What's Your Sign? Or Rather, Book...

So we celebrated Father's Day in fine fashion up in the Blue Hizzleydoo. The table was set under the hundred year old mulberry tree with fuchsias floating in a crystal bowl. Our children's last living Godfather surprised us with a much belated visit. We laid a wood fire on the barbie and made smoky pork chops and grilled chicken, with homemade sweet potato fries and corn on the cob. And there was celebratory sparkling grape juice in the real wine glasses. But of course. How else?

The day was glorious and bright with those big puffelly clouds that make all kinds of great shapes when you gaze up at them, especially on your back in the pool. (great song about cloud watching by Native American artist, Thomas Walker HERE ) But, little Young Lovers can only take so much sun and fun.

We finished the day by retiring to the air conditioned bedroom with the good T.V. and chips and salsa to watch a movie together. Sonny immediately voted for the Official Blue Standards, Top Gun and Armageddon. I, of course, had to second those. The traditional votes for The Princess Bride and Legend came from Peng and Kat, chanting, "I will marry, whomever finds this ring," and "As you wiiiiiiiiiiiish!" There were three votes for Elmo. All of them came from B3. But it was Daddy's day and Axl voted the only movie he ever votes for. Indeed, since it was his day, he, at last, was not denied and his children finally entered the world of Lonesome Dove. (listen to the theme as you read? )

You really do marry your parental figures no matter how hard you may try not to, Young Lovers. Years ago, my dad, knowing my hunger for good long books, handed me the novel by Larry McMurtry, and I've been hooked ever since. So, yeah, when Axl Blue happened along with his VHS of the mini series, it didn't hurt his chances. In fact, we used to watch it so much, it was the last movie we watched before Sonny was born. It was also the novel packed in my hospital go-bag to be read during labor. I picked it because it felt like an old friend. (And, I figured I already knew the plot, so if labor got too distracting, I wouldn't miss anything. HA! First time mom-to-be...) Is it any wonder we named Sonny after one of the characters in the story?

Some books just resonate with us. For Axl, it was Lonesome Dove.  A strong, hard working blue collar Midwestern man, through and through, he loves sweeping epics about how America was made and tamed. (Although, thankfully, he's not thrilled by the whole idea of genocide to achieve it.)

For me it was The Thorn Birds. I love long sweeping epics about lurve. (And, btw, how can you not adore Georgia Nicholson, and her confessions? Thank you, Louise Rennison!) Especially forbidden love (yummy yummy delicious beach scene ). No, we don't have a little Meggie or Ralph, but my own mom wanted to name me Meghan because she loved this book and read it while preggers with me. Funny, I know. ;) (I heart cowinkiedinks <3)

 As readers, writers and artists, our soul's are often laid bare in written words. And we delight in finding them there. So, I'm curious, do you have a favorite book, or saga, that represents your essence?

Yeah, it's kinda like asking, "What's your sign?" LOL. The first time I met children's Godfathers, they asked me what my sign was. For real. That's how I knew they were keepers. ;) They also liked Lonesome Dove and the Thorn Birds. And B3's middle name is a combination of theirs. But I (say it with me,) digress. So tell me, what's your sign, ahem, I mean book?

What are you good at?

HI, YOUNG LOVERS!! I'VE MISSED YOU! <3 :)


 


Here I am, holding the latest, and probably last, edition of the most recent HowToWriteGud mag over the flames of my barbecue. True, I haven't paid the bill to resubscribe, so that will probably limit future issues, if any. But, honestly? I don't think I want to spend my hard earned money on any more of this wonderful advice.

I can't find anything in here that wont be contradicted on the internets for about six more months. Then about half the literary gurus will embrace it. And by the end of the following year it will be gospel until yet another swing in the publishing world's hormones will smack it back 180 degrees. Talk about writing or not writing to trends!

It was in these types of mags that I started reading because I was finally serious about writing something worthwhile to publish, that I found I must have a platform. Even if I was years away from submitting to literary agents, I at least needed a Facebook or MySpace profile. (MySpace?????????????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! for real?) So, I got 'em. Then it was the blog. Every author needs a blog. And it needs to be a good one, that engages readers, so they can get to know you and interact with you.

You know how you're supposed to make a good blog, Young Lovers? You pick a topic that you're good at and make it a theme. It's also good if the theme matches your writing style and topics. Yep, that's what all the mags told me. Then, I read it on the Internet. That of course made it gospel.

I have to admit, I don't think I've defined this very well on this blog, thus far. Hence the plans to change it up. And, yeah, I do have a plan, but for fun's sake I did give this some thought...and I wrote a little essay:

WHAT I'M GOOD AT by Aurelia Blue

I can tell when my sugar is too high because sweet things taste too sweet
I can tell when the painters and decorators are due in because I get super nauseous and can smell EVERYTHING. I know when I'm going to ovulate because I get a strange little pain on the side whose turn it is. I can tell the weather with my knees and nose because my PopPop taught me how.
I believe all this is possible for each of us and the earth provides all we need to diagnose and cure ourselves, too. But I have no real idea how to do this and if you mix the wrong things, you get cancer.
And the truth is, I'm so wonderfully aware of my body because it was molested. It's called "hypersensitivity/self concern" and it's a mental illness. I also, while living with several mental illnesses (well medicated and appropriately counseled, of course ;) ) do not write about them exclusively.

I know a lot about kids too. All kinds of helpful hints like, if you carry a sharpie in your purse, you can write each child's name on whatever is their's (new toys from Dollar General, Mc Donald's cups, etc.) so they can keep it straight and not get upset with one another for touching things that are "miiiiiines!", thereby reducing your stress and fighting amongst your children. You like that? I have a million of them. But the truth here is that I have 4 kids. I was an au pair and a preschool teacher and an auntie before them. So what? I could talk for  hours about this. But really, do you want to hear about my kids and what we did last weekend EVERY time you read this blog? I think there are puh-lenteeeeeeeee of parenting blogs out there to tell you not to feel bad for f***ing up your children and how darling their little SammySweets is... *shudders*

I used to be good at drawing. I had an accident about ten years ago that left me with injuries that are slowly robbing me of my dominant hand's function. I could tell you all about the loss, the pain, and of course, the importance of indomitableness of spirit. Crap, that's my little wake-up schpeel I give myself every morning just so I can get out of bed. I've got it down to a science. Wanna hear it? Yeah, didn't think so. I know you wish me well, Young Lovers. I do. I also know that unless you've been in this kind of pain, it's boring as hell to hear about. I get bored hearing about it, myself, sometimes. It's Ohhh-Kaaaaaay. ;)

In the same vein, I'm also good at enduring infertility. Yeah, I did mention four kids up there. Yep, they're all biologically mine. There's your freakin' testimony. Don't need another panicky blog filled with abbreviations such as dh, dd, ds, AF, o'd, ov, and ttc, on that front! I shall continue to endure in relative silence. Moving on.

Oh, then there's my political and religious views. Dear God(dess) (ooooooh, Google Image that word... prittah!!!) help us all if I get started down that road. Here's the deal, I was raised by activist parents. They save the reindeer, forests, soil, as well as the disabled and downtrodden every day before breakfast. They make it look like child's play. This would be one biiiiigggggasssssssssssss intense blog if I wanted to go there. Oh, but wait a minute, the Unicorns, Mers and Dystop-ers are all too familiar with these issues... hmmmmmmmm... yeah well, we'll see.... but for now, PASS.

OK. ENOUGH. LET'S JUST END THE ESSAY HERE.

The real deal is, you like it when I tell you a story. This is what you tell me in my inbox. This is the support you give me on FB, and Twitter and even Pinterest (yeah, I totally did start dabbling on there last week. Look me up! ;) ) You've even been checking in Tuesdays even though you know I'm not blogging or even celebrating AureliaBluesDayTuesday regularly during this transition.

And I love you for that!

I. L<3VE. YOU. FOR. THAT.

Thank you. {{{{{{{{{{{{{{{supersonsicsister/brotha/writer/mama/papahugs}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

So, I'm gonna keep at it. In spite of the fact that the internets are now saying the blog is dead, Twitter is Now. and Pinterest is The Future. Oh, and that magazine smoldering at the bottom of my fire pit? Yeah, it said literary agents don't wanna catch me doing social media badly...

Oops. Oh well, to them I say,  I'm here writin'! It's like lightnin'! Get used to it!!!!!! ...or something.

Little RaleyBlueNote: They also say a good blog should end with a question to get you some commentin' interaction and show the LitAge's you can media socialize. So tell me, Young Lovers, what are you good at? Quick tell me! Flood my comment space. I need it! The little devil  magazine said so... ;)

*Further Note: Just in case it's not clear, this blog entry was written tongue and cheek. It is not meant to be indicative of my interest, of lack there of, in literary trends, and mores, or my ability to take instruction and constructive criticism. ;) Just in case you were worried.

A Little Short Story: GLORY DAYS IN A POST-HISTORIC WORLD

<3 With special thanks to Toto, for calling me his muse and asking me to tell him a story...

GLORY DAYS IN A POST-HISTORIC WORLD
　

An original work by Aurelia Blue    

Axl and Aurelia had gotten old. And old was not for the faint of heart. Or as Axl liked to put it, “Old, is not for young people.” He was playing off his mother saying, “Babies aren’t for old people,” seven decades ago when she’d kept their son, Lio, for the day. How funny, and admittedly, annoying, that had seemed to the exhausted young parents. But they had laughed it off, as they were inclined to do. After all, they had no intention of ever getting old. Time had done it’s work though, and now they sat on a pier overlooking the water which seemed timeless.

“Drink looks good today,” Axl said. “No algae.”

“No bodies,” Aurelia laughed.

“No, not even any nasty little bird bodies,” Axl laughed, “just blue, blue, blue.”

They held hands as they gazed out as far as their eyes could follow the vast azure pool where the sun hovered like a runny egg ever closer to the surface. This was their favorite time of day, watching as the egg slowly sank into the edge of the world and boiled into the who-knew-what abyss. Where it went was of no real importance to them, as it was its departure that held the significance, signaling the end of one more day accomplished in this life.


“You cold?” He moved now to cover her with the quilt.

“No, love, I’m just right,” she replied with a shiver.

“You look cold.”

“No, no, just enjoying the sunshine and the breeze. It always gives me a shiver. Happy shiver,” she answered giving him a reassuring smile as she ran her hands over the frayed borders of each bit of embroidery that held the whole thing together. A crazy zig of a stitch, a bold zag of a color unfolded like Braille telling the story of her life beneath her fingers.

“I’d forgotten Lio liked over-alls,” she said quietly.

“Oh yeah,” Axl said now, “loved ‘em. Wore a pair everyday right through the fourth grade.”

She laughed. “And brought them home for patching every day right up through the fourth grade. Oh, he was so hard on clothes! I was always so glad when summer came and we’d come up here all the time. He’d just wear out swim trunks for a few months.”

“The kids liked it here.”

“We liked it here,” she turned toward him with a mischievous grin. “I wonder what Lio would think if he knew he’d been conceived right out there in those waves.”

The both laughed as they gazed dreamily out to the spot just past the buoys, lost in the reverie of remembering. Remembering the taste of each other’s lips as they’d clung to each other like the teenage lovers they were. 

The water had been relatively calm that day. Tidal waters pushed and pulled, but Axl had planted his feet firmly in the sandy bottom. They swayed with it, moving in covertly opposing patterns beneath the surface. They were careful to keep there torsos a few respectable inches apart, lest the girls, playing on the beach, should become curious as to just what their mother and father were doing out in the deep.

Sunshine permeated the entire coast, bringing out a great many sunbathers and Great Blue worshipers. They were hardly alone. So above the breakers, they embraced gently, smiling politely at the chest-deep man with the metal detector who had insistently beep-beeped past them.

“Our glory days?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“What? Oh, honey, no. We don’t have any regrets.”

“I know we don’t, but it all just got so complicated. We became irrelevant.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“The war came and we were too old to be a part of it. The children all turned on us.”

“Fat lot of good it did ‘em.”

“Maybe. But it broke my heart when Little Aurelio wrote that bit about being sad that we couldn’t even imagine a better life for ourselves.”

“Our grandson was a little shit, darlin,’ and all that social media craze brought out the worst in everybody.”

“But I could imagine better. I did imagine better for him.”

“I know, honey, we all did. Just some of us knew how to be content and live in the moment. He was too young to know about that. He didn’t understand.”

“Remember the day the world stopped?”

“Yeah, I was listening to the radio in the car with the girls. We were eating egg Mc Muffins.”

“Because we’d dragged them all out at the crack of dawn to get your labs done for your physical, and still make my nursing group. Sharing that car, so I could stay home, but still needing to get all our errands done before your second shift.”

“Poor Baby Lio crying the whole way because he couldn’t learn how to grip the tit.”

“That’s why I was so determined we get to the group. I’ll never forget walking into that classroom at the hospital and seeing that big T.V. set up. They were going on and on about the Pentagon and all I could think about was flying into National Airport when I was seventeen, winding down the Potomac.

God I was so tired, it seemed like both those days were meshed together. And I said, more to myself than anybody, ‘What, a plane actually missed the river and ran into the Pentagon?’

The way that gal in the group screamed! ‘Don’t you know what’s happening!’ She was bellowing like a stupid high school girl, though I’m guessing she was at least five years older than me.

Hell no, I didn’t know what was happening, I’d been out in the real world all morning,” Aurelia sighed, shaking her head.

“I guess we didn’t really know what the real world really was until that moment,” Axl said softly.

“Maybe that’s why it shook us so much. I remember calling my grandmother that day. She told me we’d never forget it. Told me she’d felt the same at Pearl Harbor, it just bothers you less over time. It’s the first shock wave that’s the hardest in life.”

“She was wise, your grandmother. I thank her each day you and I draw breath. She taught us how to live, didn’t she?”

“She was my mother, really.”

“Yes. And mine.” Axl rubbed Aurelia’s hand.

“Really?”

“Of course. She was fearless. How old would she be today?”

“She was forty-five when I was born, so one-hundred-forty-one.”

“We miss her don’t we?”

“Thirty-nine years gone,” Aurelia sighed, “and still, every day.”

“And more than seventy gone, since the world came crashing down.”

“I told you we’re irrelevant,” she laughed.

“We aren’t!”

“Look at us walking down memory lane as if the world wasn’t changed!”

“This lake is still called, Michigan, isn’t it?”

“What’s left of it.”

“But it’s still here.”

“So are we,” she giggled.

“Exactly!”

“Dinosaurs in a post-historic time,” she said, just as the giant leapt out of the water, arcing beautifully over the pier, its underbelly leaving them in shadows as it passed.

“No, love, that was the dinosaur, we’re just wanderers through this time.” He smiled after the beast as it made its way in magnificent currents out to sea.

“You fool, that’s just a carp,” Aurelia laughed.

“Wanna catch it?” Axl winked at her in that old familiar way.

“Why not,” not she grinned, “Lio wont call for another hour.”

“Want your suit?”

“No.” She flashed him a beatific grin, stripping the robe away from her sagging but still delicate curves and diving off the end of the pier.

“That’s my girl,” Axl laughed, following.

*RaleyBlueNote: This story was first published in my Facebook Notes. It appears here in an edited version that better suits my PG blog style. For the complete story, please visit me on FB. :)

The Times, They Are A Changin'...

Some big news:

First off, I want to let you know that if you are following me on Twitter, I will be changing my handle from @me2uluvraleyblu to something along the lines of my full name...like hopefully: @AureliaBlue or something close to that. Apparently, serious aspiring authors should have a Twitter handle that is close to their name so publishers and agents aspiring to find them can do it more easily. ;) ... Or something... Anyhoo, the Twitter handle will be changing in approximately two days... ish.

The other big piece of news is that this blog is going to be changing. I've had a Boss moment and gotten JUST TIRED AND BORED WITH MYSELF !! When I started this blog last summer, I thought it would just be a lot of funny little anecdote's about my life, a few deep thoughts, and some stories I write. And that's kind of what it's been...

But the truth is, I've not been in a funny type mood for months now. (I don't really think you want to read about my Spring Break text message break up with my cousin, now do you? Ick. NO.) This is not a bad thing, but I tend to write in a serious, nerdGirl tone. I also write like the old lady I'm sort of becoming. I write YA for crying out loud! This not really the way I wanted to introduce myself to you. Speaking of which, I talk waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much about me.

I've tried a lot of things, like the little felt shoes contest, and ASK RALEY to make this blog a little more interactive. I did not succeed. So I hope the new format will be more entertaining and make you feel like you belong and have a voice here too. I know I have a loyal readership. I look at my stats and see from whence (countries, web sources, etc.) you all hail from. My number of hits is steady and even climbing a little each month. Many of you have commented to me privately in emails, on Facebook and in tweets about the posts. I love and adore all of you for being so loyal and supportive.

Please don't think I'm discouraged. I just want to change it up a little, get you wanting to come out of your comfort zones and interact with me here. Maybe we'll all make some new friends that may be attracted to the new format? But of course, lurking and even linking on the DL will still be welcome.

So be on the lookout for some changes! I will not be posting regularly until the changes are ready to go. I'm hoping to have everything up and going sometime late this summer. In the meantime, please let me know in the comments,  by any other social media we share, or in smoke signals/ sky writing, what you hope to see in the future blog? And I'll post a little here and there so you'll know I haven't forgotten you.

YOU ARE THE BEST, YOUNG LOVERS! Simply the best! And so for the last time, I will say,
 
    <3 ALL THE BEST, WITH ALL MY LOVE, FROM ME2U, LOVE, RALEY BLUE <3

WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN YOU FEEL THIS WAY?

Sometimes, you just feel like THIS (Surf's Up trailer).

I do anyway.

You're pearling! (That's actually not in the trailer, but Big Z says it to Cody as he's "tirelessly" rewriting practicing.)

Yep, story of my life.

Today, I'm ripping through my current manuscript, trying to make a go of it. I have stop and think to myself, why am I doing this?!

They aren't kidding, Young Lovers when they talk about being bitten by the writing bug. You are infected! It's almost like you want to suffer.

It feels like LADY GA-GA'S BAD ROMANCE.


So what do you do when you just have to do something even when it threatens to overtake you like a big ole wave??????????

Let me know in the comments?

As an advance thanks for your help, I'm going to share this wicked awesome new work my girlLovey, Astral Faery, has designed for my Social Media Sharing Pleasure.... shhhhhhh... don't tell her I showed you yet, because it's not completely finished, but I'm sooooooooo excited, I just have to do it!

Isn't it prittah? She's doing a series of piccies themed around THE UNICORN PRINCESS!!!

Oh, I just love her!!

So there. Don't we all feel better now? ;)


                                       <3FROM ME2U, LOVE, RALEY BLUE<3

On Senior Circles and the Perks of Being a Former Wallflower

Have you ever heard THIS song before, Young Lovers?

So. SonnyBlue had his first experience with a Senior circle this past weekend as he performed in and closed down the last high school play of the season. He's made a lot of great new friends his Freshman year, many of them Seniors, and it's going to be tough saying goodbye. Since he's old enough to read MommaBlue's bloggy, I will not humiliate him with details, but I bring it up because his rehash with us in the car later brought back the memories. Theatre students probably have the most emotional Senior Circles in the world. At least that was my experience.

Coincidentally, I finally got around to finishing the book, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, so I could finally watch the movie. I have to tell you I was excited about the movie when I first saw the trailer while waiting for BreakingDawnONE to appear on the screen. I didn't realize there was a book until my SisTheLibrarian started talking about it last fall. She told me to order it for myself at Chrimbo. Which I did. But reading time was scarce. In the time since though, I have been surprised how many of you have chastised me for not having read it. ( *cough* Toko.) And how many of you have mentioned how much you loooved the film. And then others of you were all like, "Omigod, there's a movie, I loved the book!" Yes, indeed, how did I miss this cultural phenomenon?

Well, I'll tell you exactly how. I was became Senior, myself, in hell high school in 1992. And by 1999, when  the book came out, I was busy with newborn KatBlue and two-year-old SonnyBlue. Life intervened. I was beyond that particular chapter, for the time being, and wasn't in a place to revisit it. (Read: not much leisure time for reading. Period.)

So wow, yeah, it was quite a story. I have to tell you, this is one case where I think I liked the movie better. The book, I'm very sorry to say, left me feeling hopeless. Maybe it's because I'm reading it as an adult and I just "know better" if you know what I mean? Older, wiser... that sort of thing? I don't mean to sound a thousand years old, but those first twenty years of adulthood are fast. And important. And stressful. And miraculous. And tragic. Your heart learns a lot.

I felt the film ended on a much more hopeful note. And of course there's always hope, Young Lovers. Of course there is. It was just conveyed better in the film for me. Although, I did have to question the David Bowie song, HEROES, as being THE tunnel song. Don't really remember that being THE song of the time. It was always cool, granted, but THE song of the times? Not that I remember. But then I did a little WIKI-ing. And. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I see now. (All About Aurelia fun fact: David Bowie has the same birthday as me. ;) )

I do also want to add some thoughts about the film that I found inaccurate, and not at all representative of the time, though. For one, in the book, Candace and her boyfriend have a much more dramatic story line. And even though she does break up with him, she does not go stag to the prom. Yes, girls were starting to do this in the 90's, but it wasn't typical. Typically, the girl had moved on to another guy, as she does in the book version. Also, in the book, the "Nothing" episode is waaaaaaaaay different. It's not the shop teacher antagonizing Patrick. Teach actually finds the impersonation amusing. Which is very true to the time period. I have to say that for reasons of adding dramatic tension and streamlining the story for film, I did enjoy the updated plotting though. Especially, the bit about "back in 'Nam." Dear God, Young Lovers, did they ever do that to us! It is soooooooo real. Not to be disrespectful of those who served. Just sayin'. (On the flipside, Mr. Anderson is married and not living with his girlfriend and telling Charlie to call him Bill? What's up with that sanitizing?)

I do not know any more about author, Stephen Chbosky than what I read on the inside of the jacket flap. (Ooh. I did like Jericho...."Nuts.") So, I cannot speak to what he was thinking in his revisions as he wrote the screenplay. As an author writing about something so sensitive as growing up, and trying to tell the story well, I'm guessing it's pretty great to be able to revisit something you wrote nearly two decades ago and be able to tell it differently, if not better. And I think it was better. And that just might be the whole point.

I mean, you will never ever forget those days. YA authors, I think, may even be stuck in them forever on some level. ONE FRIEND, TWO LOVES, AND A GUY BEARING FLOWERS, anyone? ;) You will always remember that first time you felt infinite. There will probably be a song to go with it.

(There are four traffic lights on the main drag in my hometown. If you hit one green... well back in the day, anyway... you'd hit them all green. Unless there was a train just before #3. On a dare, with SomeDudeWhoManagesWalMartNowForReal, I rode in the passenger seat of his pick-up truck to Aerosmith's LIVIN' ON THE EDGE, with, literally, my top down, and part of him equally exposed. And it was glorious. Freeing. One of The Best moments of my young life. Right up until we hit that train crossing. And there was a train. And in the next car over, there was my SuperCrushSk8terBoi... LOL... sometimes you just gotta shrug and smile, Young Lovers, especially if that's all you happen to be wearing. ;) )

You will also never forget those Seniors who make those first days of hell high school bearable for you. Or their pranks. (My Seniors, the ones I met Sophomore (our freshmen used to be separate in another school building) year, stole a fifteen foot tall statue named, Pancake Bob, from a local restaurant and planted him on the school lawn.)

And saying goodbye will feel like dying. But you'll also be reborn. You will find yourself, as Ponytail Derek points out in the film. And you will make memories. And you will be someone else's memories. You'll probably wax nostalgic and bore the hell out of everyone you know. And plenty more you wont know except on the page (*cough* RaleyBlue... and perhaps even better, Stephen Chbosky). Maybe it will even help someone through a tough time and give them hope. And that's the beauty of  this life.

Best wishes, to all the Young Lovers who are moving on to the next chapter of their lives in the coming months. Especially those who will be graduating high school and bursting forth into adulthood. Welcome to the WORLD!!

And just because it's my blog, and I'm feeling sentimental... a big shout out to my friend, IndySchoolBoy, with whom I had my own "living room routine"... STAGE KISS!!!!!!!!


                                   <3With Love, From Me2U, Love, Raley Blue<3

ASK RALEY EXPLAINS THE TWO YEARS SHE "WENT COUNTRY"

Omigod! Omigod! OMIGOD!!!!!!! YOU ASKED RALEY!!!!!!!!!! HAPPY!! SO HAPPY!!

 Yes, I DO get very excited when you write to ASK RALEY by emailing me at "me2uluvraleyblu (at) gmail (dot) com" with ASK RALEY in the subject line. (a little shameless promotion there, for your reading pleasure ;) And remember, you can ask anything.) Today's question is from Young Lover, "Markus." He writes:

Hey Raley,

What's the deal with you always referencing the two years you went country in the 90's? I love country music. Why did you only stay for two years?

Markus


Well, first a little sound tracking prep ALAN JACKSON'S "GONE COUNTRY"... 

Hi, Markus!

As you can tell by the lyrics of this particular song, it was a very popular thing to do in the latter 90's. Western themed clothing was popular, and fancy boots were easy to find. Especially where I was living in the Midwest. (I had a really cute pair with silver toes. They hurt like a b----, but I digress). So that was part of it, I suppose. Although, I've really never been much of a little joiner.

The real deal is that my parents were, shall we say, very protective, and didn't let me listen to any of the popular, a.k.a rock, music of the 80's and 90's. (I know right?! Tres tragique.) As I've probably told you before, I was allowed to listen to the local Oldies station, and their old albums all I wanted. We had a good station where we lived in my late teens.

My early years though, were spent further south, and there was nothing but country and gospel music and this delightful little show called Hee Haw, which, if you are unfamiliar, you can CHECK HERE...

So this is sorta what life was like for me. I even had a pair of special Hee Haw overalls my parents ordered for me from the show. Hee Haw is also where I fell in love with Dolly Parton when she sang THIS... (True story: I have only ever seen one live concert and it was Dolly in 1980. I was five.) I loved Dolly so much that when I watched her own show and she would sing I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU ,  I would cry and cry because I didn't want it to end. My MomMom was so touched by this, she made me a little butterfly that she'd drawn with magic marker on the back of the cardboard Lipton tea box. Then she snuck behind the television and tossed it to me so I'd think, Dolly herself had sent it out of the glowbox just for me. I was thrilled beyond belief. (We then marvelled at how smart Dolly was to reuse the tea box. My MomMom is one smart gal when it comes to teachable moments.)

So, to answer the question about the "two years," I guess maybe I've always been a little bit country. Even though I grew up to be a LOT rock 'n' roll. (sorry, no Donny and Marie clip... I'm just not THAT into it, lol) The main reason may be because I commuted one hundred and two miles a day to and from nursing school for two years in the mid ninety's. As luck would have it, the Oldies station didn't transmit that far. But many, many country stations did. A dvd player was still pretty unheard of in a vehicle of any sort. You could buy them and and hook them into the cigarette lighter, but they usually drained your battery. A cassette player was a luxury in newer cars. I drove my dad's old '84 Ford pickup. It had an 8track player. I didn't have any 8tracks. So I went country.

I listened to the music.

My favorites playlist if you're curious or feeling nostalgic:

MAYBE IT WAS MEMPHIS ~Pam Tillis
BOOT SCOOTIN' BOOGIE ~Brooks and Dunn
TIME MARCHES ON ~Tracy Lawrence
FAST AS YOU ~Dwight Yoakam
EVERY LITTLE THING ~Carlene Carter
GO REST HIGH ON THAT MOUNTAIN ~Vince Gill
MERCURY BLUES ~Alan Jackson
BOOGIE WOOGIE CHOO CHOO TRAIN ~The Tractors
T-R-O-U-B-L-E ~Travis Tritt
AIN'T GOIN' DOWN ~ Garth Brooks
ROCK MY WORLD ~Brooks and Dunn

(I'm guessing you're seeing some themes here... and the more you get to know me, the more you'll see them, lol.)

And I dressed the part. I had lacy thigh high stockings under my uniform and wore my cute little boots to the hospital. That is until I got busted by the head nurse.

I learned all the line dances. They were pretty epic. (*snort* At the time.)

I was having fun. I had a job. I was working on a degree. I was making my own money. I got married. I L<3VED driving when I was young. I absolutely loved driving, Young Lovers. I'd say those two years of my young adulthood were the most wild and carefree of my life. I had one hell of a good time.

But then reality started slipping into the cracks. My parents split up, and with them, my entire close knit family. (My mom's little sister and my dad's late little sister had been best friends growing up.) I got my degree, but found out nursing wasn't for me. I was struggling with infertility at just twenty years old.

I started writing poetry again, like I had in high school, to get all the feelings out. But I longed for a type of music that reflected just who I was. I was bright and shiny on the outside. But inside, I was a dark and twisted little soul. And then one day, I heard THIS (Nirvana's Come As You Are).

And I knew I'd found my sound.

The Grunge, Alternative and Indie Rock movement were not only unfolding in proverbial "My Time," but they were speaking to me in ways that opened up my creativity and made my mind question EVERYTHING. And they let me feel what I felt. There was no more need to always be ribbons and curls, but there was no stigma against it either. In fact, with long haired guys in vogue again (Axl was gorgeous with long hair. Natural curls to his butt. Fabio had nuttin' on him.) and stripes of colored dye (think Goth and Emo) dark nail polish, self expression had never been more real.

The advent of Ska just made this even better. Throw back to Madonna, flash forward to Anime. It was as if the me that missed the entire rock movement of my childhood had been bridged. I burst out into the world. I dressed vibrantly or drab as I felt the moods. In whatever I wanted. I embraced not just my femininity, but my womanhood. I rocked it.

I wrote seriously. I entered that poetry in competitions and had it published in anthologies and got excited about the passion for writing I'd always had. I decided to do something about that. I took professional writing courses.

And when I eventually did have children, I rocked out with them. I vowed to bring them up by allowing them to be authentic. I don't think I was really allowed to be authentic growing up. I don't blame my parents, they did the best they could. But authenticity wasn't really encouraged among their generation. (Not all of them were hippies.) My dad echoed this one day when we were talking about the differences between Baby Boomers and Gen X-ers. He shocked the holy living sh*t out of me by saying, "I like you guys better." He was talking about my generation's way of saying, get out my way, and let me stand. I am who I am. Let me be me. I'm not you. I refuse to be you. It's not the end of the world. Far from it. We're going to do great things. And we can all be different and still embrace the same things.

In the end, Markus, for me, it was about how I connected to music and where I was in my life. I'm not dissin' on Country now. I'm just making my own sound. ;) Thanks for asking, and all the best to you as you find yours. <3 Raley

P.S. The Little Felt Shoes Contest is still on. 20$ gift card, people! Pretty please? read more here

TURN OFF THE PAVED ROAD... BE STILL WHILE THE SUN SETS

OK, I hate it too when peeps be braggin' about their fabulous vacays to WTFever... and how much fun they had...but how much money it cost or didn't cost, because frankly, not all of us can afford vacay, or time off, period... and all their corny cell-o-phone pics of them kissing on/in the beach/mountaintop/live volcanic lava flow, etc.

So I will not bore you with any of those. Mainly because I left my camera with PengBlue, so she could photograph herself being awesome next to her drawing of little red tree frogs that was made of awesome and featured in a community art show. Which, yes, we, as bad parents, missed by going on the only alone weekend we've been on in years.

(LIKE IN EIGHT YEARS. K? SO DON'T BE HATIN.'  ;) )

I did take some marvy pics on my little POS cell phone, none of which I can email to myself, now... Which is sad because we went to this little town which has the same name as B3. Yes, three American towns share his name. One in Pennsylvania, one in Cali and one in Northern Michigan. There also used to be an airport in New York, but now it's named after a dead president or something. (They are all spelled differently too, an none of them the way B3 spells his.) Anyway, I would have loved to show him "B3, Michigan." As it is, he is looking at little blobs, which are signs, on my crappy little celly screen. Oh well. But then that's kind of the point. Which I will get to later in the post.

BoyLovey and I ran away up the west coast of Lake Michigan to the teeny tiny tip of the little finger for a couple of snowy days. bL has never been up that far and I used to camp there most weekends of my teen years with my family. This is where Lani, The Unicorn Princess, was born in my mind. This is where the myth of the Unicorn met the legend of the Mermaid and caused the fairy tale to take shape.

Believe me, you don't have to go to Key West (which was lovely the one and only time I went in high school) to enjoy exotic blue water that never ends. CLICK HERE (Manitou Passage) (btw, these are all google image pages and if you wait for the whole page to load, my selected image will come up larger, so you can view it better)

There are even Islands. VIEW (North and South Manitou Islands, off Glen Arbor)

And here's my totally gratuitous "I'VE SLEPT HERE" LINK (North Manitou Island), but not this time because it was too cold for primitive camping and backpacking.

Anyhow, I wanted to show this place to bL and scout out some good places to take our kids in the summer. Turns out there's not much open this time of year, but we did eat the best soup and paninies we've ever had in Leland. The coffee was also amazing. It was like ten degrees outside, mind you. We might have passed it up if we hadn't needed a pee break and to warm up. Stone House Bread Cafe ( www.stonehousebread.com ) was DELICIOUS. And the really cool thing? Leland, MI is located just above the 45th Parallel which means it is exactly halfway between the equator and north pole.

So yeah, lunch on top of the world one day, and in the woodlands of our non typically named child by the same name, but spelled differently, the next. Pretty cool huh? Which btw, if we hadn't turned off a few paved roads "just to see..." would never have happened.

There aren't words for little things like this. It was not an expensive little trip by most standards. The bulk of it was gas and lodging. With the exception of lunch at Stone House Bread Cafe, I cooked in our condo (affordable, thanks to the off season)  and made my own sandwiches on the road. We swam in the condo complex pool and our main entertainment was the sunrise and sunset.

Now, a Lake Michigan sunset rarely disappoints...CHECK THIS... (sunset)... But Saturday night, we were treated to an amazing and completely unexpected moment. The sun up there, does this awesome thing where it drops like an egg into a boiling pot and makes a flash. This is usually seen best when there is little or no cloud cover. Saturday was very overcast. But the water got pink, the lower the sun sank behind the clouds, which also turned all sorts of orange and pink. It was pretty. But then it got awesome. The egg dropped down below the cloud bank and set the sky, the water and the snow covering the dunes in front our picture window on fire with color!! The walls in the condo glowed. And then, the most amazing thing happened. As the ball of sun sank into the water/horizon, fingers of light shot up to the sky behind a lighthouse in the harbor, making it look like nothing less than the hand of the Divine. Whether it was reaching up to the heavens or down to us, is hard to say, but it was beautiful. And sacred.

It truly is the little things in life, Young Lovers. We could have gone in the summer with all it's fishing, sailing and swimming and spent a fortune doing it. Or we could have spent the same fortune skiing, tobogganing and snow machining. But that sunset couldn't be bought. The thrill of sitting in a quiet corner that is both edge and top of the earth can't be bought. And no price will give a little boy the thrill of knowing his mom and dad turned off the main drag just to be able give him a piece of his collective world heritage.

So take time. Do the thing. Whatever it is. Grow your soul. And it will sing.

On a side note. This condo is one bL and I were checking out for a possible future home. THIS is the actual view from my picture window where I would be writing... Sooooooooo, how much work do you think I'll be able to get done from here? ;)

Oh, and confidential to my girLovey: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY!! <3


                                        <3FROM ME 2U, LOVE, RALEY BLUE <3

AureliaBluesDay Tuesday Two-fer

Tee hee, it's a good thing you don't have to ante up a penny for my thoughts, because I have two for you today. :)

FIRST OF ALL, I am very excited about the documentary, MAKERS, that will air on most U.S. Public Broadcasting Stations tonight @ 8p.m. EDT. I was up late last night with a crabby little B3 who had been violated by vaccinations at his well baby check and was feeling blicky, and caught a little of bit of Charlie Rose's show which showed a little preview. I think it will be fascinating.

I was also fascinated by a couple of things Gloria Steinem, who was interviewed, along with Amy Richards, by Charlie, had to say. The first was that there is actually science out there that says how a country treats its female population, particularly its view on violence toward them, is the single best indicator of how a country will treat people in general in their dealings through warfare. When you really consider that, Young Lovers, that is some serious food for thought.

The second thing was that she said men who want children need to be doing at least half of the actual child rearing. Maybe even more, because, women give up almost a good year doing it all in the gestating and birthing process.

I think it helped that we started having our children quite young before our careers were really molded or our adult personalities were really set in stone. Also, BoyLovey, Axl, is a raging feminist in this area, so I'm lucky. But as our male friends, brothers and cousins get older and are starting families, we've seen a lot of "my career..." type comments as the lead into some pretty heady child care arguments. So, wow! Just WOW!!

The third thing is the thing I loved the most. She said the magical words, reproductive rights also mean the right for a women to have children as well as not. I LOVE THIS, YOUNG LOVERS.  I love this. I am a woman who chose to have children. I feel it is one of the most worthwhile things I've done with my entire life. I also feel it is one THE most undervalued things in this world.

I'm not talking Pro Life vs. Pro Choice. That's a completely different thing. I'm talking about the sacrifices a woman makes to raise children. There's a serious gap in respect for intelligent young women who dedicate twenty to thirty years of their live to focusing primarily on the welfare and development of fledgling human beings. And there's certainly no fair financial compensation that equates a career in mothering to any other career of that time span. Ms. Steinem suggests maybe there should be.

Unfortunately, in my mind, that brought up the political debates of days of yore, when Dick Cheney promised compensation would come to mothers and fathers who stayed home with their children, and especially if those children achieved well in school... Uh, yeah... still waiting for that check, sir... but I digress...I mean, honestly if I had my way, there would be a remote village for child rearing where we could work at our own pace, free of persecution... yeah, it's a little like Brad Pitt's mindset in Fight Club..."the leather clothes you wear will last a lifetime"... LOL... seriously though, I am excited about this program!!

You can check the official trailer HERE. (Amy Richards has some interesting thoughts to share about today's women (and men), thinking they aren't/shouldn't/can't/aren't good enough to count themselves as feminists. I really think this program will be good for us all.)

NOW FOR MY SECOND THOUGHT OF THE DAY... Why do people always assume the worst about other people?

As you know, I had a major damage incident last week resulting temporary walking limitations. But life goes on, and I don't stay down for long. My Grammy will turn 86 this week and there was a big party in Chi-Town. So of course we loaded up the Blue-Bug-A- Bago and headed off. And of course SonnyBlue forgot his bathing suit. And of course, the hotel had a pool. Luckily there was a Target close by.

Now Sonny is becoming a man and can handle some purchasing on his own, but this was Chicago and it was late at night. So I decided to go in with him. I forgot the magical super duper cane back at the hotel, so I linked my arm in his for waddling support. He's a handsome young man of sixteen and I'm a handsome middle aged woman of 38, if I do say so myself, so I'm sure we do make a handsome pair. But I'm also pretty sure the leggings under the hippie skirt and fluffy moccasins that I was wearing over my giganto ankle wrappings were pretty good evidence of my elderly-ness. And of course any well bred son would escort his decrepit mom. We weren't hand in pocket for heaven's sake! ;) Well at least that's what a modest, small town, Mid West gal would think any way...

We didn't even get in the door, Young Lovers, before a man, who was smoking eight feet from the entrance, gave us a disparaging look and mumbled something less than complimentary about cougars. FOR REAL!! I should note that Sonny is a big fan of all things Cougar Wife related and thought this was just great. We had a good laugh and traveled on.

Cuing soundtrack... CLICK HERE ...

But it continued in the baby dept. We were picking up some extra swim diapers for B3 and found some little guy sized swim trunks, that would be great for him as he grows into next summer, on sale. So as we were making our selections, the SalesLady asked, "Have you folks already had your baby or are you expecting?"

I was incensed!! HORRIFIED. Sonny saw it as a way to practice his Improv skills and totally told that old biddy, with a completely straight face, that "our baby is a year old." AND THEN PROCEEDED TO SHOW HER PICTURES ON HIS PHONE.

For real.

I was never so relieved to get a check out counter in my life!

That is, until the cashier politely acknowledged me first, and then as he saw Sonny handing me a wad of bills to pay with (no pockets in the cripple hippie skirt...), he asked him if he'd like to open up a Target debit account. I wanted to scream, this boy is only sixteen years old!!!!!!!!!!! But Sonny wanted to continue play acting. He smiled and said, "No thanks, the little lady here, doesn't approve, do you, sweetheart?" And while I stood there hopelessly stunned at both of them, he continued, "No, she doesn't want to save fifteen percent," grinned at the guy and tugged my arm to lead me away.

Finally, there was an elderly lady sitting on a scooter at the exit door. She smiled widely as we stumbled by, and gave me a very knowing WINK. I don't know by this point, if she could tell I was just a fellow cripp out with my boy, or if she figured I still had IT and had landed myself the jackpot of young lovers/keepers... Maybe she was a feminist?????????? ;) Heck, why not? Sonny and I laughed all the way to the parking lot.

Embrace LIFE, Young Lovers. Even when people are assuming the worst. You might even have fun doing it.

P.S. Still waiting for a pair of little velvet shoes... gift cards hang in the balance... ;) Do it!!

                            <3FROM ME2U, LOVE, RALEY BLUE<3

I SWEAR I'M NOT HIGH...and a CONTEST!!!!

Well OK. Here we are again and welcome as always to AureliaBluesDayTuesday!!

So, a lot has happened over the past few days and I'm kinda lost. I had a little stumble/tumble down the front steps late Friday night and long story short, I'm down a knee and two ankles. Recovery is going well, but I simply had to stop those pain pills. Short on the pain and waayyyyyyyy too looooooooong on my brain. So, I'm DRIFTING...

It's funny because, short story long, when I went out, it was about 11pm and my GirLovey who had been babysitting B3 while the rest of the Blue Fam attended Sonny's performance in a play (which was part of an evening of student directed One Acts and was nothing short of fantastic), had just given me a lecture about taking better care of the knee that I'd strained sometime last week, as well as the dangers lurking in the city after dark. I'd laughed her off. She and I are both perpetual worriers so laughter is our cure. Otherwise we probably wouldn't leave our houses. Like EVER.

So imagine being face down in frozen frosty dirt writhing in pain and hearing, "F***this, I'm calling the cops!" And an engine revs menacingly. And then, "I've got my shotgun, don't come at me!" And then, a lithe little teen aged girl comes flittering across the brick streets of our quaint town of 500. She's sobbing like Cinderella at midnight. And there's a boy! He's screaming, "Julie, stop! I'm not high! I'M NOT HIGH!!!! I love you! I F***ING LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I SWEAR TO YOU, I'M NOT HIGH!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I'm going to leave out the part where they stood inches from my head and subsequently attached broken hefty bod, and had this little quarrel, only moving on when they happened to look down at me with the expression of finding poop on the sidewalk. But it does sorta bring me to the point of this blog. I AM NOT HIGH.

I don't think...

For one thing, I don't like to be out of control of my faculties, so I don't go there. For another, I'm allergic to most medications and alcohol. And I had a near fatal reaction to second hand MJ smoke in my teens, so I avoid it all. I only took the little pills to get over the hump and start walking again on Saturday so I wouldn't end up a total crip. (Sorry in advance to my girly, Laura, who is reading that word and cringing, and to anyone else who is offended by it. I have a handicap sticker in my own name. I can call myself whatever I like, thank you.)

Anyhoo. I can't focus for crapola today. Here's the rundown of what my day has been like:

B3 had a plastic Halloween skull in his bed when I woke up this morning. He sings and poops for an hour before he gets serious about wanting out of his crib. When I woke to his daily constitutional serenade, he waved the skull at me and said, "Dis is Yorick. Dat his nameses."

I wrapped my own ankles with stretchy sports tape. I wrapped my ankles with stretchy sports tape...

SEE??????? IT'S BAAAAAAAD, YOUNG LOVERS.

Then I got online to send/tweet/fb today's special music and opened up my bloggy page here on Blogger. Guess what? "My boyfriend's butt," are the biggest key words that bring people in to my blog for the eighth week in a row!! That's what. Took me forever to remember it might be because of THIS POST ...

Not to mention that when I youtubed this killer song by THE BOSS , a video about how to make LITTLE FELT SHOES popped up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OK, I swear I am not high. This is awesome. Check it out: http://youtu.be/krqVD7re2Bg

Yeah, I can't look away. As if I need any more diversions, today, lol. So here's my contest.

The first person to make me a little pair of felt shoes (any size... I'm actually a US women's 9/ men's 7....and I'd love to be able to wear them... just sayin'...) following this vid's general instructions, and then contact me by email at aurelia(underscore)blue(at)yahoo(dot com) offering to mail them to me, WINS. When I get them in my hot little hands, I will send this winner a 20$ gift card to your choice of either Amazon, Starbucks or McDonald's. Not to mention fame and immortality on this blog!! (Come on, you know you want to, don't be a hater/poeseur/scoffer. ;) )

I'm waiting! :) And as always, With LOTS of luvs:

                                           <3 FROM ME2U, LOVE, RALEY BLUE <3





My boyfriend's butt

DON'T STRESS OVER V-DAY, PLAY BIG 22 WITH RALEY BLUE

There's a lot of bullcrap about Valentine's Day out there...

You know stuff like Christians and greeting card companies made it up. "I shouldn't have to buy something just because a holiday tells me too. Why should I be punished for being single?"... blah, blah, f***ity blah...

I'm not even going to humor it.

Or respond.

I'm sure it will come as no surprise to you to all that I adore Valentine's Day. (I totally did change my background to pink this week.)

End of story on that one.

And I'm not going to do a traditional post on the subject today. If you are a From Me2U, Love, Raley Blue devotee, then you know all about the game BIG 3... or you can read up on it, HERE ...

Today we're going to play BIG 22 (why 22, you may ask? Well because that's how many I have and it's my blog and... well you get the picture... now don't be hatin'... ;) ... it's fun) ...with L<3VE SONGS!!

Now, now, don't groan. A person's taste in music tells you so much about them. Have you ever met anyone who didn't like music? No? Me neither. I've met people who don't like live music, or rap, or jazz, etc. But I think everyone likes some music. It's hard wired in us. Music has been a part of the culture of mankind and many other living beings since the dawn of time. So even if you don't have a valentine or the inclination to celebrate the love, I bet you can still have fun sharing the MUSICAL love. :) Let's give it a try. (I've linked all mine, so if you want to listen, just click on it!) And because it's fun to share, I'm going to give a few notes here and there about some of my favorites, because while you can learn a lot about someone from their favorite music, you can learn even more about them from their "reasons why"... have fun!

1. LOVE IS ALL AROUND ~The Trogs (I tell this story a lot across social media, so forgive me if you've heard this before... but growing up in the late '70, 80's and early 90's, my parents didn't allow me to listen to modern rock, heavy metal, etc. Basically because it, according to them, was "from *whispers* the devil!!" But strangely, anything I could find in their old albums or on the Oldies radio station was just fine. Go figure... The first time I ever heard this song, the base chords just cut right through my heart and I was smitten. The lyrics aren't bad either. Yes, I was that day dreamy little girl you're conjuring up in your mind. ;)

2.THEN YOU CAN TELL ME GOODBYE ~The Casinos Timeless, endless love, unless you don't want it... give it a try. And if it don't work out, then you can tell me goodbye...

3. WHEN A MAN LOVES A WOMAN ~Percy Sledge This song is like church for me.

4. MAGGIE MAY ~Rod Stewart OK, I admit to loving the heck out of Rod Stewart in general, Young Lovers (you've seen my FB wall, lol), but I always crank this one and sing along. ALWAYS.

5. DON'T WANNA MISS A THING ~Aerosmith Crush on Liv, not withstanding, and my love of ARMAGEDDON, as well of course... oh it's just breathless, this song...

6. TAKE MY BREATH AWAY ~Berlin Talk about breathless! Crush on Kelly McGillis, Viper not blowing sunshine, and of course mad TOP GUN luvs in general, it's a song about connection. Deep, holy, emotional connection.

7. DONNA ~Richie Valens Ever hear the story behind it?

8. MAYBE IT WAS MEPHIS ~Pam Tillis Yep, from the two years I went Country. And yes, that was me dancing around my bedroom in front of the mirror singing into my hairbrush. ;)

9. ALWAYS ON MY MIND ~Elvis Presley Because we all f*** up sometimes, Young Lovers.

10. I DROVE ALL NIGHT ~Roy Orbison Ever done it? Enough said.

11. BEAUTIFUL ~James Blunt Because not all love is meant to be, Young Lovers. And that's OK.

12. WITH OR WITHOUT YOU ~U2 I write to it. I draw to it. I...

13. YOUNG TURKS ~Rod Stewart Totally would have done it myself, if my parents hadn't come around... still would today, even knowing all I know now...

14. HOT AND BOTHERED ~Cinderella I entered nursing school at age 18. I had to commute an hour and half each way, every day. I started early, like 4 o'clock early, and came home late. Like 11pm late, because I worked full time too. AxlBlue made me a collection of mix tapes of all the wonderful songs I'd missed in my sheltered youth to both educate my mind and keep me awake. This was the first one on Tunes II compiled by Axman Blue and was dedicated especially to me. Needless to say it got my blood pumping and spurred my gitRdone attitude each morning.

15. WHITE FLAG ~Dido Sometimes it's hard.

16. SK8ER BOI ~Avril Lavigne I loved a sk8er boi when I was young. ;)

17. FEEL AGAIN ~ One Republic ... million dollar phone...

18. GET ON YOUR BOOTS ~U2 Ok, I'm a total fangrllllllllllll...

19. COME AS YOU ARE ~Nirvana Awesome make-out song... I'm admitting nothing here ;)

20. BE MY BABY ~The Ronnettes "Nobody puts Baby in a corner."

21. ONE ~U2 Because, sometimes, there's nothing like love to leave lepers in your head...

22. and of course DON'T STOP BELIEVING ~Journey ...some of us were born to sing the BLUEs... I <3 AxlBlue and SonnyBoyBlue and KatBlue and PengBlue and BabyBoyBlue. :)

So, what are some of your favorites? Does love keep you believing? Or just give you lepers in your head? Share with me in the comments, pretty please?

Happy Valentine's Day, Young Lovers...
                                                     and as always...

                                              <3 FROM ME2U, WITH LOVE, RALEY BLUE <3

RUE

RUE
Written by Aurelia Blue

A story about life among crossroads, elder love, weeds, hunger and regret…

I know exactly where the sidewalk ends. My mom used to dump my sister and me out at the one red light in town and scream, “Walk, fast!” as she drove on through the green to the only high school for fifty miles in any direction. She was chronically late for work, which meant we were chronically late for school.

In the early years, the sidewalk ended at Grant School for grades K through fourth, about one city block from that light and the almighty high school and its athletic teams that beat like the heart of the community sending it’s streets out like arteries. Later, in grades five through eight, the sidewalk ended at the middle school, just at the edge of an enormous field of goldenrod that bloomed early in the southern climate and held on until the first hard freeze. If there ever happened to be one. My best friend’s parents had a nursing home just beyond it, but in our small town of less than a thousand people, it was well known you didn’t take a step off the concrete path. The Boneyard Woods was across the street, and a girl had been murdered there. So we walked the avenue that was called McLeansboro Street, both ways, practically from birth to adulthood. And never deviated.

That was 24 years ago and times have changed although not the way we thought they would. We don’t drive rocket propelled hover-cars among other things. In fact the coal train still comes through twice a day, stopping cars for 45 minutes at a stretch. I consider hopping through the slow moving cars, like I did as a kid, as I stand here waiting near the end of McLeansboro just feet from the end of the concrete that leads to the middle school. But now that I have one of my own kids, the seven month old towhead my grandfather has never seen, in hand, I decide against it. Besides, I’ve been walking hard for twenty minutes from the other end of the street, I can use the break.

As I look across the street at the Boneyard Woods and try to make out the decayed relics of the brightly colored gypsy carts and the possible bones of a horse or two, just as I did as a kid, I am keenly aware that I am walking toward certain death. Just not my own. Well, not today anyway.

The train drags by enough to clear the tracks and I walk on. I pass the school and descend into the goldenrod field. My head immediately thickens with the old familiar itch and pain. I’ve lived away from it too long and have forgotten how it just strikes you. It’s the ragweed, actually. Ragweed grows intertwined with goldenrod here, hiding from it’s natural predators and feeding on the healing herb’s medicinal properties.

At the edge of the field, I reach the little painted red brick building. I swear to all that is holy, it looks the same way it did when I was a child and my friend’s father held tent revivals out back where he preached the old Baptist gospel. She and I used to run barefoot across the lawn and into the nursing home to soak up the coveted air conditioning, a rarity in those days, the nineteen eighties at that, and visit the olds. I am time warping toward the glass and screen door now, listening to the roar of the air compressors as they pump that cool air in. I do in fact covet that cool air with all my being as I shade my baby’s head from the harsh, noon, April day sun.

I hesitate for a moment, my hand poised on the cold metal door handle, thinking of my family, three other children two city blocks away at the other end of the street. I left them there in the new senior living apartments with my grandmother. Right now they are laughing and putting globs of snowy frosting on a lamb shaped cake and sprinkling it with coconut. Shaking yet more coconut in a Cool Whip container with green dye to make grass. Later they’ll hide jelly eggs in it. I had no energy for it this Easter Sunday, so I came three hundred miles home to let her take care of my children. And my husband, who is passed out on the bed in her room, as she reads The New Yorker out loud to him, just as she did to me when I was a teenager. I am so broken, I think to myself as I pull the door open to the relief of the cold air blowing out so forcefully it makes the baby giggle.

I don’t recognize anybody at the nurse’s desk, my friend’s family sold the home long ago. The young aid who leads me down the hall, keeps glancing back over her shoulder as if she’s shocked I really said the name I said. She sweeps into a dark room, flipping the switch.

“Ed, wake up, you have company,” she drawls out cheerfully as she opens the blinds.

“What is it, goddammitt!”

This is pretty much the only sentence he ever says. The aid looks at me as if she’s trying to assess whether or not I’ll freak out and burst into tears. After all, my dad’s only been here once since he was admitted and my grandmother doesn’t ever come. She’s finally freed in a f*cked up elder divorce that I foresee becoming very popular with the advent of centenarian life spans and Medicare funded senior living apartments. Who needs a piece of paper when you can take your money and go live on your own, as you please; a liberty this generation of women is only now getting the pleasure of living. I can’t blame her. But then I know not every family is full of love and joy in each other. I smile as I tell the little aid that I’m ok, she can leave us alone. She looks both relieved and surprised.

“Hey, Paps, it’s me, how are you?”

“Enhhh,” my grandfather says from under his blanket that he has pulled up over his head. He’s looked like this the last three times I’ve seen him, which amounts to once each spring. Three years ago he recognized me immediately. Last year, he only recognized my husband for the first hour before he realized he also knew the kids. Two hours later, he put his hand on my swelling belly, and instead of giving me his usual admonishment about letting myself go and getting too fat to keep a husband, he’d laughed.

Hell, we’d all had a good laugh that day. My poor stubborn grandparents who had nearly died when I told them I was going to marry my boyfriend when we were nineteen, and had only managed wan smiles at the news of each of my three pregnancies in the following five years, had laughed long an heartily at my perceived misfortune at conceiving so near midlife. They knew we’d all have to let go someday.

“I brought you my new baby,” I say now, checking his fingernails for feces and boogers. His hands seem clean. I’m pretty sure he is naked under the white sheet. He’s been naked the last three times I’ve seen him as well. I see living in "the home" hasn’t changed him much. So I tuck the sheet around his gaunt body as tightly as I can before laying the baby in the bed beside him, who immediately screeches with delight and paws at his great grandfather’s face.

“Well, try that on,” Paps says as he nuzzles the little wet face next to his, “I think it fits pretty good.”

“Yeah,” I say, sinking to the cool floor the way I did when I was young and visiting the olds, reaching up to take his hand.

He opens the cloudy, Good Eye, and gives me a watery searching stare. I smile back sweetly. Affectionately. Trying not to think this may be the last time we come even this far. Does he know me? Will he ever know me again? I don’t care. We have this moment.

“It’s Easter Sunday, Paps. It didn’t rain Friday. Think it will rain?”

This is code for, I love you, please talk to me, let me know you love me too.

He used to say, “Not until Saint Swithin’s Day,” which meant he loved me back.

Regret pierces my heart in the dead silence that follows. I want to curl up on the cool floor in the fetal position. I am so hungry for God to give me a sign. Anything to let me know He, at least, still hears me. Isn’t this why I came home?

Say something. Say anything. Say, rain, back to me, if you can’t say, Saint Swithin.

I regret all the trouble of my childhood. I regret not taking a stand when DNR and Power of Attorney letters were being bandied about. I regret three hundred miles in the night to be with what’s left of my family on Easter Sunday when there’s a perfectly good burned ham sitting on my in-laws table and colorful eggs in their yard right now.

“Hey, handsome!” Another jolly little aid swings into the room. “Is he talking to you?” She looks at me huddled on the floor still holding my grandfather’s unnaturally soft hand that I’ve only ever known to be calloused.

“A little, yeah,” I say with my best lying smile.

“Hey, handsome?” She sings, sugary, into his ear. “You have visitors.

Suddenly, Pap’s eyes light up and he smiles and says, “Oh! Good!”

The aid winks at me and walks out of the room.

Paps returns to me with the watery stare. I stand up and pick up the now sleeping baby.

“You tired, Paps? I’ll let you sleep. We’ll talk later,” I say, acutely aware that this is probably a lie. I won’t be back for another year. Will he even still be here?

I stand over him as he lays in the bed with his eyes closed now and stare at his shrinking body with all the longing a child ever had. Tears pricking at my eyelids, I know I need to walk away.

Gently, still cradling the baby, I lean over the bed rail and kiss the side of his head, right above the ear. I know he wont like it, but I have to do it anyway. I have to say goodbye. All roads end somewhere, right? Might as well be here. I will not cry. This is how the game is played.

“I thank you for that,” Paps says the instant my lips flutter away, “Do it again.”

“Okay,” I say through the smiles and tears. And I do. Do it again, as he drifts off in a peaceful sleep.

The walk back to other end of the street is hot and scratchy. Pollens are everywhere on the breeze as I pass Grant’s playground now littered with broken shells from the morning’s egg hunt.

I choke it all back as I enter the new Senior Living Center. The Golden Girls, as I call the other residents, are all gathered around my grandmother’s table, fawning over the lambie cake she taught me how to make and now my daughter’s have made for her. They nibble on the deviled red beat pickled eggs cut in tulip shapes that my son has made in just method, she taught my young hands to do years before. My grandmother sits, the belle of the ball, surrounded by her family and the traditional homemade goodies they’ve brought from afar. She’s alone here now, she doesn’t get to be queen often.

“Well, you done good,” she says, walking me to the door of the Center. “And to think how we fought when you were a child. It comforts me now to know you are a Believer, you know?”

“Yeah?” I take the panoramic photo of her farm house, the one built from her own design, with all its flowers and hummingbirds buzzing around it, from the basket on her walker. It is her parting gift to me. So I don’t forget my home.

“Yep.”

We hold hands for a long time as my husband loads all the kids and bags of diapers and Tupperware into the van. Finally we let go and I walk away, putting on my sunglasses so the kids wont see the tears threatening to run down my face.

She’s still standing there on the patio when my husband pulls around under the portico.

“I like the tinting on the back windows,” she says pointing to the van.

“Yeah, it’s good for the kids, especially without any air.”

“Yeah, that’s good. Keep them cool until the sun sets and the night air comes in.”

“Okay.” I smile.

“Okay.” She smiles.

We each blow a kiss as the van pulls away, back out onto the street that has two ends, one life, the other death, with all the regrets, weeds, people in different ages of distress and heroines in-between.

We will travel on.