Christmas is here....I guess

I have been doing nothing but studying. A couple of nights ago I got a text message from baby. "Look at Pic...A christmas story meets Fried Green Tomatoes." There was no pic attached. I was in the middle of something but I typed back..."What Pic?" A couple of seconds later I get..."Hold on" So I stood looking at my phone.........when the recieving pic message came up I clicked on open and this is what I got.

So....I called and asked her what....and who.... exactly was I was looking at. The lady standing in front of our car was selling the trees.....she thought it was funny and great and wanted in the pic..... so anyway, Jess said that instead of waiting for me, her truck, bungy cords, and rope she decided to go and pick up a tree...she just couldn't wait. So...because she had nothing else....she used plastic wrap that she had in the car....she plastic wrapped the tree to the car so that she could drive the 20 miles to our house......hmmmmmm I guess there is nothing more to say

To J. who is always at work ~C.B.

So i know that all of these pics are already here...but i was just thinking about you...your smile....your eyes....your hands....and your smell. I think that it is silly that we bicker so often...because, you truly are all that I think about. I would have never have believed that I would touch such perfect lips....or...that when I slept I would fit so well in the contour of someone's neck....or that I would be able to hold your hand...like we always have...but know that you wouldn't have to let go...unless we wanted to....That i wouldn't have to drop you off at a house or an apartment...that didn't belong to us...together....that I wouldn't feel that sinking feeling when you let go of my hand.... to run down one of several sidewalks....flowers on either side...watching you fade into some screen door..."your probably gonna leave huh carrie? Your probably gonna move to California....Philadelphia....London....before I get to see you again.....I love you.... call me tomorrow." Never a call me tomorrow...or cool down time at nine even though the fun was far from over....driving back by your apartment an hour later...after the store...seeing the warm glow of the lights and the flicker of the t.v. and know that you are there....with someone else....wondering if you are watching X-files....or painting....or filing your fingernails...and never having to pick up the dinner mess while you hang your head and follow someone's angry words... "What a stupid thing to do Jess. C'mon we gotta go home cuz we gotta study...c'mon jess"....or (the worst...so many years of our lives).... be home at 7:30...not one minute before....not one minute after."
And you....You always get the front seat....because it is yours...for better or worse...and I haven't left you...even in the rough times....not even for a whole day.
A dream come true...from 8 years old untill forever...even tired...even sore....even grouchy...but tomorrow...or the next day...or maybe the day after that...we will be lying together...sitting in the sand....or the grass...or driving somewhere silly like Thermop....or Buffalo....or just anywhere...and it will still be us...and me (angry or mellow) (sad or happy) enveloped in your face...your words....your thoughts....and your smell
Do I have to say I love you

It just makes me happy ~C.B.

J.B. speaking and singing for equality

To J.B. From C.B. lol

stream of consciesness...not sunny ~C.B.

What is it that changes the color with my moods? On the outside I seem quiet, kind, maybe a little bit jolly…used to be sunny but the years have turned sunny into jolly. My friend….one of the very few people that actually honestly knew me… said I used to be dark….Sylvia Plath dark…Wynona Ryder dark…maybe, at times, Helena Bonham Carter dark….that was who my class in college pegged me as…in the early 90s…Helena Bonham Carter In "Howard's End" but really any movie…I rushed home and looked it up…hmmmm what a strange person…but why? But, when I was 23, I became a mother….grocery shopping…ice cream…wet wipes on little chins and a mommy answer…even when I felt quiet…even when I was talking on the phone…or working…and yet it was love and is love…love and despair for ever and ever….worry and longing that never goes away…longing for their futures and worry for their nows….and their futures…and their pasts…the pasts that I have made…molded and shaped…the ideas…and hopefully the values…I don't know. So the person who I was changed...But, sometimes the person who I was haunts me….a forever poet with flat tummy, cigarette, and bright red lipstick…the same values and beliefs… but my life was art…just like Sylvia said…I wasn't interested in the now….it was the cosmic idea of ever…or the lack there of that held me….it was long midnight drives alone…just me and my 1963 pink Dodge….and a cassette player….and Concrete Blonde over and over and over…maybe a bottle of whiskey….or cheap wine and pushing my car half a block so my grandparents didn't hear….I am haunted….a haunted house that lives in my dreams…maybe my great-grandparents house…I don't know…but, now…I listen…I listen to the banter….the endless chatter…with no substance…and I nod and make eye contact….and feign concern…but they never say anything and they don't care…about anyone or anything really… just life's little trivialities….the tricks that keep them glued to the inane…sometimes a gleam of poetry…or truth…but the poets have all sold out….and the searchers….well I think we may have lost over half of them with an epic…award winning…movie-like… tragedy and then… a Mel Gibson classic….I don't know…and the most laughable thing is that half of me doesn't care either…because I have bills that I can't pay and school that I am scared to death of and gas prices that remind me of searching for heroin… the fumes of the real drug…that is draining our veins…and raping our wallets….and, I have babies….that I am trying to give chances that I never had…because…what kind of person would I be if I just let the circle happen again…would I raise my poor little brother…the beautiful boy that stared at the clouds and told me that he would always be my hero…and slept holding my hand…to keep me away from the reality that would become the darkened memories…fading in and out….never sure what is real and what is not…just the pain…the pain that led to glistening bits of sharpened steel and ruby like rivers for me and the pain that led to a sharp prick…a whoosh of blood…and the numbing fruit of the gods for my brother….but, he won the race…and who would have thought….he left…and took the memories that he forgot…in all of his stupor…to give back to me…no, I will not let that happen again… not with these two…and not if I can do anything in my power to stop it…it means the world…and the future…but, this haunting is there…and it is mine…I don't need to have belief in supernatural…because the supernatural comes with me…it is mine…probably a gift from old Abraham himself…a gift that he would never have known that he passed down…to the only granddaughter of his favorite daughter…a cheery Carrie…a small bubbling lovely Carrie…a Carrie that read romance novels to me before bed…and baked cookies for me when I was sick…and healthy…and smelled of lotion…and loved me…and loved me…and loved me…for ever and ever…no matter what….A Carrie much like myself… critical and perfectionist…with the same mannerisms and a face that was much alike…except for the beauty that was all hers, and something that she couldn't share…she was peppermint breath and soft hands and a beautiful voice singing "tiny bubbles" or "You are my sunshine…my only sunshine" but my sunshine went away…but held on…for me…as long as she possibly could…and that showed more love than ever ever…that anyone ever could…and I am left…haunted…with a tiny glaze over the world…making the color filtered low key

these precious things ~C.B.

Baby and I got on Barnes and Nobel so that we could order a book on electrolytes for school. Anyway, we don't usually like to get on that web site or some Ebay things because we have a love of books. We cherish our Annie Proulx signed first edition of short stories (even though looking back it may have been a better idea to have her sign Brokeback Mountain but that was after we listened to her speak. We are also always collecting Gertrude Stein books. One time we were looking on Ebay and found an origional signed copy of Everybody's American by Stein....had I have had a disposable 2 or 3000 dollars I would have bought it right then. Anyway, we have bookshelves filled with books...and boxes in the storage area....and though heavy to move...the books are the things that are the most beloved and the things that are the most kept and most prized. So, we were looking for electrolytes made easy and Baby said, "we should look for used Stein books." We got on the site..."I am not saying that we should buy anything," she said "just look around a bit." So we looked it up and found a book about Alice Toklas that we had never seen. It was used...hardback...and in "excellent" condition. We bought it. Then I asked Jess, "Do you remember that year in Kansas? Didn't we read that book of love letters between Stein and Toklas? She looked at me with slanted eyes. "Uh yeah...don't you remember?" she asked. I just looked puzzled. "We read them laying in each other's laps at the park in Manhattan while the kids played." Well....I was a little bit ashamed of myself..."Oh yeah....I do remember that." Because, during that summer Jess and I read "The autobiography of Alice B Toklas," many of Stein's short stories, "A charmed Circle," and the book of love stories that we checked out from the library in Manhattan. Our love affair with Stein and Toklas was born during that summer of loving, driving, and reading. However, now neither one of us could remember the name of the book of poetry. I had a light bulb moment and grabbed the phone. I called the library in Manhattan and asked them to look up a book of love letters and poems about Stein....However, not "Tender Buttons." They came back in one second..."yeah, I think it is "Baby Precious Always Shines." That was it....and I was so excited....I typed it in....never expecting to find it....but, there it was. It must have been fate because when it came in the mail....hardcover...with stiff pages....and not once written in...it was from a library. Anyway, I have chosen to share our book with anyone who reads these silly blogs...I am going to post a poem at a time....every now and then....and in yellow. We love it. The poems were written in the early to mid 1900s. Jess is picking the first one.

Precious wifey,

All flowers tell me

what a lovely flower is she

lovelier than any flower

can be is she

and I am all hers which makes

her glow because she

knows that it is so.

God bless wifey,

she is a tender page

and every page is open to

me and every page in me

is open to she and such

a sweetie is she such a

sweetie

Y.D.

(Y.D. is what Gertrude signed all of the letters to Alice

it was code for Your Darling)