Clouds To Rainbows...

Quit while you're ahead.
How many times have you heard that saying?
I've heard it a few times.

Husbands are often anxious about new enterprises--
they can see the money floating away on something
that they have no control over.
They expect some immediate success--
quit while you're ahead is their motto.

An agreeable amount of time and effort has to
be devoted to what you believe in and love to do--
but why spend more money continuing with a project
that doesn't seem to be paying off?

Most recently I gave up a website.
It was a Pro Account that allowed me to exhibit
and sell my photographs.
My decision to drop the account didn't mean
that I gave up.
I'd rather pocket the annual $149 site fee and use
it for my equipment or enlargements.

I'm working on a new gallery website.
No fee is involved other than a low percent,
per item sold, transaction fee via PayPal.

The downward economy has forced many of us to
reevaluate our options.
Positive changes bring on revitalization.
I'm pumped up and ready to give myself another go.

I'm From Venus, Tom's From Mars...

Cereal crumbs settle at the bottom of a cereal box--
a lot like married couples who’ve lived together for years.
Couples let it all hang out and soon peculiarities and
odd habits are revealed.

Everything has settled after 37 years. One gets used to being
married and sort of lets their hair down.
Sometimes, too much.

Over the years quirks and habits become a part
of everyday living. I’ve gotten used to towels being
strewn about the bath room, and the foyer being used as
a pit stop for his beach gear and work clothes.
Tom likes his stuff accessible.
We could move the “pot” into the room, too!
The clutter gets quickly picked up when neighbors
or family pop in.

I keep some of my artist equipment by the bed on my
side of the bedroom: An easel and a storage drawer unit.
I keep on top of it so it doesn’t get in the way.
My walk-in closet is another storage area for my photo
equipment and supplies.
I’m pretty neat, always stowing things back where they belong.

Granted, nothing stays the same--except my weight.
I’m only 7 pounds over from the day Tom married me.
I still have a full head of hair. Tom’s pants slink off
his shrinking waistline.
His diet is pretty healthy, though something calorie-filled
wouldn’t hurt him in the least.
I fondly remember when he used to eat cookies and birthday cake.
I try to avoid sweets, except for my once a week
guava danish I get from Whole Foods.

After two kids and a long marriage, gravitationally, things will settle…
the ladies out in cyber-land know what from where I speak.
Doing housework almost naked is an attractive option,
especially in hot and humid Florida.
I wear a swimsuit so I don't scare the dust bunnies...

Under The Rug...

The most excitement that happens to me during
the day is an occasional sneeze.
My face flushes a rosy glow and my eyes shimmer.
I can't attribute the effects to anything but
housecleaning--dust bunnies under the bed,
in closets, reproducing like rabbits!

My husband helps a lot around the house.
I'm the troubleshooter, the technical fixer-upper.
Whenever something goes wrong, or malfunctions,
it's Nan to the rescue.
Nothing like being blonde, smart and well trained.
Just toss me a box of truffles...

Other than typical work around the house, I do get
out of the house.
My idea of a good time is doing lunges and squats
in the pool...darn exciting during a thunderstorm!

I celebrated a birthday recently.
I've noticed the weeks go by so quickly, birthdays seem
to come about every 6 months.
Tom says I look good for my age.
Hmmm...in alligator years?
That'd make me 124--I do look good for my age!

I hear distant rumbles of thunder.
Clouds are boiling up.
Time for a pool break...

Sock It To Me...

It's happened again!
Anyone who does the laundry knows what I'm talking about—the case of the disappearing socks!
Where do they go? Are they flushed through to China?
Do they wind up in a water treatment facility, where the 'sock-keeper' makes them into Sock Monkeys?
Have they made their way to an Osprey's nest?

I thought I had the problem whipped after I put them into a zippered lingerie bag.
After the wash, I took the bag out of the washing machine—which, in some mysterious fashion, had become unzipped!
I began pairing up the socks.

Two were missing—the new ones, of course.
The holey-toe ones were there... am I not surprised?
What did the errant socks do—elope to Sockville?
I can see the two mismatched socks now,
one comfortably cuffed within the other--
sipping Socktinis.

I've reached the end of my sock— I mean, rope...