The trails of clouds loomed over blue skies above.
The stink lingered in the air without the love.
It was metallic and had that junkyard smell.
I did not like awakening to that chemical hell.
That morning’s event is not as bad as you think.
There is ‘Richstink Stinkiness’ at work that truly did stink.
Other co-workers confirmed his great, foul stench.
One month ago with my teeth tightly clenched.
My hands covered both my mouth and my sad nose.
That mini-lunch room needed fresh scented rose.
The morning of January fifth, oh six
was no better than his smell we could not fix.
His eye color is a light and livid blue.
I saw from my desk what seemed to be so true.
There was a small slit just below his right eye.
He changes his contact. I cannot deny.
He sweats profusely each time he is near me.
He does not know that there are angels too see.
After a few days from last’s month lunchroom stink,
he upgraded to his cleaner shirt of pink.
He drives in one of those large, black SUVs.
He could be one of those agents watching me.
A photo of January sixth, oh six
showed more blue skies without any magic tricks.
There stood two blessings without the slightest frown
upon a hilltop so dry and prickly brown.
There is snow upon the hilltops of Mt. Hamilton, CA. Views from my work high up here will be uploaded into this profile at home later on tonight. The weather has been quite cold a few days now and rain has been sporadic the whole week. The snow provides my eye candy relief from working too hard.
At least my gray colored Mustang has a nice bath to rinse off the dirt and grime. This saves me money instead of spending some 20.00USD at the local car wash and reduces the damages of my tires from being dragged along the conveyor belt and my paint from being chipped by high powered spraying and drying.
Snow up on the eastern hills of the Bay Area was a rare event today. Last month was the first snow for this time of the year. So today everyone at work had a second chance of looking out the window and watching the snow falling around our building for about three minutes starting around 4:50PM.
An upclose photo of snowballs within the tanbarks at the base of tree.
At 05:00PM I took some outdoor snapshots of flowers, plants and the general surrounding area near our building. As I drove home on my usual route, I noticed that there was no other snow in sight except for where I work! To me this means something out of the ordinary because it’s almost like we are reminded there is beauty in the simple snowballs that fell on the ground today. The sizes are quite round and as large as, say, one’s pinkie toe nail.
An upclose photo of snowballs within the brown gravels at the base of a tree.
During my childhood my family and I lived in Norfolk, Virginia where Paw was stationed. That is snow country and every winter we would play in the snow. I do not remember much from those days but try to imagine I was once there with the old photos that Paw took of the family.
Paw was the photographer in the family during those days and owed a Canon camera with manual focusing. That camera no longer works and I have inherited Paws passion to take photos recently with my new digital Canon Power Shot A610 that was bought on 11-18-2005 at Moffett Field. This camera has all the features a novice photographer like me could have, including the ability to take movies.
Snow and cold temperature have been my bane during my childhood. I would get colds every winter and take grape flavored cough medicine administered with love by Maw. Trips to the doctors and antibiotics were all too familiar as I fought bouts of ear, nose and throat infections. I hated going to the doctor. I hated getting sick all the time.
The worse was having my tonsils and adenoids removed. I remembered crying at home prior to going to the doctor as I hid underneath what is now an antique Singer sewing machine with still moving parts and wooden legs. Maw uses this Singer to this day.
My hysterical crying continued at the lobby hospital when a nice lady tried to distract me by having me read whatever she held up. I couldn’t read then.
I starved later on the night prior to surgery because this blond girl who shared my hospital room convinced me not to eat much of my dinner.
I still remembered being quite afraid as I looked up into the white covered faces of what seemed about a dozen people looking down at me. I waited on the operating table for the gas to put me to sleep and was told to inhale deeply. I complied still fearfully as I fought the sleepiness by trying to keep my heavy eyelids open. I lost the battle to stay conscious.
The sore throat was annoying as I recovered a few days in the hospital all the while looking for Maw. Ice cream was cold and soothing to the throat and reminded me of snow. I missed the snow and wanted to go home.
But what I remember most was the fun I had playing in the snow. Both Brat and I would get stuffed into these polyester filled jackets, wear cotton lined gloves, rubber shoes and itchy acrylic, ski-like masks that only allowed the eyes to peer out from beneath to a winter wonderland outside. We couldn’t move much with the bundled tightness of our snow outfits.
Then both us kids headed out and played in the snow. We didn’t know how to make a snowman. We saw two teenagers next door to us finishing off the head of their snowman. But the only thing Brat and I accomplished was piling up mounds of snow in the same place and never truly got anywhere. We were disappointed that our Frosty the Snowman never came to life.
Snow brings out the child in us. We play and frolic among the white powdery crunch underneath us and eat the stuff falling from the sky. Coldness is replaced by warm chocolate milk sprinkled with toasted marshmallows floating on the top as we hold our mugs to our noses. Snow is formed from the quick freezing temperatures of raindrops falling from the clouds above towards earth below.
The times of witnessing these rare events of snow in a climate meant for warm weather and sunny days make me wonder if the earth is really cooling off instead going through this global warming due to depletion of the ozone layer of earth’s atmosphere. I don’t know if the earth is tilting in a different direction that makes for these snowy days either. Whatever allows the hilltops to become covered with snow, I am still humbled knowing that all is well in its own sweet, snowy beauty.
I loved the song `Que sera, sera. What will be, will be…` and grew up with other music to the lyrics of `the hills are alive with music…` and `you make me happy when skies are gray…` I enjoy blogging my articles here at Yahoo! 360. But I love music more.
My bio-units thought I had potential in the musical arena. Having a very small, toy sized piano to tinker the tune of `Mary Had a Little Lamb` inspired and raised hope in my bio-units that I had some musical talent.
So the three of us went to the local mall in Virginia and looked for a real piano. I was only, say, four years old and didn`t reach the height of the legs of an upright piano. I ran to and fro amongst the various kinds that this store had to sell and thought it was another day to go shopping for toys.
I distinctly remembered, `I want this one`. The one with the prettiest scroll work on the wooden legs was what I got-an upright Kimball brand piano. To this day, I still have the Kimball in our living room and will post a picture of it when chance allows after work.
My photo showing my upright Kimball piano and bench.
My bio-units later gave me a set of piano books totaling eighteen. These are maroon colored and bound in leather and they have nice gold-colored, foil-lined paper and a gold-colored relief showing my full name on the front cover. I still have these books and the records that went along with the books. The records are still in mint conditions too.
During my childhood, I grew up on the military housings. The bugle tune of `The Reveille` would echo in the background every morning. And when that dreaded day of every week came for the piano teacher to come into our house, I`d feign sickness or pretended to not wake up from sleep.
I didn`t like having piano teachers at home. I thought I was better than anyone of them because of my pride and high ego. I learned harder pieces by sight later on in life based on the basics I learned from past teachers and by self-instructions from one of the maroon colored books.
Piano recitals were fun but nerve racking. I remember having to hold my pee because we were not allowed to leave the recital hall until everyone was finished.
Some, like Brat a few years ago, play by ear. He didn`t have formal training like I did. But with his hidden talent, he managed to produce beautiful music and regurgitated the hardest piece that I had a hard time playing from memory! I am still jealous of Brat and will always be due to his being my other competitor for our bio-units love and affection. (Some people like me never could grow up).
My musical background has always been classical and Maw`s all time favorite genre of waltzes. Waltzes are easy to play with the three beats per measure. As long as the level is at least third grade, I could entertain people hours on end. I have in the past but would need the sheet music, however, please. Remember, my memory is not that good as Brat.
Those old-fart sounds got boring to me at times and I tried others popular music like jazz, easy listening and those love songs that would nowadays turn me green from memories of past dating experiences. Some music pieces are loud and fast and those kinds hurt my ears. My preferences have always been the quieter, peaceful and slower ones. Gosh, I feel like an old person.
I consider myself good enough to play my favorites like the soothing `Moonlight Sonata` (first and second; not the third-it`s too fast) and `Fur Elise` both by Beethoven and masterpieces that I cannot seem to remember right now.
Now, I hardly play my piano at home. The piano still in good condition, however, my fingers have taken a toll from freaking typing too much at work! And my sense of hearing has become more sensitive and cannot bang away as loudly on the keyboard as much as in the past.
I wished my fingers were faster and wider enough to barely accommodate an octave. Then maybe I could be a virtuoso playing in front people on the stage. Maybe, I could try playing the piano with my toes.
You remember the line of “Mirror, mirror on the wall” from bedtime stories. “Who is the finest bling of them all?” Why me, of course, is the answer. There can be no other for I am Self. Can you image lots of clones like me roaming the good earth wild and naturally free of man-made clothing? This is a scary thought and I thought so.
There is one small blurry picture on a government website under the people section that looked strikingly like me. The only thing is I don’t wear head coverings. Why should I cover my long, thick black hair that could be submitted as kennel club material? It’s quite soft and one could pet it like man’s best friend. According to my mirror, maybe it’s time to go to the groomers and get a new hairstyle while I’m on this furry subject.
The word ‘bling’ flashed into my mind and the images diamonds were everywhere or quartz crystals as another hidden gem of nature. I like shiny things, like those shiny wheels on museum quality automobiles you’d find in car shows.
My ego is big (like my big egghead similar to my paternal uncles who are 6 feet tall) and will brag that I have received blings from my paternal grandfather who has passed on years ago.
You see I am his first grandchild among the now thirteen. He gave me two sets of tiny, rose-cut diamond earrings which I cherish as a sentimental value and will pass on to my descendants, if any. The rose-cut diamonds are not as shiny as the round brilliant cuts.
There are other jewelries of small sizes back when I was a child. But the blings of having these four pieces make me feel special. To this day I still have these earrings and wear almost everyday.
Maw originally pierced my ears, which I don’t remember and thank goodness that must have been a painful experience. And I had to get the other two ear pierced later on in life.
Paw bought both Squirrelly’ and myself stainless steel Rolex watches when we were not even born. Both of us don’t wear those now either because of not fitting to our lifestyles and mine, well, needs repair up in Frisco.
Two years ago on my birthday I now have two 22K gold cuff earrings. I couldn’t refuse to have my parents pay and now I have the option of wearing either the diamond or golden earrings.
I have purchased my own blings but those don’t feel the same. I think that is why eating someone else’s cooking seems to taste better.
She continues to look into the mirror and discovers someone else staring back at her. (Oh now this is getting creepy). She is a pretty enough, spoiled foolish brat but loved nonetheless by family and what’s left of her ‘friends’. Blings will always be there for her. Maybe she should try rubies instead.
She is referred here as a third person because the reflection in the mirror is really not the shiny diamonds or that glorious smile she wears but the self discovery of being a divine spirit in human form. The finest bling is of course in the heart and how to think everyday from the heart. The goal is now is what to do with the gifts bestowed. So mote it be.
