Archive for July, 2013


There she sat, ever watchful over the gardens. The birds came to her, almost weightless on her shoulders, and sang to her. Squirrels and rabbits and the occasional tabby played at her feet. Children stared at her, wondering if she might move.


That’s what they called her, though she didn’t know why. She wasn’t even sure what it meant.

Her dress did not sway in the breeze. Her hair stayed neat and tidy. Never was she cold nor was she ever hungry. But she always seemed so sad.

Her arm outstretched, reaching for something in the distance; she couldn’t quite remember what is was, though, it had been so long.


She felt a longing; and melancholy wave crashed over her like the many thunderstorms that ravaged the gardens. Her roses had suffered terribly this year.

This year.
What year was it?
How long had she been frozen in time and hidden away from the world?

She looked out over the garden, her garden. Were the others like her? Did they wince at winter’s sting or yearn for shelter from summer’s heat? Were they stuck, just as she was?

Oh, yes, spring and fall were lovely. There were so many beautiful flowers and animals scurrying about.
And visitors! Yes, so many wonderful people to tell her how beautiful she is and how lovely the gardens are.

She missed the warmth of a caress on her cheek and the sweetness of a kiss. She missed the taste of berries and wine. There were so many things that she missed.


On the lips of a stranger that she could not see, she heard the words, “She is Erato. She is a muse.”
She felt it. Something – a spark, a warmth; something,
She focused on the word, straining to remember something that seemed just out of reach.


“Mommy, why is that lady crying?”
“Honey, that’s not a lady; that’s a statue.”
“But Mommy, look!”
“Sweetie, it’s time to go.”


“My Muse.” He whispered to her. “MY Muse.”
And he touched her face, as if wiping a tear from her cheek. His hand felt warm and soft.

They could feel the stone fall away. He recoiled, amazed at what he saw before him: Porcelain skin where his fingers had been. He reached again and brushed the side of her neck. Again, the stone wiped away, as dirt in the rain. He held her hand to find that she could hold his in return.

“You there! Don’t touch the statues!”

When he turned back to meet her gaze, he found only the statue, streaks running down her face, and rain gently falling down around them.




I am in the running to be Vine Park Brewery’s Fall 2013 spokes-model!

Click here to vote for me (#10):




My birthday is coming up, so I have decided to get a new tattoo in celebration.

It’s not a major birthday, but I haven’t gotten myself anything in years, and it’s been several since my last one. I think it’s about time.

I have a few ideas roaming around in my brain (in no particular order):

Harley Quinn diamonds. A set of three in black and red on my upper arm or thigh.
An Irish Barn Owl. Mom’s favorite animal is the owl, and I would like to have a stylized (Celtic) owl on one of my arms.
A rose and a shamrock, one for each grandmother.
Tetris pieces, falling down my leg. Tetris is my second all-time favorite video game following The Legend of Zelda (I already have 2 Zelda pieces on my leg).
Kitty paw prints, one for each of my girls.
Brigid’s Cross
Generic silhouette of a black cat. Cats are my favorite animal, and I consider them my guides.
What do you think?
What should I get?

What have I done?

Once upon a time, many, many years ago, I met a man.
I was with my boyfriend (now husband) at the time, and we were in college.

We were in the same class, Interpersonal Communications. Our group used to go out after class every week to a bar down the road. There were 6-8 of us, usually.
This particular guy was interesting. He was exciting and extreme, dark and covered in tattoos.
We bonded over movies and music.
And I loved him.

Don’t get me wrong, though, I love my husband (and did at the time, as well).
Hubby is my world and I cannot imagine my life without him.

But this love was different. This was passionate and indulgent and bright.
The love I share with hubby is clean and lasting and warm.

I couldn’t wrap my head around  loving two men. It was taboo and wrong.
So, I let one go. I had to, really, for the sake of my relationship with hubby.
It worked out for the best, I think.

But then…
I got an email.
Every fiber of my body hummed when I saw it.
I was sad and angry and hurt and exhilarated.

And it was just supposed to be a brunch… It ended up being 9 hours of drinking and talking and catching up.
I was absolutely terrified right up until I walked through the door.
Would the old feelings come rushing back?
Would I lash out in anger?
Could I even walk through the door?

As soon as I saw his face I knew I was making a bad decision. Everything I had ever felt came back in an electric wave.
And now I cannot stop thinking of him. My heart beats so fast that I feel like it will burst out of my chest.
I have an empty feeling in my gut, like being to hungry without the rumble.

Please don’t mistake me, for I still very much love my husband.
And it pains me to feel this way for someone else.
But it hurts more to think that I should disregard those feelings.

I spent years trying to forget, and never could.
And now…

Now I just don’t know.