, to ready ourselves and get outa town. Some of us had to work, granted. I was one of them. Others were able to pack up and leave early. I was one of the lucky ones who left on Wednesday evening, sat on the freeway (Hwy 59 North from Humble northbound) for 9 hours and traveled a whopping 40 miles. I was able to get fuel at a station near Livingston, Texas, slept for a few hours on the side of the road, and made it out of town to the safety of my in-law's home in the midwest. (Consider it a working vacation.)

Others chose to ride the storm out at home, and yet others were not able to make it out of town because they waited too long and fuel ran out. They found themselves stranded on the highways. My husband left a day after I did, hit the highway, then realized his dilema (13 hours on the freeway and 20 miles behind him!). Not wanting to be one of the stranded, he chose to turn around and head back home and brave the storm.

What's my point? The national news media did not live this event. They were not here to see how very well-executed and orderly this evacuation was. I watched every day as mandatory evacuations were issued first for areas closest to the Gulf, then areas inland according to "zones" relating to their proximity to the Gulf. I was amazed at the effacacy of the authorities and proud at how we as Texans handled ourselves in the wake of this potential disaster. No-one can presume to know how they would handle evacuating an area as large as Houston and Galveston under such circumstances. We were faced with the third largest hurricane in Gulf history, and potentially the largest hurricane to hit Texas ever. We did a damned good job, folks! I want to commend those who were in charge of the evacuation from the highest to the lowest (us, the evacuees).

One more thought - I want to comment on the wonderful people who were there to help us along our evacuation routes. There were folks standing outside along the roadsides north near Lufkin, Cleveland and areas higher, in the wee hours of the morning, who were offering free coffee, hot dogs, hamburgers, etc. Others were charging only $1.00 for these items. It was truly heartwarming to see these communities come together to help those of us fleeing from harm.

We slept on the roadside the first night, as ambulances and police cars roared by on the highway shoulders, sirens blairing, but the second night we took a room in Tennessee somewhere and were offered a tremendous discount for being evacuees. I didn't ask for any discounts; the clerk saw my address was in Houston. God bless her. She made every effort to be helpful and caring in what was a very distressful time for myself and my children. If you get a chance, visit the Budge Inn and Suites. Wonderful people, folks!

Okay, I'm stepping down off my soapbox. Just wanted to share my experience as an evacuee and very proud Texan!

Silhouette

2005-10-01T17:58:00.000-05:00

Enter the silhouette

Seeking solely solitude

From the stark sadness

Surrounding his simple existence.

Something quietly slips by

Sounding surprisingly small

Whispers of sentimental scenes

Preserving his mortal soul

Sadness slithers softly away

And sings softly songs of hope

Speaking sonnets of simple rhyme

Releasing him from himself

Shall another simply say

He shall suffer more?

Self-preserved, saves himself

From his sentimental sorrow.

Jeff

2005-05-02T15:10:00.000-05:00

Your Monday Photo Shoot: Take a picture of your significant other, or show off a picture of your significant other that you particularly like. If you are currently between significant others (hey, it happens), you can use a picture of a former significant other, or a picture of a really good friend, since really good friends, in their way, are just as important as a significant other.

Thanks, John, for the opportunity to post some photos of my husband. Usually, it's just my kids and my doggy. I guess he's the silent partner when it comes to photos.

I have to give my hubby props - he's a terrific daddy and husband. He takes our daughter out on a date for her birthday each year, and presents her with a piece of jewelry. He wants her to know what to expect from anyone she might choose to date when she's older, and not settle for less than how she was treated by her Daddy. She has informed him that on her 16th birthday she does "not want no jack jewelry," but a car - not just a car, but a Mustang convertible. She has a few years to go, so I guess we'd better start saving! Here's one of their date pictures.

He's also her biggest fan. She's a competitive swimmer and he plays both supportive fan and off-deck coach. LOL. Yeah, she just loves that!

We also have a son, who is my husband's pride and joy. Our son is a carbon copy of his dad, right down to his stubborness (did I say that?). It's very difficult to get snapshot of our son, but he liked the sea wall picture (Galveston Island) so he allowed me to take a picture of the wall with him in the photo, too. ;-)

My husband also had the immense honour of baptizing both of our children. Here he is below dunking our son. It was an emotional event, to say the least.

I love you, honey! Thanks for always being there for us!

My Favorite Hubble Image

2005-04-26T11:56:00.000-05:00

Being a star-gazer and astrally-minded, I found this assigment perfect! I find so much beauty and art in the "out theres." The image below encapsulates several images and gives us a glimpse of the magnitude of unimaginable beauty hidden in the galaxies and deep space. One can glance over this photo and see several different pictures and stories. It reminds me of a Hidden Treasures page where we're encouraged to "find the candlestick," or "find the goblet."

What can you find?

Lori

I'm Famous!

2005-04-11T16:26:00.000-05:00

You know I have to be incredibly bored to have done what I just did. I typed my own name into a search engine just to see if I'm famous. And guess what? I AM!

Seriously, it's amazing the stuff you'll find on the internet, interesting or not. Because it's been a very long time since I've written anything worth reading, I think I'll start posting my poetry again. All of my work is listed at Poetry.com (Lori Lee Nelson), so feel free to browse if you want.

(http://www.techiwarehouse.com/gallery/data/548/626time.jpg)

Time

Who defines Time?

God?

Man?

Time itself?

Time cannot be defined.

It is the essence of what is now.

Does not exist as yesterday;

Yesterday is gone.

Cannot exist as tomorrow;

Tomorrow never arrives.

Time is only now.

Every moment,

Every thought,

Every idea

Is Now

In Time.

Rodeo Houston

2005-03-07T16:17:00.000-06:00

Okay, so I did go to the Charlie Daniels/Neal McCoy/ Lee Greenwood concert at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. Neal was awesome, got the crowd real into the show. Charlie and the guys were good, but it was obvious Charlie is aging. And Lee, well, I won't go there. All in all an okay night.

Two days later, we decided to take the kids to the fair at the Rodeo. Before we got to the ticket booth, we were stopped by a scalper (did I just say that?) and bought four tickets ($15 each) for GROUND LEVEL seats, 5th row, to see Gretchen Wilson. My 10 year old daughter started screaming and jumping up and down when she heard who she would be seeing that evening. I was happy for her, as I know she really wanted to see Gretchen, but the concert had been sold out.

The show was AWESOME!!!! The place was packed and she put on a performance to end all performances. We really lucked into that event.

We ate tons of crap that would kill us it we made regular diets of what we ate, rode a few rides, spent a bazillion dollars and saw a GREAT show. If anyone gets a chance to see Gretchen, go for it. You won't be disappointed.

Rodeo Fever!

2005-03-02T15:56:00.000-06:00

Howdy Folks! Me again chiming in on my journal. Today I want to talk a little bit about some exciting things going on in town for the next few weeks. Rodeo Houston www.hlsr.com is on, and I have some kickin' tickets to see Charlie Daniels Band, Lee Greenwood and Neal McCoy

(Charlie)

(Lee Greenwood

Neal McCoy

tomorrow (Thursday) night! Not only that, but I also won tickets on our local radio station, KILT (www.kilt.com), to see Big 'n' Rich Bigandrich.com - The Official Site of Big & Rich. Country Music Without Prejudice for another night. I'm not really sure I'll go to that one. Us old farts can't take too many exciting nights out on the town in one year. Tomorrow should be really exciting, tho. We try to go to Rodeo every year, more out of nostalgia than anything else, I think. Tonight after I get home and get the kids fed, I'm off to Boot Town to pick up new pair of kickers and a pair of Rockies for our night out.

On top of THAT, my boss came in today and handed me and my cohort each a $30 gift card to The Olive Garden to thank us for making it through the first six months of our new surgery practice. What a guy! So, before Rodeo, I think we're gonna head out to Olive Garden for dinner - and all you can eat bread sticks and salad! Mmmmm....

What would have topped the evening off would be if I had won those darned Limo tickets to tomorrow's show. I have been saving up points all year long on the KILT Loyal Listener Club, answering trivia questions, playing listening games, etc. I had over $175,000 points stashed up for this very event. I traded them all in (put all my eggs in one basket) and bought close to 2000 entries to this Limo raffle. I waited and waited for February 28th to arrive to I could see my name listed as the winner of the Limo ride to see Charlie Daniels and the others. When I got to the site I didn't find my name, to my very huge disappointment. Someone who goes by "hot4gary" or something like that won. Yeah, whatever.

I'm still gonna have a blast. I may just stop by and visit the folks at the KILT tent to say thanks for the B&R tix.

Well, I suppose I'd better get back to work. It's pretty quiet today, but I still have stuff to do. I'll write in a few days and let you know how Rodeo went! Yeehawww!

Snapshots

2005-02-21T16:28:00.000-06:00

Sentimental subtleties

Grace the pages of life’s book

Coloring it with hues of love and laughter

Sadness and pain

Emotions of change

And smiles.

Memories are evoked

When a single charge

Of emotional electricity

Sparks from the smell of homemade bread

The song that pierces the heart

Or a touch that sends us reeling.

Time disappears

In the moment when we’re whisked away

To another time and day

When we were younger

Happier, unaffected by time

Lost in the innocence of our youth

Carefree.

Hold tight

To the memories of yesterdays

Where we savor the joy and pain

Of playing, growing, loving

Learning and becoming

Wise.

Remember well

The snapshots of our youth.

The Night (Poem)

2005-01-26T15:45:00.000-06:00

The Night

Miraculous moments arouse all the senses
Entangle, enthrall and break down the defenses
Where passionate frolicking quickly commences
And unbridled lovers collide.

Holding back nothing for sake of the giving,
Not looking backward, but all for the living
Edging the forces without the misgiving
Where hope and creation reside.

Earth-quaking moments and tender vibration
Make way for the moment of perfect creation
Released from the fate of a deeper temptation
To no-one's despair or demise.

Finally calming and slipping to slumber
Never again shall emotions outnumber
The breathtaking moments that lovers encumber
When dawn and the morning arise.

Lori Lee Nelson

Harried and Hopeless in Houston

2005-01-20T15:19:00.000-06:00

Hey Y'all.

It's been a long, long last few weeks, with upheavals galore. My daughter and grandchildren are with me for the time being while her life gets sorted out. I love them do death, don't get me wrong. It's just VERY tiring having four other people at home. The energy it takes to keep up with their little chattering alone is draining. But I'm surviving.

Ethan started school yesterday at the same school my youngest daughter goes to. He loved it. He made a new friend right off the bat.

Kaymie Deja

Deja and Kaymie started day care so their mommy could gather herself and look for work. Kay loves going to "school." Deja has mixed feelings. She's a very shy two-year-old, but her nods told me she had fun, shy or not. They both wanted to go back today, so we're in business!

We do have a few ground rules, tho. The little ones are in bed by eight. The older kids' rooms are off limits, unless invited. They're not used to having toddlers running around, either, so out of respect for their privacy we established a couple rules in their behalf. This works well for Becky, who is pre-teen and "needs her privacy." She has private girly conversations with her friends, while she paints her finger and toenails. Yup, she's all girl.

Poor Woody, my four legged boy, doesn't quite know what to make of all of it. He just kind of mopes around, looking lost. Not to worry. I'm there to reassure him and make sure he goes to the park with us when we all go.

So, that's my life these days. There's not much time left for journaling, but I did want to pop in and post a note or two to let you know what's up. Say a prayer or two for us. We'll be needing them.

Thanks, and God bless.

Lori

Woody's Wishes

2004-12-30T20:52:00.000-06:00

Weekend Assignment #41: My New Year's Resolution for my Pet and vice-versa.

My Resolution for Woody: Dear Woody: I would like you to go potty in the back yard WILLINGLY, instead of making me carry you out to go potty. I would like you to learn to LIKE drinking water from your water bowl instead of the bathtub faucet. I put fresh water in your bowl every day. And when I'm done scratching your back, please don't "woof" for more. Sometimes I get tired and need a rest. And please don't snarl at the groomer when he's trimming the hair on your feet and clipping your nails. He's only trying to make you more comfortable.

I resolve to go for more walks with you. I know you love being outdoors. (He thinks he's hot stuff when he's out on his harness and expando-leash! Our neighborhood is his toilet!) I also resolve to be a little more generous with goodies from the table.

Woody's New Year's Resolution for me: Dear Mom: Please put a chair at the dinner table for me and feed me "people food" like Daddy did for me on Thanksgiving when you went to Ft. Hood. I don't like the water in my bowl. It's not fresh enough or cold enough. Sorry, can't give on this one. I promise to remain on guard duty and bark incessantly at anyone and everyone who passes by our house. I promise to go potty outside IF you take me for walks so I don't have to poop in my own yard!

Happy New Year!

2004-12-29T15:51:00.000-06:00

Say goodbye to yesterday

Welcome to tomorrow.

This year ends, leaves behind

The joy and all the sorrow.

Turn away from days gone by

Face the brand new day

Hope emerges bright and fair,

And lights the narrow way.

Take a breath, inhale the new.

Say a prayer or two

Set your sights on lofty heights

Try on something new!

Master what you could not do

Dare to risk it all

Find a stronger inner spark

Listen to your call!

Embrace the day with joy and hope

Set aside your fear

In the dawn of brand new days

Are peace and joy and cheer!

Happy New Year!

Lori

Photo Courtesy of http://www.acclaimimages.com/

A Cup of Hot Cocoa

2004-12-16T21:07:00.000-06:00

One of my fondest childhood memories was when I was six years old. My little church youth group went out Christmas caroling one chilly, Southern California night. Toward the end of our journey, we were invited into the home of a very kind woman, who had a cup of hot cocoa ready for each of us to enjoy and warm us up. Many of my childhood memories have become vapors, but some have remained with me through the years.

(some of the girls)

Tonight was the night my daughter's Girl Scout troop was to canvas our neighborhood, sing carols and visit the homes of some of the Scouts who live nearby. I wanted to do something special to thank them when they arrived to my home. Since one of my best childhood memories involved a kind woman and a cup of hot cocoa, I made a decision to pass on the kindness to this group of 10-12 year old girls, who would soon be ringing my doorbell and singing their little hearts out.

I knew I had 12 packets of hot cocoa in the cupboard, and very little time to run to the store to get more. There couldn't be more than 12 kids out there in the 40 degree weather on this cool Houston night. I brewed some hot water, poured the 12 packages of cocoa into a large crock pot, added the hot water, and one special touch - vanilla coffee creamer! Oh, so good. I had everything set up. I even brewed a pot of hot water in case any of the adults accompanying the girls would want hot tea. And if there were a maximum of 12 girls, the adults would not be left out. I waited. The cocoa stayed warm in the crock pot.

The doorbell rang at about 8:00 pm. The girls were all piled against the glass storm door, eyes wide with excitement, and smiles brighter than Christmas lights. I opened my door, invited them all in...and began inconspicuously counting heads...1..5...9, oh oh, 15 girls...4 adults, and myself makes 20 people! Add my son, who helped me prepare the night's sustenance, our total becomes 21 - on 12 packs of cocoa?? Good luck!

I've been in tight situations before. I've learned to trust, trust, trust. I also believe in the spirit of Christmas, and knew somehow God would reward my desire to make these little girls happy and create a memory they would carry with them the rest of their lives.

After a very loud chorus of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," I began ladling hot cocoa into my best holiday cups and began handing the cups to the girls, one by one by one. The level of the cocoa didn't seem to go down in the crock pot. Then the adults came forward. Still, I had plenty of cocoa! After everyone had been served, they sat quietly chatting amongst themselves.

Time was drawing short and the girls had to be going, since they still had two more homes to visit. I gathered them all together for a quick snapshot and sent them on their way.

After the girls had gone, I began the chore of putting things away, washing cups, etc. When I went to get the crock pot, I saw there was still enough for two more cups. My son and I enjoyed one more cup before the night came to a perfect closure.

This night, the Miracle of Christmas came to my home in the form of a warm cup of hot cocoa and in the smiles of 15 little girls, whom I hope will carry this memory with them forever.

Merry Christmas,

Lori

Christmas Tidings

2004-12-15T15:29:00.000-06:00

On the air the scent of pine
And sounds of Christmas joy
Children playing, laughing, falling
Into beds of fallen snow

Inside, snuggled by the fire
Moms and dads watch with love
While their young shake the boxes
Under the Tree, wrapped in holiday foil.

"I think I know, I think I do!"
"Can we? Shall we? May we? Please?"
Just one more day they'll have to wait
Until the ride of Old Saint Nick

Not a wink of sleep they'll get;
Visions of toys dance in their heads!
When the morning dawn arrives
Spring from bed and rub their eyes

(okay, he got a little sleep!)

Off to see what Santa left...
Fire trucks and dancing dolls
Candy canes and bouncing balls,
Merry Christmas One and All!

There's No Place Like Home

2004-11-29T13:01:00.000-06:00

I lost a very dear friend Wednesday, just before Thanksgiving. It seems to me that a lot of people choose the holidays to make their passing. Maybe it's their way of making sure we never forget them when we celebrate our holidays. I, for one, know I'll never forget Sandy, holiday or no holiday!

Sandy had a passion for helping people be their best. She also loved The Wizard of Oz, and belonged to a wonderful group of people in her "Oz Group." I can't speak for the many ways she touched the lives of other people, but I'm certainly qualified to express my gratitude and love for the way she helped me change my life!

Like the Wizard of Oz, Sandy have me the courage to take my life in my own hands and live it to its fullest. She gave me the heart to have compassion on my family, who have to live with me through my occasional moodiness. She encouraged me to use my brain in ways other than every day stuff, and use my mind the way God intended, for here and for the other side of the rainbow. She's proven to all of us that there's no place like home as she passed from our black and white world to her world filled with all the colours of the rainbow.

Some of us who knew Sandi, knew of her health problems and knew our time together would be short, although none of us wanted to think about that. We made every moment special, said "I love you" often, and made every effort to communicate, validate and appreciate each other. We made a promise to each other; when one of us dies, we'd send a sign to let the other know we made it. Her sign to me was the Witch of the West. It was no surprise to me that Sandy's time was nearing when, for three nights in a row, The Wizard of Oz aired on our local TV station. For anyone who follows the Wizard of Oz, you know how very rare this is! Sandy was due to have surgery on the third day the showed aired. She passed away the next morning.

There were others she chose to, rather than dwell on her health issues, relish in the joy they gave her. She was able to escape the everyday burdens of her health while she chatted with her favorite online groups. These people made her life special in their own way!

What I want for you to take from this story is to make every moment special. Never let a conversation pass without saying something special about the person you're talking to. Tell your loved ones EVERY DAY that you love them. Make every effort to make them feel appreciated and cared for. When your time comes to make that journey to the other side of the rainbow, the munchkins you leave behind will know that they were loved, and they'll still feel connected to you though your love. Remember - love never dies.

In loving memory...

A Twister's Rage

2004-11-23T19:55:00.000-06:00

Clouds and wind collide on high

Inviting rain and hail

Frightened children cower, cry

Canines whine and wail.

Blasts of thunder rock the night

Deadly pounding growl

Terrify with forceful plight

Twister on the prowl!

Grip of force destroys the land

Its path a torrid rage

Respecting not the lives at hand

All the world its stage.

Erratic path, it builds and grows

Pummeling the ground

Until at last its final throes

Leave nothing else around

Sun will shine and skies will clear

Nothing left the same

Memories now etched with fear

In a Twister’s name!

Written by: Lori Lee Nelson

Photo: http://www.myrsky.com/english/photo-of-the-month.htm

Wicked, Wicked Weather!

2004-11-22T15:42:00.000-06:00

The clouds above my office building are thick as molasses and churning in menacing circular pattern. I’ve seen this kind of cloud activity before, but only on Storm Stories. It puts a whole new perspective on the term “tornado warning” when it’s happening right above your head. The thunder is continuous now, and sounds like the buffalo scene from Dances With Wolves, only the buffalo are stampeding just outside my windows and above my building.

I’ve never seen a twister first hand. I am hoping today is not the day I’ll see one. I’m here alone in my office, waiting for the phone to ring, and waiting for the windows to come crashing in. I have told my neighboring offices that if I spot a tornado from any of my windows (I’m situated on the third floor corner of an office building) they will briefly see my head pop in their door to shout “twister!” and then I will be gone, down the stairs, attaching myself to the bottom rung of the metal staircase in the stairwell.

It’s 3:29 p.m. here in Houston, and on a normal day I can see sunshine for miles and miles. When I look out my window today I see darkness, except for the flashes of lightening streaking across the sky in a blinding fury. My husband just called and told me I should leave work early and try to get home. Although I agree with him, I feel an obligation to remain where I am until the office closes. I’m the Office Manager and feel it is my personal duty to remain on ship until the clock strikes five.

The rumbling is unnerving. I’ve never heard it go on like this before, even when I lived in the Midwest and faced numerous tornadic thunderstorms. Somehow being out in the open land, as are the planes of the southwest, I feel more vulnerable. There’s an electricity in the air. I’ve often heard reports on Storm Stories of how the air somehow changes just before a twister strikes. I hope I’m wrong. I hope I’m only feeling paranoid and vulnerable because I’m alone and there’s a giant, gray, torrential monster outside my window. It’s Mother Nature on PMS. (I think she heard that; the lights just flickered.)

Well, I’ll end this update and get it posted before I lose power or get a surge. I’ll report back if and when I get out of this scary situation!

Until then,

Lori

2004-11-19T12:00:00.000-06:00

I want to take a moment (indulge me, here) to honor my children. Both of them, Jeff (aged 11) and Rebecca (aged 9) have recently discovered that their mother is a published poet. Jeff was particularly interested in reading some of my works and was dazzled by “Mother Winter.” (See the comment he left – priceless!) Rebecca has claimed bragging rights and has told all her teachers that her mom is a writer. God love her – I doubt her teachers care in the least, except that they know Beck will get extra help with her writing projects. In any event, I want to put the spotlight for a moment on my two youngest.

Jeff is the light of my life, although he hates having his picture taken! He’s bright, funny, and has the most incredible blue eyes you’ve ever seen. He loves to write (hmm, wonder where he gets that?), and has terrific eye-hand coordination. He would be a baseball great if he would take the initiative to participate in baseball! He’s also on the shy side, which is why he doesn’t play a team sport. Thank goodness for intermediate school gym class! His teacher has the students play six week stints of different sports. He seems to enjoy football, thank goodness. His teacher has invited him to be on the 7th grade team next year, and I know he’ll love it. Now if I can get past the mental images of my son being injured or maimed during his play, I’ll be fine! Jeff can make mesmile at any given time of day. He picked up a facial expression from Dana Carvey, during his scene as a Turtle in the movie, “Master of Disguise.” That turtle lip gets me every time and I end up floating away from whatever bad mood has gripped me at the moment.

He also loves Jim Carrey and can quote, almost word for word, the script of When Nature calls. He’s my joy and my blessing and I wanted to honor him with this entry!

Now, my Becky is not only my baby, but very much her Daddy’s Blessing. After our son was born, my husband was insistent on having another son. When we learned that another baby was on the way, despite ultrasounds and dangling the ring over the tummy to tell the sex of the baby, we were never able to definitively tell what the sex was. We would have to wait until she was born. When the day finally did arrive, my husband was there with eagerness to welcome his son. When he saw that his second son was a daughter, I could see some sadness in his eyes. Yet, while my legs were still in stirrups, with doctors and nurses busily doing their business with me, I looked to my husband and told him, “Just wait. This child will beyour biggest blessing.” To this day he agrees with me. She has his heart on a string! He makes it a point to take her out on a “date” for her birthday each year, where he woos her with a piece of jewelry and dinner at a fancy restaurant. The photo shown here is the birthday date last year.

Becky is a very creative person, loves to come up with craft projects on her own, enjoys cooking, and I kid you not, watches the Food Network whenever she gets a chance. She wants to be a nurse one day, but also a World Renown Chef. I think she’s off to a wonderful start! She also loves to swim ona swim team and is very competitive. There is not a shy bone in this girl’s body. Her bubbly personality attracts people to her, so it’s a good thing she’s very social.

I wanted to take a moment to mention my eldest daughter, Amanda, as well. She’s my angel and my best friend. She’s 23, and has had a few bumps and knocks already in her young life. She became a wife and mother at the tender age of 16 (they’re still married now with three kids). She struggles now as a military wife – a very lonely life -- and is finishing high school at home. Her dream is to go to college where she wants to earn her R.N. I know she’ll succeed. She has an inner strength, and only needs encouragement to see it and feel it. She has blessed me with three wonderful grandchildren, whom I don’t have the space or time to write about in this entry. I’ll save it for another time. I adore all my children and wish them all the blessings life has to offer and the courage to accept those blessings.

Love,

Mom

Get Your Paper!

2004-11-19T09:24:00.000-06:00

While driving to work today, I passed a man on the street corner peddling the Houston Chronicle. I never usually hear him saying anything; he normally just walks up and down the street by the stop light, holding the newspaper high above his head for the morning rush of drivers to view what he’s selling.

Today was a little different. As he passed by my rose colored minivan, I heard him shouting, “Paper! Get your paper!” I was immediately taken to a place and time of dirt roads, wooden sidewalks, a General Store, with horse and buggy carriages making their way along the dusty road. On the road, I imagined a bustling of people chatting with each other, some on their way to their trades, others shopping for their month’s worth of supplies as they make their visit “to town.” On the corner in front of the General Store is a young boy, scruffy attire, dirty hands, disheveled hair, with newspapers in hand, shouting “Paper! Get your paper! Two bits!”

Passers-by approach the young man, “Joey,” toss him their two bits and take his paper, as they rush to their destinations.

“Mornin’ Joey,” greets Mrs. Baker.

“Mornin’ Ma’am. Paper?”

“I think I will. Thanks, Joey!”

“Thank you, Miss Baker!”

Yes, business as usual in this busy town.

Moments later, I heard a car horn honking behind me, pulling me back to my pink mini van; another driver in a hurry to get where he was going. I gave the man selling his newspapers a sympathetic look as I continued on my way to work.

Some things never really change.

Photo from: http://www.1wayinfo.com/OldWestPhotos/Default.htm

Happy Thanksgiving!

2004-11-18T14:16:00.000-06:00

Once again Thanksgiving’s here!
Break out the giving and good cheer!
Warm the oven, bake the breads
Intertwine the family threads.

Gather closer one and all
Bow our heads, to heaven call:
“Bless us, Lord, we humbly pray
Bless our food on this Lord’s Day”

“Thank you for the love you’ve shown
May these blessings be your own.
Teach us in your tender way
To love and cherish every day.”

With eager eyes and Amen’s said,
With wafts of Mother’s homemade bread,
Gather ‘round from great to least
Enjoy this great Thanksgiving Feast!

Copyright ©2004 Lori Lee Nelson

2004-11-18T13:19:00.000-06:00

What Will You Do?

IN the shape of things to come,
Where will you be?
What will define your decisions?
Will you cling to days gone by,
Or reach for new adventures to come?
How will you shape your future?
Will you take chances and learn to fly?
Or be grounded in frustration and fear?
When opportunity knocks,
Will you cower in a corner, afraid?
Or rush to the door, eager to answer?
When Father Time creeps up from behind,
Will you run from him?
Or graciously accept how he has molded you?
As for me, I’ll grasp every second of time
With anticipation and excitement!
I’ll not look back in regret,
But learn from my mistakes and move on.
I’ll capture the magic of the moment,
Relish in the flavor of things to come,

And live!

Mother Winter

2004-11-15T16:14:00.000-06:00

Winter whispers, softly speaks

Of frozen ponds and icy creeks

Glistens, graciously aware

Of nature’s perfect tender care.

She sings her chilly lullaby,

Mesmerizes passers-by

With icicles and snowy dew

She clouds them in her misty hue.

Beckons those from wooded trees

Bears and rabbits, birds and bees

Slumber now in restful bliss

She offers each a tender kiss.

Photo: Rod's Winter Photos

Reach for the Stars!

2004-11-12T20:52:00.000-06:00

Contemplate the stars, the vastness of space
Where energy and mind intermingle
Limitless flight and imagination take place
In the twinkling of an eye.
Forget the countenance below
With munbling and grumbling hearts they cry.
Should they reach up and out and grasp
The infinite possibilies at their hands?
Yet they sit, lackluster, in their seats
Moaning for change but never changing
Weeping for more but never moving.
They sit and mourne for all they have not,
Ache for what could be theirs right now!
Trapped in the limits of their minds
Fearful and afraid to reach and grasp.
Doubting the prayers of their lips
Settled in their despair and contemplation.
They mourn.
We live.

Lori Lee Nelson

Stirring of the Soul

2004-11-11T09:46:00.000-06:00

Sometimes it happens

That stirring of the soul

That electric buzzing in the hands

The heightened awareness

Sometimes it comes without warning

Or comes when we call

This intuition we call it

That warns of disturbances brewing

This panic button of the mind

Dare we fail to heed its warning?

We call it our quiet voice

Or little bird talking

Even Holy Spirit

But it’s there by any name

Guiding us, leading us, warning us

Take not for granted your little bird

Your inner voice, your stirring

Heed its call and move to action

The next time you feel

It moving.

Photo: Stock Photos

The Great Flood

2004-11-10T16:25:00.000-06:00

When it rains, it pours. Only this wasn’t rain; a toilet mechanism malfunctioned causing flooding in my work office, the offices on either side of mine, and the two offices below. Normally when I get to work I find a dark office, doors locked, and not a soul stirring. Tuesday was different and something was very wrong.

When I arrived at my usual time, around 7:45 a.m. – I like to arrive early for a cup of coffee and some winding up time – I found all the lights on and the door opened. Inside the office, and visible from the hallway, were large blue turbo dryers and huge dehumidifiers attached to commercial sized garbage cans by what can only be described as clear plastic catheters.

Leary of entering the office and not knowing what I might find, I continued, quietly tiptoeing over electrical cords and around drying equipment. From around the corner came the doctor for whom I work, with a harried look on his face and hair a mess. He read the worried look in my eyes and simply said, “Flood.” He had gotten a call at midnight that night from the property management folks who informed him his office was “under water,” and “the computers [were] shot.”

When I arrived I found damp carpets, dry linoleum flooring, and a slightly humid smell in the air; nothing horrific. The water line on the paper shredder came up to about one inch from the floor. Knowing computers to some degree, I was aware that the “brains” are kept higher up in the housing. Armed with this knowledge and a determination to satisfy my curiosity and my doctor’s worry, I marched back to the server room and reconnected cables and wires. Knowing I could be electrocuted and thrown backward into the wall behind me, I braced myself and turned on the power. I was still positioned in front of the server at this point; no direct flight into drywall this time. After a few seconds I heard the familiar hum of the computer singing to me. A few more seconds and a welcome display prompted on the screen. Things were looking up. From there I headed out to the main office where two more computers were completely unplugged and unhooked. I reassembled one, then the other and fired them both up. Miraculously, they both started up without a hitch.

We made a decision that day to be happy for the situation. It certainly could have been a lot worse. The only thing we lost from this disaster was a little sleep, a few hundred feet of vinyl baseboard, and a week’s worthof peace and quiet while we wait for the fans and dehumidifiers to finish their work. I’m sure in time we’ll all look back on this in amusement. But not today.

Fall Has Arrived!

2004-11-06T12:56:00.000-06:00

Today has to be the most beautiful day I've seen in probably a year, at least since we moved back to Houston in January last year. It's crystal clear, slightly breezy, a perfect 62 degrees, and I can hear birds singing from down near the bayou.

My husband sits near me, listening to his TV god broadcasting the post-election events. I don't mind catching up on the goings on in the world now again, but this man bleeds red, white and blue. The television gets more conversation out of him than I do.

The kids are out enjoying the day; Becky's walking her miniature pinscher, "Max" and Jeffrey is in his room playing his new video game. I can't tell you which one it is; he goes through them faster than I can keep up with them. He's been playing video games since he was two, when he learned to use his sisters' NES. Don't get the wrong impression. He does enjoy playing his games, but also gets outside and rides bikes with this buddies, plays B-ball, gets great grades in school, and excels in science and math, but boy does he enjoy a good video game now and again.

And I'm sitting here jotting down my thoughts and feelings today. I'm glad it's so beautiful out. I think I'm a fair-weather person. Aren't these the kinds of people who are happy when it's sun-shiney and perfect outside, and miserable and gloomy when it's rainy and muggy? Well, that's me. So, that would make me a downer to be around most of the summer, right? Okay, so I'm exaggerating a bit. Although I do have to admit, I far more enjoy the spring and fall months. I am starting to warm up to winter this year, too. When I lived in the Midwest, Ohio, and was trapped for six months at a time by snow and freezing temperatures, I learned to detest winter. It's not so bad, for instance, in California when I could go to the mountains and "visit" the snow, frolick for a couple hours, then return home to the warmth of my valley home. Snow was a novelty. It became a fierce reality when I moved to Ohio.

My first experience with real live snow, falling or otherwise, was having to drive in the stuff. Having spent my entire life up to that point in the San BernardinoValley of California and the very warm Gulf of Mexico at Houston, I had never experienced snow, except when I went to Lake Arrowhead to shop and "see the snow." Even then the roads had been cleared of any danger of sliding. Not so in Ohio. Did you know that if you put on your brakes too hard and are going to fast when approaching a stop sign, that your car will slide and will not turn in the direction you turn your steering wheel? I'm here to tell you this is a fact. Fortunately, my truck slowed to a stop before I ran into the yard and mailbox toward which I was sliding. And thank the good Lord there were no other cars around me! From then on I've had a very strong respect for snow-slicked roads. We lived in a predominantly geriatric community (I felt like a teenager!) where everyone, and I mean EVERYONE drives 10-20 mph below the posted speed limit. I learned to do this! Partly due to the snow, but more out of being forced to be patient. Local authorities don't look too kindly on people who barrel past slow-moving Q-Tips driving their Lincoln Towncars down one-lane streets. (I mean no disrespect to the Golden Generation. I know I'll be wearing their soft-soled shoes one day soon, myself.)

Okay, I've been informed I have to stop and sign off. My son needs to use my computer to look up cheat codes for his new game. Cheat codes? I've asked him. He tells me the codes are programmed into the games to be used. Who can argue with this logic? And my husband suddenly got a hankering for a banana split from Baskin Robbins. Who can argue with that?

Later!

Freedom Rings

2004-11-04T16:49:00.000-06:00

The following story is a slight modification (names and a few small details have been changed in the interest of making it readable) of actual events that took place in my childhood. Fortunately for my brothers, my parents divorced when I was nine, or they might not be alive today.

Mary sits cross-legged on her fold-away bed in the only bedroom of their small, white, wood-framed house. She adjusts her nightgown and pulls her long brown hair into a tangled pony tail. It’s almost time for school, her first day in the new school, and the first day of her new life. But what should she wear? What do nine-year-old girls wear to school in this town? She has a few minutes to think while she waits for her alarm to go off.

Across the room lay her two younger brothers, fast asleep on their bunks. Joey occupies the top. It’s his right. He’s the oldest. Kevin, with this thumb tucked securely in his mouth, is curled into a ball on the bottom. He doesn’t mind. At six years old, he’s content just to have a warm bed and a safe place to sleep. The past several years have made him a nervous wreck, but things are quiet now.

At six in the morning, cigarette smoke and coffee aromas fill the air. Karen paces their kitchenette, the floors creaking beneath her, as she waitsfor her children to awaken and prepare for their new day. She has never had to work, not a dayin her life. But today she’ll start a new job as a waitress at the Crispy Fish Shack. They’re on their own now, and their livelihood rests on her weary shoulders. She should be looking forward to this new beginning, but she worries about her babies, as mothers often do. Will she make enough money to feed her children, to buy them new clothes, to make sure they’re cared for after school? Can she finally protect them? She takes a sip from her coffee cup and draws a ragged breath from her Salem Menthol.

Mary’s alarm clock reaches six fifteen and howls for attention. She quickly flicks the off switch, but not in time to keep it from stirring her brothers from sleep.

“Turn that thing off, Mare!” grumbles Joey. “I’m trying to sleep!”

“It’s time to get up, anyways,” she retorts smugly. She climbs out of bed and heads for the only bathroom in the house, a small room with a narrow closet, and no door to separate the two rooms. She opens the sliding wooden closet door and digs through a basket of wrinkled clothes, searching for just the right pair of jeans, the perfect coordinating top, and a matching pair of socks. The two closest matching socks will do, since no-one will see them under her wrinkled jeans. She then takes a moment to relieve her bladder. While she relaxes, her mind returns to the explosion of events that happened just last Saturday, three whole days ago.

She remembers hearing the telephone ring in the kitchen. It used to be in the living room, on the wall, by the sofa. She never heard the commotion of that night, or any reasons why the phone had been ripped from the wall, but now there’s a jagged hole covered by a paint-by-number puppy she gave to her daddy last month. Her mom answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“Mark Keller, please.”

“He’s not home. This is Karen. Who’s calling?”

“This is Deputy Patterson with the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department. I have Mr. Keller’s girlfriend here at the Redwing Motel. She’s been assaulted.”

The phone drops to the floor and without blinking, without saying a word, without thinking of the three young children left in her charge, she walks emotionless out the back door, down the three concrete steps and around to the driveway, where she climbs into her white Bonneville convertible and squeals out of sight.

Mary shoots Joey a worried look, then Kevin. Thinking on her feet, which is what she does best in times of high tension, she breaks out the cereal bowls, the spoons, the Frosted Flakes and the half empty gallon of whole milk.

Thirty minutes later, Mark pulls his blue Ford pickup with the rusted tailgate into the drive. Within seconds the Bonneville pulls in behind and comes to a screeching halt, almost hitting Mark. Yelling ensues.

Familiar with the mounting tension and not wanting them to be in the line of fire, Mary quickly gathers her brothers and retreats to her bedroom. Her brothers safely tucked away from any threat of their dad’s anger, she carefully returns to the kitchen where she witnesses a tornado of flying objects being hurled out the back door onto the pavement; clothes, shoes, bowling ball, and daddy’s brand new, metallic red motorcycle helmet, the one he bought just last week. Mark picks up his things and heaves them into the back of his truck. In shock and disbelief, Mary hears herself screaming. It was odd for her to hear her own voice wailing in terror this time. It’s usually her brothers’ screams that deafen her ears.

“Daddy, daddy, what’s going on?” she cries, tears pouring down her smudged, rosy, round cheeks.

“Get back in the house, Mary! Go back inside!”

“Daddy, take me with you! Daddy, don’t go!”

Within moments her daddy was gone and her heart shattered. She’d always been daddy’s little girl, his perfect angel. She had to be. She had witnessed what he’d done to her brothers when they’d messed up. He has never laid a finger on her, except that one time when she was six months old, and she can’t even remember that. Her mom told her that she had to leave to the store one afternoon, and when she returned twenty minutes later, she saw a handprint on the side of Mary’s face.

“But daddy said I fell against the side of my crib,” she reasons.

Her daddy wasn’t as kind to her brothers. Was he jealous of the attention Karen lavished on them? Was it because this was how his own father had raised him, with a heavy hand and a wire coat hanger?

“Daddy drinks a lot, but that’s just what daddies do,” she rationalizes to herself.

The next couple of days were a blur for Mary. Her mom spent most of her time frantically packing up their belongings, running errands while her children were left to look after themselves, and making mumbled phone calls behind closed doors. What was going on? Whatever it was, Mary didn’t like it. Not one little bit.

Young Kevin spent most of his time perched quietly on the living room floor, his eyes glued to re-runs of Roadrunner, Bugs Bunny and Mighty Mouse, while his mother whirled around and over him as she prepared for their move. He liked Mighty Mouse. Yes, he was little, but he was sure strong!

“I bet Mighty Mouse won’t let daddy punch him in the face! I bet Mighty Mouse would punch him right in the nose,” he bravely thought. His daddy hates weakness; maybe because he was weak when he was a boy. His own father had to toughen him up. Maybe that’s what his daddy is doing, toughening up his boys. His daddy hates thumb-sucking little sissies, too. The tabasco-sauce-on-the-thumb trick didn’t work. Neither did the hot stove. All daddy had left to do to break him ofhis thumb-sucking was to catch him in the act, when he was asleep, then knock his thumb out of his mouth with hisfist. That ought to do it!

Joey sat next to Kevin, cautiously enjoying a bowl of Cheerios on the new, light brown carpet, being very careful not to spill or let one single crumb of rolled oat cereal escape from his bowl or spoon. It should be okay to eat on the new carpet now that daddy’s gone, shouldn’t it? He won’t get caught this time, will he? Last time he got caught, daddy blistered his legs and back with a wire coat hanger, while Mary hid in her room, where she heard the terrified screams of her defenseless little brother.

“That’s what daddies do to bad boys who spill their cereal on the new carpet,” she thought to herself, hands over hear ears, silently justifying his brutal actions.

Mary finishes relieving herself in the bathroom. Noticing the fusion of early morning sunrise colors peeking through the cracked, paint-chipped pane of the small window above the toilet, she hurries herself along.

The boys are already slurping down their oatmeal in hurried fashion at the diner-style table situated in a corner of the front room designated as the “kitchen.” Mom sips down the last drops of coffee from her ceramic mug, the green one with “Kiss me, I’m Irish” printed on the side, and fires up another Salem. There is calmness in the air, newness, a freedom they have never felt.

Licking the last morsels of oatmeal from his bowl, Kevin looks up at his mommy with great big chocolaty-brown eyes and asks, “Mommy? Do we have to say ‘May I be excused?’”

With tenderness and understanding she answers, “No, sweetheart, not anymore.”

The War

2004-11-04T08:23:00.000-06:00

I've decided to branch out a bit from my original theme of poetry. I also write short stories and wanted to post a couple of them here. Since this is my "diary" of sorts, I think I'll keep all my works here, safe and sound - I hope. This piece was created before my "1942" poem, as an entry to a writing contest with Writer's Digest. Since this is not an official publication, complete with licensure and all for the work herein, I feel safe in sharing it with you.

I feel a special, inexplicable attachement to the World War II era, having flooded my brain with every piece of liturature I could find in my younger years. I must have read Diary of Anne Frank a million times. I keep my eyes on the History Channel in hopes of gleaning a story or two about this era. Quirky? Okay. We all have our weirdness. This is mine. Enjoy!

The War

Smoke fills the dry, blistering air. Particles of ash swallow up the scalding breeze and lay waste to the wilting trees and desiccated ground below. Silence fills the air, except for the moans and desperate whimpers of those left to rot in open graves meant for a lesser nation; the unclean, the impoverished, the weak.

Gunshots are heard in the distance, beyond the trees, past the bodies left for dead, and within the coalition of Hitler’s elite. Grunts and yelps of celebration emanate from the soldiers as they extinguish the flame of a useless race of people they call “Jews.”

A half-mile to the east, plumes of pitch spew from smokestacks and tarp the sunlight, punctuating the end of a people’s fading existence. The stench of charring flesh is burned into the nostrils and embedded into the memories of those near enough to fall victim to its grip.

And one small cry in the dark; a child, a boy, alone. He hovers low, beneath the ground in his haven, surrounded by mud and human waste. Shivering in the damp and cold, and shuddering at the smell in which he finds himself immersed, he wonders if he will be safe tonight. When the morning dawns, will the pounding cadence of heavy boots cease? Will the faces he sees in his darkness fade with the sun’s rising? Or will he be doomed to remain in his secluded mud chamber forever?

“I’m hungry,” he whimpers silently to himself, lest his voice be heard by passers by. He dares not leave his sanctuary for the sake of his empty, aching, bloating belly.

“Maybe tonight I’ll eat, maybe tonight.”

He wipes a dirty tear from his swollen face. Grateful he escaped the jaws of the lion clad in German fare, he wonders if he would be in a better place had he not taken flight from the round-up at the encampment on the night the soldiers severed the children from their screaming mothers. All he can recall from that night is etched in his memory like a tablet of stone; wedging himself under barbed wire, crawling out of sight, and burrowing into a muddy hole. When he allowed himself to rest, his mind flooded with memories of his mommy, her gentle touch, her tender smile, her soothing words, and the fragrance of her supper filling their modest home.

Half a mile down the road, light reflects from the metal corral decorated with razor-sharp teeth. Inside the pen, the 120-acre cage, are the living, the breathing, and the hopeless many who are forgotten by the world among whom they once thrived. No-one knows -- no-one but them and the brutal force that thrust them into this city of sorrow, this civilization of the despised. Above, the high-noon sun bears down on them like grapes under a press, squeezing out every ounce of precious nectar.

From the courtyard a bell sounds, like a schoolhouse cafeteria, calling to all who still have ears to hear that mealtime has arrived! They scurry from their makeshift shelters, across the urine-soaked mud, stumbling over each other, tripping over the fallen, stammering to reach the food line. On the menu: a fist-sized clump of hardened white bread. Impatiently they wait in line, wringing their weathered hands, licking their parched lips, wincing with pangs of hunger. As quickly as they come, they return to their meager lodgings, guarding their precious crusted lump of flour as a dog protecting its bone, all the while watching and waiting for someone to fall, to drop, to die away. The clump of bread in their lifeless, emaciated hands shall certainly not go to waste!

Hidden away from this organized chaos a woman cowers in a corner, behind a bunk, and weeps. Darkness hides her shrinking frame and camouflages her unbearable grief. With the throbbing hunger in her gut, she carries the ache of separation from her child, a son, who was severed from her arms the night the soldiers excised their young. “Eli,” she weakly utters in quiet disbelief. She wonders where he is. Is he safe from the torture she has endured? Has he food and drink to quench his thirst and his hunger? Has he escaped the grip of the Nazi stronghold? Or has he been herded away like sheep to the slaughter with the rest of his young comrades? Perhaps he hides, safe, away from the brutal humiliation suffered by those walled up behind these barbs. She clings to the memory of his unique fragrance, his silly grin, his playful quirkiness. She prays.

“If there is a God, please, tuck him safely away until we can be together. Oh, God, deliver him to safety. Deliver your people.”

To whom does she pray? What god can bear to witness the humiliation, pain and torment of a people he calls his own? Beneath her, the ground faintly rumbles.

A whistle blows in loud, crisp, strong bursts. The people, like robots, respond to the orders of their directors. “You, this way!” demands the officer; to yet another, “Over there!” The mechanical separation of the fit from the weak has become a daily routine, like the running of the mail or the Live at Five! broadcasts.

Morning delivers another day. Unspeakable quiet, unbearable silence, unsettling curiosity grips the boy in the hole. The lamentations of the dying are not heard. The deafeningmarch of the soldiers’ heavy footsteps has ceased. Curiosity rich with astonishment coaxes the boy into the breaking of the dawn. The soldiers are not seen. The skies havewon the battle over the volcano of human ash. From the safety of his pit he ventures timidly away, constantly aware, always watching, like a cat anxiously moving amid a threat of snarling dogs.

In the distance he hears a rumbling, a storming of heavy trucks. Should he fear? In his weakened state, should he run away and face another night of starvation and desecration in his safety zone, his asylum? Death would be a welcomed friend. He slowly makes his way toward the sound of the trucks, hiding himself amid the silhouette of trees and shrubs.

The vehicles in view, he does not recognize them as the beasts that changed his life in the beat of heart. They are different. To him they are gunmetal guardians who storm their way through the streets and over the hills toward the camp of survivors just down the road. Edging closer, and in his unsettled curiosity, he is spotted by the driver of the giant iron sentinel. The mechanical monster stops in its tracks, and a blue-eyed soldier, uniformed in his camouflaged basic dress unit, bounds from the craft and makes his way toward the boy.

“What’s your name?” the man impatiently inquires.

The boy, in his fright, does not understand the command uttered by the soldier. In fact, he does not recognize the language at all. Fear grips his heart and his eyes reflect his terror, as the soldier presses again, “Wie heiben du?”

“Eli,” responds the boy, barely audible, voice trembling, body shivering.

“Where’s your mommy?” the soldier presses.

Not responding, not understanding, he pleads for mercy with his tear-filled eyes. Barely able to withstand the inescapable terror of facing another soldier, he remains silent, stiff, except for the stream of warm urine dribbling down his petrified legs. His petite six-year-old frame is unfashionably draped with tattered rags, and his muddy wool jacket falls almost free of the patch of yellow star he was sentenced to display and mark him for death.

The soldier corrects himself and again demands an answer, “Die Mutter!”

Raising a feeble arm and with a ragged breath, he points with his eyes and his dirty little-boy hand toward the prisoner camp. Looking back at the soldier, evaluating his intentions, he sees a sympathetic softness on the soldier’s face.

“You’re okay, son. You’ll be okay.”

The soldier scoops the frightened child into his arms and deposits him into the Guardian, securely locking him inside with a handful of other brave young men.

Away the convoy roars at a well-disciplined tempo, toward the east, toward the camp, toward Eli's mother, half a mile down the road.

Photo courtesty of "Hell on Wheels" website.

Bats

2004-11-02T15:58:00.000-06:00

When night falls, they fly
Darting on frenzied design, they fly
Void of rational pattern, they zoom
Through skies of dusk, they swarm.
Sightless, weightless, winged wonders
With sound their guide, they hunt
With pangs of hunger, press on
Voracious stalkers of the dark.

Lori Lee Nelson

1942

2004-10-26T11:36:00.000-05:00

Hidden ‘neath a rumbling ground

I wait for deaf’ning shouts to fade

The damp and cold now fill my bones

With paralyzing fear.

Have I been seen or do they know?

Dare I leave this human waste?

Not while the soldiers still parade

Above my haven here.

I sit in morbid dread this day,

While plumes of smoke the chambers spew

Fill the skies with mother’s bones

And father’s faded smile.

Which is worse, the dusk or dawn?

‘Tis all the same when freedom dies.

For I shall never live as when

Before the solders’ rise.

Seasons

2004-10-25T20:11:00.000-05:00

When summer winds caress the hills
When spring recalls the daffodils
When autumn ushers in her hues
And winter sings her sleepy blues,

When rivers rush with raging force
When oceans crash with no remorse
When mountains burst from earth below
And waves of grain the vallies grow.

Then all creation great and small
Marvel at her wonders all
With awesome wonderment they view
Mother Nature's grand debut.

Lori Lee Nelson

Photos: Stock Photos; my favorite place to go for the perfect photos!

Sleep

2004-10-25T08:32:00.000-05:00

Escape, o soul!
Fly away, fly on high
Search the sky for a voice
Who calls you from your resting place
Here in the heaviness of your cage.

Let go, my soul!
Journey far, travel light.
Soar on heaven's misty dawn
Hues of crimson, lavender and gold.
Settle into her gentle caress.

Forgive, my soul.
Release despair, untangle fear.
Let go the guilt that jails the mind,
Hardens the heart that beats with rage.
Release the hopelessness within.

Breathe, my soul!
Pure bouquet, fragrance light.
Fill your lungs with living color
Dance on floors of glistening gems
Explode in radiance and love!

Lori Lee Nelson

Photo courtest of Stock Photos

Delight in the Lord

2004-10-24T16:50:00.000-05:00

Tender mercies falling, falling

Lighting on the voices calling

Quieting the voices calling

Calm the still of night.

All the angels fleeting, flying

Hear the moan of people crying

Sent to tell the people crying

“In the Lord, delight!”

Please visit http://www.centerofbeing.com/angel_pictures.htm for more incredible "angel" photos!

Night Skies

2004-10-21T13:31:00.000-05:00

Translucent beauty
Encompased by wings of night
Expressions of love

Lori Lee Nelson

Photo Credit to Poetry.com Hauku Contest Inspirational Photo 10/20/2004

Those Like Me

2004-10-14T15:19:00.000-05:00

"Crazy," they tell me
when I talk to them who whisper
the quiet whisperings softly on my mind.
I hear them busy with buzzing; the spoken,
the whimpering, weeping, mourning ones.
They stir my thoughts, whirl in their
whirlwind of emotion and confusion,
color my thoughts with shades of cobalt and crimson.

Call me insane, will they?
Those who eavesdrop on my silent
conversations with songs that surge
through my mind in the late of night
and bright of day.
They don't stop.
The hearers and buzzers both.
Come from inside, those needing to be heard.
Come from outside, those seeking to hear.

"Tis my gift," I cry, "alas, my curse."
My gift to hear and see those whom we call passed;
My curse to listen to those trapped here,
who reject the chorus of melancholy voices
sweetly whispering their dancing impressions
in my mind and on my ears.

Insane? Me? Never! Why?
Our immortal souls shed our mortal bodies
and we go on.
Sometimes to life.
Sometimes trapped in the nowhere place, mourning, crying, whaling our woes
To those with ears to hear.
To those with eyes to see.
To those like me.

Photo: http://www.pbase.com/mgoderre/image/32497887

Daddy's Girl Gone

2004-10-04T10:32:00.000-05:00

Eyes of nine, mind of more
She dances o'er the dirty floor
Her hair a mess and tattered dress
Adorn her fragile frame.

Mom is gone and dad away
She dreams of happy yesterday
When he was here and life was dear
No room for fear or shame.

Held her close, kissed her cheek
Made promises he'd never break
Hung the moon, but far too soon
His life the night would claim.

All alone, music gone
She dances late into the dawn
In her captive mind he lives
Forever just the same.

Lori Lee Nelson

Photo from Stock Photos

Caught in the Middle

2004-09-30T20:54:00.000-05:00

Stirring, whirling, spinning glass
Round and round we go
When the exit comes around
How am I to know?

Twirling, blurring, rolling walls
Tummy feeling weak
Dizzy head and knocking knees
Opening I seek!

Slowing, stopping, getting off!
Happy to be free!
Revolving doors are meant for those
With fearless pedigree.

Relax

2004-09-30T15:12:00.000-05:00

Lying on a bed of sand
Molded by the sea
Worn and weary restlessness
Is slowly drawn from me.

Sun and warmth upon my face
Sea blue sky above
Wind’s erotic gentleness
Imparts a lasting love.

If ever I should cease to be
Should one day go away
Neptune’s mighty fortresses
Shall be my final stay.

Photo is of my youngest daughter, who loves the camera and enjoys striking a pose at every opportunity.

Ouch!

2004-09-28T16:38:00.000-05:00

Stepping out onto the pavement

I feel my feet burn with the day's heat

Compressed into a hotplate of cement.

Desperate to relieve the fire branding etchings into my soles

I bound away toward the softer, kinder, cooler sand bank.

There I soothe the ache, ease the pain, relieve the suffering

That stole my breath and chaffed my toes.

The sand, rich with the balm of the tide

Heals, calms, erases the sting of only moments ago.

Enters the tide with its bath of salts.

Flows over my skin and between my toes

Who screamed in agony and begged for this moment

Only moments ago.

There are more incredible photos of "hot pavement" at http://www.hawaiihighways.com/photos-Red-Road.htm

Mourning Maiden

2004-09-28T15:02:00.000-05:00

Crimson skies and falling leaves

Rerun the solemn memories

Of lives forgotten, lives departed

Shadows of a vacant stare.

For Whom the music used to play

Now saunters quietly away

Mourning ever scents of autumn

Marks the one who slumbers there.

In the twilight fades the years

Of emptiness in deafened ears

Comes the breaking of the winter

Goes again the maiden fair.

For in the somber autumn air

Remains the heartache and despair

Yet, she shall ever be reminded

Of the one who slumbers there.

The Quickener

2004-09-28T08:21:00.000-05:00

Sitting still in my room I see her pass

The faintest wandering

The slightest flight

She quickens by within my sight

Wandering?

Waiting?

Lost?

Am I seen by her whose glimpse I catch?

The softest touch

The lightest scent

Lingers as she makes ascent

Searching?

Seeking?

Lost.

(This blurb of light with its misty edges showed up on one of my "before" pictures, while I was in the process of redoing my bedroom paint colors.)

Wish Upon a Star

2004-09-27T14:30:00.000-05:00

Wandering eyes

Wide and bright

Wishing on

Stars at night

Wide with awe

Blue on white

Wonders how

Stars take flight

Wishes once

Eyes closed tight

On this star

A wish tonight

Please visit Stock Photography for some great shots of meteors and stars!