another day another story

I was going to write about my life living with the big D but dang, it’s hard, it feels like everything is happening with no reason. I feel like I’m fading, grasping at anything. That I am losing everything that’s mine. M foot is getting better but not my heart.

So THAT happened…

Marika got the D.

I haven’t known what to do so I chose to do nothing. Which is, and always has been my way, I wait for something to happen. Considering that I’m sitting in room 462 at St Anthony’s for the 7th day, well that should tell you how my plan worked.

Truth is diabetes scared me a lot and right now and all I want are jelly beans. The red ones and the pink ones with red speckles, or the black ones. or even better those red jelly candies that have that spicey flavor. I love those too. My favorite candy flavor is red.

I also have had a real problem with my feet. It’s why I’m here. My foot is infected to the bone and I needed surgery, I would love it, to show you a picture, but it’s pretty gross, and oddly enough it’s shaped like a jelly bean.

Instead of doing my ususal sit back and let it happen, I’m approaching things differently.

Did I spell it right?

Let’s see how approaching things with a plan goes.

the slap felt across the world.

yeah, I’m talking about THAT one, the one where Will Smith took his Muhammad Ali trained mitts and slapped Chris Rock. Although to be fair, I don’t think that Ali did a lot of slapping. I’m only writing this because I saw a lot of my ex husband in that action. I can’t tell you the times he screamed and “fought’ for my honor only to beat the ever lovin’ crap out of me later that night. It was my world, and it’s one I remember.

I’ve had a lot of abusers. I think most women do. You’ll get away from the one that physically hurts you, only to land in the arms of one that’s cuts into your heart, and it’s hard to tell which one damages you more.

I finished a story today, a little flash fairytale. I’m going to enter a contest, mind you I have no chance of winning, but it really is the point of entering. I want to do it more. I think it will improve my writing. I just have to find one of those contest lists.

Anyway back to abusers. This story in my heart of heart of hearts is dedicated to one of them, one of them that abused me creatively. A little Mary Sunshine who felt that all stories should have a happy ending especially mine. This person wanted my stories to end in the way this person wanted their stories to end, you know the ones they never wrote. For instance, there was one story with a witch, I like witches by the way, and she is funny and sweet, and everyone in my writing class loved her, so in the end when she died people were upset. But you know what? that happens in life, sometimes people who are likable but different burn. It was true in the1500’s and it’s true now. Bad things happen to good witches.

This friend would call me about that story go on about my flaws and fears that made me a bad writer till I was sobbing at the end of a 40 minute harangue, and yes I am a crier, but damn! I would beg for it to stop and it would for a time. I started to think this person who thought of themselves as a mentor was right so I pounded my brain how to make this a happy ending. And I wrote it. It sucked. I think this was the worst abuse I’ve been through, to make me doubt what I knew I was good at. Also they called me fat and used to send me fat girls exercising videos. That sucked too.

So the lesson? I write the story I want to write. I have written little Mary Sunshine endings. I am writing one now. It not only has little Mary Sunshine ending, it has llamas and you don’t get better than that. But fairytales, as originally intended don’t, they don’t call them Grimm for nothing. So my fairytales, don’t and if you want a close examination of my own faults and fears, those are my Starbuck stories. In other words thanks but no thanks I got my bases covered.

Also one of my favorite witches is riding shotgun to make sure I get it write.

Ukraine

I don’t think that this is the beginning of World War lII. I’m not afraid of things going nuclear, but I am afraid. While others have been waxing poetic about what it all means, I’ve been worried about my cousin. He teaches in Odessa, which was one of the first places bombed. I haven’t heard from him since this whole thing started. I know what you are thinking “But Marika surely you know there is no internet etc…” I’ve been saying that too, but it doesn’t change that he’s my cousin, I love him, and I want him to be safe and warm and okay. Also , I don’t know why I think it’s cold there.

But mostly I worry about him. And I do what I always do, I went into detective mode. I found info on the school, he works for I contacted an administrator, she told me that they hadn’t heard from their school in Odessa, but she would let me know if she did. I have learned during the pandemic is that there are times when you are powerless and you just I did have to give it to God. So I did, but I still thought of him every day, A couple of days ago I heard from the administrator. she can’t confirm anything, but she told me all the teachers were okay, the city was ruined and there is a lot of rebuilding and I’m sure he will be there.

I like seeing the videos of the Ukrainian people fighting back and hearing their stories, like the woman who downed a Russian done with pickled tomatoes. I like to think I could fight, as long as Monte could be at my side. Watch it Russians, Monte would kill for me. I also have a good throwing arm, I could down some drones.

I don’t know that will be the case tomorrow, next week, or next month, But right now he is okay and that’s enough.

Where the story comes from

Awhile ago I posted these pictures on Instagram.

One of the projects I am working on is a collection of fairy tales that I bounce off of existing stories. I gave the Marika spin to Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, and I wrote something completely original inspired by something that my Oma said to my mother and my mother then said to me.

But back to Instagram, I posted these pictures of a lubber. As far as grasshoppers go, this particular breed is pretty dubious, you only have to see other names to know that. In Louisiana he is called Black Diablo, in Mississippi he’s called graveyard grasshopper. So while I know nothing of Lubbers personally, they do seem to be villains.

And then there was this: Kill! Kill! Kill! Use your scissors! One of my friends left that as a comment.

And that inspired this

Kill! Kill! Kill! Use your scissors!

Oma advocating for the death of any insect who dared enter her garden was a sure sign of summer. She needed them alive, at least for the time being. They’d die a gruesome, crunchy death as the key ingredient of a love spell.

Oma really hated grasshoppers ever since they destroyed the magic and very lucrative magic beans, she had been growing. If this guy stuck around, he didn’t stand a chance.

I wasn’t going to kill, kill, kill him though. I definitely wouldn’t be doing it with my scissors. These were my sewing scissors, no beheadings, these were for fabric only

And is where I get my fairytale ideas.

A long time ago…

In a galaxy far far away a “friend” called me Hurricane Marika and it was not meant in a good way. It was meant in a tons of devastation, dangerous uncontrollable winds, unpredictable anger, sort of way. It was something I never saw within myself. Later, he went on to say this about me in a very public manner and instead of being the personification of devastation I was just personally devastated. I dwelled. I dwelled for a long time. Way too long.

I became obsessed with it and in my paper journal I have pages and pages of poems and sayings about hurricanes of the people variety. By the way, Pinterest is a great source for fueling your obsessions. trust me I know.

One day I was talking to friend who knew about the falling out with my friend, and I told her about the hurricane obsession and my storm journal. She said “Sometimes it takes a long time for us as women to step into our power.”

WOW.

Until I heard her wise words, I thought being a hurricane was nothing but bad. Now I know having hurricane in your blood doesn’t have to be a bad thing, it’s better than being lost at sea. And now I embrace the storm within.

Her words also inspired the first poem I ever wrote

I was born in a meteor shower

I’m always going to be free

I was born in a lightning strike

There are things only I see

I was born in a raging storm

Maybe you shouldn’t mess with me

Hello It’s Me Again

So after a very long hiatus, perhaps a considered abandonment, I’m back! I think I’m going to stay, unless I don’t. You know me I’m a fickle pickle, but the intention is there, although learning wordpress all over? Can I do it?

I spent New Years with my guy.

Before midnight he had wrangled his bottom underneath my pillow so I would be the first gifted with his New Years toots. Is there a better gift for a hound to give his girl?

More postcards

I can always count on postcrossing to lift my spirits. I always get something interesting and fun and I’ve gained three penpals, and I am a penpal gal. So let’s look at what was in the mailbox today.

AND A BOOK! I think most of you know that I am doing a series of takes on Grimm’s fairytales. I have always loved the Bremen Town Musicians, animals banding together to fight the man? Awesome, but I haven’t taken a real good spin on it, except maybe the band breaking up and each member telling their version of the story to Rolling Stone.

Honestly, this is my favorite. First the image is amazing and I love it. But the best part was what was on the back. “In your profile, I think you are maybe peculiar, so I sent you this, I hope you like it!” I AM PECULIAR! I love the card and it is perfect for me!

Sometimes there are cards you get that you can look at and before turning it over you know where it came from because of the artwork.

This is from Taiwan. Big animals heads eating things or looking thoughtful is their thing.

Russian. The fairytale cards they have are so colorful and unique and it’s fun to research the stories.

I have not handled the past weeks well pandemic wise. I am feeling my oneness even though I have Monte. It’s a struggle. I cry a lot and not always for me. Getting little pieces of art in the mail has truly been a blessing.

About Me: 4

Question 399: What’s your favorite scent.

Without a doubt, honeysuckle.

It grew wild on the fence next to my home in Tennessee and I can remember being with my friend Scott, pinching off the end and sucking out the nectar. It’s a pure moment of childhood for me. Honeysuckle is considered to be an invasive plant, so is are Mimosas, which are my favorite kind of trees. What can I say, I like bad ass plants.

Obviously, I like other scents too, because who’s a one scent kinda gal? And while honeysuckle has a special place, it is not particularly “inspiring” When I write, I like apples or citrus, even God Forbid Pumpkin. I love the smell of lemon when I am at the keyboard, blueberry muffins too, maybe because they remind me in a cafe and for whatever reason sugar plums and gumdrops.

I have a “tart” warmer that I use to keep the scents and my creativity going.

CORRECTION! When I went to highlight the question, so I know that it was answered I noticed it was not “What is your favorite scent?” It was “What is your favorite accent?”

Southern, of course.