Wing and a prayer.

I’m all about talking about the not so pretty side of life. Let’s talk about how life doesn’t always go as planned and how you end up in interesting situations sometimes.

Last year, I was worried about selling my house, moving across the state and starting a new job. Last night, my major life problem was trying not to moon the good people of Kansas City.

I’ll take this year’s problems over last year’s problems, hands down, no contest, please and thank you.

—

The first Wednesday of the month is always my favorite day of the month. I go to Nearby Big City to attend a poetry competition. I've only read at said competition once, but I like going every month to see what everyone else is writing. (Hint: They're all better than I am, and I like that.)

I got there a bit early and ate at one of my favorite restaurants. I had 1.5 waters and a mango lassi. (Please remember this part of the story and take notes. It's important. There will be a quiz later.)

I got to the poetry competition place and I forgot something in my car. I walked back to get it, and as I sat down in my car, I felt and heard a very loud rip.

Oh noes.

I know what that sound is — it’s the sound of my pants peacing out for the night and for the rest of their life. There will officially be a funeral for those pants, because they are not coming back to life.

I split my pants in Kansas City, guys.

I was initially really happy about this, because introverts love excuses to skip social events.

Once I drove away, I realized I had a major problem on my hands. I had 2.5 drinks at dinner (non-alcoholic, mind you) and now I have to figure out a way to stop at a gas station without getting charged with indecent exposure.

I never thought I would write a sentence like that, but here we are. It's time to put my adult pants on, which are so ripped that I can't even explain how ripped they are, and figure this problem out on my own. (Calling Mom and Dad about this problem is not acceptable, I decided. They are 300+ miles away and probably playing Scrabble and don't care.)

It’s June. Although it’s been cool out, I did not bring a winter coat or an extra pair of clothes, which are things that I usually keep in my car in the winter.

And my giant purse, which would cover my backside, was in my trunk.

I ran through a few scenarios in my head:

• Find a secluded back road, which is not my style.
• Wait 1.5 hours until I got home, which was not possible.
• Pull over at a gas station and just figure something out when I got there. Wing and a prayer it, if you will.
• Rip up a reusable grocery bag, with no scissors, and wrap that around my waist —not the most feasible of options.
• Call someone I know in Kansas City and ask for help. I don’t know anyone in Kansas City. 🤦‍♂️
• Call a clothing store and beg an employee to bring me a jacket outside so I could go inside, which would likely land me in a psych ward. Who begs for a jacket in June?

I went with the third option, the pulling over at the nearest gas station and just figuring it out. I parked at the back of the gas station, found an old coat that did not fit in my trunk, held it around my waist and then strolled into the building like I owned the place.

When your biggest life problem is trying to not moon Kansas City, I think that means life turned out all right.

I usually do pretty good in stressful situations, and then freak out when everything is nice and normal afterwards. I also feel the need to say that I don’t wear those pants that often because they’re baggy on me, and very distressed.

Well, they’re a little more distressed now, I guess.

🤷

It was a lovely dream.

Love

Dreams

Cozy sleeps

Red like his wine

And the cherry in my drink

It was a lovely dream

Gold

Like the ring I wanted

but never got

Summer

Drunk music

Loud as we could get it

A flask in the neighbor’s yard

Laughter

Breakfasts

Road trips

Meeting his family

Him meeting mine

Blue

Like his eyes

In the summer skies

Brown

Like my knee high boots

He asked me to wear

Like coffee on my bedside table in the morning

And his couch

A pile of clothes on the floor

And I still want more

Football games on bar TVs

Rooting for purple, not orange

Kisses

Tongues and touches

Passion

Holding hands

And each other

Gentle touches

Cute clutches

Fall

Orange, red and yellow everywhere

A city starry night sky

Music downtown

Long walks, art, museums

Taking Ubers around town

Leaves on the ground

And then I was down

It was good while it was good, and then it wasn’t

It was alive

Until it wasn’t

White

Like his sheets

And the snow

And his lies

And all the times I tried

It felt like love

But it wasn’t

Could have spent forever with him

But won’t

Not love

Not passion

Not red or gold

Or purple or white or yellow

Black, like

Loneliness

Unfaithfulness

Unreturned messages

Love unappreciated and 

Unhindered

Staring at a wall

Wondering if he’ll call

or care at all

Or fall 

back in love

or lust

or whatever that was

Thinking about how fast time is moving

Without him

Missing him

Lies

Deceit 

Cold feet

Rejection

No affection

Sleeping on his pillow

It smells like him and he’s not here

Colors everywhere

All around me, yet all l I see is 

Grey

Cold and brokenness

Snow everywhere

Mud and muck

Gave him my all, gave him my best

How does love go from happy one day

to dead the next?

I'm working on myself before I find you

People ask me why I do things alone

Plan a trip across the country out of the blue

I tell them because I want to, but the truth is

I’m working on myself before I find you

 

Road trips, airports, layovers and subways

A cute coat for a big city, a glittery shoe

I’m wandering all around the country

to make sure I like myself before I meet you

 

I’ll do yoga, journal, meditate and write

I’ll buy a house and move on my own

I’ll go to lunch and travel with friends, and if they don’t

want to go, then I’ll do these things alone

 

I’m working on myself before I find you

I need to make sure I’m good company

I don’t mind standing on my own two feet

before I find someone else to accompany

 

I’ll park a few block away

from a bookstore in the rain

I’ll people watch on the street

and I’ll wonder about their pain

 

I’ll spend hours picking out what I want

Thumb through the stacks, getting a feel for what I like

I think books are like relationships

In that no two are ever alike

 

I’m working on myself before I meet you

Let the rain drops hit my skin before I go inside

I don’t need an umbrella, I don’t run from the bad things in life

I want to feel this and I don’t want to hide

 

I’m making sure I like myself

I’m cautious of who I trust

I need deep conversations – philosophy, arts, and science

And if I don’t find that, then I need to adjust

 

I’m working on finding myself before I find you

My patience, my shopping, my sense of wonder

I know you’re out there somewhere – to talk to, lean on

and make love to under the thunder

 

Rain drops on the roof

Melodic and peaceful

I’ll be able to hear you breathing

Rhythmic and beautiful

 

I’m working on finding this

But I have to like myself first

My kind of love is instant and pure

and love shouldn’t feel like it’s rehearsed

 

I’m working on myself

before I meet you

In hopes that someday

Someone will love me, too

 

Love is patient, love is kind

It does not envy, it does not boast

The kind of love that’s in the Bible

Is what I want the most

Flies in

There are a couple of topics that are on my mind that I haven't touched on yet.

The first one is creativity.

There's no way to say this with class, so I'm just going to throw it out there. It's really, really hard to be creative when you're homeless.

(How's that for a sentence I never thought I'd say out loud?)

Before I sold my house in my hometown, I had ways I could be creative if I felt like it. I knew where all of my belongings were, so if I wanted to paint, I could paint. Not only could I paint, I could paint several things.

Canvas! Paint pouring! Watercolor! Pastels!

So many options!

Perhaps someone made me mad and I wanted to reach for an adult coloring book full of naughty words?

I did that often.

Or maybe if I was down, I could reach for my favorite book of all time, which always cheers me up. (The Five People You Meet in Heaven.)

I've learned through therapy that I have to have an outlet when things get bad. I can't just sit around and do nothing. When things get bad, I need to have my fingers doing some sort of art to get my mind off of things.

The thing is, though, when you don't have a permanent roof over your head, all of these creative outlets are packed away in boxes hundreds of miles away.

It sucks.

I do have some of my possessions with me right now, but I haven't found my art supplies yet. I don't know where my colored pencils or markers or paints are.

I did find my favorite book the other day, though, and I cried like a baby when I unpacked it. And then I hugged it (and its prequel) and then I cried some more.

Painting, photography, design and all of the other creative things that I like to do are all secondary loves in my life. I'm good at some of those things, all right at some of those things, and mediocre at some of them.

But those all secondary loves of mine. My first love in life will always be writing.

I never thought my writing was worthy of being in pretty journals, so I never bought them. I always just bought notebooks that kids use in school to write in.

But recently I've learned that maybe I am worthy after all. 

A few weeks ago, I bought a set of three journals. The one I'm currently writing in in black, just the right size, and has a moon and flowers on it.

My writing is worthy of being in it.

Some of the writing I can share on here, some of it can only be shared with my closest friends. (I'm so, so sorry, guys. Haha.)

It's been years since I've written with pencil and paper.

I've learned to find that creative escape and just roll with it. 

--

Every time Raven goes outside here, I hold the door open for her.

She takes her sweet time. Sometimes she gets lost and I have to pick her up and toss her outside.

I've been telling her for a few days that she's really good at letting flies in. Fyi, letting flies in means you're cute, but you're pretty much worthless.

I wrote this tonight. 

I thought you'd like it.

--

Flies in

 

I saw my brother’s kids

the other day

A red head and a curly blonde-haired kid

‘I love you 100’ they’d say

 

It’s summertime in Kansas

100 degrees in the dry summer sun

I gave those kids a flyswatter

And then I let them run

 

They screamed and ran around

started smacking things

Watching them reminds me

of the songs we used to sing

 

On the swings

On the playground

As I left to go home

I hugged them and told them I’d see them around

 

Their baby sister

Blue-eyed and dirty blonde hair

I just want to sit her down

And explain all the drama she’ll fair

 

Sometimes you meet someone

who’s only good at letting flies in

And then when that door finally shuts

Your whole world will spin

 

Three little girls,

Seven, seven and five years old

In 10 years, they’ll meet a boy

Then they’ll be whirled and twirled

 

Three little beautiful girls

I don’t know how to tell them this

In 10, 15, or 20 years

Their whole world will be amiss

 

Stay little as long as you can, girls

Don’t play with make up yet

Instead

go outside and sweat

 

Play your little heart out

Jump on the trampoline

Sing as loud as you can

Dance in the basement with Papa and a tambourine

 

Sing about rock and roll

About coconuts and chicken wings and all those times when

Do this before you fall for someone who’s only good at

Letting the flies in

 

Take a wooden spoon

Sit on my kitchen floor

Bang on the tubberware containers

While your Grandma laughs in the door

 

Please color me pictures

To hang on my fridge

If you keep painting and drawing me more

I’ll move them on the door just a smidge

 

I look at these beautiful kids

And wonder when

I’ll find someone who is good at something

Other than letting flies in

 

Girls, go fishing with Papa

Whenever he wants to

Lie about how big the fish is

It’s okay if some things are untrue

 

Please name the fish

Flower, Sparkles or Cutie Pie

And give that fish a kiss

before you meet a guy

 

I can never explain

how much I love you

Please run to me, let me spin you around

Before all the drama and boys ensue

 

Please don’t grow up too fast

And when I ask for a kiss

Go to the cabinet, pull out a chocolate one

Place it in my hand, God I’ll miss this

 

Kids, the only thing your aunt excels at

is finding men

Who are only good

At letting the flies in

 

Please hug me as hard as you can

I’ll take you swimming and sledding

And then I’ll take you home, tell you I love you so much

And tuck you in under your Spiderman bedding

 

I’ll go back to my house

Reach down deep within

And silently wonder when I’ll meet someone

Who’s good at something other than letting flies in

 

Girls, there will be a day

When your daddy will walk you down the aisle

And it might take a while

But I’ll be right beside him, with a smile

 

And I can’t wait for the day in your life

When I find out

who flies in