Direction Hidden

Direction hidden, you gaze upon a puffy white orb, a Dandelion, a weed infinitely more beautiful than its grassy fellows, endless, and identical to
.
You

.
You feel akin to this fluffy oddball. You are drawn almost childlike as you grasp the delicate stem
.
Broken
.
Bringing it near to your lips, you make a wish, a prayer. A wish for peace, in the world, and in your heart. You wish not for just any love but true love. You wish for direction, and hope. You blow with all your breath, wish with all your being, and
disperse millions of miniature white parachutes of your aspirations and desires, even a fear hidden deep within your mind. You, too…
.
Detach
.
A million different directions you will go, explore and learn. You are the Hopes, dreams, the prayers and wishes of a world and of a generation, peers and family.
You are carried by a passing breeze, soft and gentle. Then…
.
Blown away
.
Grabbed by a far more violent gust, forced to
.
Fall
.

Tumble
.

Rise
.

Overcome
.
You change directions in an exhale, a gasp and a sigh. You have traveled far and you have far yet to travel. No one knows just how far, but you are NOT lost, just searching for a purpose, a reason, an answer, a place to land, safely.

.

To take root
.
Grow
.
Blossom

Pliers, Flappers, and Eyeliner, OH MY!

Ok…so I've never been the one to say I can't do something. Well at least when it comes to things around the house, yard and in the garage within my limits. I can change the oil in my car and bolt a header on my children's college education, shingle a roof, know the 100 and 1 uses for Goop, refill the weed wacker's line, clean gutters, build a wall, even know and understand the usage of all MY power tools from the table, miter and jig saws to the drills, router, joiners and so on. Installing cabinets, counter tops, flooring, and light fixtures don't give my hives and spider webs and 4 inches of sewage backed up in the basement doesn't make me puke anymore.

So…

Why can I not fix the fuggin toilet flapper thingy??????

For months the water bill has crept up like the hemline of Brittney Spears' new tragic fashion faux pas and I can no long afford it; well, for that matter, neither can Brittney but her issues are not mine even though they are funny as hell to read in the grocery store checkout while I'm waiting for the X-press 20 items or less line to move a little faster than a constipated turtle. Several times, to prevent the water from constantly draining into the village's petty cash, I've taken action but unfortunately, it hasn't stopped it. Today I went out and bought a new assembly in hopes to once again fix a problem that has given me headaches after each and every flush.

Easy right?

So it seems.

Read the directions

Pretty explanatory.

I'm prepared.

Tank drained, sopped up, water shut off. Instructions said only tools needed were screw drivers and plumbing tape. I GOT IT. Not a problem. Sitting backasswards on the loo I'm disassembling the old and found a problem. W.O.N.T come out. Read the directions, again. Hmmmm.quite a quandary. (I'd rub my temples in contemplation but the assurance that the tank water was nothing short of sanitary was far beyond my grasp…) Looking under the tank I realized the directions forgot something very important to add to the list of tools needed to accomplish the job but not without bashing my head on the edge of the counter first that was barely 6 inches from the loo itself. A little flippin' plastic nut was between me and the completion of a very simple project.

…sigh

Pliers, I have pliers!

So basement I go since they were not present in the junk drawer ( the last place I put them ) and guess what…Nooo pliers. Ok out to the garage I went, Hell Rich had to have left something in the garage for me to use, after all, my tools had to go somewhere, right? I searched thru dust and web covered tool boxes and counter tops, the oil dry'd floor amidst thrown car parts that fit prolly nothing made from this millennia, and under and in boxes littering the sides of the 2-car garage to no avail. Unfortunately, what I did find was things that have been missing from my house for along time.

Glass Pyrex bowls, ladles, spoons, forks, well…there's my steak knives, ?a baby bottle?, not sure why my eyeliner was out there, a shoe from when my son was prolly no older than 4, contact case, MY BRA!, stainless steel bake ware including the 8qt bowls and loaf pans, Maple syrup, tweezers, ketchup, pizza pan, and funnels. Not one pair of pliers…WTF! Only thing I could think of was that Bimbo was enjoying my tools as much as she was my husband and I seriously didn't want them back after she touched either one of them. To be honest I'd like to shove this toilet flapper thingy up her….

As far as the pliers were concerned, looks like I'm headed to the hardware store, again….

I'll get this done.

If it kills someone or

Tidy bowl man…

Don't knock on my door, you might meet your end by means of the old toilet flapper thingy.

Boogie Man

One day when I was younger I went into the basement with a flashlight to get something Mom had asked me to get on my own. As I reached the stairs on my way out I suddenly felt someone's presence. I made a mad dash out of the basement and slammed the door not wanting to ever go back down there. Who was there, why was the hair on the backs of my arms standing on end and why do I suddenly have this warm wet spot in my britches? But luck would have it, Mom and Dad made me and after a few years ( lol ) I learned there was nothing in the basement but my own fear of something I never laid eyes on and misunderstood. The basement, I said. Just the basement.

Time passed and I was soon 13 years old. I was no longer scared of the Whatever in the basement but that didn't stop me from screaming my head off at my sleepover with 13 other girls my age after my brother and his friends saw fit to scare the shit out of us on purpose. Banished he was from anywhere near the house til the next day, the girls and I went on about our sleepover with dread and fear of the unknown every time we heard a noise we couldn't explain or shadow that passed before the nightlight after the last lamp was turned off.
The Boogie Man?

Many of us can recall a time as children when we were gripped by trepidation. Those fears controlled many aspects of our young lives. One such angst was our belief in the 'Boogie Man.' While we never actually saw the Boogie Man, we instinctively knew that he lurked in the dark recesses of our room and meant to do us harm. His evil presence was palpably felt and had a profound effect upon our mood, and our behavior. So we would be so racked with fear, we'd scream holy terror in the middle of the night praying someone would come rescue us from whatever it was that scared us the most.

Now fast forward a few years, ok a lot of years. I'm a grown woman with children of her own, on her own. Only thing that protects me from the Boogie Man is my own 37 year old rational, motion lights and a 110 pound dog. He still exists. The trees blow in the wind and limbs tap on the window panes when I have no trees near the house, the dog barks at phantom randomness, and my kids crawl into bed every other night when the Boogie Man visits their room and sprinkle nightmare dust over their sleeping bodies. No he doesn't attempt to eat them, he just intends to give them and me some of the worst dreams one could fathom while hiding in the corner in the eerie shadows, feeding off soundless screams for his sick amusement. His sustenance to exist.

When it comes down to it, the Boogie Man doesn't actually exist anywhere out of our own imagination, our own fear, our own fallacies and misconstruals. We're in the dark, not seeing what is truly there. So how do we get rid of the Boogie Man? I know it sounds cliché or even corny, but it's actually time to turn on the proverbial flashlight and shine it in the darkest recesses of our minds and shed some light on what we really fear.

If the monster lives under your bed, then turn the light on and throw back the covers revealing, yep you guessed it, nothing but dust bunnies and discarded toys.

If he exists in the closet, open the doors and pull the chain to flood the small space with such lumen to burn any monster to ash.

The basement holds nothing but silence till you open your mouth and introduce yourself to the spiders and boxed up Christmas decorations.

Nightmares, well they are just dreams about issues in our own lives that we can't always handle when awake. Irrational fears and delusions, even ignorance. Only way to get rid of the nightmares is to wake up. That's right, wake up and realize you, not the Boogie Man, are in control of your own destiny and you'll soon find Boogie Man fades away with the flip of a switch.
IF after all that, the Boogie Man still exists, invite him over for pizza and a cold beverage. The shock alone that acknowledges his existence should settle him down quite a bit. Might even become a great friend. Go on vacations. Bike rides. Sleepovers…..