My Brown Christmas

So, my brown Christmas in retro-spect.

Well, it was a little frosty, and I look Russian... or like some Cossack who went American-West and Cumberland.  (Notice the coon-tail hat).  Okay, I hid the coon-tail.  That's a rabbit-fur cap and it kept me quite warm.

Me, pointing at snow to make sure you can see it.

Olivia showing you snow.

Abby and Olivia

Cousin Boaz. Sho Hanshum

Gabriel and Cousin Emma by re-frozen snow-puddles

Boaz right before his fingers froze

Me, doinking around on the ice

Hey ya'll, Here I is!

I actually passed my Northerner initiation when I ran outside in nothing but a shirt, skirt, and socks to give some departing friends an item they had forgotten.

Still, I like to bundle.  I hate being cold.

probably warming my fingers here.

Loving the tree.

Me. Me. And Me.

The day isn't complete

without me trying something crazy.

And my brother

following suit.

Gabriel and Emma

Olivia and Abby

Abby and her chunk of ice

Da Munchkins

Olivia took a neat picture of this heart shaped leaf.
I like it enough to blog it- even though I'm grinchy about all that romantic sleigh-ride stuff. 

Olivia

Me helping to make "Cajun Stew"
The family wanted to call it gumbo.
Correction.  Gumbo must contain Okra.
Gumbo should also contain seafood of some sort, but you may still call it Gumbo without.
As long as it contains Okra.
This was Cajun Stew.  It had neither okra nor seafood.

 Cool fact:  Gumbo is an African word meaning Okra.

2nd Cool fact:  Okra is native to Africa and is very healthy for you.

3rd Cool fact:  The slime it produces that you dislike- is REALLY good for you.

Me and my best friend Emily

Me and Emily playing our first game of chess in years

It's a strange thing to see two Gemini's actually sit down to a slow game of chess.
It's a strange thing for me to commit to such a game.
But you just saw it.
Mark that off your list of things to see before you die.

Me winning at chess.  That's another strange thing.

Check-mate

Me drinking hot tea and waiting for my white-Christmas.
Didn't happen.

Game of spoons with family and friends
We did not have enough spoons, so we threw in a few knives.
Made the game all the more brutal- I mean, fun.

Abby and Miko.

Well, that's all folks!!

Hope you had a Merry Christmas!

Your Bumble

More Free Verse

I don't do long road trips without cooking up something.  It's dangerous to let me get bored because I'll have some new creative project in the brew.  Anyways, my last sixteen hour road trip only gave me one poem- which is good.  And then other events inspired the second poem.  


Again, they are copyrighted.  Please, no copying, just share the blog link.  You know, you have to copy the url in the box way up there just like you'd have to copy the poem just down there.  
This poem came from the natural doubts and fears (insecurities) that plague us when we are distanced from someone.  Those feelings of, "How will they react when they see me next?  What might they say or fail to say?  Will they be kind of brush me away?"

This poem came from the natural doubts and fears (insecurities) that plague us when we are distanced from someone.  Those feelings of, "How will they react when they see me next?  What might they say or fail to say?  Will they be kind of brush me away?"

I Entreat You To Be Gentle


I entreat you to be gentle
with me, this heart is healing still.
I fear the cloudy day-dreams
That dance often upon it.
The moments when you turn away
as though you do not notice,
Or sober-faced and dull
Offer a brief answer, nothing more.
With pocketed hands, uninterested stance
No bend of the head or heart or eye--
These things to me are worse
Than a flat refusal, rebuttal.
I'd feel less wounded
By your voicing your wish
For me to just go away.

I entreat you to be gentle
And I will do the same.
For once acceptance is offered
The fears all wash away
And we smile more
And laugh a lot
And notice things and then
As time goes on we step and look around
And notice how the pain is gone
The scars are softened
The bruises whole.  And yet,
We continue to be gentle.

This poem was born about 11:00 PM Christmas Eve. It is the result of my understanding that I need
someone who "can dance" which is rather rhetorical. A friend's mother gave her daughter some pearls of wisdom when she told her, "Don't ever marry a man who cannot dance." That was literal, and the
daughter did and was soon divorced because her husband was too starchy for her and did not like to
have fun. The woman could not laugh and be happy without the wet-damper of a man putting her down all the time.  When I say dance, I do not mean some worldly wiggle. I'm using it rather rhetorically, and of course, it does stem from a memory I have of watching a group of friends sing and dance to camp songs. I could not join in because I had lost my voice, but I was watching a man who could dance.

A Man Who Will Dance


Lord knows I need a man who will dance
Cause I'm the frollickey type.
When I'm happy I laugh and I shout and jump
And I don't much care what others think.
Sure my feet know no pattern.
I'm a klutz all around for the rhythm.
But my smile's contagious and laughter boisterous
I sing loud, clap, stomp, and guffaw;
But I'm happy and want him to be too.
Lord knows this man's gotta dance
Or one of us will wilt away.
He'll need feet with wings, some tempo and spring
And a smile that's as big as his laugh.
He can't be concerned 'bout what others think.
He can make his own pattern for all that I care.
So long as he lives and he loves and he laughs
We'll be in perfect step all the way.
Lord give me a man that will dance. 




Thanks for reading and commenting!
Your wing-footed, warm-hearted, cheesy-grinning dancer

My Experiments with My own style of Free Verse

So I go through these kicks once in a while.  Usually when I deprive myself of one artistic outlet, my creative pressures build and then explode out some other way like an uncorked-shaken champagne bottle.  I haven't had the time to play my flute like I used to, with work and everything else, so things started oozing out in this weird form of poetry.

You'll notice I favor short phrased-lines and words singled out on a line of their own.  I believe it's because I'm emphasizing the short phrases for the convenience of the speed-reader, the lazy-eye, and so that you get each nugget in its most trenchant form.  The single words are not isolated to make them feel bad or lonely.  I believe they are strong enough to stand on their own.  These are the words that can get up on stage without a crowd to hide behind.  They like the attention.  They are important to the poem.  They are what I call "pillar words."

I'm also aware that each line of poetry should be capitalized.  But I'm a rebel.  I use the caps letters to draw attention to the start of a new thought as well.  Hey, I can do this my way.  All those old guys in literature we are forced to study and take quizzes on at the jeopardy of our own grade did it.  They probably make bad grades in the school of their day for it.  Now kids these days are making bad grades trying to remember what that grade-school failure did that was so important.  Anyway, enough rant.  On to MY poetry.  I wont quiz you on it.

These poems are copyrighted.  Please, no copying to share them.  Just share the blog link.  Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated.

Captive

The treasure lureth me

but I wish that I

could have been there

to see its beginning:

The cleansing, the birth

of the treasure of you,

The day you cast

your mighty hands upward

Surrendering all of your heart,

The words you whispered

prayerfully, the promises,

The light – that lit upon your heart

when a seal thereon was placed,

after waves o'er flowed

your precious being:

down you died, up you rose

a victorious son of God.

I glory in that

treasure in you-

It must be something great;

if God Himself would 

think you worthy

add you-- a gem-- to His crown.

I'm captive to this treasure

God washed and took for Him,

and know I cannot steal you. So

I must offer myself up.

May He place me next to you.

My Heart Is in Your Hands


With great reluctance I set my heart within your hands.
Be careful not to play with it, or turn it upside down
Or toss it to and fro from hand to hand.
Don't spread your hands and let the winds chill it
Or hold it so tightly that it cannot expand
Or hold it so loosely another can steal
Or the rains come and wear it,
Or the hail come and bruise it
Or the night chill and harden it.
No, it takes a special touch to keep another's heart.
It takes a special hand-- one with nail scars is the best--
But if He holds your heart, I know you'll learn from Him.
If He's your Lord and tutor, I can trust you with my own.
Just hold it close and shelter it, and water it with tears.
Then grow it with your smile, for years and timeless years.

Thanks for following!  Please grace me with a comment.
Laurisa Borlovan

Mother Laurisa

So, I'm not old.  And I'm not a real Mama.  But when it comes to my chickens you may call me Mama Laurisa.

I recently endeavored to prepare a special super-de-dooper healthy granola treat for them.  Couldn't get it to stick together without risking giving them a diabetic attack but... I do love molasses.  *licks fingers*

Hartz Harvest Delight, oil

Raisins, oats, molasses

Yummy... yummy.

Me... cooking.... okay, stirring.

My mom cooks. ...Bakes bread.  I know how but I'm usually gone Monday through Friday 8-5.

And she does it better of course.

So, my chickens have a 5 gallon bucket of the best sweet feed ever.  They literally hork it down and then their eggs taste a wee tiny bit like Molasses.  And they're usually just a wee-tiny bit hyper for some hours afterwards.

But they're happy! 

I miss you Babette-ster!

Your Sylvan

Thanksgiving Family Christmas

 So this is Me.  Obviously.  Holding the bouquet I collected from Grandma's funeral.  The third lily has bloomed today.  Again, I love Lilies.  And Dark Chocolate...but that's off subject.

Here is Olivia marking cups.

And Sarmale (pronounced Sar-mah-leh:  AKA Cabbage Rolls.)

Delish!

Cheese Ball, EVERYONE"s fav.

Olivia, again.  Hehehe

Brianna, my lil' cousin.

Uncle William

Me and my cousin Timothy!  

Olivia, Cousin Hannah, and Esther

Cups.  (Did I need to say that?)

Aunt Kim, her boys, Adam and Matthew, talking with Uncle Matthew.

Timothy showing off his Iphone 5 to Esther.

The guys playing Chess.

Btw:  Timothy played a beastly game of Chess with Uncle Sam and waxed him.

Unfortunately, I did not get a picture of the event.

Uncle Mike- and his Roll Tide!  XD

Uncle Josh brought some Habagardil Pickles from Kentucky.  I had 3, no sweat.  I like spicy.

Habagardil is Habanaero, Garlic, and Dill.  It's 15X HOT HOT HOT!  But I liked them.

He accidentally got some juice in his eye.  HOT HOT HOT!

Aunt Amanda with her mother.

Food spread!

Healthy Food spread!

My Hummus, naturally, served with Jalepenos for spice.  Did I mention I like spicy food?

I also rave Olives, of all varieties.

Cousin Noah.  ROLL TIDE!

Aunt Monica serving her kids.

Cousin Gavin with Gabriel

Aunt Irina

Food line.

Cousin Gavin.

And whoa, the pics stop here.  They stopped because, I began eating. I began having fun.

I began playing volleyball.  And I was the only person interested in taking any pictures.

Btw Andrew, I had that Apple Caramel pie my mom is so great at making.  DELISH!

I pigged out on desserts and don't you know it, I'm one of the few people that can do that and actually loose weight!  Haha!  WOot! WOot!  Dropped 3 pounds!

Overall it was a great Thanksgiving.

Even though we all miss Grandma SO much.

Some of the desserts and the Sarmale especially was dedicated to her because she was so good at making them!

So much to be Thankful for!

Leave a comment about your Thanksgiving!