Archive for September, 2010

September 19, 2010

Just plain good days.

>Yesterday, My mom came down to my house. We spent time together, driving all over oceanside doing some little Carter shopping and idea making. We made a Target baby registry, grabbed a starbucks. Toffee mocha decaf frap for me… chai latte for her. We had chik-fil-a for lunch, and boston market for dinner. We talked deep.. we talked light. We gossiped and laughed (well, at least I’m honest.) We did the mother/daughter thing. It was pretty much exactly what I needed. Just my mom, just me, and the freedom to competely relax around someone who knows me. When she left that night, the typical come down came. The house felt lonely again, but happy. If you can be a happy lonely… I was a happy lonely =)

Today, my dad came down. Again, it was exactly what I needed. We went to Wal-mart and bought a car battery, then put it in the car together. We ate a great lunch at longborder’s cafe. I had the longborder pm and he had the classic cheeseburger. When we got home we sat on the couch and youtubed ukelele music and played together. When he left it was the same feeling… lonely, but happy. Everything was good. Great even. I felt loved, warm, like a daughter again. Its weird to be “grown.” Even weirder to forget how nice it is to just be their kid again.

I had a good happy two days with my parents. The simple easy days mean so much sometimes ❤

September 19, 2010

…only in my photographs.

I know myself better than you will ever know me. The closest you will ever come to knowing my mind is thru my eyes. But I must admit… I am one to not believe that eyes are the windows to our souls. I believe that eyes are the “windows” only to our more true emotion. Even if it is true, an emotion does not define a soul. Emotions are fleeting… souls are constant.
Some cultures believe that cameras take a piece, if not all, of one’s soul. Some cultures believe that photographs are evil. Some believe that pictures are thieves. I do not believe they steal from us. I dont not believe they take hostage. I do not believe they conquer our souls.
However, I think they bare truths. More truths than our eyes. Some truths other people will not see. Some truths only ourselves will witness. I believe sometimes photos bare raw intensities about ourselves that sting, that heal, that anger or enlighten. I believe that photographs have the ability to sometimes show us fibers of our minds, hearts, and souls that we would never find in a mirror. Maybe because its a frozen image we cannot change like you could in a mirror’s reflection. Maybe its only there in a photograph because we cannot camouflage our emtion in that instant the shutter snapped. We cannot hide. It is there… staring at you… and not leaving. Even if it is a beautiful photograph, it can bare ugly truths. Truths that hurt. Truths that take us back to places we’d rather not travel to. Truths that seem pretty on the skin, but crack and crumble our bones. Truths that will forever remain frozen, haunted, and staring.

(taken 2007)

September 18, 2010

Daisies have shells too…

>When no one is looking, I sway.

When no one is looking, I kinda… dance.

When no one is looking, I open up and face everything with a delicate strand of hope. Strong for my size. For my size, not delicate at all.

When no one is listening, I hum. Sometimes I actually sing.

When no one is listening, I laugh at outloud. Or louder than usual.

When no on is listening, I cry. Weep. Let show in my eyes what is happening in my soul…

When I think I’m in my perfect solitude, I dance, I am strong yet, strong enough to be weak, I let melodies take me back, I remember how funny my laugh truly is…

Is it really possible that I dont know how to be this around other people?
When reality snaps back and I realize… Im not the only daisy in the field…
suddenly, my shell closes over. Is it sad that letting you in scares me? Even if we are identical life matches? Sometimes this shell closes even when I dont want it to.

Unfortunately, this daisy has a built in, relentless, preprogrammed forcefield.

Even daisies shells.

September 14, 2010

-tonight’s 9pm dinner-


Tonight’s dinner was THAT good.
I was sitting on the couch being sucked into my usual FB routine of nonsense when It dawn on me… I was hungry. As soon as the thought occured I knew exactly what I HAD to have… something cheesy, chickeny, creamy, and ricey. It was an immediate crisis. So I dug around the fridge to see what kind of veggies I could put in it. Knew thing: VEGETABLES. LOVE them. I found the following:
red bell pepper
& carrots (not so fresh… I had to do some serious weeding)
I then grabbed my chicken from the freezer and threw it in the sink to defrost. While it was defrosting, I chopped all the veggies, and boiled some rice and the carrots. (btw-butter is essential to boiling) When the chicken was defrosted, I cut it into bit sized pieces and tossed it in a pan with the cherubs, some minced garlic, olive oil, red wine vinegar, curry, salt&pepper, and basil.

In the pot with the rice, I stirred in some mushroom alfredo sauce and the rest of the vegetables. (the carrots, chives, brocolli, and red bell pepper.)
When the chicken and cherubs were done suateing, I tossed it in with the rice and veggies, grabbed a handful of chedder cheese, and mixed until melted.
It was EXACTLY what I was hoping it would be: perfection.
September 13, 2010


>I feel as tho I cant break down this barrier between myself and a happier “other side.” I get itchy. I tug at my hair. I clean maticulously. I sleep. I don’t leave the house. I can’t shake these thoughts, these emotions, this pathetic weepiness. I can’t get them off me. I want to shed skin. I want to start over. I want to go over there and be with him. (I’ve come more than close to buying a plane ticket.) I know what I married into.. I know it like the back of my hand. I know I dont cope well with this. I know I have major separation anxeity. I love him tho. I love him more than anyone has ever loved anyone. We’re young and dumb and beautiful and intense and fantastically naieve about life. I would never choose the easier breathing, the easier life, the easier anything over him. “I’d rather be with you in a cardboard box than in a mansion alone.” He’d always say. I always told him. The crazy thing is, we both mean it with everything we have. I’d rather be in Afghanistan with him than in this house alone. I feel like Im trapped without him here. Like these walls confine me. I truly dont uderstand marine wives at all who have “fun” wile theyre husbands are deployed, I dont understand how they can sleep with other men because “they just got to lonely.” I genuinely cannot grasp how a woman, a wife, thinks she has it any harder than her husband does. He wants to be home just as bad as I want him here. He misses me and it kills me that I can’t fix it. I can’t do anything. I can only sit here. And wait.

I feel like I just walked thru a spider web and can’t get it off.

September 11, 2010

the saddest song ever played…

>The saddest song ever played isnt a country song. It isnt an R&B. It isnt an aria or ochestra piece. It isnt even a hymn. To me, in my tiny world of knowledge and expierence, the saddest song ever played is Butterfield’s Lullaby… better known as Taps.

With only 24 notes and 8 measures, it plays the heartbroken woes of fallen soilders and the importance of our American Flag. It plays so perfectly the tears that roll down a mother’s cheek, a lover’s unconditional love, a child’s confusion, and a father’s pride….

Since I was a child, that song has torn me to shreds. I hate it as much as I appreciate it. I’m comforted by it as much as it makes me hurt. Early this morning, in rememberance of September 11, 2001, Butterfield’s Lullaby as played over the loud speakers. I lay curled in my bed with the window open, listening. Waves of pure silence flooded the base. When I normally hear people talking, cars humming, children laughing… there was nothing. Everyone was still. Everyone was quiet. Everyone was remembering. Except me. I do what I always do when I hear that beautiful song… I cry.

The saddest song ever played…

September 11, 2010

my Italian chicken concoction. y u m.


You will need:
2 boneless chicken breast
garlic powder
onion powder
salt and pepper
1/2 cup of sliced yellow onion
1/2 cup of sliced cherubs
mozzerella cheese (as much as desired)
Italian dressing (as much as desired)
Gabrielle’s unbelieveable Italian Chicken Concoction.
1. defrost boneless chicken breast thoroughly.
2. preheat oven to 350 degrees.
3. grease pan with a bit of pam.
4. place defrosted chicken in pan.
5. sprinkle garlic powder, onion powder, salt and pepper on chicken.
5. make little cuts in chicken.
6. place slices of cut yellow onion in cuts of chicken and toss in the rest of the 1/2 cup.
7. toss 1/2 cup of sliced cherubs on the chicken.
8. sprinkle chicken with some basil.
9. cover chicken in mozzerella cheese.
10. drench chicken in Italian salad dressing.
11. bake for 35 minutes.
12. admire.
I’m telling you… unbelieveable. I would post a photo of this miraculous wonder, but I have since lost my camera battery charger, therefore; dead camera and hence, no mouth-watering photo.
My sincere appologies.
September 7, 2010

t o m a t o. s o u p.


Have some.
Its amazing.
September 4, 2010

oh my little one…


Last night proved that in all unwanted there can be sweet moments. At these times I learn that the littlest things are what I take for granted most. Yesterday was a difficult day that scarred my calendar, but the inbetween, the black hours of solitude, made the waking hours of today, beautiful.
Last night, I tossed and turned, got up a few times to check the internet. Its become a problem.
went back to bed. phone in hand. nothing.
Carter was quiet, still, when normally at this point, hes moving and rolling. Listening to my voice. You might say Im losing it, but I know my son is already minding his manners. I’ll ask him to roll to the other side and he does. Maybe him and God both know what I need right now. peace and comfort.
But last night, there was no Carter tumbles. No uncomfortable stretching out. I missed him. I missed being uncomfortable. I talked to him, but he didnt wake up. I poked him a little and he didnt move.
So I sighed and rolled over.
In the middle of me slipping off into sleep, the phone rings. I looked at the number and I knew it was him. I answered and started crying, but only enough to make me catch my breath. My love has a hard time keeping it together when he knows Im falling apart.
We talk for only a few seconds when my baby within wakes up. He heard daddys voice. For the entire time me and my distant love were talking, our baby rolled and kicked and stretched. He punched and did somersaults. He pushed himself way up high and then way down low. They were happy movements. He was dancing. He knew it was his daddy. Its what our Carter Levi needed too. He needed to hear his daddy’s voice.
When our conversation ended, I felt little Carter roll over on last time and go to sleep. I felt that. Sounds funny to say… to be able to know my child, his thoughts and actions already.
I just looked at my ever growing tummy and daydreamed of the day I would actually see him interact with his father.
I dreamed of the moment Gregory will hold his son for the first time.
Then I realized that me and my child are feeling the same thing..
He misses his daddy too.
September 3, 2010

[ i don’t want to ]


Yesterday I worked from sun up to sun down. There were times when I got annoyed trying to lift something because I was unable to, many of the things I could lift, I couldnt carry them like I normally do… I had to shift it to my sides from my ever growing belly. I did the transfer of my homes barefoot. not smart. It felt good yesterday to do something other than lay there, stuffed from to much overwhelming emotion. It felt good to keep my mind busy. My thoughts were constantly running. But at the end of such a constantly in motion day, I tend to feel even more alone when I finally lay down to rest. Now my body is no longer working to balance unborn child and boxes of dishware, Im not eating, Im not thinking of what else I have to do, what Ive accomplished so far, if Ive made enough progress to help out the guys with the bigger items, if I should stop, if I should keep going, what else I want to get for the new home, what else I need to get for the new home, Im no longer thinking of the excitement of picking up the new stuff me and gregory have picked out together. no. none of those thoughts are happening now. Now, Im just laying there. Body exhausted and my mind… desparately tring to find something to think about, but its just to tried as well. I lay there defeated by my own will. Obsessing starts to unravel me. I watch my phone. I fall asleep with it and wake up with it still in my hand. Im terrified Ill miss his call, but I never do. Im terrifed. terrified. terrified. The deep silence of night kills me. His baby moves inside me. He tumbles so soft and mellow. He rolls and stretches. I sing him his lullaby that I made up two years before he was even thought of. He was thougt of. dreamed of. So I hum his tune and he goes to sleep. I weep. Ive never loved two people more. Sometimes its more than Im capable of. Its so wonderful and surreal. Like I dont deserve it.
I lay exhausted. Even more so than just from the labor of the day, but from the emotion of the night. I dont want to do this over again tomorrow. I dont want to.