INCONCEIVABLY BLONDE....

That Barenaked Ladies song has been going thru my addled mind, "One Week," the catchy one that ALL of us scrambled to memorize its quirky lyrics to catch up with the fun little tune....You know the one, suuuuuurrre ya do.  I've been reflecting that it's been just a little over a week since I began the battle to get my life, my health, and my sanity back.  I have been diligently keeping to entering in all the stuff I'm doing--water, food, exercise (or, in my case, somewhat-lack-thereof-but-improving-this-week), into the MyFitnessPal.com app, and I'm even trying to be good about posting at least a weekly entry on the blog portion.  You can read it by clicking on the link here: http://www.myfitnesspal.com/blog/HavaTwizzz/view/settling-in-126842 As I mention in that entry, I'm just settling in.  For the long haul.  I've really been doing a lot of thinking--scary, I know, because now my hair's growing out all crazy and I can almost start twirling ...

OK, it's been a rough 3 months since Mom passed, and I've been struggling with demons of time-robbing work, stress and frustration and grief, combined with a gradual weight re-gain that somewhat muffled my creative voice.  In the past three months I've started (yet not ever finished) about 6 poems, cried buckets of tears, and haven't accomplished a single goal I've set for myself this year--so I'm TAKING BACK ME. Big shout-out to my longtime pal Pammers for reaching out and clueing me into a free app called MyFitnessPal.com.  I joined a few days ago, trying to refocus, redirect, and reclaim my ME again and get those physical, mental, and creative juices flowin again.  YAY!  So far, I've only lost 7 lbs, but they have a blog aspect in their application that I'm beginning to use.  The weight gain is not the only matter here, it's the principle of regaining control and not giving into negativity.  Three months is LONG ENOUGH.  I know some parts of me...

Thirty days...it's been thirty days.... Wow.... I can't believe it, really-- I can't even begin to process how four weeks of missing her, of mourning her, of going through the motions, making lists of things to do (yet haven't even begun to get done) day in, tears out, fitting the pieces back together somehow, some way, but, wow. A month?! I can't quite wrap my head around that.  Nope.  Sorry. Not when the pictures seem so much faker to me than the memories seared into my brain dug into my arms, scarring, dragging me out of my tear-soaked sleepless reverie, kicking and screaming. Tears come, naturally. That they do. Come, that is. Again, and again, and again.... At home, work, in the car, in the damned store, for Heaven's sake-- with the smells, the laughs, the speed-dialing to revel in the great shoes I found on sale, they have two, do you-- oh, wait, what am I doing? I can't seem to think straight these days, let alon...

National Book Publicist Edna Farley Loses Battle From Cancer Edna Carol Farley, 74, of Fort Lauderdale, passed away Monday, April 4, 2011, at a Hospice in Fort Lauderdale following a brief battle against bladder cancer. One of the foremost book publicists in the nation, she and her husband teamed to create book tours for hundreds of authors for various publishing houses for over 30 years from their Fort Lauderdale home. Indeed, she was a pioneer in the now-accepted work-from-home mode of business while she and her husband parented their two children as they grew to adulthood. Among the authors Mrs. Farley promoted during her long career were Nicholas Sparks, Brad Meltzer, Dr. Wayne W. Dyer, Nelson DeMille, Dominique Lapierre, Dr. Robert Ballard, Flora Rheta Schreiber, Richard Simmons, John Naisbitt, Jean Carper, Sen. Bill Nelson (D-FL), Dr. Earl Mindell, and Hollywood hair stylist Jose Eber to name but a few. She was known by journalists, radio and tv producers and anchors co...

When I was just a little girl at the ripe old age of three, and precocious as can be, I'd spurned rag dolls and girlie things, embraced all things curiosity. I'd sit on the floor at Mom's feet while she was so busy working, talking while typing-- click, click, click! "Would you like to book an interview for So-and-So? I can mail you a press kit today." Tap tap tap, ding! Return. Return.. Well, I went to work myself, (both then at her feet and now) fishing out crumpled carbon paper wads from her dented little trashcan from the 1964-65 World's Fair, smoothing and smearing them all across the floor, always looking to decipher the mysterious type on the page. Slyly, slowly transfering the telltale traces off my hands and onto the walls while she wasn't looking, while trying to figure out with my eager little mind how to go about ever so innocently becoming half as brilliant and amazing as she. After al...

                                                                               I got a shave cut it all off. All of it. Done. So what? It's just hair.... They call me brave but I'm not, not really.... The one who is is the one who lives each and every day in pain, in knowing that she has one less day to spend with us here. Now, that's real. That's brave . Just so ya know.... The one who raised me just the way I am bold, free, unafraid of what you think or say, teaching me that I am more than the sum of my parts. I am more than the sum of these little stubbles of hair on my...

What a difference a day makes. Earth breaks, buildings shake people awaken mid-nightmare by screaming, waves, mudslides, and fires teeming far, far away on the other side of the world. Ripples carry worry, building momentum, carrying shockwaves that level everything in their path, even rice paddies and bullet trains. Unstoppable. People making for higher ground, wise and foolish men both, confounded by Nature stretching, shifting, and scratching gashes in the man-scaped cities and towns All without social media, wi-fi or wikis-- whirlpooled, swept, flung all around like toys broken, dropped, left discarded across the majestically mountainous countryside-- Not mine, not yours, not theirs, but HERS.  All HERS. Standing so still, so quiet, at the shore. Faint ripples lapping lightly in the sand, yet stuck in the calm that's the eye of the storm on camera or on screen-- So misleading to lure you to come on out and see the mayhem, transfixed b...

I actually was requested to write something for an end-of-summer/back-to-school  Church family (Ward) social several years ago.... A sprinkle on the cheek, a rumble in the sky. Pack up all the baskets, Fall will soon be nigh. Some sand sweeps past my face, a gust blows through the trees. Shake out all the blankets, Summer's on its knees. Much shorter days of light, an empty beach by day. Tie down all the umbrellas, Fall is on its way. The kids will be in school weathering the storms, while everyone else works, and the toursists start to swarm. So wipe of all the sand, while the setting sun becomes a promise to remember 'Til next summer comes. Written by Eliza Jane Farley (Gomez) August 1999

This is a little something I dug up and resurrected from the deep, back in 1997, actually, LOL.... I am almost there, where I can turn in the sunshine, wearing a grin, and stop. And laugh at the journey I've taken so far. The journey-- But how did it start? From the starting blocks at swim practice-- Did I warm up enough for the race of my life? Did they teach me that holding my breath, blowing bubbles while I flip-turn would thrust me into my journey so far? The journey-- But when did it start? From the tape marks on the lighted stage at rehearsal-- Did I practice enough for the play of my life? Did they teach me that staying in character, singing while my hat fell off would twirl me into my journey so far? The journey-- But where did it start? From the cutout names stuck on weathered doors at check-in-- Did I study enough for the class of my life? Did they teach me that sneaking out trays and sledding down hills while cutting class wou...

These lines are observations/reflections of my mom from the perspective of me, an involved bystander, broken-hearted....It's one thing to have to come to terms with a disease that's beating your body, from the inside out, killing you....Then, on top of that, at the same time to have to also experience losing your memory, your control--how mind-blowing and excruciatingly painful--for yourself and your family! I can’t imagine the hell she’s suffering, only support, care, cry, observe, ponder, reflect, and pray--always pray. May God be merciful and grant my mother--my beautiful, brilliant, proud, accomplished, vibrant, giving, selfless, loving mother—peace, love, comfort, and meaningful time left with us and spare her the suffering and the torture of being trapped while feeling her body and mind break down.  Lord, please, hold, wrap, and keep her in Thine loving embrace, I'm begging....I pray they find a cure for cancer, and with each passing day my mom lives, I'm praying ...