Archive for Laughter

Damn Your Genes Momma!

Posted in Blessings with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 22, 2012 by Tanya

“Damn your genes Momma”!

That just happened to be the very first thing I heard after lifting the phone to my ear. “Oh no…you bought the Haagen Daz, didn’t you”? This of course, brought immediate laughter from my youngest daughter. “No Momma, I went with the sherbert.” “Too bad honey, I definitely would have went with the coconut macroon Haagen Daz….but then, that’s probably why I needed to bring the treadmill home too.”

“So what’s up”?

“Well, I went to the bank today to make a withdrawal, and after the teller handed me my receipt…I looked at it, then back at her, then back at the receipt again.” “This went on long enough to make both of us uncomfortable and the teller beside her to ask what was wrong.”

“Are you sure this balance is correct”? “Mom, I knew that it wasn’t, there was an additional $450.00 that obviously didn’t belong to me….not that I couldn’t have used it and I couldn’t believe I was saying it out loud….but I actually insisted to the tellers that it wasn’t mine.” “Despite the fact that their records were showing otherwise, I argued enough that they agreed to look into it and call me once they straightened things out.”

At this point I was laughing. “I’m proud of you honey, and despite what you might currently think…you did the right thing.”

Our conversation went on to discuss all of the probabilities of who the money actually belonged to, along with my daughters concern that one of the teller’s drawers might be short and the prospect of somebody having to compensate for the error. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Good things have a way of rippling out honey, in ways you could never begin to imagine.” “The good you did today, will inevitably find it’s way back to you.”

“Thanks Momma, but Nick’s gonna give me a hard time for giving it back.”

“It doesn’t matter honey, you know you did the right thing.”

“Oh jeez…hang on Momma.”

“I’m in the grocery store and I dropped some eggs….what’s that you were saying about good things happening”?

I just had to chuckle again. “It’s all about perspective baby.”

“Momma, what ARE you talking about”?

“Honey, after you dropped the eggs, did you tell somebody”?


“Good…were they angry or irritated or tell you that you had to pay for them”?

“No, but I would have paid for them.”

“I know, but you’re missing the point.”

“No Momma, they weren’t angry, they actually said not to worry about it.”

“Right. They weren’t upset and you didn’t have to pay for them so it’s all good right”? “The only reason you probably dropped them to begin with is because you were preoccupied with second guessing your decision at the bank…right”?

“I love you Momma.”

“I know honey, I love you too.”

Score one for Momma’s Gene’s and Amber’s Heart.


The Chrysalis Project

Posted in Pulseline with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 16, 2012 by Tanya

Like most children, I spent a good portion of my youth fantasizing about who I might become when I grew up. And although there were a multitude of choices to select from, I usually exercised the child’s prerogative to change my mind on a daily basis. However; one of the things I always knew I would become was an Artist.  Even at such a young and impressionable age, I also knew that more than anything else in my lifetime, I wanted to discover a way to simply ‘Touch Souls.’ Although a clear method for this phrase has continued to elude me, the underlying concept has never changed.

Much of my adulthood has been centered within the Human Service arena, a surprising, yet rewarding detour into the lives of countless, extraordinary people. Artistically, my experiences have been varied and rewarding also, but not quite the particular caliber I would prefer. So I continue to challenge myself to be accountable and to strive towards excellence in every respect.

While contemplating all of this recently, I was struck by the realization that although I had always assumed my first love to be art, it was actually a close second to helping others.  Why something that was right in front of me had managed to elude me for so long is beyond me. But from this realization was born an idea….a brand new project to satisfy both passions in a creative arena meant to inspire, encourage and engage people in helping each other through random works of heART.

I have been working diligently to set up another website and accompanying blog with all of the specific details. I am absolutely elated at the prospect of sharing this project with everyone and hope with all of my heart that it creates the ripple effect I expect.

As soon as the sites are completed and ready for debut, I will post the appropriate links here.

In the meantime, have an absolutely wonderful day!

At What Point in Time

Posted in Poems with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 26, 2012 by Tanya

At what point in time
did it become vital
to cross my legs at the knees
before a simple sneeze,
or cross a room
and have to rest
before I start to wheeze?

At what point in time
when I sat
did things settle
and the effort
require a nap,
when did I switch
between the pot & the kettle
and suddenly
desire a map?

At what point in time
did I start losing my teeth
where dentures
were the only choice,
and between the heartburn & snoring
I cringe
at the sound
of my voice?

At what point in time
did I simply relent
to wish on a star
just to open a jar
and despite my bodys descent,
Prayed for WD40
and begged the dear Lord
would He
mend all the joints
that were spent?

At what point in time
did my arms begin to recede
and shrivel too short to read,
why does the simple
act of standing
cause my knees
to plead?

At what point in time
did I develop
a counter balance
between my belly & bum,
why is it I barely
remember my name
or even where I’m from?

At what point in time
did my clothes cease to fit,
and my breasts
drop below
where I usually sit?

At what point in time
did my thighs
start to rub,
I fear the friction
may cause a fire,
I’m afraid, I could cry
and I don’t want to fry,
but the thought of running
makes me perspire.

At what point in time
did I start to send for a friend
when I merely
wanted to bend,
and though I never
intend to offend,
the farts depart more
in the end.

At what point in time
did I develop whiskers
and require various razors & creams,
when did I realize
with certainty,
I had Sasquatch
in my genes?

At what point in time
did my sense of smell
get shot to hell
and my age no longer lie,
when did passing a mirror
make me want to hide?

My reflection
is a joke
an image I’d like to poke,
wrinkles & sags
a hag wrapped in bags,
who I haven’t
the strength
to choke.

At what point in time
did creaks & groans
take the place
of sheets & moans,
and why now
when I’m grown,
would my mind be blown,
if I found myself