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September 26, 2013 Image

Loving my backyard hangout spot, with my jean-clad butt plopped on a corner of the patio, not in a chair. My bare feet are in the grass and my toes are tapping and I am singing along to the Praise songs playing from my ipad mini. I’m posting this via mobile of course! My silver laptop, with letters long ago worn off the keys, awaits. The luxury of a full keyboard is a new one, after writing so much tapping via a tiny touch screen. That Birthday Dog is eating grass. Ugh. Best of all, the oven timer just went off, which means later today there will be a delectable chocolate cake. Maybe it seems silly to you to make all this fuss over a dog’s birthday, thinking, “Two years old, big whoop. He’s a dog.” It’s so much more than that though, as most things in life are. There are many layers and undertones. We bought Blue seven months into my husband’s two years and three month long cancer fight. That dog saved me. Blue got me out of the house and under the sky, at all hours of the day and night, walking, moving, and helped me take off the stress induced, comfort food eating, weight. A month ago my husband’s soul went to Heaven. He is no longer in pain. It was four weeks ago on Monday, but it is a calendar month today. Since I was a young girl being outside made it better. Whatever “it” was in my life, being outdoors soothed me from the inside out. I need the grass between my toes, the sun on my face and the breeze blowing my dark brown hair. Blue knows Outside Makes It Better too. He’s a really smart pup, my Blue. I love him more than I should, but that’s the beauty of love, you don’t divide it, you multiply it. A lesson from my mother. She’s really smart too!
~ Janean

September 26, 2013

June 29, 2013 Image

I baked the cake I promised my boys yesterday, after I said, “No” at the grocery store. They were both drooling over a display of square cakes near the bakery decorated in patriotic red, white and blue. Two heart shaped chocolate cakes are cooling atop the oven now. Those two cake loving boys are still sleeping which meant I got to lick the beaters, bowl and spatula all by myself. It’s a good thing I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror to clean the telltale chocolate cake batter off of my face before they wake up. I’m tackling the thistle roots in the garden next. It must be Saturday morning.

June 29, 2013

May 13, 2013 Image

the first iris bloom
all the more special
because it is a transplant
from Grandma’s garden
Grandpa chose the colors
sent them North
in five gallon buckets
with my father
who dug up
the boring white ones
and planted vivid hues
that my grandmother first chose
and I prefer too
oh, the first iris bloom
looking forward
to yellow, pale blue, two-tone
the other colorful iris
that will follow
soon

May 13, 2013

April 10, 2013

Western Wisdom

I’m in the midst of typesettin’ two more of my grandfather’s Western Tales. Yesterday I caught myself readin’ instead of movin’ fast, flowin’ type, applyin’ style sheets, and fixin’ up his wonderful words for bein’ self published and bound into yet another family and friends book. Perhaps his last, as at 97, we know his body is wearin’ out.
Certain phrases and plot twist moments, keep jumping off my computer screen as I work, that make me grin and guffaw. Then there are others that make my heart squeeze in empathy.
The line of dialogue speaking to me right now is after the sheriff received a letter from concerned parents, asking after their hastily married off daughter who was sent away, “in trouble.” Instead of replying that she’d had her baby, and a few days later her worthless, no good varmint, rat of a husband was dead – murdered – Sheriff Wells simply said where they could reach their daughter. His mentor, John Wade, replied after readin’ the communique in progress, “Good shot. Let her tell her own story.”
Indeed. Yes. The other bit of advice I keep readin’ is to keep your head up high, no matter what the circumstances in your life. Lots of horse talk too. How I love that!
I’m completely charmed by my grandfather’s writing. Stories. Songs. Poetry. I have been since childhood. It’s more poignant now. Readin’ with a woman’s heart.
He’s a marvel. Still alive and kickin’, atop a bluff overlookin’ the mighty Mississippi River where he’s lived since he was nine months old, other than those years he was needed to serve his country in WWII. He began writing stories while recovering from night patrol injuries in a hospital in England. The Red Cross gave him paper. He mailed the stories home. All because he’d read everything he could get his hands on, and figured he could do as well or better. Once he started writing, he never stopped. That is a lesson for me, and all the aspiring authors I know. Writers write. A lot.
~ Janean Marie Thompson Baird

April 10, 2013
Quote from, “The Invincible Three” by Erwin A. Thompson.

March 29, 2013 Image

I finished making the second piece of art last night at 6:00pm. Loaded up the frames I’d bought last week (when they were half price) and my reluctant youngest son. Art framed. Check. Art delivered by 7:00pm. YES!!! Supper was a late dinner date for two, a boy and his mom. Breakfast eaten on couch with cartoons on. Guess it’s time now to clear the remnants of art making from the kitchen table…before lunchtime rolls around. Kitchen table art is my favorite kind. A solid oak circle placed in the heart of the home. Feels right.
~ Janean

March 29, 2013

March 22, 2013

turn it upside down

One of my closest friends and I have been texting, literally since we both woke up today. This is nothing new between she and I…we both have A LOT to say! Best of all, we just say it. No holds barred. No walls.

So, at 8:40am, when she texted me a sad face 😦
I replied…
No sad faces
I have a f’ing rule!!!!
I cannot bear them
My heart is already breaking a zillion different ways
I’m making an egg and toast and coffee for me
Dog needs to stop woofing!
Or I could just go back to bed. Like all day.

That oh, so smart woman, a beyond marvelous friend, responded, “Do what works for u… :)”

A smile! Much better! That just helps me cope.

I wrote again to say:
Food
Art
I’ll be ok
Have a happy Florida day!

She believed me, for she knows me well enough to read my barometric pressure, even while on a l’il bit early Spring Break getaway, from more than a few states away.

It’s nearly 10:00am now. My breakfast has been consumed. First mug o’coffee is in my weary system too. I planned ahead and made an extra mug today. Knew I needed whatever amount o’kick in the arse it’d give me.
~ Janean

March 22, 2013

March 22, 2013

right now

I’m not this strong
I’m just a human woman
all kinds o’weak
longing and wanting
for things that cannot be
magic
pixie dust
fairy tales
escape from my reality
but this is my life
it’s happening right now
where I stand
in my cowgirl boots
I wear ‘em for courage
needing every scrap
more than anyone knows
I might still wish upon a star
as artist, poet, daydreamers
are apt to do
my heart still whispers,
“Dreams do come true.”
my head replies,
“The time is now. Get busy!”
my gut jangles and tangles
tossed between head and heart
trying to find alignment
head-heart-gut
I know I have it
when my insides
are all smoothed out
I’m not this strong
just breaking time down
into manageable chunks
living life
one day at a time
that’s all I can do
right now

March 22, 2013