As I watch the clock tic on the mere minutes of my last day here at this job, I find that it’s a bittersweet feeling

I will miss the people, the shenanigans and the jokes we’ve shared, although not so much the drama that left me reeling

Moving on to new adventures and new sights where the grass, I’m sure,  is definitely greener

I’ll be able to breathe finally, without the stress that constantly plagues me, hoping 2017 brings also a new demeanor.




From the 2017 Color Your World Prompt

Jan 6; Bittersweet




In her chestnut skin strong and proud

She bends this way and that

Her contortionist movements wow the crowd

She’s as sleek and lithe as a cat


The final move is so drop dead

It will probably cause some chatter

Folding herself to sit on her head

she raises her sign stating “Black Lives Matter.”







From the 2017 Color Your World Prompt

Jan 3; Chestnut

Contortionist pictured is my eldest daughter, Kyla.

Fuzzy Wuzzy Brown

Fuzzy Wuzzy Brown was the name on the tag, but his face was wiser than that. His outstretched arms and welcoming smile had me at first glance and I insisted to my mother that I absolutely must have him. I mean, he couldn’t be destined to live his life as a “Fuzzy Wuzzy Brown,” I had to save him and give him the life he deserved. My mother looked at me exasperatedly and did a little sigh.. which was always a good thing for me. When she said “Okay, fine” I jumped in the air with all the power of a high jumper shouting “YES!” at the top of my lungs.

I reached up to the shelf he was sitting on and gently pulled him down. I gave him a squeezy hug, a kiss on his little teddy bear face, and I swear his smile got bigger. I whispered in his little ear “Welcome to the family, Bosley,” and off we went from the toy store, to the car, to our little apartment, for our first of many adventures.



From the 2017 Color Your World Prompt

Jan 2; Fuzzy Wuzzy Brown

Work In Progress

There are so many times where my mind is running so fast that my thoughts get jumbled and I’m no longer able to handle life.

One of the things that calms me is crocheting. Weird, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that my jumbled thoughts are now concentrating on specific rows,

and counting,

and stitches,

and the feel of yarn as it slides through my fingers,

and the cold aluminum hook with the smooth bamboo handle.

Sometimes I crochet in silence although not for that long. I prefer a movie or some kind of musical background like tonight. Listening to 80’s pop on Pandora my hands just sc,ch2,sc on their own and my mind no longer follows the pattern because my fingers do it for me while I Shout along with Tears for Fears. Rows 10-15 are a blur and I can’t believe I’ve done five more rows without even really thinking about it.

Singing my heart out with Cyndi during Time After Time, stitch after stitch, yarn over, pull through.

Billy Idol, White Wedding  which I never understood as a kid, but still knew all the words, three more rows down and I’m grooving too much I can tell because I’m starting to mess up. My neat little ch5’s are beginning to get loose as I lose tension. Rip out/re-do.

Back on track for the moment with Joan Jett, my mind slowly drifts to the repetition once more…specific rows,

and counting,
and stitches,
and the feel of yarn as it slides through my fingers,
and the cold aluminum hook with the smooth bamboo handle.