Who needs music?
I love the rumble of the train
headin’ North, toward home
there’s the occasional whistle
chugga chugga choo choo
a gentle sway, from side to side
bringin’ me closer, home to you
November 8, 2012
November
takin’ a day trip
the sun is shining
I’ve found my smile
hopefully the tears have stopped
for awhile
November 8, 2012
“tickled pink”
this morning’s pink cloud sunrise
though this photo doesn’t do it justice
sometimes I long for an unobstructed Eastern view
with no trees, leaves or houses in the way
maybe
maybe someday
~ Janean
November 5, 2012
tickled pink
pink clouds in the sunrise
it’s going to be a good day
they always make me smile
that’s how I know
‘cause here I stand
under morning’s glow
smiling up at the sky
and sighing happy sighs
because of the pink cloud sunrise
and perhaps a few things more
smiling serenely to myself
and sighing happy sighs galore
November 5, 2012
two words
My husband wrote a poem with, “damn it” in it.
Reading those two little words made me grin.
For in the midst of his poem about hurt, tumult, brokenness and pain it was after I read the, “damn it”, that I knew we’d be OK.
Love is stronger than all the rest.
Love heals, soothes, mends and forms a safe haven.
Love is our shelter in the midst of the most awful of storms.
Besides all that, I love him too…
damn it.
The oven timer beeped, “done” at 8:30a.m.
I asked my youngest son, as he was quietly sitting nearby, to tell his big brother, “The cinnamon rolls are ready, it’s time for him to save his game, power down and come upstairs to eat.”
Next thing I knew the basement door was flung open, and that littlest boy used a great big voice to shout, “Get your butt up here! Breakfast is ready!”
I gotta admit, his big brother listened and I laughed aloud in reply.
I was still chuckling and smiling as I handed ‘em each a plateful of iced, cinnamon goodness, baked from a refrigerated Pillsbury tube.
Good morning.
May your day be A Good One.
I’m smiling here, still charmed by my youngest son’s cut to the chase translation.
~ Janean
November 4, 2012
if
if I blogged anonymous
you might meet the real me
I’d be a little more open
a little more carefree
if I blogged anonymous
your eyebrows might go up
there’d be more secrets told
and less talk about my pup
if I blogged anonymous
it might work for awhile
till someone got suspicious
and figured it out with a smile
if I blogged anonymous
there might be a lot more tears
mine and many others
as I reveal my fears
if I blogged anonymous
it might help me let things go
instead I write ‘em in a journal
or email close friends who know
November 2, 2012
My favorite part of today’s Art Club, with 16 students in 3rd-5th grade, was hearing one girl say on her way out the door, “I wish Art Club could be every week.” Today they drew continuous line self portraits with a black felt tip marker. No erasing was possible. Then they added color with washable Crayola markers. I made one too. *happy sigh* Now it’s time to store their artwork in a portfolio, clean up the scattered supplies, move tables and chairs, and finally head home. ~ Janean
“you’re on my optic nerve”
by Janean M. Baird
9” x 12”
marker
November 1, 2012
slow dancin’
We were canoodling when the phone rang, cutting off the music we were dancin’ to.
It was my mother saying, “I’m on my way.”
He said, “I don’t want to see your tears.”
I replied, “Then don’t look.”
There’s no time to kiss them away.
Gotta get my composure, blow my nose and grab my sunglasses to walk the dog.
Our sweet pup, Blue.
Met mom on the sidewalk.
Chit chatted and smiled sorta bright.
Held his hand when I came back in.
Assured him it was the tenderness that did me in.
I’m a girl.
It’s how I’m packaged.
Sometimes they are happy tears.
November 1, 2012
Turquoise Tangles 