Saturday, March 04, 2006

IT'S JUST THE GYPSY IN ME :
A long time ago when a mere lass was I, my mom and dad would tell a tale, because I was a little different FROM the rest, complexion just a little to the olive side but eyes almost of blue, not looking completely like my dad, and not entirely like my mom. My brothers that came before me did not resemble me exact. My sister, coming after me, was not entirely like me in coloring. She had my mommy's eyes of green and brown and my daddy's lips and stature. She looked like dad profoundly. My brothers looked like daddy too. That left me , with my eyes almost of blue and skin of olive. To this my parents did retort, and I found it all so amusingly grand, that they got me from gypsies and -- to this day, when something I do is odd, I proudly proclaim with glee, "it's just the gypsy in me".
HAIL TO A PARTY OF ONE
Well my horse is starting to slow down just a bit. Its gallop is a little less frantic. I suppose I'm deciding whether I'm done looking for my perfect job. I have not decided as of yet. It has sometimes been fun and amusing in a way to be in the job market. You walk in and you know all eyes are on you. Years ago I liked that, now I'm afraid to say time has made me more timid. To add to the whole funny-type picture, I never considere myself part of any pack, although friendly with every one. No pack had me, not even my own family. I sort of always stand alone or outside. Not in a bad way though. So I feel perfectly comfortable walking in as "a party of one" for interviews and job apps. I am a party of ONE.

Thursday, March 02, 2006


Okay, today it's snowing and sleeting in New York City. Had to go out and run my errands in that weather. Now I only love snow when it comes down softly and looks picture perfect preferably without wind and slush. That's a pretty picture. Which got me to thinking of the warmth and the blue, the pink and green and the life sprouting all around. So I wrote this lyric and further perfected it to describe a so-called momentarily free creature, the butterfly and it goes something like this: Fly Little Butterfly Fly little butterfly and feel The breeze atop your wings helping you steer To a land where flowers are red and pink A land that's rich with leaves of green Fly little butterfly to go Closer to where mountains reach high Nearing the blue and purple sky Fly there but stop where rivers run swift and deep ...Careful, don't let them sweep you underneath Keep flying higher and soon you will succeed To find the place of make believe And when you do, make it your own Because that's where peace, beauty and love still grows By Anna Angelou