How to Handle a Woman

This is how my sweet Darrin handles me. He loves me so much. How can I ever, ever love him enough???

You really ought to hear Darrin sing this. It makes me cry. He and Richard have a thing going in sync.



How to handle a woman,
There’s a way said a wise old man,
A way know by every woman,
Since the whole rigmarole began!

Do I flatter her, I begged him answer,
Do I threaten or cajole or plea,
Do I brood or play the gay romancer?
Said he, smiling, "no, indeed!"

"How to handle a woman,
Mark me well, I will tell you sir!
The way to handle a woman,
Is to love her, simply love her,
Merely love her, love her,
Love her!"

How do you solve a problem like . . .

I've always loved this song. I guess I identify with it. Or, rather, I identify with Maria. I would rather be off singing in the hills, enjoying life than stressing over everyday life. I have my own way of doing things. It annoys people. I don't color within other people's lines, and that drives regimented people crazy.

Take me as I am, or just don't worry about it. That's what I say. It isn't worth the stress to either of us for people to try to change me! We'll all be happier that way.

I'm going to try to make happier blogs now. I'm tired of being gloomy.



She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee
Her dress has got a tear
She waltzes on her way to Mass
And whistles on the stair
And underneath her wimple
She has curlers in her hair
I even heard her singing in the abbey
She's always late for chapel
But her penitence is real
She's always late for everything
Except for every meal
I hate to have to say it
But I very firmly feel
Maria's not an asset to the abbey

I'd like to say a word in her behalf
Maria makes me laugh

How do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?
How do you find a word that means Maria?
A flibbertijibbet! A will-o'-the wisp! A clown!

Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her
Many a thing she ought to understand
But how do you make her stay
And listen to all you say
How do you keep a wave upon the sand

Oh, how do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?

When I'm with her I'm confused
Out of focus and bemused
And I never know exactly where I am
Unpredictable as weather
She's as flighty as a feather
She's a darling! She's a demon! She's a lamb!

She'd outpester any pest
Drive a hornet from its nest
She could throw a whirling dervish out of whirl
She is gentle! She is wild!
She's a riddle! She's a child!
She's a headache! She's an angel!
She's a girl!

How do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?
How do you find a word that means Maria?
A flibbertijibbet! A will-o'-the wisp! A clown!

Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her
Many a thing she ought to understand
But how do you make her stay
And listen to all you say
How do you keep a wave upon the sand

Oh, how do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?

Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head

This is such a fun song. I remember singing it when I was a kid. It's a childhood memory. I have so few of them, I really treasure it.

So, I'm having some new health problems. I just have to let these things not worry me. They come to me so often. I get major health issues like other people get a cold or the flu. I don't really understand why, but it has always been so for me. I can either be frustrated and distraught about it, or I can just accept it for what it is, another hurdle in my road, and move on. Hurdles come and hurdles go. I've passed them by before. I've had over 20 surgeries in my life. It looks like I'm coming up on a couple more in the near future. ///Sigh///

Nothing's worrying me . . .



Raindrops keep fallin' on my head
And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed
Nothin' seems to fit
Those raindrops are fallin' on my head, they keep fallin'

So I just did me some talkin' to the sun
And I said I didn't like the way he got things done
Sleepin' on the job
Those raindrops are fallin' on my head they keep fallin'

But there's one thing I know
The blues he sends to meet me won't defeat me
It wont be long til happiness steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head
But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red
Cryin's not for me
Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'
Because I'm free
Nothings worrying me.

Goodbye Tammy Marx. I will miss you.

My friend died in the past week. She lived a difficult life, filled with pain and physical struggle. She fought an inspirational fight. She fought alone. Her family did not understand her, and tried to make her decisions for her as if she were mentally incapacitated. She had a brilliant mind, and was frustrated most of her life by their inability to see her intelligence and ability to manage her life with skill and adeptness.

Today is her funeral. I will lay one large, red rose beside her in her casket. This is difficult for me to do, because I do not go to viewings. I don't like to look in on dead people. But I want to give one last thing to Tammy, because I want to give her a lovely red rose, to symbolize the vivacious and passionate life I know she would have lived if she had been given the opportunity. Instead, she lived her life bound to a wheelchair, obligated to those whose whims controlled her.

So, this is for you, dear Tammy. I will miss you more than you would have ever known. I will look for you in sunsets and in rainbows, and I will see you in all things free and beautiful.



Pray God you can cope.
I stand outside this woman's work,
This woman's world.
Ooh, it's hard on the man,
Now his part is over.
Now starts the craft of the father.

I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.

I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking

Of all the things I should've said,
That I never said.
All the things we should've done,
That we never did.
All the things I should've given,
But I didn't.

Oh, darling, make it go,
Make it go away.

Give me these moments back.
Give them back to me.
Give me that little kiss.
Give me your hand.

(I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.)

I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking

Of all the things we should've said,
That were never said.
All the things we should've done,
That we never did.
All the things that you needed from me.
All the things that you wanted for me.
All the things that I should've given,
But I didn't.

Oh, darling, make it go away.
Just make it go away now.

It's Not Easy Being Green, and other ramblings

This is a funny kind of song. It has always made me melancholy. It's from a muppet, for pete's sake! Why does it make me so melancholy??? But it does, and it does the same for Darrin, too. He said the first time he saw it on Sesame Street, he was probably 4 or 5, and it totally turned him off the show. Funny. That's all. So, I'm feeling kind of melancholy, so it suits my mood.

I keep thinking about the family I grew up, or didn't grow up, in. I really think I didn't truly grow up until I got away from them. I didn't learn to stand up for myself, I didn't learn to be myself, I didn't learn to like myself until I got away from them. I like who I am now. For the first time in my life I like myself. I've stopped hating myself and I've stopped trying to make people like me. I've stopped trying to be something I'm not. I spent my whole life running around trying to be someone I wasn't, trying to be a person that people would approve of. Now I just try to be myself. Some people just don't approve. I'm learning to live with that. It's not easy being green - you know the rest.

I tried to kill myself twice last month. Terrible thing to do to my husband and kids. I can't believe I was that out of my mind. How off my rocker was I? I look back and just can't imagine it. It makes me cry for them. How did they get through it? What was I thinking? I was just out of my mind, that's all. I can't even wrap my mind around it now. But I still have sad thoughts even now. Mostly those sad thoughts revolve around the abandonment that comes from the family of my birth. I think about my oldest brother who raped me. I think about my next oldest brother who I dedicated so much time and love to, only to have him betray me so horribly. I think about my other brother who committed suicide and I understand why. I think about my one sister who left the family like I have and for the same reasons. I think of other siblings and I know we just have the most dysfunctional family. My parents just refuse to face the issues surrounding the dysfunction, and they turn a blind eye to it all. Consequently, their family is crumbling around them. That all became so heavy to me last month.

My memory of my childhood incest came to me not too long ago, my parents abandoned me, and the rest of the family followed suit. Then someone I had considered a good friend completely flipped out on me and turned out to be someone I didn't know she was. Then, on top of it all, my bishop showed his true colors and made evident the fact that he did not like me at all. He screamed in my face and told me to "GET OUT OF MY CHURCH" (his exact words). I didn't go to church for a month, and felt utterly betrayed and abandoned. I plummeted into the deepest, darkest depression I have ever been in, and felt no hope of ever surfacing for air. I tried twice within a week to kill myself. Both times I overdosed, first with painkillers (Darrin discovered me and called the ambulance. The local hospital narrowly saved me.), and then with sleeping pills (This time I changed my mind when I could feel myself dying, and Darrin took me to the hospital).

Now, I am dealing with the ramifications of my actions. I am racked with guilt for what I have heaped upon my children, the weight of what they know. They know about my mental illness, the big secret is out. Mommy is very sick. But they also understand. J tells me "I don't like it when you're sad, mom.", when he sees me cry. That breaks my heart. I'm trying so hard to not be sad. But how do I erase the lifetime of sadness I've lived? I lived for 30 years pretending I was not brutally raped by my brother, and I created sorrow upon sorrow for many of those years, in my attempt to cover up my pain. On top of that, I have physical scars from my brother's abuse. My little body was battered, and I have pain in places and in ways that just should not be. Every ache and every pain reminds me daily of the torment I endured at his hands. And so the torment continues. I must find a way to end it without ending myself. I must find a way to be content with my life, to end the torture that my mind perpetuates and be happy within myself, despite the pain that has been thrust upon me. This is no small challenge.

I must find a way to rise to the challenge.



It's not that easy being green
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves
When I think it could be nicer being red, or yellow, or gold
Or something much more colorful like that

It's not easy being green
It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things
And people tend to pass you over
'Cause you're not standing out
Like flashy sparkles in the water
Or stars in the sky

But green's the color of spring
And green can be cool and friendly-like
And green can be big like an ocean
Or important like a mountain
Or tall like a tree

When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why
But why wonder why wonder
I am green, and it'll do fine
It's beautiful, and I think it's what I want to be

Mr. Lonely

Stupid Bobby Vinton.

The Boxer

I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest

When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station
Running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Lie la lie...

Asking only workman's wages
I come looking for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

Lie la lie...

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me,
Leading me, going home.

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains

Lie la lie...