Fire In My Veins
The sun has set
The world gone still
A chill in my veins
As I wait for you
To walk through that door
To be mine once more
The fire shall burn
The flames shall warm
As I walk into your arms
Tag Archives: heat
Fire In My Veins
_Picture it & Write/ Ermilia
A princess, a virgin, not only her gift that had been saved for…
_Picture it & Write/ Ermilia
A princess, a virgin, not only her gift that had been saved for the right person, but the heart had been left untouched. Pain had never entered and torn the seams of her heart.
Tears never beimg shed. Skin white as snow. Brought up by loving parents who bought the daughter every thing a heart could desire.
But love can not be bought. Love can not be earned. Only love can be given.
Shared between one soul and another. Secrets tucked deeply within, spoken through eyes and touch.
Warmth from a hand touching hand. Fingers entwined. Feet touching feet. Knees brushing softly against another.
Yes, this is what the child craved and yearned for her entire life. She was brought up in the finest schools. She wore the most expensive linens, shipped in from afar. Gold draped from the tiny dip in her neck. Light catching reflections from ear lobes.
Yet love had never been bought. The once pure heart was now open at one edge, letting feelings with no name pierce her like a needle being pricked on the finger. A chill wiggled freely down the spine, when eyes would take in internal photos of others holding hands, stealing kisses.
Desires rose inside the body. Heat came to the surface causing blushing cheeks and a feeling of becoming faint. She wanted what she did not recognize. Her body letting her know there was more to experience that she had not yet tasted.
Graduated from school, a black limo coming to a halt in front of the magnificent cherry wood doors. The door opened and once inside the grand hall coldness set in as she looked at the walls and ceilings screaming riches.
Climbing the spiral staircase, walking familiar steps, opening the once too familiar door, she sat at the lace draped window staring out over the hills of green. Looking down over the blue water, watching the caretaker tending the pools, her loins stirred as she took in the silken skin. Watching him take his red handkerchief out of the back pocket she could not help but notice the snug fit of the legs trapped behind the rough material. Molded of muscle running down to feet now bare to the earth, browned from the sun.
The mind could only wonder what lay beneath. Grabbing her hand fan she moved it in front of her face, wishing the beads of sweat a way. Fingers touching lips, she got up and changed her clothes.
Walking down towards the pool, taking a seat on the lounge chair directly across from where he worked. He looked up and marveled at the beauty he saw. Feet cemented she didn’t want to leave. He tipped his hat as his job was done and it was time to move on to his next task.
Each day eyes searched the grounds in hope of seeing and feeling the tingle that was buried deep inside her. Each time they met, conversation became longer, smiles were exchanged, arms brushing arms.
One day she did not see him. Going to bed aching not knowing how to soothe the inner turmoil, she slipped her house coat and slippers on. She quietly closed her door behind her and made her way to the pool.
Dropping her covering she slid into the water, letting the coolness enter and take a way the heat. In a short time she was no longer alone. Hands reaching around her waist, reaching up and cupping a breast, the familiar heat rose once again. Passion came pouring out through her eyes and her lips. Fingers exploring, slipping under the bubbles the heat she once did not understand was put out by a flame that no amount of money could ever have purchased.
She now understood as she lay in her bed, unclothed, blankets tossed aside, she touched her lips and outlined the smile. She touched the once virgin area and her desires surfaced once again. She closed her eyes and dreamed of this meeting again, maybe the next night.
- Picture It & Write, 28 July 2013 Meets Plotting Bunnies, Week 11: The Woman of the Lake (starvingactivist.wordpress.com)
- Picture it and Write: Awakened (hotchocolateandbooks.wordpress.com)
- Picture it & Write: RIOT (adithyaentertainment.wordpress.com)
- __agent and editor wishlist (ermiliablog.wordpress.com)
- Picture It & Write 9 June 2013: The Battle Rages On Without Me (a random segment) (starvingactivist.wordpress.com)
Spider In The Furnace
Too many types of emotions today, and the only way to get rid of the bad ones are to do
what I know how to do best, BLOG! The good thing was that I got to say a bunch of thank-you’s today. I posted that blog first, because I wanted to settle down and be able to type correctly, instead of cursing at the world, for something that is no one’s fault out there in blogger world.
Remember the song, Where Do I Begin? This is the way I feel. This morning, I woke up before Al, so had the medications out, and his juice and milk poured in their special two-handled cups.I got dressed and brushed my teeth and hair. Started the coffee maker, and let’s see, did I do anything else? No, not at that time.
Al got up as I turned the coffee maker on, so helped him with his breakfast, got him seated, and went into his room and emptied the potty commode, and changed the wet bed.
The coffee being done, I sat here for about ten minutes, going through emails and enjoying my first cup of coffee. I did not have the first cup half done, when the shower girl appeared ready to give Al his shower. While she gave him his shower, I sneaked in some time and paid one of Al’s hospital bills, and the phone bill, and the gas company bill, then the doorbell rang again.
I quickly placed all receipts away and went to the door, and the furnace man was standing there. I had called him on Friday, letting him know the blower to the furnace was not kicking on. He went about his business looking the heating machine over, and at the same time Al was done with his shower. He and the shower lady made their way out here to the living room, and there was some small chit-chat as usual, and then she left.
I could find no one to sit with Al and I desperately needed to go to the bank, and to the grocery store, so we waited for the furnace man to be finished, and he said the reason the blower was not kicking on, was that there was a spider web, built over the pilot, and this was not allowing the flame to burn high enough to force the blower on. He cleaned the web out and tried the furnace again, and poof, magic, everything worked.
I dug up some money and paid him for his services, and thanking him I walked him out the door. I came back inside and gathered all of the trash together, as our big trash bins are at a place where it would be hard to walk to . No one in this addition leaves trash at the curb, which is good. It helps keep critters out of trash, and any nasty bugs that might want to come and feast.
As I am gathering trash from Al’s bathroom, I notice the furnace man forgot or did not put the two doors back on the front of the furnace. This makes me very nervous, when the wires are all showing in the open, because our furnace is in a hallway, and this is sometimes where Al stumbles or falls, going in this small area.
I tried to place the doors back on myself, but could not do it. I have watched my son do it a few times, and still can’t get it to clip on exactly right. I called the furnace man back then and asked him how to do this and he sort of laughed. I did my best to ignore the laughter, as he was letting me know that I was a dumb woman. He said he thought that I had taken the doors off so he let them remain off. I said, no, you took them off, I watched you do it. He says he doesn’t remember what kind of furnace it is. Now I realize he is an elderly gentleman, but he had been here not even twenty minutes earlier, and he didn’t know how the doors hooked back on? Give this woman a break, I am not a blonde today, I am a brunette! No gain, he didn’t come back and so they remained off.
I hung up from talking to him, and got the trash bag outside, and then helped Al with his coat and hat, and got my cell and my smokes, purse, and keys, and we left. On the way out of the drive way I noticed the leaf truck had been here but the leaves were still sitting there, and he walks over to me and says to me,tell your son, that if he is going to mulch the leaves, that he can not leave them here as the machine that picks up loose leaves can not pick them up now as they are too small.
I tell him I will give my son the message, and off we go to do our errands. I did manage to get everything done, but it was a big, big ordeal for Al going through all of this with me. We get back home and I bring in the load of groceries, and Al tries to help me, bless his heart, but it is just too much for him, so I tell him to go rest. In between this, I text my son who lives very close, and ask him if he can run down for just a moment, and he replies yes.
I go about putting the rest of the groceries a way while waiting for him, and get the freezer and cold items safely placed, and my son knocks. He did not come alone, he brought his family along with him, which is alright with me. He says,what do you need? I tell him about the furnace door and the leaves outside, and he flips out on me, letting me know that this is not his house nor his yard, so not his leaves, and not his problem. I stated that I was just delivering the message, that I did not ask him or tell him he had to do something about it. For all I care at this point, the freaking leaves can blow a blunder into the wilds.
My son asked me how many times am I going to ask him to slip the doors back on the furnace, and I had called him in this cold weather just for this? I explained about how I felt unsafe with all the wiring showing and with Al’s falling, I would feel better if the doors were back up, a safety thing in this house. He made me feel like crap. He said it wasn’t that important for him to run down here just for that. We argued a bit, me letting him know I was his mom, and that once in a while, he should respect my wishes, and just do this for me without bitching at me like a little kid.
He continued on that I should have been standing over the furnace guy watching what he was doing, because no spider web would do that kind of damage, and then I would have been able to tell him to place the furnace doors back on, or better yet, watch the furnace man place the doors back, so I can do it and not have to call the son to do it when it is not his furnace.
I don’t know if that furnace man ripped me off or not, maybe there was a spider web, maybe not, maybe there was a loose wire he wiggled, maybe not. What pisses me off is the lack of respect from my own kid. I snapped at him and told him I have to pay for everything you do for me, and maybe sometimes he should do something for me because he is my kid and I am his mom. He told me that I should not use guilt trips to make him feel bad.
He did put the doors back on and then they all left. When I get mad, I start shaking. I do not cry, which would be easier, I just stand and shake all over. Al was looking at me, and for the fact, in between son and me arguing, I had also fixed Al’s lunch, so he was eating and watching and listening, and maybe a little scared at the raised voices.
He and his family went home, and I went back to putting groceries away, and mumbling under my breath. Al finished his lunch and went to his room stat! I came over here to the computer then , and one tear did fall. I was on an instant anger and pity trip.
Why did I have three kids,and why don’t any of them call or help or act like they want to know if I am alright, or dead or alive, or even ask how Al is…My son had told me that I lean on him too heavily, and by this he meant the leaf raking and mowing and anything else he does for pay. I have five big trees, so there is a lot of raking. I help as much as I can, but I hate leaving Al in the house by himself, in case he falls. Last year, I raked a lot, but Al was nothing compared to the way his is this year with his health. He told me to ask my other two kids for a change. My other two children, I can not ask, my one son has medical problems, and my daughter lives in another state.
Why can’t I ask the son who lives near by? Am I taking advantage of him as a child? I don’t think so, and where is the respect for a parent? I did not raise my kids to be disrespectful at all.
All I know at this time and moment, is that I am questioning why did I ever move back to Indiana. The answer was I felt like we needed to come home because this is where everything is as far as Al’s health goes, and I missed my kids so bad.
Right now, if I had the money and Al was in a different situation, I would place my home on the market, and get the hell out of dodge. Go somewhere where I am not facing cold temperatures like today and big winds. I will never go back to Florida, too darn hot, but maybe to an area where people in general are friendly.
There, I have said it, and it still hurts, but I feel a bit better.
Children will step on your apron strings when small
And on your heart when they are grown. This was always my grandma’s saying, and I believe it is true. I want to blame myself for something to make me feel better, but this time I am not taking the blame upon my shoulders. My shoulders are already filled to the maximum taking care of Al.
- Old Man Winter is Coming! Tips to get your home ready! (laurieallengroup.wordpress.com)
- Rags near furnace blamed for Spokane fire (krem.com)
- This ‘n’ That Friday (sagechronicles.wordpress.com)
I Can Do This Without Looking
Ok, I am not going to throw myself on the floor and cry and say naughty words and kick my feet and stomp my fists. I am not going to call the President because he doesn’t care, and this would not seem an out right emergency to him, just to me. I won’t even look up the phone number of the city council here or the aging and disability center, because I have tried to get help from these long time locals in the past.
I will act like a lady, even though at this moment I feel like the town drunk, just going into Andy Taylor’s city jail, getting ready to open the oh so familiar jail cell, to sleep my drunken stupor off, only to find a stranger lying in my bed.
I woke up from a very restless night. Tossing and turning, hearing Al’s tremors most of the night. My eyes told me they were tired and they were begging to close, but my mind would keep telling them to forget it. My mind was on an artificial caffeine high, and would not rest.
When I put my feet down on the chilly floors, I knew it was time to turn the heat on. The chill over night was to be 34, and although, I knew I could just put layers of clothes on, I convinced myself that it was not really that cold in here. Then I walked into the living room, where several souls must have died during the night, because that room was cold.
I could not see my breath, so it wasn’t too bad, so I flicked on the electric fireplace, and went to the kitchen and turned on the oven for a spell leaving the door open. You see, it is a fight of the mind each fall. When do I turn the heat on? I know that once I turned that switch from cool to heat, I have lost the war. The heat will remain on until spring, even if we do have a few warm up days ahead. The switch glues itself to the heat side, and no matter what I try, it will not go off until it sees the buds on the trees, and then it loosens it grip, and I am able to once again turn everything off until mother nature’s heat kicks in.
So, I know that my warming our home up and getting the chill out of here, can be done in about fifteen minutes time, and if the sun doesn’t warm up the air, I can leave the fireplace on, but I think that I am going to have to turn the heat on here this week.
So, after this battle of the mind game is over, I wonder in to see if Al is awake and he is. I am hoping for a better day, as yesterday he was in bed all day except for meals. He was awake and up and he felt so good, I think, that he left me a welcome gift of a total bed change. Wow! Talk about excitement! I had not even had my first cup of coffee yet, and I got to change the bed! By the way, don’t ever pray for excitement, you may get more than you bargained for!
I changed the bed and started the one load of laundry for today. I emptied his commode pot, with the one dead fly in it. Gross! Yuck! It’s alright stomach! You won’t throw up because you haven’t eaten yet. Just don’t look and get it dumped and cleaned out. There you did it, and it wasn’t so bad now was it?
I then came out here and poured my first cup of coffee and set down at the computer and something told me to check my cell for missed phone calls or text messages. Who ever or what ever told me to do this, knew that I needed to look. Thank you to who ever planted that thought, because, there was a text message waiting for me.
It said and I quote, I thought that this coming Friday was the last day for me coming to give Al his showers, but it was last Friday. I am so sorry, but I won’t be there, have a nice life.
WTF? No shower girl? I have to give my own brother a shower and see his nakedness? Where was the courtesy in all this? Why didn’t you tell me last Friday, that you knew that this coming Friday was going to be your last day? Let alone, you say you found out this morning and are not even coming today, Monday! Where was the phone call to tell me ear to ear? A text message? How rude!
I called the office while my hot coffee started to become lukewarm, and they told me they were going to check on this whole thing, that as far as she knew, everything was going to be final this week. I tell her with my nicest fakiest smile, that this is such wonderful news and I am so thankful that they have let me in on their secret, so that I can place an ad in the newspaper and try to find a replacement for a shower girl.
I get off the phone and Al looks at me and the tears begin, and he says, they think that I am getting better? I don’t feel better? You are going to give me my showers? I tried to rattle off the basic explanation of what hopefully is some error for today, but it didn’t work. Al went to his room to sulk at the thought of his sister giving him his shower and the lack of social interaction with the therapists.
I am done writing for now, as I have had my little bitch session, and hearing no phone ring, or text alert go off, and no doorbell, I guess I will go give him a shower.
- 20 Showers Drake Should Buy (complex.com)
- 5 Ways to Make Your Showers Shorter (bellasugar.com)
- Now You Can Shower Lying Down (bellasugar.com)
Before, I say anything, I just want to let you know that I am in a good mood. Although, having to go outside and pick up crap was not fun.
After getting up this morning,and realizing no one was going to be stopping by, I took my time drinking my coffee and enjoying my blogging friends. I even showed off one of my granddaughters earlier this morning.
The sun was hinting to me that it was warming up as the central air kicked on. I fought it very hard, but inside my heart, I knew I needed to get outside to clean the yard before I turned into a roasted marshmallow!
You realize this is the same thing we do with God also. We know what we need to do. It is right there in our mind and our heart, but we fight it and fight it. We either turn our backs on God and turn into a disappointment, or we listen to him and do what is right, and move in his work and word.
So, I get myself dressed in a one piece romper, terry cloth. I know I do not have the figure to wear it, but who is going to see me?, a passer-by, the squirrels, or maybe an old lady peeking out of her window? haha. I walk outside and I feel the heat. I have my flip-flops on. I know I should be wearing my shoes and socks, because I have diabetic Neuropathy, but gosh darn, it is hot, and my feet were begging me to be free. I felt the sun beat down on my delicate little fat toes, and I quickly moved to the shaded areas to start my job.
I believe this is the fourth clean-up job for me,although the other three were done together with other helping hands, so it is just me out here alone. I do what I tell others never to do. I work for a while, and then look at what is ahead of me yet. I do know that doing this makes me more tired than I was a moment ago. Never preach what you will not practice.
As I moved inch by inch, I was picking up nails, staples, little pieces of tar papers, and single pieces of shingles, and some of them were double shingles. I filled up three bags and a garbage can of trash. What made me a little irritated, wasn’t the fact I was cleaning up from the roof left overs, but I was picking up the guys junk also. Water bottles, bottle labels, cigarettes and food wrappers. Are you serious? I have to touch those dirty butts that someone else sucked on and had in their mouth? Cooties for sure! LOL. I know they deserved to smoke, and drink, and even eat, but something about touching those ciggy butts made me ill, and I smoke, so it must be a germ thing.
I had two small piles on the cement where the car sat, and I tried a couple of times to sweep them into the bag with my broom and a dust pan, but I could not keep the flimsy plastic trash bags open, and they are even Hefty ones, strong, powerful, made to do any job! Not!
I go inside where Al is sitting all nice and comfy in his recliner, in the cool air, and ask him if he can help me outside. He didn’t want to go, not so much because of the Parkinson’s, but he didn’t want to help, but he came out. I don’t know what was going on. Maybe it was the mental challenge, or the heat or the Parkinson’s or the idea he didn’t want to help, but it was a useless idea. He could not or would not hold the bag open for me, and when I tried putting the dust pan inside of the bag, it would only catch half and the other half went back to the ground. Now it is 91 degrees out here in the shade. I can’t do this. Diabetics, at least me, do not do well with our sugar management when we are over heated. I sent him back inside, and went to the natural scooper, my hands, and got all of the big stuff, then used the broom and dust pan for the final touches.
I put all the tools away, swept off the porch, ran the broom around the edges where there were millions of tiny pieces of sparkles and little beads from the old shingles. The edges of the house were coated so that the color of the house looked like black mold. After doing the sweep thing, all color came back. I picked up all extension cords, boom boxes, and walked all around the house with my little black bags. If a child would be a passenger in a car going by, he would wonder if I was Santa. My skin was turning red from the sun but I had a black goodie bag, instead of a red one!
After three hours, and a mild sun-burn so far, and a nice cool shower, and clean clothes, I have finished the project. Now I am going to post this and take a nap on my couch with the air running and a light weight blanket covering me with my own soft pillow. See you all later on, after Al wakes up from his nap!