Last Dance

Last Dance

You Don’t Let Me, 2013

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

You let me cook
You let me clean
I wash our clothes
I sweep up my dreams.

You let me shop
You let me sew
I have it all
Computers, books and clothes.

You don’t let me
See how you feel
You don’t let me near
Any part of you that’s real.

You don’t let me
Close in our
King size bed
I rebel, but only inside my head.

You don’t let me
Love you
I don’t know why
I know one day, I won’t even try.

5-8-13

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Lost In Love

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

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Lost in love
what is my name
I am you
and you are me
we are the same.
Lost in love
no one is here
to answer the phone
the banging on the door
lost in love, lost in love
but love, love doesn’t
live here anymore.

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Some of the Advantages of Getting Older

I love my mother’s writing. It is such a precious gift that she shared with me. She was my biggest fan, and I was hers.

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

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By Grace Christine Doucette (My mom)

I can wear a red hat with a green blouse and yellow pants. People just shake their heads and think, “Well, she’s old.”
Strong young men accost me just to put my groceries in my car. As I adjust my wig, they walk away with a smile, thinking, “Well, she’s old.”
I can smile and wink at every handsome man I see, young or old, and receive a smile or wink in return. It’s safe to flirt now, “I’m old.”
People let me cut in at the grocery store checkout line, and they smile when I have to ask, “What’s the date?” “Oh well, she’s old.”
I can add ten years to my age and smile when people say, “You look so good for your age!”
I can ask for directions, and people lead me right to the place. They don’t want me to…

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A Dozen Old Sads

Have you ever noticed

when something triggers your sad

it seems to pull back the layers

of all the sads you buried

and a dozen old sads rise up in defiance

shouting out, What about me?

I’m still here. Look at me.

You buried me, you pushed me down,

but I’m still aching, what about me?

Shut up old sads.

You don’t belong here, not today.

I have enough to be sad about

in this present moment and

I don’t need a dozen selfish

old sads rising up in rebellion.

Go back to sleep old sads, hush.

You’ve already had your day.

My Kryptonite

I could give up cigarettes, coffee, sugar,

chocolate and probably even salt.

I could never let go of your memory

it’s locked securely in a hidden vault.

Yet, longings escape

like pink whispers

memories haunt me

old scars burn as

your caress lingers

lips tender on my skin

kissing the curve of my face

as you slow dance me

until you win my heart

just to walk away.

A fantasy fulfilled, too hot to hold

it dropped from my burnt fingers.

The way you made me feel, my kryptonite.

The dance ended, but the music lingers.

A Rambling Report…June, 2020

A Rambling Report From The Frequent Mover

We moved to a farmhouse in Vermont this spring.

The house is similar to the last two houses that we owned, but the land, the land, has me enchanted.

Every evening, I go outside and walk the borders of my two acres of flowers, fields and trees, even if it’s raining.

I feel happy as a child as I walk among the wildflowers at the property line, constantly taking pictures and whooping with delight every time I find another milkweed plant.
I shout as I find each one. “Milkweed!”

Butterflies love milkweed and I love butterflies.

Every walk is different as I find little surprises that make my day. A stray dandelion, a new butterfly, pink clouds, lilacs, crab apples, a new bloomer in the garden. Another blackberry plant, a new wildflower.

The flowers and trees that I’ve planted over the last two months are thriving and next spring, God willing, we are going to plow a field for vegetables and sunflowers.

I have squash and cucumbers growing in big pots now and they are doing better then the vegetables I planted in the ground.

I mixed cucumbers, peppers and tomatoes in the RV flower garden. I think the flowers are being mean to them.
I have a beautiful rock garden out front, plants hanging by the front door and plants growing on the back deck.

I love watching everything grow, so each day is a good day with new treasures to surprise me. This week, the first cucumber flower and then the teeny cucumber that followed.

Today, I found another baby cuke and it made me silly happy.

I love the magic of working with soil and seeds and reaping the results of all the demanding work.

Yes, gardens even on a small scale, require hard, physical labor.

I’m not getting younger, so my husband digs the tree holes, thank goodness.

He’s not getting younger either, and we wonder if we were crazy taking on a ten-room farmhouse that totally needs cleaning and cosmetic renovation, but we are having fun and taking it one room at a time. A riding lawnmower is in our future, for sure.

I split my days between the gardens and the house and it’s so exciting watching the farmhouse and the yard change.

This property is amazing and has three RV hookups, ten rooms, a garage, a barn and two workshops. We even have a back porch and an old-fashioned clothesline.It was for sale for two years and had many lookers. My (awesome) real estate agent told me tonight, one couple drove by recently and regretted passing it up. They called to make an offer. “Too late,” she told them. “I sold it.”

That’s how much we have improved the curb appeal in two months.

The Connecticut River flows past the front of the house and we are surrounded on three sides by my neighbor’s corn fields. No houses. Stores and familiar territory, including House 14, is in Lancaster, NH just five miles away, so it’s convenient, but it feels like we are alone in the world.

I swore after house 15, never again and I have spent the last year content in my twenty-foot RV, mostly in Florida. But the world is changing, and I don’t believe living here and there with no real home in this new climate is the best idea.

My baby RV will be my She Shed, my prayer room, my writing room. It’s all hooked up behind the farmhouse and I love the location. My own private RV park.

Wildflowers have grown under and around it and it’s so awesome, like a postcard.

It’s a new beginning for my husband and I too and in a world gone mad, it is my sanctuary and my happy place.

I started writing a book last winter, Fifteen Houses, but I had to change the title. Fifteen Houses, Plus One.

Praying my wanderlust is satisfied because this home is a keeper.

 

 

 

 

Evernote, I Love You

I’m a writer and Evernote Basic  https://evernote.com/  (available for free from Google Play Store) holds my random thoughts safe until I want them back.

If I had to wait until I got home to my computer, my thoughts would be gone.

Paper notes pile up and get lost, and paper notebook articles never make it into my blog.

https://womenwhothinktoomuch.com/

With Evernote, I can capture my creative thoughts before they disappear.

I can also sync two devices, which is super convenient. I use my phone and my computer.

Free apps, which work every time, are rare. I’ve paid for several that didn’t work at all.

I tried many other Android note apps before I found this program and I never found an app close to it.

Driving and writer’s flashes are handled quickly.

I pull over in the first, safe spot I see, and write what my muse wants me to and it’s safe from being instantly forgotten. This is also a great tool for when you’re moving, which I have done constantly, because you can write on your phone while on the road, and while you’re waiting for the internet company that never shows.

Evernote, you are always there when I need you, and I tell every writer I know to try your app. I’ve counted on you for over five years and you’ve been 1000 % dependable. You have saved hundreds of stories for me.

Thank you for providing the free app. I hope to be able to upgrade eventually.

I also love that you don’t flash ads in my face while I’m writing.

If you think that this is a love letter, you are correct. I just love you, Evernote.

P.S. This is an unsolicited review. I really do love this app.

 

Wildflowers

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

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The breeze in my face is sweet
and it tastes like the ocean in my lungs
although it’s not.
Then again, it really is because
that’s what it tastes like to me.
Freedom is a wildflower growing
where ever the wind blows her seeds,
in a garden or in an empty field.
Freedom tastes like the ocean
and looks like wildflowers
and freedom…she dances
with the confidence of seventeen.

Jeanne Marie, 2019

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She’s Still Alive

I looked in the mirror this morning

and the woman who once loved you

looked back at me.

I thought she died.

I tried to kill her literally, emotionally

and in every way possible because

I don’t want love that hurts.

I looked in the mirror this morning

and the woman who once loved you

looked back at me.

She’s still alive.

Full Moon Rises

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

Soul wanders
through the darkness
searching for your light.
It floats blind and lost
searching behind
the  stars each night.
Heat remembered
frustrates and
fuels the fire.
Full moon rises
sparking rebellion,
tears and desire.
I want! I want!
soul screams out
to the empty night.
Its over. It’s over.
Must be accepted
by each daylight.

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For Jodie Lynne, my daughter…

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

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I am God’s flower.
I am petals swaying in the wind
soaking up the dew drops
while the sunshine kisses my skin.
I am God’s flower.
Do not pick me.
Do not crush me.
God created me just as I am.
I am His flower.

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