INCONCEIVABLY BLONDE....

Packing up leftovers, licking the spoons of their savory sausage-appled-and-sagey stuffed goodness-- Oooh, did you taste this?! Scraping remnants of recipes collected through the years together. Small and simple. Kept it small and simple this year. Enjoyed more easy moments full of food and family. Peaceful. Good.  Car keys tucked into nooks and crannies with time to spare until kickoff, gentle laughs about the gravy stain on your new shirt—oh well. Grab another butter-baked roll to mop it up-- I won’t tell! Fetch me another roll of towels while I let the pans soak-- I’ll just buff up the trays before putting them away for next year. Did you happen to catch the score? Lounging in loaded down lazy-boys remotes slipping as body and mind decide between holding on to their piece of pie or to consciousness-- Hmm, so tempting, so warm…. Quiet dialogue floating amid the TV din. Doorbell—Come in! Make yourself home, grab a cold drink from the fridge and sit ...

I did it again. Yes, ma’am, I sure did. Left the house again without my face on. Not quite like getting my game on, but a little like putting war paint on. Gearing up, getting ready for battle for the day, to face the world, dare it to squint, to smirk, to bat an eye at me the wrong way-- nuh uh, no way! Not today…. You heard me, I said “face-free,” that means no spackle, no cream, no base, no powder no shadow or dream of what I seemed to be, only yesterday-- just what I am.  And what is that? Well? I'm waiting.... Am I a woman, muse, wife, daughter, deep thinker, ruse to rile you up at night, unsung super heroine, a closet comedienne, professional picture- messer-upper? Voila—c’est moi!! Good enough to drive to work without accident or incident, unless you count the lookers-on who seemed to part the waters, so to speak, as I dared to bare all.  Of my face, that is. Nice try, though…. What, no cat calls? So!?  W...

Holes in the ceiling tiles stare down at me, blank, zoned out, gape open at my utter lack of mental oxygen today tomorrow whenever.... myopically gulping for any last tasty tidbits clinging to the surface before, during, and after hours. Unheard of. Absurd.  Irrelevant to my frame of mind. Fluorescently buzzed, numbing thumb-tacked memos to my forehead-- What was it you said? You did say something, didn’t you? Or are mine the only lips I hear moving? Hmmm…. Written November 17, 2010 by Eliza Jane Farley Gomez ©2010 by Eliza Jane Farley Gomez

OK, I guess I had a blonde moment, no matter how artificially intelligent I might currently be (I recently wandered over to the REDHEAD side), LOL! I follow several folks on my Twitter account, one of which is someone I’ve long admired and respected, albeit from very far away—Mr. Roger Ebert. Back when I was in high school, my best friend and I loved going to movies, and we’d sit for hours afterwards discussing them, along with other important things like books, boys, and music, of course! We would fancy ourselves to be critics, believing that one day we could be famous critics like Mr. Ebert. Someday. Fast forward over 20 years….. Mr. Ebert has an online journal and his entry on his site on November 5th is titled “All the Lonely People.” It simply captivated me, and I had to read it several times and quietly reflect upon why, exactly, his words so moved me. I had to respond and let him know—something I’ve never done. However, I firmly believe that when someone touches your li...

Standing in the checkout line, Humming and tapping to the muzak in time, waiting just to pay and go. Browse the fashion trashing tabloids and tasty artisnacks, looking over my loaded cart, putting stuff back that’s not on my list. Lady behind me’s all pissed about all my disgarded junk invading “her” space in line. HERS. Do you mind?! Hurry up, now, I gotta run, gotta get back home in time to fix  a little something for dinner.  I gotta life, you know, outside this store. I can’t wait here all day…. Just another minute, almost done, I’ll be home soon…. Fall back with my head on the pillow, trying to let go of the thing that won’t leave. The damn I.V. dug in my arm, dripping steady and warm, drowning my pain down the hall of my dream. Hmmm, seems pretty real, though-- It is just a dream, right? Did I imagine all the nurses browsing down the hallways of the patient rooms, like shoppers in the stores, checking, fluffing, holding cl...

Lights out, visitors gone, it’s just you and me, no phone, no TV. Just us girls.   Hush now, don’t worry-- I’m right here, and I’m staying. It’s all right, I won’t leave you. Get some sleep, now. I’ll be here. Let me grab my nail file, trim your nails, file them down just a bit, nice and round, nice and smooth.  Those little things make such a big difference. (We girls understand that.) Trusting me, letting go, letting me take your hand in mine-- Once, strong, quick and nimble… Now, trembling and feeble, weathered and weakened by pain. Rubbing lotion in to massage away the strain of the day. Those beautiful hands-- so elegant and graceful, writing and typing stories, covering glories and events through the years.  Stories I could only imagine…. Those very same hands held us as babies, helped others, cooked, cleaned and worked us into the family we are. Those same hands that wiped tears from my eyes, picked me up when I’d f...

They say all roads lead to Rome. Ok, so…. What road leads to you? The You that you want, the You that you need, the You that you are already (and may not know it)…. Better be ready, at least have some idea of what makes you you , makes you tick, who you want to be and why, try to picture the path your life will lead.  Even so, how do you really know what your life’s road will be, what’s your destiny? Destination unknown? Doesn’t have to be…. What does it look like? Is it straight and narrow, or winding and curved? Is it paved or cobbled, or covered in dirt? Where does it come from? Where does it go? How does it travel? Too fast, or too slow? Is it the “Road Less Travelled,” or does everyone know? How far must you take it before you know? When you drive down the beach, Are you ready to meet The You that is waiting for you to arrive? Climb inside and sit back, inhale the salty, sunny breeze on your face, tickle the truth in this pl...

I hate the D word, really, I do…. (If you see what I see, wouldn’t you, too?) Why do we dwell on the divergence, the diversity, the difference of life? D is for… Dirty Depressing Difficult Dull Doomsday Dumb-as-a-box-of- (but, alas, I DIGRESS)…. I don’t mean to get y’all DOWN-in-the dumps…. after all, we don’t have to live on the down side, do we…. Don’t get me wrong, now, I DO happen to know D is for… Divine Deity Delish Delightful, as it were. Well, DUHHH!!!! Ya big DUMMY! Are we not all of us created in God’s image? Male and female-- Doesn’t that mean we are all the SAME and NOT DIFFERENT ? Yet, “ Different ,” you say, “is good ,” you say, “is special ,” you say, “is set apart”— Well, I couldn’t disagree MORE …. Why do we break ourselves up from the rest of the group of humanity-- is it vanity, insecurity, or PRIDE? Why must we hide behind labeling others (like we label ourselves) for the comfort of ou...

What am I wearing? Your voice in my hands gives them warmth— makes me feel the fan on my face. Gives them guidance. Makes me know the suck of your words driving my mind to lie back. So passive in passionate grope on the edge of the bed. Lips swollen moist at the thought of your mouth inside mine. What am I wearing? Your stare on my lips gives them wet-- makes me feel the crisp of the night on my back. Gives them strength-- makes me trust in the curve of your neck rushing my mind to lie back. So sated in promising thrust on the edge of the bed. Cheeks flushing hot at the feel of your legs wrapped in mine. What am I wearing? Your soul in my thighs gives them dark-- Makes me feel the chill of the room on my chest. Gives them reason-- Makes them know the soothe of your fingers gentling my heart to lie back. So cradled in unconscious shudder on the edge of the bed. Hair tousled, damp at the sight of your hand over mine. Written by Eliza Jane...

Do you want to know what keeps me up at night, what makes my stomach tighten up, clench at the mere thought? Do you really want to know? Well it’s like this…. We work so hard to learn so much to be so much to do so much all in such a rush no time to blush grab a bite and go! But why, tell me why do we do “it” at all? (What is “it” anyway?) Tell me why. Do you know why? Well, do you? DO YOU ? Let me tell you something…. “Tell me,” you say. No time these modern days to sit down anymore, and share meal familial, staring, baring ourselves in the light of the real reality we’ve created, alone, isolated, bombarded by screen crawls, pop ups, sound bytes, downloads, all remote-controlled by our tweets and our socially-networked personas tucked nicely in the palm of your hand. Still don’t understand? Take a swig of that imported water while driving by smellified local lakes festering fish choked on phosphates, foaming mistakes of our...