BUT BUT BUT!!!!!
The absolute best find of all was a collection of short stories about my sweet lil bumms,
detailing my 3 young sons and
their adventures as they began a new life adapting to living on a farm.
(pre-JoshiePooperz,
the family's household story goes like this: that he was up in Heaven,
bouncing on a cloud,
waiting for a good time to be born... lol)
This almost feels like winning the lottery!


Once upon a time I did have 3 boys,
ages 2, 6 and 8 and
when reading those stories,
time stops and
i am a young girl with children who think i'm omniscient and
still refer to me as Mommy

i found a bunch of extemporaneous prose,
screenplays and
other assignments that i had turned in for various writing classes that i had taken when i was going to WSU and
KS Newman (then College, now University)  and
i am happy to report that my pieces all got A's,
save for the one B-,
but after reading the teacher's comments at the end of the page about my refusal to get with the times by my continuing to turn in hand written homework rather than submit typed papers using the library's word processor,
i feel speaks volumes about the teacher's prejudices and
nothing about the quality of my sentence

an old trapper keeper filled with some of my writings,
including 6 chapters of my very first attempt at writing a novel and
i remember the urgency i felt at the time to complete it
- ASAP!
because one of the subplots
involved the protagonist working toward marijuana legalization and
back in '93 with all the wisdom of my 27 years,
i just knew
- JUST KNEW!
that at the very least,
marijuana would certainly be decriminalized nationally  
in a matter of just a few short yrs
making that storyline
completely
obsolete

i find myself agonizing about how my son
or rather his physical blood skin organs and bones
have decayed
into apparent nothingness

to fall in love and
to have ***** ***
to have fun picking out produce together at the grocery store

1 day i was laying in bed
or at least sitting on the bed
cuz i lived in my bedroom
not even leaving  to use the bathroom
pickle jars work in a pinch and
watching the walls breathe
was a bigger priority
than having to speak and
look at my children
who might be able to
produce a feeling of shame
from within me
should they had made
eye contact with me and
***** too expensive
to risk letting  them ruin
a good thick 50 cc rush of dopamines gone wild
so i yelled out through the door
" have a good day at school,  love you"  
but my words held as much sincerity
as a nun on her 30th set of Hail Mary's
dutifully reciting rosary
to get out of bed
to give him a hug goodbye
was an absolutely preposterous idea and
after hearing the door shut
he walked out that door Sept. 26, 2008 and
he was never seen again.

Bury me with a pen in my hand and a spiral notebook if you can
So I can continue to scribble my words of kibble
Of a lifetime in line tasting all of life's nibbles
You can't cut in line when it's not your time to go
But the best desserts are served last, this much I know
Until that time when I say my final goodbye
I write in awe of a life that makes me laugh as I cry
So special this life it must be immortalized
Or risk memories fading as dreams never realized
But after I die with a pen in tight rigor mortis grip
Throw in some paper for my next upcoming trip
Boldly or timidly, I'll ask my God to decide
Whether I enjoyed this gourmet banquet that He did provide
(and did I get my fill before I died?!)
Because I'm the one that writes my own menu
With every bite of life that I do chew
The price I pay for all of these nibbles
Are purchased by all of my handwritten scribbles