Tag Archives: hope

No One Saved Me



So I was watching a TV show in the middle of the afternoon, which I hardly ever do. I was looking over my Voice Over Auditions and they required a voice to sound like the Narrator on this  Particular Show, so I clicked on my new handy dandy Netflix Account and off I went. I thought I would be able to watch five minutes of the show and get the character down to do the Voice Over. I should know better. Anyone telling a good story….I’m a sucker for….for  life ….nevermind an episode’s worth of storytelling.  

All of a sudden I was ALL the Characters in this show. I was the girl who took away her friend’s Boyfriend in the heat of sexual passion. I was the caring boy watching from afar…never thinking I could have anybody, never mind, someone as gorgeous and popular as this girl had been…I was the gorgeous girl who KNEW she could have ANYBODY….but mostly….I was the young naive, beautiful angel girl that found herself in trouble and texted her brother for help, for she  found herself being sexually violated as I was those many a times…. because I trusted his charming words instead of his Piggish intentions.  

Then all of a sudden things became quite dramatic, and I found myself almost on top of the  screen of my computer in a rigid….can’t take my eyes away from the screen…terrorized anticipation. THe BROTHER!  THe brother came to the rescue!  He looked at his text from his sister….he was having the biggest dream night  date of his own with the gorgeous, popular, boarding school girl,….but he tore himself away….tore up the stairs looking wildly for his sister, with his date, who was the one that cheated on her best friend with her boyfriend.(turns out what really happened is they fell big time in love and she left their town and went to boarding school to punish herself…but that’s another story…). By this time my face was all but buried in my computer screen, and I was ELATED  and so relieved that the angel girl got SAVED!  And even Better…by her Brother! Mission Accomplished…. My pumping adrenalin found it’s way back into it’s snail shell. Then came the tears. 

No one saved me. I didn’t know how to save me.  Kiss and don’t tell. I didn’t tell. For a long time. About all the times.  I keep thinking they are gone….”those episodes…”  I wish someone saved me. I wish I could have saved myself. Maybe it’s not too late.


Pasta Pretty



Any Pasta….can make you feel pretty again. Really. It’s true. Any pasta, made with love, can help you forget all your troubles, forget all your cares, lickidy split!  “Try it! You will like it! “

Lately, it seems that all I do is write about food! Nourishment for the soul. I guess that is what I am needing for now. How about YOU? 

I came home from work tonite, feeling sassy…not quite “Stella in her groove” yet. Kind of..”.I’m almost there”…if only I could……THEN I will be happy!” kind of mood. So….of COURSE…my pasta had to have lots of sultry seasonings, like capers, pesto, sunflower seeds and WINE!  The more I kept tasting the fruits of my labor as it kept sizzling over the flames….the better I felt.  Perhaps it was the wine. I like to think it was fate. I felt triumphant as I watched it all come to life in one big happy bowl of  over flowing yumminess as it slid it’s way into my beautifully designed, Pasta bowl. 

Perhaps it was …the long ago memories. Way back when. My son’s father left us.  The blue eyed boy…. he was very little. I was very scared. Our best friends moved in with us. We were all fledglings, or refugees or broken souls or something quite dreadful and foreign. But we became a new kind of family. Brought together by betrayal….and necessity. We…the Mommies, were too shell shocked to cook cool stuff. We had all we could do to not cry into the  spilt milk….the raising of these boys. We talked. We cried. We took them to the circus. We made Easter Eggs. We cried. We picked each other  lilacs and savored the fragrances of hope. We made Pasta. We made “kitchen sink”, elegant at times, ho hum, incredible….Pasta! The boys always loved it. We always ate it. We didn’t eat much in those hapless days of pain, but we always ate our pasta. We told each other we were beautiful. Pasta made us feel pretty amidst the tumultuous  job of navigating a new way of being for these fatherless boys. Hooray for Pasta. Hooray for Pretty. Hooray for strength and capers…..seasoned with LOVE!