Abbey Row

By Sarah Sexton

“Is this you?” asked the Russian.

“Yes and no,” I managed to reply, bent over at my knees in a motivational self-talk. I had climbed three flights of stairs to reach my closet bedroom in our weekend cottage. It was cold, small, dark. I was relegated to the tower for the unfortunate event of being the last to arrive for our girls’ weekend.

“I can be difficult, annoying, outspoken, strong and quite different from others. But right now, I am very, very sick. Normally, I can walk up three flights of stairs without needing a ventilator. I have three stories at my house as well, but this flu bug I caught is destroying me. I am going to see my GP on Monday.”

“The doctor will do nothing for you,” The Russian said as she sat up in her cot that was exactly eight cm away from mine. Why did she want to sleep in the same room as me? I already infected my friend, Christina. Blistered with fear, I thought Christina was going to be toe tagged, escorted home in a body bag. All my years of teaching and I have never been so sick, or eye witnessed my friend being so ill. Christina did not sleep well next to me the first night and arrangements needed to be made to ensure Christina receive a good night sleep, mending the viral flu.

The Russian had a choice to sleep with me or the British mate who may or may not have a snoring issue. There is no debate that she had a very large bedroom with two single beds. There was no debate. I had Cinderella’s room at best, the flower in the attic and was made to share with Christina. It is also confirmed my first night I snored loudly due to my illness. The second morning when I woke up, squinting to view the table lamp thrown on the floor with all my pillows……thinking out loud….”Wtf happened?!” The Russian confirmed I snored twice. Twice. Soft snores. This was a good sign that I was on the mend. And a taken compliment that the Russian chose to sleep next to me in harsh conditions.

After my vision was restored, I quickly put myself together and packed my luggage. I needed ever so badly to exit the weekend. To feel sick at home. Christina and I left as quickly as our exhausted, beaten by the flu bodies could. Honestly, it was not a fun trip home. Hard rain. An American driver. Hot flashes. Chills and shakes. As you may conclude, we survived.

It was a bad choice to travel to Windemere when I was extremely sick and celebrate my beautiful friend, Michelle’s birthday.

Laundry List

By Sarah Sexton

26.06.18

I took Helen to an overnight at her friend’s house.  I arrived at her friend’s house and sat with her mom.  I was an un-showered mess, disheveled from house chores.  Her friend’s mom is an amazing business woman.  I simply said, “This is what Cinderella looks like 18 years later with three kids….”  She quickly related to the reality of any fairy tale.

I now talk about the laundry as one would talk about the weather.  In fact, if somebody mentions the weather, I quickly bounce it to laundry, “yes, it’s a horrible day to dry clothes….I will not be able to catch up with laundry until Tuesday with these clouds…….I am so excited about this sunshine!  30 minutes of hanging clothes outside.  It is a great laundry day!”

I have never felt the strength of the laundry curse so strongly.  My sister and I have always grunted and moaned about laundry.  I might be experiencing the motherhood curse of, “…..just wait until you have your own children.”  I appreciate my own mom, a mom of six, hanging loads of laundry every day, rain or shine……in winter months because we had a broken dryer.  The ball is in my court and those sentiments are expressed to my three littles.

My battle with laundry is daily.  It is a war against the winds and those damn pigeons!  My laundry blows over (easily!). Pigeons poop causes rewashes–too often.  Ignites headaches.  Begins the rumbles of a war.  The pigeon dilemma runs deep like laundry.  They still try to sink my battleship and hit me where it counts.   If I skip a day of laundry, my pile of Mount Sexton, quickly puts Mount Everest to shame.  If you need endurance for Everest imagine my laundry day.

Last Friday, I took four garbage bags to the launderette.  Thinking of the hours in the day it would take to do that amount of laundry overwhelmed me. I was looking at a double shift on Friday with no overtime pay…….no regular wage either.  For about 25 pounds (cash) I can take my laundry (I sort and pre-treat) to the launderette and they will wash (with their detergent), dry and fold.  Four garbage bags would be about 16 loads for me due to washing size.  Last Friday, I caught up with laundry because of my service trip to the launderette.  I know how to drive there without sat nav. 😉  One would say I am an experienced launderette driver.  Far better than a launderer.

The girls had a garden party at school Sunday.  It was absolutely the most pleasant event (like our USA Fun Fair/school carnival).  I honed all my efforts last weekend working on last minute preparations for the garden party; making signs, painting, drawing and baking my “fairy” cookies.  Unfortunately, I am rubbish at balancing life.  Poor time management, but to be fair, it always gets done.  I tend to hyper-focus on events as they approach, instead of spending a little time here and there conquering projects.  During these times I ignore items like laundry.

I woke up Monday as “Moaning Lisa,” “W(b)itching Betty.”  First, I could not fathom we have two weeks of school left.  I am exhausted.  I am not a working mom out of the house or a teacher in the classroom, I cannot imagine how those women feel right now.  But here I am on Monday.  Monday came like a freight train.  I searched for uniforms, ironing, school routine,  library check-outs at school are still happening!, library day is Monday!, where is that damn book?!.  All done frantically.  I did not open Kate’s reading book over the weekend, so I read it to her while she ate breakfast, in hopes she would know what happened in the story during her reading group.

The girls arrived at school seconds before the start bell.  And as I dropped them off, kissed, I turned around and I walked home to the outskirts of a major storm.  There was no calm.  There never is.  I knew what I was up against and I decided I needed to document one day for Steve.  The above image is not even the full picture.  There were photos I could not fit into a nine-frame picture, like my sock causalities that I quickly tossed to rid me of my laundry hangover.  Also, not pictured is the master bedroom’s hamper (parents).  It was hiding behind my door and when I discovered it in the evening I dropped a f-bomb on that soldier and put the clean clothes away.

The picture above, if you could number it left to right….1, 2, 3.  The second row; 4, 5, 6 and the last row; 7, 8, 9.  The short break down is below:

 

1. I guess I did do some laundry over the weekend.  Picture one is all the clean clothes I brought in from outside to fold.  It looks like a mess on my floor, but you should have seen how they were splattered in my garden from the wind.  Over the weekend, Steve looked out into our garden and said, “You know the clothes are everywhere?” I was so calm.  I guess that was the calm before the storm.  It did not bother me.  I have to choose battles in all of life’s arenas.  I think I left the clothes out in the garden for two days.  I replied, “Yes.”  I knew.  I carried on with washing my hands.  Monday was beautiful, and I knew I could accomplish all my laundry.  I brought in that scattered mess and threw it in my sitting room.  I quickly ran upstairs and gathered all dirty laundry.
2. After sorting, the first load is done, and I hung it quickly. I have not tackled all the folding in the sitting room yet because I knew how important it was to get the first batch drying.
3. I had three loads of laundry that day. This is the leftover picture.  I already did loads one and two.  Load one is the red shirt hanging and load two is in the wash.
4. Load two, wet and ready to hang. My wash cycle is 30 minutes.  I am cleaning the house in between.  I get my 10,000 steps.  I do not need to leave my house.
5. This is some of the clean laundry from the launderette. I need to re-fold it because we rifled through it all weekend looking for “that” shirt and it was not there!
6. Gone with the wind (again!)! I must prop the clean laundry up against the brick wall which impedes the drying time.
7. Socks drying. The wind sets their sail as well.  Even without a dryer you sock wars exist.  Sock causalities.  Mismatched socks are universal.
8. Last load drying. First two loads brought in.
9. Clean loads of laundry from Monday that now needs to be folded.

Again, not pictured is the laundry that I folded from frame one and my causalities.  I put away all the laundry on Monday.  This was an all-day event.  This is the reason I cannot fight laundry every day.  I am exhausted.  This is the reason I cannot ignore laundry for a single day.  It will exhaust me.

I could never be a pioneer, in many respects, not just the laundry aspect, but especially the laundry aspect.  There are people who do not have washers today.  They have harder conditions.  I bet they have better spirits about laundry than me.  What a vacation to holiday with our family in Michigan and Ohio.  I am looking forward to washing and drying! laundry in their large appliances.  I will only have to do one load per day, or every other day.  Laundry holiday here we come!  Raise those flags!

And always a side note:

I know Steve adores my friend Christina, and she him, because for the first time I saw Steve give her a side-eye.

Christina and I love No. 7, a skincare system here.  No. 7 is made and only sold in the UK.  It is a magnificent product.  I am hooked!  Hooked!  We talk about it like laundry, except with so much excitement and enthusiasm.  The raffle at the garden party had a No. 7 gift basket worth 140 pounds, with the three main products I use.  Christina came to tell me about it straight away.  And then we both tried to explain to Steve how precious this was.  Christina did the sales talk to Steve about our beloved product.  Steve stood next to Christina with a side-eye, “You can never convince me it is worth that price.”

See, Steve we are all crazy.  Stick with what you know.  We re-capped and we laughed!

I did not mean to air my dirty laundry.

Paris Take One!

By Sarah Sexton

28.05.18

“I wonder if everyone here is as happy as we are?”-me.

“What do you mean?!” puffed one of my family members.

“Like, that couple right there, do you think they are less happy or happier than our family right now at the Louvre?”

I continued by asking the same question as other families walked by us.  I would presume that at that moment everyone was in a better mood, happier than the sextonfive.  But!  There were also thousands of people there on that hot, exhausting, 20,000 steps day.  There might have been another family who needed a nap.

Our family was sitting in a time-out bench against a wall in the Louvre in the ancient Egypt art exhibit.  It’s exhausting to think how long it would take to properly go through that art museum.  Caroline, Helen and Kate were shooting with excitement to see the “Mona Lisa.”  We ran upstairs.  We followed the signs.  We followed the crowds.  And there she was framed on a wall, encased in glass, two security guards protecting her.  I thought she was beautiful and worth all the hype.  And I could not believe I was standing in a room with the original “Mona Lisa.”  I’m still thinking about the history of Leonardo da Vinci and the story of that painting.

After all our selfies, and pictures of the “Mona Lisa,” we exited, and the girls crashed.  And I did not need a crystal ball to read the future.  The arguing between Steve and the girls.  The scene.

“When are you ever going to come back and experience the biggest art museum in the world?” Steve.  “Dad, I might come back here when I’m 25.” Caroline.  And…. Steve, ”not on my dollar.”  A time out was needed, and everyone needed to literally cool down.  It was a very hot, very sunny day.  I loved that Steve was showing an appreciation for the arts to the girls.  And I love that Caroline was spilling just enough attitude.

We finished the large Egyptian exhibit and were melted the rest of the day.  Here are some of my snip-its:

We were walking down a side-street in Paris headed to the Eiffel Tower.  Kate is my little buddy on vacations.  We are the caboose and always holding hands.  Boom!  Kate’s foot slid out in front of her, and if it were not for my wrenching grip on her hand she would have had a blood injury.  Helen was directly in front of us.  She heard and then saw the commotion.  Wow!  That was a huge slip.  What made her slip?  That huge brown leaf on the ground?  I picked up the big brown leaf and sure enough it was a banana peel and it brought many laughs, stories, and a memory made, not to be forgotten as we walked to the Eiffel Tower.

I will never forget eating lunch in the palace gardens.  We had a table in the woods that Kate picked out.  It was truly magical.  Earlier before we ate in the gardens, I asked Caroline, Steve and Kate (after tending to Helen being sick), “Why are you standing in line to buy tickets?”  Caroline replied, “Oh because Kate lost our tickets.”  And me quickly, “Why was Kate holding the tickets?”  I was not upset with Kate, everyone concluded.

I love Europe.  I love Paris!  I was extremely nervous and cautious traveling there because I have heard from many people that the French do not like Americans.  Any rate, whether that statement blankets other countries sentiments too, I did not run into that all.  Everyone was so kind.  I mean it!  It was such a kind city.  The girls and I had to run to a local market for shampoo, conditioner and band-aids.  The female group in front of us just finished their check-out.  They opened their crisp bag and offered many to my girls.  The French women were beautiful, and I think their native, French language added to their beauty.  They did not understand us, and we did not understand them, but they were so kind.  My girls did learn to say “mercie” to them and many others.  Cuisine and wine was unbelievable!  And my girls are branching out on their taste pallets.

I needed the band-aids because I got a very bad rug burn at the Liverpool airport.  The Easy Jet Employee at boarding was upset because we had two carry-on suitcases, and we each had a backpack (a total of seven items).  I went online before to make sure all our luggage was to code size and we were able to have one overhead and one to stow under the seat.  I clearly read that information on Easy Jet’s web page.  I stumbled to the employee late as she was telling Steve we had too many carry-ons.  “I said excuse me, I made sure to read on your website about carry-ons…..I can show you where I read that information.”

“You are free to show me.  If you are a prime member you are allowed one overhead carry-on and one seat stow carry-on.  All other customers are only allowed one carry-on period.  You clearly have far too many carry-ons.”

“Two.  We have two extra bags and we will just shove them in our suitcase.  Problem solved.”

It was early.  I think we were still tired, and I felt Steve was projecting grumpiness while I was stuffing my backpack in my suitcase.  I thought he was a little rude and so I snapped back, and he walked away with the girls.   A little frazzled, I tried squeezing my backpack in my suitcase.  Success!  And as I was getting up, I tripped and skinned my knee.  A very good rug burn.  It hurt.

When we got situated on the plane, sitting next to Steve, I said, “You know you really frazzle me.”  And with that he said, “I’m not even going to talk about it.”  And he was done, but I was not.  I pushed the call button for the stewardess.  Two came up to me.  I asked if they had any band-aids.  They looked at me rather annoyed.  Both.  Same expression and said, “No we do not have any band-aids.”  And still pushing buttons, “Really, you do not have a first-aid kit on the plane?  That’s weird.”  And just before the plane was about to take off, one of the stewardess came back to me and handed me a band-aid.  She asked what it was for.  I told her I got a bad rug burn in the airport.  And I think Steve rolled his eyes to sleep.

Unfortunately, the band-aid fell off, so it was the first thing I asked at hotel reception before we started our long day of site-seeing, I asked for another band-aid.  And the gentleman was beyond helpful.  He brought me a box and I picked out a good size one.  Then later that evening I bought a box of band-aids.  Not on full-purpose, but the band-aids I bought pretty much covered my whole knee.  I had to continue with my statement.

The girls had far more fun at the souvenir shop.  Caroline bought a black beret, Helen bought a lovely charm bracelet with the Eiffel Tower some pearls and other monuments, and Kate bought a green horse carousal music box.  I almost took a wheel of cheese home.  The pastries lived up to any type of hype.  Delicious!

Saturday night was the hottest night since we moved to Europe.  We were on the sixth floor of the hotel.  There is no ac.  There was a breeze, but the parties outside were so loud.  Finally, at 4:00 a.m. I had to open the large windows to get a breeze.  And there was a singing party outside our window.  Everyone was singing to Eminem, “Two trailer park girls go round the outside….”  It is not the first time I have felt love from the D.  I felt this winter, many times, Michigan sent me love with the frigid temperatures in England, pipes freezing.  Eminem played until 5:00 a.m. and then delivery and rubbish trucks clanked until my alarm went off at 6:00 a.m.

I happily plan to go back to Paris in 13 years with Caroline.  Hopefully the whole family will be together.

Mercie!!

Three Hour Tour

Kate vomiting as soon we switched drivers, putting me behind the wheel, is not a reflection of faulty driving.  The country roads are topsy-turvy.  Sit and spin.  Corkscrew, and you are upside down before you realize.  Spinning.  Spinning in The Sound of Music.

The first two hours into the trip the backdrop was beautiful.  Sarah, “Wow you know what this looks like?”  Steve, “Pennsylvania.”  Yeah, it really does.  We stopped at a superstation.  It reminded me of the Ohio turnpike.  After filling up the car and a bad foreshadow case of lunchables for the girls, I drove.  Quickly into the white knuckle drive, Kate threw up loads.  I did a Macguiver clean-up.  Confused why Macguiver was a man and not a mom.  I can prepare a meal with a nail clipper, oatmeal and a carrot.  I can clean-up vomit cascading down seats that seeps into untouchable cracks and clean it within minutes.

I contained all the grossness in a backpack.  We drove to Stonehenge with the windows open only to be welcomed by the worst smelling farm fields.  Windows up or down?  It does not matter; the battle of ratchet smells wins.

The history in England astounds me.  The history of Stonehenge is amazing.  Stonehenge is about 5,000 years old.  It is a mysterious circle of large stones.  It made it’s acting debut in 1986, costarring Chevy Chase in “National Lampoon’s European Vacation.”  Sextonfive did a quick tour.  Our next stop, vomit free!, mom driving!, was a castle in Bath, England.  Completely fit for my queens.   Our time was extended here considerably more than our time at Stonehenge.  The sextonfive were the only visitors at the Bath Castle.  I questioned, were we allowed to be there?  The castle was converted into Bath Rugby’s training center.  We looked through every window.  The stained-glass Cathedral converted to the workout center.  The grounds were gorgeous and manicured perfectly.  When you opened a gate, likely a gate we were not allowed to open, you were exposed to a quaint village.  It was a fairy-tale secret and magical garden.  The girls kept running and kept discovering.  I love being a girl.

We booked our hotel room while driving into Bath, a true road trip—no concrete plans.  Non-emergency break.  Please stop.  Look at that view.  We were overlooking Bath, a beautiful city, all the buildings were golden.  We were atop a hill viewing the vast city.  That was not our last hilltop view.

The next day we walked onto a magnificent hill in a park.  It was a gated, public park.  We got to the top and again were astounded.  All, but Kate were taking panoramic pictures on electronics.  At the top, we dreaded the walk down the steep hill, through mud puddles, to cross the street and re-walk up the hill on a sidewalk.  How can we bust out of these gates?  The top of the hill was aligned with estates.  We pondered the price tags on such houses with such views.

There was not a gate on this horizon, there was a landscaped ledge and I saw the perfect little trail to a driveway, to the destined sidewalk.  Caroline and Steve saw it too.  We discussed and decided we will jot up the path and out we will be.  I was the first and last to go.  As soon as my shoes touched that driveway a fancy BMW SUV turned into the narrow driveway.  I knew.  I knew!  I knew I was not allowed.  The only way for the car to get by was for me to climb back down the path or the other, which I did, turn my back to the car and stand in the stunning landscape.  I heard the car pull up next to me.  The driver unrolled her window and firmly said, this is private property.  Me, apologies and thank you.  Steve and the girls walked down the hill about six feet and found somebody removed a rail to the gate allowing them to hop out.  We were not the only tourists who felt trapped and tried both options for escaping.

Time to switch travel stories.  Bath, England is in the past.  We did go to Cardiff Castle after.  We have fun Cardiff stories.  But! we went to Italy for Easter Holiday.  It was my favorite family vacation.  I have never been on a vacation where we pack-up and travel by rail every two days.  I cannot decide what city I loved best: Venice, Florence, Piza, Rome or Sicilia.  Sicilia felt like I was home.  It was our last stop and our hotel had an amazing view, an amazing pool patio and we were able take a tram to the beach.  Mind you, we could not swim at said beach because it was full of jelly fish.

Sicilia is where we relaxed the most.  We contracted out the pool.  We were the only family swimming.  I could absolutely see myself (with my family) traveling to Sicilia with my laptop and writing on a balcony or on a beach for a month, a year, or three years.  I bought a pair of lace pants as one of my only souvenirs, my family was quickly waiting outside of the beautiful souvenir shop.  I paid, swift exit right, and as I walk out I see an exquisite lace dress.  I ran my fingers over it.  The store owner knew I had to go and she said, “Don’t worry.  You’ll be back.  Even if it’s not this trip, I know you will be back here.  I can feel it.  You belong here.”  I hope she has a magic mirror that told her that. 

But collectively, as a family, our favorite story is: Pizza in the Cathedral

Caroline and I were waiting in the que to get into the Florence Cathedral.  The tour guide at Piza said, many Cathedrals that are ornate on the outside are simple on the inside.  Cathedrals that are plain on the outside are more ornate inside.  Either combination impressed me.  The Florence Cathedral’s architect was mind-blowing.  It looked like it had a pink and green pattern.  The exterior was undoubtedly ornate.

Steve took Helen and Kate to the toilet as Caroline and I waited in the que.  We were able to get to the entrance of the Cathedral quickly.  Caroline and I let many families go in before us, so we could wait for Steve and the two little girls.  I got annoyed with the number of people we let ahead of us.  Our happily ever after arrived.

We went into the Cathedral lobby and were now in a que for security.  There was a lady in front of us was with a security officer to get her bags checked.  She had a large pizza box with her.  The female security guard became expressively upset.  Pizza is not allowed in the Cathedral!  The women got into an exchange.  Wow!  Again, we let others pass us in the que, we were in the first scene of a good show.

Frustrated the security guard turned to her colleague and told him the lady was trying to bring pizza into the Cathedral.  He lit up!  He screamed, “No!!  You cannot bring pizza into the Cathedral!  What are you thinking?”  He was speaking Italian.  I assume he screamed those words, or worse.  The tourist with the pizza tried to find a place to store the pizza so she could grab it on the way out.  Her actions upset the security guards further.  Lit again!!  We heard the security man yell at the lady again.  He roared!  She had to throw it out.  What are you thinking lady?  You are going to walk around the most historical building, most religious building in Florence eating pizza?

Steve mentioned he saw the lady leave the que to buy the pizza.  I do not have sympathy for her.  We continue to tell this story often and Caroline Rosie does the best job!

Now it is time for my friend Michelle and her family to hop into my British Blog.  In February I fell in a valley.  Michelle has been like a sister to me.  When Caroline and Helen were sick, she came to my house to check on us and offered to take the girls to after hours since Steve was out of town.  Her character mirrors my sisters.  In my valley, one February day, Michelle invited me for tea (tea is tea, tea is lunch, tea is dinner).  We had a tea lunch.  She made an authentic Malaysian meal.  It was fried rice with vegetables and chorizo.  Delicious!  Best fried rice ever!

There were quiet times, my mind still in a valley.  Finding myself like my mother, I could not handle the silence for long.  When my sister, Rachel hosted her first Christmas at her house in Detroit we were sitting at the dining room table.  It was meditation quiet as we ate our festive meal.  This is common in large families (during every night dinners) because you need to eat quick.  Having seconds is rare.  My mom sat next to me at our Christmas dinner and broke the long silence, “Sooo……Sarah what is your favorite color?”  “Uh green,” I replied.  Back to silence and eating.  Moments later, “That was weird mom.”  And full guts busted and today that is a Plante family favorite.  Similarly, I was sitting next to Michelle, like my mom sitting next to me.  I was searching for a conversation starter.

“Michelle do you ever use chopsticks?”  We were using forks at our meal.  She stopped eating.  Her pause included her fork in the air in front of her face.  She side-eyed me.  Then full face turned toward me and eyed me.  I could tell she was concentrating or confused.  And I did feel like there is such a thing as a stupid question.  She said, “Yes.”  Michelle is very sweet, very calm and went back to eating.  There was that silence again.  “Are they hard to use?” I asked further, because sometimes stupid continues.  And rewind.  Michelle froze again with her fork in front of her, side-eye and stare, full face turn, and very politely, “No.”  There was a pause again.  “And do your daughters use them?”  Again, Michelle confused said, “Yes.”   After our last silence I am happy Michelle spoke up:

“Chopsticks?” she asked.

“Yeah, chopsticks.” I said.

“You mean…..” And she acted out putting on Chapstick.  My full gut busted, and I explained I said chopsticks.  Our tea lunch finished with laughter.  Imagine her confusion, thinking about Chapstick being difficult to use, and asking if she even used it.  Asking a question unrelated to anything we were doing. It was exactly like my mom asking what my favorite color was.  A colorful question out of the blue.   It is not the first time foreign accents have caused confusion for me in conversations.

Later Michelle’s family invited us to our neighbor’s place, the Cathedral, for a Scottish dance.   It was a wonderful fun night.  I have been wanting to go dancing for far too long.  It was similar to square dancing.  There was an announcer on the microphone telling you what to do.  It was unique and our families enjoyed.  Michelle was my partner for a few dances.  You have a main partner but are always dancing with the people next to you.  It was our turn to dance down the line and Michelle jumped on my back and unbelievably I walked her down the line.  On my back!   The truth is, I could have put Michelle in my pocket and danced down that line.

Afterwards our five girls stayed up ridiculously late at our house.  Steve and I talked with Michelle and Patrick.  I told our husbands the fried rice story.  I had to end it with how delicious the food was-delectable.  And improper Steve asked, “Was it better than Midland Chinese?”  Steve why would you do that to me?!  I asked, “Steve, why would you do that to me?  Why would you put me in such a predicament?  You know I think Midland Chinese is the best in the world.  I plead the fifth.”

I love England and all the wonderful friends I have met.  It is hard to think our first year is almost ticked off.  I would stay longer if I could.  I am surrounded by wonderfulness except those damn pigeons!  Apologies, if needed.  I think the pigeon population and I are playing battleship.  “C-1, Hit!  C-2, Hit!  C-3, Hit!”  I have been hit about three times with pigeon poop.  I have literally been hit about three times by pigeons physically flying into my arm.  I avoid shortcuts because I know pigeon flocks will be there.  And then, I will be in my car, there will be about three pigeons in the road.  I slow down.  They do not move.  I stop.  They do not move.  Okay I will slowly inch forward so they will move.  I inch forward.  I can no longer see them.  I do not gun it, but I accelerate my car and boom a shot of feathers.  No carcass ever though.

Last weekend we had the most beautiful weather weekend.  Caroline and Helen fell ill with strep.  We decided to take a nap on the Cathedral’s green.  I went for full sun.  I love the heat.  We had our beach towels and I softly listened to iTunes.  I felt a dew drop next to my left eye.  I opened my eyes and saw the beautiful blue sky.  There was not one cloud.  The sky radiated the most beautiful shade of blue.  That is weird.  I do not think it was a rain drop, or a dew drop from a tree leaf.  I wiped my eye.  Curious, I put my fingers up to my nose.  C- 4, Hit!

“OMFG!!!  A pigeon pooped on my face.  Battleship you beast!  You sunk my battleship!”

I went into the house to wash up.  And took my traveling pc outside:

Pigeon Why?

By Sarah Sexton

06.05.18

Laid in the grass

Feeding a nap

Felt a dew drop

No, it was not

Looked up

Blue sky

No contrasting clouds

Wandering by

Rain drop

Where did

You derive

How did you fly

Wiped my eye

Interested to find

Smelled my fingers

Hot damn

Pigeon poop

Why bird

Did you crap in my eye?

The following day

A swollen sty

Reason 563

Pigeons are

My number one enemy

Pigeons manifest

A mind swirl

Don’t care

Think and stare

Feathered beasts

You win

Battleship

Oh, but I lie

You never hit C-5

Pigeons ask, why?

Hot damn!

I am alive

I arrived home from a birthday party in Liverpool today.  My friend was next to me as I asked the barista for the Wi-Fi password.  “What?” “Wales for fun.”  That does not make sense.  We are in Liverpool.  “What?’  “Wales for fun.” “What?” “Wales for fun.”  “Could you type the password in my phone for me?”  My friend finally piped in, “I think she is saying, world of fun.”  My British friend thought she was saying Wales too.

The most difficult accent for me was a letter from Kate’s taekwondo teacher.  I could not read one word he wrote.  And he wanted me to phone him (I assume).  I could not make out those numbers.  My friend sent me his number, and everything is sorted.

But why?  Why?  Every time I hear a report from Kate or she goes on a play, the taekwondo teacher or parent start by saying, “First I want you to know Kate is very good.  You do not need to worry about that…..”  And they say two more sentences about how well Kate behaves.  One time a mom was recalling the play date, and she stopped mid-sentence to tell me how good Kate was.  I brought this up to Kate’s teacher because I was curious about these poignant affirmations (as I have never heard them so often) and Kate’s teacher confirmed it is true.  Kate is a very good girl.  England is an unquestionably polite country.  But Kate is quite cheeky at home.

Bounce, Skip. My trip. A Little More-Just a Bit.

 Muscle Mix

Steve, “I bought strawberry protein powder so nobody will drink it.”

Sarah, “Nobody is drinking that muscle mix.  It could be flavored with Nutella and promise, we will not touch it.”

Fitbit:  Boom!  You just crushed 143 steps!

Really?  I’m driving.  That’s exactly why this relationship works.  As always, I love you.  

Mom Dates

M:  Sarah, are you making friends?

S:  Michelle, are you my friend?

M:  Yes.

S:  Then, yes.  I’m making friends.

“Sarah, there are two kinds of people day drinking in bars.  There’s moms like us, and then college students.”  We live in a college town.  Pointing, “Like those two. They’re definitely college girls.”   My mom date and I laughed hard.  The college girls were lying their bodies, specifically, their upper halves across the table, lifting shirts and taking photos.  I was not judging, but the timing of the scene was spot on.  “College kids, like those two.”  And Boom!  Social media regrets.  Made me cry.  Made me cry with laughs. Therapeutically solid laughter erupted!   I did not judge.  Been there.  I try, try not to judge because there are stories.  Like, at the treadmill, at the gym, the runner next to me was drinking diet coke as their quencher.  But she was kicking my butt!  It’s ironic, the biker smoking.  But, I do not know their stories, nor they mine.  The exact reason we meet life with kindness.

I told my friend the “painting the Cathedral blue” story.  Boorishly, we laughed.  “Sarah, you cannot make this up, can you?” “No, Michelle.  Walk by my house, you will see a huge paint spot outside my door.  It is a light grey-blue.”  “I want to be a tour guide and say this is where my friend, Sarah lived, and this is where she left her mark.  You literally are leaving your mark at a thousand-year-old historical site.”  I’m leaving my mark in more than one way.

Another mom date, with a different, gut busting, witty mom was at Pilates.  I have been to the class before and am in a new kind of love.  I try to share this emerging crush with moms that are available.  All newbies need to see the Pilates teacher before class and it’s always the same pep talk.  “If you want a stomach like this and a bum like this keep at Pilates.”  The instructor of course, speaks of her beautiful bum and stomach.  She has lovely visuals.

Pilates is a wonderful challenge.  I evoke a wonderful sense of accomplishment after.  But times during……there’s the instructor saying, okay put your hands just below your belly button.  If you feel a bubble you’re doing it wrong.

I feel that bubble all the time.  Bubbles pop.  Mine is more like an accent pillow.  Are you saying that I should literally stop exercising altogether?

Again, Pilates is a splendid challenge.  We spend 15 minutes unyielding on one side, exercising, pushing strong, solid as a rock.  “Okay, take a break.”  Yes,thank you, much needed!  But……but, now I must do it on the other side.  What the what?!

After Pilates, Christina and I had tea with her mom at the café in the gym.  She told me about the pep talk.  I sympathized, “I know isn’t she such a bitch.  My stomach never looked like that, even before kids.”

And again, understand, I love my Pilates teacher!  Because of her, and the awesome sauce in her class, I want to be a Pilates “lifer.”

Every Thursday recycling and trash punches the clock on time!  7:00 sharp!  If I forget, I hear the glass clinking into the truck and run to get my rubbish and recycling curbside.  By 10:00, if they are not there, I am confident they are not coming.  Honestly my confidence stands at 8:00 a.m.  If they are not there at 8:00, they are a no show.  It’s happened in the past due to bank holidays.

A few weeks ago, I was driving home from Pilates.  It was minutes after 13:00.  My lovely neighbor was on her phone and walked her two rubbish bags down, setting them outside my stoop.  She passed other neighbors’ houses to smitten my rubbish bags with her addition.  I pulled up to her, unrolled my car window and asked, do you think rubbish is coming?  On her phone she gave a wave, illustrating, oh yes!  I parked.  Unlocking the front door to my house, I heard her on her phone across the street, I’m trying to get the Housewives of Cheshire together.  She did not say “real housewives,” a reality show here, but I can only presume.  I shared this story on my mom date.  We snickered.  We snorted.   Our interjected commentary brightened this short piece!  Apologies, if, read it was dull-drum.  Live story telling adds a grand spin.

I do though, I do adore my neighbor.  We have lovely talks and she is there for me when I need her.

A kind compliment I generously received from a fellow mom: “How many places have you and your family lived?”  “I have lived in Michigan my entire life, this is my first time living anywhere else.”  “Seriously.  I watch you and I pegged you, that you and your family are transferred about every three years.  You handle this well.”  “You’re very, very polite.  Clearly, you have not spent enough time with me.  Every time, I’m late for a birthday party, I want a cigarette.”

The driving and trying to find new locations stresses me out.  Sat Nav gets me in the general area.  It’s not door to door navigation.  I always rely on my friend to talk me through the rest of the drive.  And, the last party, I refused to ask for help from my friend, determined to find the birthday hall by myself.  Surprisingly, I couldn’t. 😉  I stopped at an intersection, found a place to park and went into a restaurant.  I showed the manager the birthday invite.  Can you please help?  “Well where are you now?”   “Uhhh, is that a trick question?  Because, I’m here.  I’m right here.  I’m at your bar with my six-year-old.”  “No, no, where are you parked?”  “Oh, gotcha!  I’m parked across the street in your carpark.’  He kindheartedly gave me effortless directions.

Reflection:  You know when Kate told me that she spelt her spelling words the way I taught her, it was the first of, it’s your fault.  You ruined my life.

I’m going to put you in therapy, one way or the other.

Steve:  If you hit a bush, I’m telling you, you are going to fail your driving test.

Sarah:  I’m telling you, if it’s between a car and a bush, I’m running into the bush.  I’m failing either way in that “hypothetical” scenario.  I will not hit a moving object.”

Tiny, tiny country roads

Drivers education is helping loads.  Ian understands how I received a discount for my car insurance.  I had a box plugged into my car to track my driving.  Steve, “How did Ian know you received a gold star for driving?  How did he know about your discount?”  “I have no idea.  Clairvoyance.  He’s multi-talented!”

There are four parking maneuvers I must accomplish.  One; I need back into a parking space on a 90-degree angle.  I think that should be an Olympic sport.

Sarah to Steve: “You might not need ten hours of driving instruction.  You drive more than me and have more experience.”

Steve: “You’re right.  I think next time I’m going to let you drive to Liverpool and I’ll tell you how hard it is to sleep while riding shot-gun.”

I love when I walk into the share shop they know my name.  The workers, “Sarah, you have not been in for a bit.”  It is a good reminder that I need to make regular visits.  The share shop feeds the homeless and is a second-hand store raising funds for the homeless.  We have a lot of heartwarming stories abounding from the share shop.  We enjoy contributing our American cuisine, or aka “my cooking.”  My sugar cookies were a big, big hit!  Safe to say, a 10!!!  The owners took our names and our picture (myself and the girls), after tasting the cookies.  One time we dropped off ham sandwiches. Upon entering, there is often a suitable gathering eating or waiting for food donations.  When we dropped off the sandwiches, we made, I told the crowd what was in the bag.  A homeless friend started laughing when I said sandwich.   She said, could you say that again?  Sandwich.  Again?  Sandwich.  And a good five more times.  And my day was free, I was happy to entertain for as long as needed.  I have a strong American accent in the UK.

Since following recipes in the kitchen, and just cooking better in general, at one share shop drop-off, I made sausage rolls and breakfast sandwiches.  A favorable group was gathered in the shop.   I find it necessary to try to “sell” my food.

“I have sausage rolls.  And, I also made breakfast sandwiches.  I used ciabatta rolls.  I lightly brushed with olive oil, seasoned and toasted the rolls in the oven.  I sautéed peppers before adding eggs.  You’ll taste the white cheddar in the eggs, and gentle seasoning.  I topped it off with fried ham.  What would you prefer?”  I think I did a great “sales” job.   The appetizing breakfast rolls flew into hungry hands.  I’m going to make my world-famous mac-n-cheese next.

My over confidence in the kitchen spills into my invite to my friend and her family.  I asked if they would like to come over for dinner.  I would cook.  We will work it out later, but they were busy and could not accept on short notice.  My friend, later went out of her way to tell me how ballsy I was.  She did not say that at all, she commented how nice it was because……..her husband is a five-star chef at an up-scale hotel.  Yes!  That was really, really bold of me to offer.  She went on to tell me, her husband thought that was extremely sweet, kind and nice, since they are usually the ones cooking for everyone.  I was going to follow a recipe, like I do every Friday night.  “One-part vodka, two parts cranberry juice, and one-part lemonade.”

Every Sunday when we walk, particularly in our neighborhood we dodge vomit.  I did add to this backdrop one day.  It was in Abbey Circle and it was not alcohol induced.  I think it was our third day in our new place and I was waiting for Ikea in the middle of the day.  Running to check the gate, and out of luck, I walked home.  I got sick right there and it was loud.  I tried to get to the outer side of the circle.  Big tourist area.  One passerby, tried to walk by, stopped and proceeded to watch the whole scene.  I did.  I got sick for weeks here.  Everyday.  It would be a baby Jesus miracle if it was morning sickness.  I do not ignore strong signs.  I saw a GP.  Stress.  My emotions always have physical side-effects.

GP:  Tell me how you spend your days.

Me:  Doing whatever it takes!

Helen, “mom does this song ever end?”  It’s on repeat, so no.  Music gets me through a lot, and I change my playlist often and sometimes not at all.  Days I can listen to the same song on repeat.  And right now, CAM’RON is getting me through jogs, a jog against a fellow runner, and his music is pushing me to goals.  I love a variety of music!  Saturday night at the Botanist bar two young hipsters played acoustic.  Amazing.  I love Tom Petty’s songs!  I love Train!

I bought a new green toothbrush.  Three days later Steve bought a replica.  I’m okay if there’s a mix-up every now and then.  We have three girls together.  Why is that gross?

I will share three more thoughts—one random memory.  All irrelevant, but……but is any of this……

 

1. I loved the creative genius that went into the video, “Family Feud.”  I thought it was amazing and progressive and absolutely genius to think in a distinct manner.  I would love to see women that represent all skin tones that God gifted us, sitting at a round table thoughtfully analyzing, rewriting parts and honoring sections of our constitution.  I could dig deeper into the subject matter, but I thought the art and brainwork in this video are ahead of our time.  And, and, they should not be.
2. I was born in the late 70’s. I was an 80’s child and a 90’s teen.  When I was in elementary school, stir-up leggings were on-trend.  I always desired a pair.  But, alas, I had a lot of hand-me downs from siblings, church friends and my mom made a lot of our clothes.  Hot pink corduroy bell bottoms were not an on-trend style for a fourth grader in the mid-80’s.  But that was what I “kind of” had to wear to school that day.  I used my creative problem solving, fashion savvy ways, and put rubber bands around the ankles.  Problem solved, tight pants hugging my ankles.  I do not see any bell bottoms here.  Do you?  In the hot lunch line, a sixth grader came up to me.  Tone, strong, in her voice, “Hey girl!  You have rubber bands around your ankle.”  Sure, everyone around heard.  A good many.  I put my hands in my pockets, swallowed and as cool as I could, “Yeah.” Pregnant pause.  “I know.”  And I think now, it was funny–à”yeah, I know.”  Who do you think put them there?  She lived in the same neighborhood as me, we went to the same neighborhood school.  We both grew up poor.  She received the same free hot lunch as me.  I’ve worked relentlessly, not because of that experience per-say, but in addition to, because I really enjoy fashion, therefor I work(ed) to earn money.  At an early age I furnished my wardrobe and continue.  I rise, I do not hide.
3. I think you can draw any sea animal from your imagination. I think you can draw whatever you want.  Whatever you dream.  I think chances are a 100% that if you google and research long enough you will find a sea animal that looks like, or darn close to what you just drew.  I think if you dream something it can be a reality.

I dreamt up a company, Green Kite Books.  I wrote a business plan.  I bought ISBN numbers for books.  My dad designed the logo and I registered it at the US patent office.  I own the website. I was in constant talks with publishing companies.   And I had a lot of believers in me. It fizzled, and I’m ready for it to sizzle again.

I love that my daughters tell their friends I am an artist and a poet.  POET, I love that’s how they see me.  I love that I live a writer’s life and it trickles.  They also tell their teachers.  It’s a beautiful ode!

Life has taken me to places I have never wanted to go and brings me back exactly where I desire to be.  I find no regret in circumstances, or battles I fight.  I connect the dots.   I need all those splotches, patches, and smooth rings to bring me to my standing spot.  Strong.  And a big thank you to my mom and dad for the degree in hard knocks life.  I love color.  I live a colorful life.  I have amazing parents, husband, daughters, family, true friends.  I carry that with me and my/our love creates a strong and tight #sextonfive.

Green Kite Books started after literally hundreds of rejection letters from publishing companies, big and small.  I have every rejection letter packed away in Beverly Hills.  A lot of them were generic form letters.  Some took the effort to insert the title of my book.  And when I got that rejection letter from Scholastic someone wrote in blue ink, on the rejection letter, “very nice poem.”  That did it for me.  I reach!

Like a kite, all dreams soar.  That is my motto.  In my opinion, a kite is the perfect visual, as well as parallel thought illustrating dreams.  Children love dreaming, watching kites soar and reading children’s books.  I, any of us, control our dreams with strings.  You must grind.  Kites dive.  You try again.  The kite is in flight again, not solely your effort.  You need the strength of the wind.  Your deep belief, drive and support of love from others will get you to reach.  I reach.  When it is the perfect windy day, I will go fly my green kite.

A look back into 2017…..

Caroline Rose Sexton (Year 7, drama, violin,  Art)

“Mom read this poster. They’re looking for talented kid actors, ages 11-14, for a local tv show.  Read this part right here!!!  It says they must be very talented in singing and drama.  And then, it says playing a musical instrument is a bonus!”

 “Wow!  Caroline!  Check, check and check!  You are a triple threat!”

 “I know!  I’m not saying, I will, but my chance look amazing.”

 Helen Therese Sexton (Year 5, futball, breakdance, art club)

***Finishing our morning school routine in the bathroom, about to head out the door…..

“Helen!  Where are your knee highs? We have to go right now.”

 “I looked everywhere for a pair.  I cannot find any.”

 “Fact.  You did not look in the dirty laundry.  I found your gymnastic shorts there.”

 About three weeks ago, Helen got off the mini-bus, at the end of the school day, at The Queens senior school.  I was helping her carry her bags.  Four girls ran up to her…..

“Bye, Party Girl!”

Not at all surprised.

Kate Elizabeth Sexton (Year 1, yoga, ballet, taekwondo)

“Kate, how did you do on your spelling test?”

 “I don’t know mom.  I spelt them the way you taught me.”

Kate now eats her breakfast on the way to school for a much-needed extra half hour of sleep.  As a result, she eats more, gets more sleep and the crumbs trail to school, not a meal on our kitchen floor.

Steve and Sarah (40, work so hard, mom so hard)

‘Why were you arguing with the car salesman about the size of the car?  He told you “x” was bigger than “x” and you could not let it go.”

 I know, but it did, it felt smaller when I sat in it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=817P8W8-mGE

I will never forget our first Christmas in Chester.  Magic.  Warmth.  And of course, more wonderful memories shared between our family.  Santa properly gives gifts to good children, but the girls buy gifts for Steve and me.  Santa does fill the #sextonfive stockings.  As Steve was emptying his stocking, from Santa, in front of us, he looked confused, “women’s grey opaque tights.”  He threw a curve ball.  I caught.  “I think these were meant for you.”  He dug deeper into that stocking.  Annoyed look, “women’s navy opaque tights.”  Speed ball.  I knocked it out of the ballpark!

I loved the Chester Christmas parade-Disney magical.  I loved the Christmas market in Chester and Manchester.  It was my first time trying mulled wine.  I loved the zoo lights.  The girls did story time with Father Christmas at the library, the most unbelievable landmark in Chester (my opinion).  The girls had an all school, lower and senior school, performance at the Cathedral.  How precious! I was able to see them all sing.  It is something I have never experienced before.  And we said the Lord’s Prayer and it brought me home.  Christmas Eve at the Cathedral told the real story of Christmas.  It was beautiful.  After the service we had carolers visit our home.  And, in the month of December, I learned and fell deeply in love with mince meat pie.  Shocked the hell out of Steve and me.  It’s not something I ever thought I would like, but I LOVE!  Glad they are seasonal.  I over indulged.

As I get to reflect more on life and such and such…..I see my mother coming out in me.  The kitchen is not my place in our home, but it slowly is becoming.  I made artsy-fartsy Halloween treats with the girls.  Every year, my sisters and parents get together and we spend an entire day baking Christmas cookies.  We always did it at our home in Beverly Hills because of our double ovens.  Fun how the tradition continued from a distance.  My sister took pictures of her family baking, and I sent the same scene back, same day, cousin love.  I do not bake or cook from scratch.

I found a sugar cookie and buttercream frosting recipe online.  They do not have sugar cookies in England.  I made them for teachers and Steve’s co-workers and nobody has ever had them before.  My mom sends out recipes to us all the time, and online and speaking with her, she will tell you how she adjusts the recipe.  But there are times, where I think she scraped that recipe altogether and just put together everything in her cupboard.  I was SO proud of the sugar cookies the girls and I did.  I thought they tasted delicious, and I adjusted ingredients.  I emailed my family my experience.  “It asked for milk, but instead I used crema and doubled the amount.  It did not ask for vanilla, but I added it.  And then I added a few tablespoons of powdered sugar.”  Susan responded immediately.  “I laughed so hard at that email.  You sounded just like mom!  In lieu of sugar, I used applesauce……. etc.”  I cried when I received her response.  It did not occur to me until I saw it highlighted.

Further in the kitchen, I am doing things, like “mincing” fresh garlic.  “Finely chopping” parsley.  “Dredging” chicken.  “Seasoning” chicken!  Simmering, searing and reducing.  I am also learning I cook like Caroline.  I make a big mess.  And I am enjoying trying new and fresh recipes.  And a glass of wine always adds enjoyment to the process.

Welcome, welcome 2018

I do not need a New Year.  I just need a new day.  It’s great that if today did not work out, today was lousy, today was a struggle, things can turn around tomorrow.

I am meeting phenomenal women here and miss my #momtribe from Michigan.

Yesterday I had a wonderful shopping experience.  At Tesco, you can grab a scanner.  Scan your item, and pack it as you go.  The convenience for me is I pack it in my cart and I do not need to use bags.  I know the aisles to go to first, allowing me to put heavy items, cans in the bottom of the cart and bread and eggs at the top.  You take your scanner to the register, boom, bang, enter your pin—shopped and done!  It’s a new and beautiful idea.

We continue to love our #sextonfive Saturday date night.  We went to a Japanese grill on Saturday.  Fun, fun night and the food was delicious.

We have our first European vacation planned and booked.  We are looking forward to a brand-new experience.  The Sexton girls will journal about it.

Sunday, we were getting ready to go to the Liverpool Museum.  Would say it was about 10:30 and Steve walked into the kitchen.  I was doing dishes.  Kate was sitting at the table with a spoon and a jar of Nutella–just scooping and eating away.  Steve, “Kate!  Is that what you are having for breakfast?!”  “No, Daddy!!!  I ate breakfast.  This is my snack.  This is just a snack.”  Still busy with dishes, “I have no idea where she picked that habit up from 😉”  Oh Steve knows!  Our whole family knows!!!  Hint:  initials–> SEPS

Helen had trouble sleeping two nights in a row last week.  There is absolutely nowhere comfortable for me to lay down with her.  Our beds are teeny!!!!  We went to the living room.  I got very comfortable with a bed I made on the floor, and Helen got even more comfortable on a bed on the couch.  I was laying there and saw a snail shell, “huh.”  I put it on my desk in the living room.  YUP!!!!  it was the snail the girls brought in from outside our 2nd week of living here.  They made a home for it, but no lid, sure enough it crawled away, never to be seen until last week.

Steve to the family: “The girls really need to start doing more chores.  They can wash the cars.  Outside and in.   You know we have a cellar that they can clean.”  Sarah to Steve:  “Seriously that is child abuse.  If they have CPS we would be convicted.”  Honest to all and mighty—that cellar is the scariest thing I have ever been in.  I think “Silence of the Lambs” was inspired by it.

The British “Office” tv show is VERY funny, not as funny as Michael Scott (Steve Carrell), but a wonderful comedy fix.

The other day I HAD TO open the Nutella jar.  Kate’s spoon was still in there.  “Thank you dear.  That makes it so much more convenient for mommy.”

And last, Steve came home with a written evaluation from a co-worker for my sugar cookies.  I received a 9.5 out of 10.  Really?!  A 10 in my book!  Well, definitely a 10 for effort!

I’ve got a Bed

By Sarah Sexton

I’ve got a bed

A warm comfy bed

A guy by my side

To share my lifetime ride

Did you know

Sleep’s easier

Times two

Comfort increases

Safety encases

My family’s

Slumbered security

 

Initially at first

Backs plotted the floor

Towels draped

And adorned

Restless shadows

Instead of

Quilts, satin sheets

lack on said

Beautiful bed

Carpet threads

Have a count

But I prefer

A mattress instead

Numbered nights

Dressing the ground

With our sleep

Sandman dreams

I counted

Days of pain

My body endured

But I can’t complain

No, I can’t complain

Present time

I have sheets

Lining my bed

I got a bed

A bed

A bed for my head

 

I walked by a guy

Asleep in the rain

Alone in his zone

Remember my quote

Life is calmer times two

Quick as a flash

Gazed the monument park

Dawn’s walk exposed

Lives without those

Warm covered cloaks

Bodies in full sleep

Sprinkled the dark

Like tombs in the grave

Not buried

Just brave

 

Friends minus shelters

Rest in the rain

Thoughts wonder about

Believe it or not

Families squat

In square plots

Think in your heart

Poverty roots

Everywhere

Environmentally

Desperately

I ask you to think

Question your heart

How do I start

What is my part

 

Educate sweet kin

Illuminating the

Shining situation

They may be in

Dedicate, and act

Generate service with-in

Charity starts

Straight from the heart

Opportunity sparks

With love in the air

Spreading rainbows

For despair

With care

Love bounds

The big atmosphere

 

So I cannot complain

About hard floors and the pain

I have a bed and I’m blessed

Because did I mention

The bed’s in a house

 

My family wakes up

Praise is paid

Because I’m grown-up

Inching close to old

It’s a trade-off and bold

Wiser but ridden

With differentiating pain

Pop quiz daily

Lazy and sun questions

My sore body

What agony

Do you feel

Answer a,b,c or d

From head to heel

The aches begin in my back

Radiates thru my left leg

But fancy, I walk

So I cannot complain

No I cannot complain

Solace out weighs the pain

 

Many steps put in

Fresh air I breath in

And salute to the man

That steers with his hands

Lost two feet

A hero no doubt

I give praise as I

Swerve a respected

terrain

 

And when I ain’t

Got time

With two feet

To march the line

I hop in my car

And travel quite far

I happily cruise

Heat glistens my seat

Advantaged and pampered

Insurance and ignore

The lifestyle

I beseech what I see

And feverishly reach

Realize the privilege

Bestowed upon me

 

I cry in the rain

From pain I feel

I cannot complain

Charmed, blessed

Auspicious, beneficious

Companion two functional feet

Push me along

Again, I hop in my car

Did I mention there’s more

We possess two hot spots

In a corner, particulary small

We gracefully park

Our luxury rides

Rides mark time

In the dark

For their next breath

Ignited via me

 

Once upon a time

Five fridges aligned

Our kitchen’s rear aisle

Pushed against the posterior door

Hot meals skipped

I might have been bitchin’

Nothin’s workin’

In the brand new kitchin’

Ain’t no sense

Prepared meals paid

A nutritious serenade

Our extendable table

Delicious whole grains

Nourish our brains

Spoiled to be

Bellies filled completely

The lesson was there

The lesson was learned

Break bread with the wine

Oh that wine is divine

But back to the sentiment

A Samaritan grauduate

So I cannot complain

No I cannot complain

Because I lack hunger pain

 

Losing power for short

Is par for the course

The sudden outlook

Certainly is bleak

Instantly think

Terrible storms

A fire

Reposition desire

I’ve gone without

Quietly shout

Abundance on our table

Thanksgiving addressed

For a life that is blessed

So I cannot complain

No I cannot complain

For dark splattered by rain

 

Did I mention

Our family

Stumbled without cable

No wifi and unable

To secure homework’s

Time table

Quickly stomped

To the Story Book

With wine in my hand

Treats adorned

In bags on the hook

And we fancy

Our gathering

Of completing

Assignments on time

So I cannot complain

No I cannot complain

About an iPad wired

Without wifi temporarily

Because still at most

Going green is a host

Of difficulty and

Problematic

Houses lacking technology

Again, humbled and blessed

With a pc

Traveling with me

Write on a bench

Not far in a park

Beneath a shade

Ridden tree

My complaints lay

Lain because I

Own no blame

The list of

Amenities

Trail a long tail

Runs long and is

Tall so further I share

This real call

 

Above my short truth is told

Not lacking to hold

We have premium

Items and luxuries

But beside them

It does not disband

One moment

Without doubt

We hold troubles

That boil and bubble

It’s decent to say

Life doesn’t go your way

Adversity appears

Makes you stronger

For longer

When shit pops up

Your struggle

Runs out

Runs deep within

Your heart and right then…

 

I believe deep inside

We have unease

Followed by pride

Our world is filled with

Bleakness that divides

Again, my heart screams

There’s better than not

Feels from my feet

To a rolled-up knot

Love spreads the land

People quietly stand

Warm souls with beliefs

Embedded equality

I join your hand

In life’s generosity

There are more of us

Idealizing positively

Unfortunately

We’re not leading

The country

 

I’ve got a bed

God damn

I got a bed

I cannot complain

And if in your head

Offended, please understand

This piece of rhyme

Is the mild for my mind