10 "Must Knows" for Moms, Gran-mas, Nanas and the like...

1. Silly Putty will always find its way onto white clothing and any color carpeting...Goo Gone will remove said putty.

2. Drool happens...repeatedly

3. Glitter, and anything else marked "Non Toxic" is edible...though it tends to only be appealing to the palette of those three and under.

4. Food, especially cake, tastes better when eaten via forehead osmosis.

5. Snowmen don't have to be gigantic, and, as was the case in my childhood, can wear any number of garments, including those usually reserved for the "under" classification.

6. You will see this look a lot...don't be a sucker (all the time).

7. Get your rest in when they do...

8. All photos, even those that are Blair Witchesque, are worthy of posting, emailing, blowing up to wall portrait size...

9. A child chewing Spaghetti O's will ALWAYS have to sneeze.

10. Though it is true that ever child is different, you will inevitably love them all the same.

Fueled by procrastination, Mello Yello and triple chocolate brownies, and feeling quite at peace in my comfy, brown recliner with both girls bathed and bedded and a slow drizzle falling through the cool autumn outside, I am officially entering the mundane, yet new-to-me world of blogging. Thoughts of "who cares" and "what to write" keep creeping up, but in actuality it just feels nice to be writing something other than notes to teachers or entries in the checkbook.

The change of the seasons has brought about a change in me. A need to "turn over a new leaf" if you will; to get back to writing for fun and entertainment...to get back to what I know and love.

So in homage to the season and writing for fun...here's a little poem I wrote, you can read it line for line (sorry...Beach Boys crept in):

Missing Red Apples

There was a time I knew him well,
when days were long and nights were thick
with fog that hung like moss on trees
in bayous far away. A tree
with apples hanging red and ripe
would shelter us from raging winds
and rain that strained against the leaves.
We sat beneath the dappled limbs –
devoured the red of waxy skin
and juicy flesh that even Eve
was helpless to resist too long.
The sweetness tasted good off lips
so dear to my young heart.

There was a time I knew him well.
Now days are short and nights are thin –
no fog to hang like moss on trees
in bayous far away. The tree
lost apples one by one, now none
remain to feed our lust. He left
the day after the storm, like clouds
who leave behind a dampness thick
and heavy - dampness casting pink
and red and yellow lines across
the sky. The wind blows cold across
my face. I lick my lips and try
to taste the juice of apples. Oh,
how I am missing apples now.

(Comments Welcomed)