photo – Page 2 – Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

One home-grown rose…

One home-grown rose smells sweeter then a dozen store-bought roses.

Happy Birthday, Jodie Lynne

April 18

Today is my younger daughter’s fortieth birthday. Since we couldn’t be together, we created a substitute plan. We would celebrate over the phone.

When she called me, we only talked about things that made us happy. We talked about her silky-haired Chihuahua that I am raising, Maggie Mae, we talked about other dogs that we have loved through the years and we spoke of our happy dreams, instead of our nightmares.

We talked about peanut butter and marshmallow fluff being her favorite birthday cake (today) and how grateful she was to have snacks in her locker so that she didn’t have to go to the cafeteria to eat on her birthday.

For me, as on this date every year; I am thinking about the morning that she came into my life. She made a grand entrance, all 5-pounds 6-ounces of her. Her daddy had ordered me to have a boy and he meant it, so when they told me I had a beautiful little girl, I started to cry.

It had been a rough birth, a planned C-section, but the spinal that didn’t work before they made the incision was not part of the plan, so I was a bit overwhelmed and the moment she was out, I was over-drugged to compensate for their mistake. Then, they brought her to me and the moment I saw her little face shaped like a pink heart, I fell in love with her. She was so tiny and so cute that she looked like a dolly, not like a real baby.

Everyone’s life is complicated, hindsight is an incredible tool to beat yourself with and you can do some real damage. I often find ways to blame myself for every unwise choice this beautiful woman has made, but I’m not going to do that today.

Today, I am going to celebrate her life, her birthday and the fact that when she is sober, she is full of Grace and Light. I will celebrate the day twenty years ago when she taught me to open myself to the spirit of our Universe, the Sun, the Moon, the Earth, the Stars, the Wind and the Rain. The day she taught me to stand barefoot outside and to raise my arms up to the sky so I that I could ground myself in the beauty and the strength of God’s love through the elements He created. I still try to remember to do this every morning and what my daughter taught me that day changed my life.

Today, I will celebrate the precious gift that her aliveness gives me, no matter where she has to rest her head on her birthday.

As my daughter falls asleep tonight, in the gritty gloom of Eddie Warrior’s Correctional Center in Oklahoma, I will fall asleep in sun-drenched Florida. But we will be together in spirit. I will hold her tight in my heart, I will keep her ever constant in my prayers and if I am blessed, tonight she will stop in for a visit as I dream.

Happy Birthday, Jodie Lynne

Special thanks to Michelle Marie for the awesome family picture above.

The Pruning Shears

You think you know who your friends are and then BOOM out of the blue, one of them attacks you.
I was out working in the garden the other day and I enjoyed it so much. My husband and I planted new plants; he raked up leaves and we cleaned the gardens.
The sun was shining, just strong enough to gently warm my soul.
When we were done, I went in the house to wash up.
I set my pruning shears down on a little table on the porch.
As I turned to walk away, they jumped down on me with full force.
Bam… off the table they flew and one Nasty Point jammed itself right into my foot, traveling almost all the way through my flesh to the floor.
I was shocked by the fury of this attack.
I take good care of my pruning shears. I gently wash them off every time I use them. I dry them, I oil them and I put them away in a soft cloth.
So, can you see why I didn’t understand why one of them would attack me?
Maybe they were upset because I usually take out the other cheap pair and maybe they were jealous…I just don’t have a clue. I wasn’t vengeful; I cleaned them as usual and put them away.
However, they are on unpaid leave until further notice.
I washed, soaked in Epsom salts and cleaned out the wound, antibioticed and bandaged the puncture, but all of that didn’t help much. Within two days I knew I had a problem.
It was time for WebMD. Yup. WebMD confirmed that I had screwed up. Puncture wounds in the foot are a serious business it seems.
Should have been seen by a doctor right away and maybe a foot surgeon.
Now, I am at Urgent Care waiting for the teenagerish doctor’s verdict.
The foot is swollen, the skin is stretched taunt, it’s shiny and it hurts like a son of a gun. (I don’t know what that means but my mom applied the term too many pains.)
“Oh yes, it’s infected! I’m going to give you some antibiotics and you should come back in a few days if it doesn’t get better.”
Well, that wouldn’t happen because the next day I would be flying to Oklahoma to visit my baby granddaughter, limp and all.
Just for fun or maybe because she was having a slow day, she gave me a Tetanus shot.
“I had one about four years ago,” I protested. “I got it here when I came in with an allergic reaction to an ant bite!”
She left to look up the date and came back with a needle in her hand.
“Two weeks past five years,” she said, pretending that she felt bad.
The foot turned every shade of lavender and blue imaginable, but the next day I took my colorful foot to Oklahoma.
I had a fantastic visit with my son, his wife and my four-month-old granddaughter, Mile Mae.

One Rose…

one rose strong against the wind
you think you stand alone
but you are surrounded
by other generations
in every stage of bloom.
they stand with you till
their luscious petals drop
to the ground along the way
together in the garden
alone on your stem
your thorns attempt
to keep the pickers away
life prunes and trims
until you feel
as if you are gone
cut away
but that isn’t so
every leaf grown
from your limbs
reaches for the sky
they keep your blooms alive
so bloom for them my rose
and thus your sweetness
continues to live on and on
and you will never die.

All I need is my flowers to make me smile…

Letting go…

Letting go of painful situations is never easy and fear tries to trick you as you travel the shattered road. Give it to God and don’t take it back.

Kissed by the rain…

Dusky Pink Midnight Rose

One Flower…

Love Blooms Here…

Raining Outside…Sunshine Inside

Already Rich…

Although I would really like to win the lottery to help my family and friends, have money to fund shelters for the homeless, find ways to help women just released from prison and to be able to donate to dog rescue organizations, I am already rich.
I have flowers, fruit trees, a pink and yellow porch, the love of a damn good man who is sometimes cranky but accepts my crazy, three beautiful kids who at this minute are all speaking to me, fourteen grandchildren who think I’m Santa Claus, three great-grandchildren who will learn that I’m not Santa Claus, two funny angel Chihuahuas, a heated pool, an awesome house, my angel daughter-in-law Jessica, two incredible sisters, one whacked-out funny brother, a blue tooth speaker, a karaoke machine, butterflies who come when I call them….and I live in Florida.
I have thinkingpinkx2 to keep me on the Pink road and my wonderful friend who is the best half of thinkingpinkx2, Michelle Marie.

I have unlimited, low-cost air travel and I can grow an African Violet.
What else could an old (er) lady want?
Well, maybe some new skin and better bones, fake boobs and the hair I had at seventeen, but I have to say, even without those adornments, I am already rich.

Once upon a time…

A Can of PINK Paint

It all started with a can of pink paint. I was sitting on my porch when my husband came home from running errands and he proudly handed me a can of hot pink paint.
He had a big smile on his face as I whooped and hollered and took the can of paint from him.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said. “Is this for my porch?”
“I got it to do the front door,” he answered.
“You said you wanted a hot pink front door, but if you want it for your porch, you can have it. I wasn’t sure how dark to get anyway and it might be a bit light for the door.”
“Oh yes,” I said, “much too light for the door, perfect for the porch.”
“Well it’s your porch and you always said you wanted it pink, with a yellow ceiling, so why not?”
And that is exactly how a can of pink paint started a three-day work of love project.

He went back to the store and bought me a perfect sunshine yellow for the ceiling and a darker hot pink for the front door. We painted the porch together and it was exciting to watch a daydream turn into reality. We don’t usually work well together, but our 32nd anniversary was the same weekend we painted the porch, so maybe that’s the reason we spent three happy days together, painting, tearing out a thirty-year old rug, laying a new floor and having fun.

By the fourth day, we were giving each other a bit too much advice, but we finished the porch without a fight and that makes the porch even more special to me.
The morning after we finished he went out and came back with a surprise, an antique plant stand, the perfect last touch. Now, no matter how dreary or rainy the day gets, my porch is glowing with happy, sunshine, flowers and good memories. I also got the PINK front door!

Painting In The Dark

Last week, my husband and I painted our porch. We did the ceiling in sunshine yellow, some bright pink on the trim and we weren’t sure what to do with the panels on the bottom.
After painting the first day, I took a shower and tried to relax. When it was dusk outside, I went out on the porch just to see the colors again. First thing I noticed was the yellow ceiling carried its glow to a wall outside.

Looking at all the changes that we had already made, I got in the mood to paint just a bit more. I stood there, trying to decide what color would go best on the bottom panels, but I drew a blank. I said, “Oh God, I don’t know what color to pick.” (I was serious.)
The light out there was low and I didn’t want to go in for a flashlight to shine on all the paint cans, so I opened a can of what I thought was a pale pinkish gray lavender that I had gotten on sale. Somebody had ordered it up and then had come to their senses, that’s my guess, and it had just been waiting for me to come along.
I opened it and began to paint the bottom panels. I couldn’t really judge the color that I was using without a stronger light, so I just hoped for the best and after painting a few panels, I went to bed, thinking if it looked awful I could always paint it again.
When I got up and went out on the porch, I said to my husband, “Wow that lavender actually matches the paint we used to trim the house. It looks pink.”

He took a look and he said, “Yeah it does, because it is the same color as the trim on the house. I got another gallon to touch up outside.” We started to laugh.
The color was perfect because it brought the porch in line with the trim outside and it blended well with the sunshine yellow and the hot pink.
I never would have picked that color for my inside porch, but when I blindly reached for a can, prayed and hoped for the best, it turned out perfect. Maybe that’s how things happen when we give it to God and we let go.
Maybe painting in the dark is the only way to choose the right color. I don’t know but it worked for me.
I have to believe that He helps me with the little things, the minute by minute decisions I make each day or I couldn’t believe He helps me with the huge things.
Even so, it was a wonderful surprise to see that my hand had been led to open the soft pink paint because that shade brought the room together with the outside of the house.
Sometimes, you just have to paint in the dark and hope for the best.

Jeanne Marie, 2014

Pink Front Door…You Are So Beautiful To Me

This beautiful Pink Door is just one of my many 32nd anniversary presents from my husband. He wanted a green door but he painted the front door PINK to see me smile. This is the first song my husband dedicated to me 35 years ago, so it just seems like it all works together, my honey, the song, the PINK door and me.

Telling Secrets…

Happy Valentine’s Day

You Are The Wind Beneath My Wings

For my Partner in Pink

A beautiful Sand crane was standing on a wire looking down into my porch when she waved her wings at me.
I said, “Hey, come on down here and visit.”
She didn’t fly down to me, so I assumed that she didn’t have much to say.
She simply stood on one leg and waved her impressive, white wings.
She stared at me for a long while, until I began to wonder if maybe she was my mother.
Yes, I believe that our deceased loved ones can visit us, in numerous forms.
I sat watching her and I was entranced by her grace as she balanced on one foot.
Then, she lifted her wings and let the wind gently flow beneath them, moving like a ballerina on a tight rope, a dance so beautiful to behold.
Now I know why someone wrote the song, “You Are The Wind Beneath My Wings” because that’s exactly what she needed to touch the sky.
When the wind had lifted her wings sufficiently, she bounced on her feet and lifted off, a precious free spirit with wings that could carry her up, up into the clouds.
When I went out in the yard, a single white feather blew by my feet. I bent over to pick it up and brought it in the house.
I gave it a home in a glass mug, home to dozens of feathers from other visitors.

The Christmas Cactus

The Christmas Cactus…
The white blooms are from my sister Sue to her daughter, Danielle. Danny asked me to save its life when it was weak and dying. I mixed it with my half pink plant. It was half a plant because someone, not me, didn’t listen when I yelled, “STOP!”
By the way do you think men ask you to watch them back up and guide them just so you’ll get out of the way? Because they never do hear you yell “STOP!” or see you waving your arms in the air.
Anyway, my half a pink plant that my mother-in-law gave me when I moved here was very special to me and the half that Sue gave to Danny was very special to her.
At the time, that piece of white Christmas cactus would be all that I had left of my sister, Sue. I cried when Danielle trusted me with it. These two halves blended well and created a beautiful, full, gorgeous Christmas cactus.

I added a piece of peach cactus in thin areas and it bloomed in July. Really. If anybody has a Christmas cactus that has bloomed in July, even in Florida please let me know!
This Christmas cactus was dying, broken, and to the eye, worthless. I tenderly replanted these shattered, sickly leaves in one pot. I fertilized them with love, tears, Miracle Grow and prayers. It has grown and bloomed into a family treasure, just like my Great Nana’s gigantic Christmas cactus that we have passed through the family. (By the way whoever has custody of it now, I would love a piece to add to this new one.)
Merry Christmas to all the women in my family from me and the Christmas cactus. If I was going to dedicate a plant to all the men in the family, it would have to be a rose and they know why.
Love from all my Angels and me, Jeanne Marie

Color Me PINK…

From where I stand…

Garden fairies visited my garden as I slept and they frosted my Pink Hibiscus with sunshine!

Tasting Free…

Like a caterpillar,
I shed my skin.
Peek out at freedom
flutter my wings
then try to crawl
back inside again.
The light’s too bright.
It’s gonna rain.
Will it hurt?
Where will I sleep?
I am afraid.
Will there be pain?
My wings I test.
Oh yes, they work!
I crash into myself
flying away from
a life that hurts.
My sister has flown solo
touching stars all night.
She helps me up
she dries my tears.
“You ARE a butterfly.
You have strong wings
and just like me,
you’ll be alright.”
Still, I bury the torn larva
under a weeping willow tree
just in case…I hate free.
My sister is glowing
as she whispers to me,
“You can’t climb back
inside your cocoon
once you have tasted free.
Spread your silly wings
my precious sister
and come touch
the stars with me.”

Jeanne Marie, 2014

Learn more about butterflies! http://www.enchantedlearning.com/subjects/butterfly/allabout/

Maggie Mae and Ms. Kita Do Halloween

I have not finished with October and yet here it is, a third of the way through November!
I’d still like to share some October highlights, regardless of the calendar.
If some photos are blurred it is because these babies were not interested in holding still for a photo shoot.
The fun began when I opened the front door, and even though the babies knew that they couldn’t go outside, (the gate was their first clue) they did know that there was something different going on and the bowl of candy just beyond their reach fired up their imaginations.
As they gazed out the front door in anticipation, I scooped up a babe, one at a time, and we began the not so easy task of trying on costumes. Being girls, they each went through a few different looks before they settled on a Harley Davidson sweater and a lovely pink frock. Although I told Maggie Mae that it was a dress, not a costume, she insisted that it was her favorite. This was Maggie’s first Halloween, so, I let her have her way as she kept her eyes mostly closed when wearing the pumpkin ensemble. They both declined hats and we were ready. Mama had no time to think about her own costume, so Daddy got to answer the door and hand out the candy. He wore his regular face, but he added a smile.
After about three hours and a handful of kiddies, the party was over. Gate came down, door was closed and most of the ten pound bag of candy was packed up to be shipped to my daughter, Jodie Lynne.
It was an exciting night for the babies and I’m hoping by next Halloween Maggie will be a little bit more mature and actually wear a costume.