I can’t finish my thoughts…


I have been avoiding this.

My success lasted for about three hours, then all my clever distractions and bribes  lost their shiny essences, my first has just called me out, he has caught on to the fact that I do not want to play with LEGO’s. I am smack in the middle of a new episode of Chopped, I hope the bitchy caterer gets eliminated, how dare she refuse to share garlic? Evil woman!

“Mama, mamaaaaaaa! Come we play.”

Sigh! I may as well play with him, before my second wakes up and cries over being denied the pleasure of eating all the pieces.

A box of Lego’s is retrieved; today we shall build two choppers, complete with a pilot and co-pilot, and blades that look real enough to lift my weight.

I need some incentive. I leave my first clearing the table ready for building. I head to my secret cabinet and retrieve some honey from Tennessee, yaaaassssss! I am sure its 1700hrs somewhere on earth, I pour me two fingers of the golden liquid, I take a whiff and my hand goes ahead and pours me an extra finger. Another whiff, and a little taste to warm up the taste buds.


Throw in two ice cubes, take a sip, hold it in my mouth and pick up the beautiful notes. I swear I will dub on some of this to my next meeting, it smells sweater than Vera Wang. I wonder if I can start a home brewery… mmmmmmh, but do I have the patience to brew anything that takes longer than two cups of tea? Maybe a wine cellar in the ba…


I walk back to the dining room to find the table littered with about a thousand miniscule multi coloured pieces of what is to be two choppers. My first is sitting there with a sheepish look on his face, a smile revealing his missing teeth that form an odd triangle.

“Sorry… they fell out by themselves” says my first, boys will be boys.

I take my seat and we start working on what I hope is the base of the Heli something.

A sip is savoured as I battle to fit in the tiny pieces together.

“Mama, why do they make these so small? My fingers can’t make it! The box says it is for my age, but I doubt it, this cannot be for child’s play.”

I have to agree with him, the pieces are far too many and require a robot to assemble.

Another sip, the chink of the cubes against the glass remind me of a time well spent by the ocean. How I miss the beach, golden sands and warm salty water, and the smell of the ocean, the beautiful smell of warmth and aphrodisiacs, I really should buy into a time share at Dia…

“Mamaaaaaaa! Look, look!”

My first has finished assembling something, I cannot tell what it is but I cheer wildly and encourage him to show me how it works. Turns out it’s a dinosaur, and it’s going to destroy the city because the people destroyed the forest where the dinosaur and his family used to live. I quickly help assemble a city and we proceed to build and crush and build and crush.

We attempt to build the second aircraft, but fail to find a red part that goes into the base. So I teach my first the word improvise, and how improvising will be a daily occurrence if this country continues in its course.

He gives me a puzzled look, and requests that I explain.

A sip is taken. I clink the ice, and decide against introducing the evils of politics to my Dinasour building young. Instead I ask what he would like for dinner. My innards are warm, a delightful buzz occupies the section where my brain should be. My thoughts if any have slowed to any acceptable pace, I wonder who decided to name the brain brain, mmmmmmh! I actually think that the brain named itself… tee hee hee!

“Mamaaaaaaaa! Guess who has woken up.”

Oh dear, that must be the world’s shortest nap. I have my first tidy up, as I attend to his now screaming sibling.

What did he say he wanted for dinner?

Why I write…

In as much as misery likes company, sometimes being on your own is the only misery you need.

I can not remember what I was reading or where I was reading this, but these words echoed deep in my soul and spoke of me in a voice as clear as day and as cold as the abyss that is my mind.

In as  much as misery likes company, sometimes being on your own is the only misery you need.

I often find myself craving to be alone with my thoughts. The hustle and bustle of life leaves me deflated, a cup of sweet black coffee and silence wielding instant remedy for my spent body and depleted spirit. So in silence my mind will wonder, and then I pen most of my PG rated thoughts.

I write because there are many like me.

I write because I do not fear.

I write because I have experience, in life and in being.

I write because I aim to make a difference, and a little comic relief might be all you need.

I write because someone has to say it, and yes, I will call you out.

I write because I can, I have allowed myself to free my spirit and give legs to my thoughts.

I write because the art of letter writing is dying fast, and writing letters to myself is flat out weird.

So… I write.

Go on, be silent, think of everything, or nothing at all… it will not kill you to be alone with yourself.