Elisabeth Thrush

• Bill Clinton (U.S. President)
• 
• Elvis Presley
• Pablo Picasso
•  
• Woody Harrelson (Cheers)

• Keanu Reeves
• John Kerry

My only poetry in adulthood.

All want the security of the well fed pig.
Horror at the baseness unrecognized.
A lifetime spent in shirt stuffing.
And pen comparison.

Is truth more palatable when honeyed?
Is a stark soulscape less so with the eyes of Monet?

May my affectations always be known and understood.
The mechanisms by which the common sow operate are so small.

But who am I to say?

Chris was recruited to go back into service management, this time for Toyota so he’s super happy about that since it’s a far more reliable product than all others and I’m thrilled that he’ll be bringing home the bacon now that the tourist season is over but EGADS I miss him!

Were that i could figure out a way to eek out a living whilste actually being with my beloved family I so completely would. But I suppose that’s me and everyone else. I’m just glad that finances are looking better and I’m still adding accounts though the “season” is over. Today is my only “off” day this week and since the house is in shambles and I have condo linens to do on top of my own laundry, it wont be a day of rest. It’s just as well, I MISS CHRIS!

http://www.highstrungjewelry.com/

Pshaw, I still practice the sin of pride as much as ever, DIY. Do I look older than I did 10 years ago? Yes. The question is, do I look better/younger than the vast majority of 37 year olds?

So I was awakened every couple of hours or so by disturbing dreams, there’s honestly nothing new about that. This morning I will share the last one that woke me. I was at a Obama dodado at a local YMCA (that I have never been to and don’t even know the location of in the 3D World) and was very flattered that Mr President had taken a liking to me and had saved me a seat, not next to him but next to the First Lady. Her chair was only occupied by a sweater. Where do dreams so real come from? I had a very nice talk about it all with someone in the dream and then it was time for some preacher man type blacker than black to lecture or sermon us like that guy who earlier got Obama in hot water but we were okay with that and he’s our president so what do yeah do do -you, well you weren’t there and it’s my dream and I got bored just like I do in the 3D World and popped into the cafeteria.  I am talking with Chris Rock who know me oh so very well, the darling boy, and maybe he is forgetting where he was, in my dream, I don’t think so, he’s just being the Chris Rock I’ll never forget and in the dream he’s badmouthing Obama, called him a sold out kike lover who’s selling us all down the river (KIKE! where is this dream going, Leo Rosten’s The Joys of Yiddish says, "The word kike was born on Ellis Island, when Jewish immigrants who were illiterate {or could not use Roman-English letters} when asked to sign the entry-forms with the customary ‘X,’ refused and instead made a circle: O.)  I brushed off his commentary as typical Chris ’cause when I am with Chris in the 3D World or in this dreamscape, I too am basking in the glow of remembrance that I was singled out as special by some one else young special and a beauty.

Later in the day people were discussing Obama and SOMEHOW I blurted out that not everyone was absolutely thrilled and to make myself feel/sound important I added that Chris Rock said "blah blah blah". My real husband (also named Chris and if you care to know as gorgeous as the ROCK just not noticed of fickle finger of Rock and Roll) and I were instantly taken into this waiting room, the ones the kids stay in at the Y when they await their parents return and we were in there so long with other dissident types that the air started to feel very stuffy.  That and the attitude given because I had dared mention that not everyone was thrilled has us pretty scared so we escaped out of a window, the type that you roll out to open, it cracked under my ass and I barely squeezed out. Then my memory popped into what had happened to Chris, back in the Y. They harassed him, he answered with defiant dignity, and they took him away holding a large syringe and a rifle. The guy came back and asked if I had any problem with anything and I answered all cute-like "No sir, Mr Big Syringe Man" with a smile and somehow I didn’t get killed and I did escape. Then I awoke and here I am watching it rain and my big bold Texan is sleeping next to me and I’ll not wake him to tell him my dream and thereby interrupt his. 

Scored a regular house to do every Monday yesterday, go to my other non vacation regular today and we meet with a couple about adding a new vacation condo next Monday. And our ads in Yellowbook wont even come out until August. We’re gonna make it after all.