Froggy & the gang :) Hello from South France! 

Miro - Star

Ocean of pure Reality,
it's substance,
in fathomless quiescence, exists eternally.

~Fo-kuang Ju-man (Bukkõ Nyoman)

Something to be said for being a pearl in the burbs

Timber Frame

Timber framing is a simple but elegant building system consisting of large wood posts and beams fit together with interlocking joinery and secured with wooden pegs.

A post and beam framework supports the roof by transferring roof loads to principal posts and onto the foundation of the building eliminating the need for load bearing interior partition walls. The result is a strong, self-supporting timber structure in which heavy timbers frame open living spaces, cathedral ceilings and well-lit rooms.

Mortise and tenon joinery can be traced back to furniture hand-crafted in Egypt 2000 years ago. How joinery came to be used in building construction is not known, but there is ample proof that builders in all of the temperate regions of the world relied on some form of timber frame construction. In China and Japan, timber framing was the most common method of wood construction until the 20th century. The 1,300 year old Ise temple buildings in Japan, which have been rebuilt nearly every 20 years, are thought to be the oldest existing timber frame structures in the world.

Visit www.vizbuilt.com

What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.
~Bukowski


Simple...
and when I read it -
it makes me feel better...
maybe a tad bit empowered.
maybe just a little more
human.

...and a little less
scattered.

"Sylvia Plath"

I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
Busted tooth and a smile
And cigarette ashes in her drink
The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week
The kind that goes out on her
To give me a reason, for well, I dunno

And maybe she'd take me to France
Or maybe to Spain and she'd ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She'd ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill

Then she'd get pretty loaded on gin
And maybe she'd give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
And she and I would sleep on a boat
And swim in the sea without clothes
With rain falling fast on the sea

While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me
Telling me it would all be okay
Out on the horizon and fading away
And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh
I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath

~Ryan Adams

I've been told

I've been told that I give
up too easy.
That maybe I don't
try hard enough.

I'm not a wife
(not technically anyway)
not a mother,
not much a friend...

Just a daughter
and not really a good one.
...and maybe another
car on the road
just to up the odds
that you'll be in an
accident this year.

I get up and
come to work
and cry when
I feel like it.
and beg for meaning.

A steamin' shovel full

When I was a kid
we had this neighbor
named Mr. Delaney.
He and his wife
were trunk slammers.
Cottage people
who came up on
weekends to the lake
to relax.

For some reason,
Mr. Delaney
a. hated my dad
and
b. hated our dog more

We had a dog named
Jessica (after the Allman Brothers song)
She was a mild mannered
gentle dog.
An Irish setter/black lab mix,
black like a lab, Irish like a setter.

Although we were in a
lake neighborhood and pretty
much everyone around had
dogs, he had this notion that
our dog was the only one
in the universe that pooped in
his yard.

So, every weekend he would get
to the cottage,
get his luggage out of the
trunk, slam the lid and
proceed to do anything but relax.
More like find reasons to hate
all of the neighbors that lived there.

No doubt once every weekend
he would come into the yard,
red faced with his white brillo-pad hair
flapping in the breeze
and bitch at my
dad about dog poop.

Get a grip, guy.

This one particular Sunday,
my mom had made a pot roast
with all of the fixings and we
had my grandparents over for dinner.

We were all sitting down to eat, when
someone saw Mr. Delaney come into the
yard. My dad got up to go to the door facing
the lake to see what he wanted.

When dad opened the door, there was
a huge pile of dog shit that Mr. Delaney had
collected from around his yard and
dumped with a shovel onto our steps.

My dad went trucking across the yard
to confront him about this problem and
remind him that there was more than one
dog in the neighborhood -
and a shouting match ensued.
Needless to say -
He didn't do that again.

I didn't like that guy...
But, none of us ever wished
him any ill will.
(Even though he was just rotten.)

A couple of years later,
some kids broke into his cottage and
completely trashed it.
I thought, man karma works in mysterious ways.

Daily Ramblings

It's funny how angst brings out the best writing. I feel pretty good and because of that - I have terminal writer's block. Not that anything that I yap about is all that exciting anyway, but hey! It's self expression whether it sucks or not.

If you give me a day or two, I'll surely find something to fret about. I'm a woman, just give me two minutes to myself and the ole imagination starts to travel... sometimes in good places, sometimes in bad ones. :) I like it when it goes to the good ones the best, though.

I'm glad that it's Friday...you'd have to be either dead or working much too hard to not appreciate the end of the week! Everyone always says "man, this week was so long - sure glad it's friday." No shit! Isn't it pretty much a given that most of us are glad that it's Friday? Everyone is always in such a good mood on Friday's - all dressed in jeans and t-shirts and tennis shoes. Who doesn't feel better in civilian clothes?!

Then we all drag our butts in here on Monday in our stiff corporate clothes and for at least the first half of the day barely anyone speaks - and if they do, it's just to bitch. I think everyone would feel a whole lot better if they'd have something like breakroom bonanza bong-toke wednesdays or perhaps a wet bar along side the weight equipment. lol. Who knows?. This place could use a little spice though. For now the only carrot we have dangling ahead of us is birthday cake friday, which falls on the last Friday of the month. That's next week in case you hadn't noticed and people are already chattering about cake day. Wow, how exciting. A belly ache at 8:30am is always my favorite way to start the day. lol.

Anywho, for someone who can't think of anything to write, I have managed to take up some space here with senseless ramblings. Sometimes those are the most fun things to write anyway. :)

So, the impending weekend brings the Danish Festival in the town in which I live. Beer tents and rednecks abound. Should be a riot. Will be taking the little brother (I have a 4 year old brother - born right after my 25th birthday...yep...that's a true story.) to the parade and no doubt going home with something cotton candy-esque stuck to our hands and faces. One can only hope anyway... Childish fun makes the heart feel lighter.

Well, soon 4 o'clock will be upon us and I will join the commuters in the mad dash northward. I will be sure to tune the radio in right at five to catch the friday song...because the weekend cannot officially begin until that moment...and then we'll pass it around the shanty mama and put a good buzz on.

Cheers.

Motion on a Good Road

Life in motion...
Complicated sorting
in process...

One life being
funnelled
into two worlds.

Two worlds
being funnelled
into one
that
converge in a
swirling vortex of
complex emotion
and
passion
and
confusion
wrapped into one.

Sifting the grains
through
shards of glass
I think to myself
"fuck it."
I know why I came here.

I have to sit back
and
realize that this is
new to all
and there are more
involved than
just you and me.

Someday she will like me,
I believe.
All I can offer is kindness
and respect.
And to love her father.

FROGSTARR - WHERE ARE YOU??

movies and popcorn

Sleepily driving to work today
under the dark sky
filled with rain clouds,
I looked behind me
in time to see
the orange sun start to rise.

What a breathtaking view
of the brilliant sun
peeking through the gloom.
The feilds under the new day
emanated the mist of dreams
that glistened with dew.

The morning had a slight chill
in the air
although the day
heated to 90 degrees again.
The bright green leaves
are starting to fade.
No longer lush and full.

Soon we'll be wearing
coats again and putting on
our Nick Drake albums
and staying in for
movies and popcorn
instead of sleeping
with the windows open
and running around barefoot.

How sad to see
summer wilt away.
But, the fall
has it's own beauty
that I welcome
and watch with delight.

Once you've found what you're looking for - it's natural to fear it's loss, I think.

When it all shakes out

My, I have nice friends reading along with my blog. Thanks for the nice notes...it makes me feel better.

I was reminded yesterday that people aren't judging me like I may think that they are. As all of us make mistakes and most of us are just trying to get through the best and/or only way that we can.

I know I'm not the only one out there that has done someone else wrong and although I feel guilty about it, all I can do is be true to my own feelings. While it is perceived as selfishness now, I believe that when this mess shakes out, we'll all be better for having lived through it.

I am looking forward to traveling my new found path and the load on my shoulders has lost most of it's weight. My mood is shiny with happiness and my heart is filled with love.

Cheers to all.

Vanessa

All the dishes in the cupboards
rattle when the elephants arrive!

Ripples

The moon creates
a wavering snake-like
glow
on the ripples of the water
on the lake.
The stars twinkle
above my head.

Sitting here on the
disintegrating cinder
block retaining wall,
I listen to the night creatures
and I

Thank God for the simple
things that comfort me
in the night.
I wonder who else is looking?

On My Time in Exile

Exile...

I never knew
how nice
exile
could be.
It's probably
because
I've never been in
exile
before.

I'm a grown
woman
who once had
a bustling
life
all planned out
for myself.

One day,
I split.
I split
at the seems,
lost my head.
Fell in love with
another.

I left a note.
I took off
for
what was supposed
to be
an afternoon.
an afternoon
that turned into
a week,
that turned into a month.

A coward
you may ask?
Yes.
too cowardly to
face
you and tell you that
I was leaving.
You knew already, though.

My head was so loud.
And you wouldn't back off!

I maintained my work
while living in a tent.
what a wonderful reprieve
from
a so very unhappy,
life.

I shacked up in
a bus in the driveway
of my granparent's house
for 2 weeks so that I could
think.
Thought for a minute that
maybe
we could work things out.
You did too.

Back to square one.
Not happy then, won't be
happy now.
Can't come back.

I used to be a nice girl
named Vanessa Beardslee.
I changed somehow and became
angry.
Couldn't put a finger on it.

You can call me
anything you want.
I deserve it.
But someday
I will find that
nice girl hiding
in there
behind the pissed off
girl in the mirror.

I send you an apology
that will
no doubt fall on
deaf ears.
We all have one life
to live.
It's so cliche.
But it's true.
I'm sorry my path
has veered away.

I'm sorry for the
pain I have caused you.

What did you say?
I'm a driver
not a passenger?
That is true.

My time in exile
was well spent.
Time enough to sort
my cluttered head.

So we roll,
and life goes
and things work out
and the
proverbial first day
of the rest of our lives
starts now.