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Tell Me What It Takes
2006-09-27 - 9:17 a.m.

*Note: My final entry of My Ink Stories will be next.

Last night I heard Kelly roaming through the house singing. She had that deep sorrowful sound in her voice as she sang.

Oh dear Dad
Can you see me now?
I am myself
Like you, somehow
I wait up in the dark
For you to speak to me
How Iíve opened up,
Release me.

She found my old Pearl Jam and connected with the song. I know she is singing to someone who canít hear her. I wish I could take away that sadness. Her Father hasnít called her since she left in July. A new record for him. She used to say that she didnít want to tell him whatís on her mind because she didnít want to upset him. But the reality of it was she was afraid of losing him. She felt his love for her was fragile enough and if she spoke her mind he might severe it. She took that risk this summer but practically begged him to still love her. His lack of communication seems to have proved her concerns to be true. He has no idea what he is letting go of. For that I feel sorry for him. Not too much. Since he doesnít call I am personally much, much better. But for Kelly I hope the pain will be released. I just had to jot that down because her voice is still in my head this morning as I sit here.

On a lighter note, we weíre talking about poetry last night, the kids and I. Kelly and Dylan are both naturals. I, however, suck. They said no. If it doesnít start with ďthere was an old man from NantucketÖĒ I got nothing. Really. I wrote a ridiculous poem about zits in Jr. High and that is it. So anyway As I sat this morning drinking coffee and thinking of the mornings wake-up songs (I wake each kid in the morning clad only in my bra and undies, with a song) and made up a rap for Dylan. He said I sucked. Iím working on it. Got the beat-box thing going anyway. I meant to sing to Kelly but was distracted by her pics of Fallout Boy. Instead I came in to let her know her Dad made them breakfast. What I said came out as pure poetry. Wanna hear it? Here it goes:


Pancakes, Pancakes
Waffling in
Waffling in
Waffling in
Smell them.

I am a genius. I went out side and told Glen what I came up with. He was tickled and came up with something of his own. I helped and together we made a new poem. Wanna hear it? Here it goes:
On Marriage

Talks too much
Ignore her
Ignore her
Ignore her
No sex

Feels threatened
Kissing up
Kissing up
Kissing up

Thank you very much. I think I shall now write a poetry book. Stuff like this popping up and itís sure to be a hit!! Youíd buy it, right? So yea.


Dylan wants season DVDs of Will and Grace. I find that hysterical. Jack is his favorite. I like the show because I think I am a cross between Karin and Grace. We get to watch re-runs of it here. Fun stuff. Iím just sayin. Or thinking. Whatever.

I need to get some updated photos. Everything I have is a year old and I look like crap. I discovered this when I went to put a photo of me on my um..space and everything I had was funky. I look fat, or blah, or my face is broken out. I had to settle on a goofy pic from Vienna. Best I had. Depressing. But I am now working on project pretty pic of Alana. Should be interesting since I donít photograph well. Thank Bob I have a digital camera. Pffft.

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