The Forest for the Trees

By lytspeed Posted in General Leave a reply

The picture below was taken from an elevated walkway leading to an office building in Marietta, Georgia. I’m amazed at how tall and lush the forests here are, and how they maintain their density, even in the city.

Tall Trees
In Colorado, trees don’t grow anywhere close to this height, especially deciduous trees like these. Due to the lack of moisture and low air density, trees simply can’t grow this tall up there. To me, Georgia seems humid, though not unbearably so; everything’s green and vibrant. The people here, though, are desperate for rain, so this must be a comparatively dry Georgia summer.

Meanwhile, it looks like Colorado is going to have another tinderbox year, with several spring fires already torching thousands of acres.

Yesterday was the summer solstice, as my wonderful wife pointed out to me in an e-card this morning. Unfortunately, that means my home state is just beginning to reach its hot season.

That kind of gives a depressing meaning to the words “keep the home fires burning.”

Missing in Atlanta

By lytspeed Posted in Original Poetry, Poetry Leave a reply

Missing in Atlanta
(A Sonnette)

These Georgia pines obscure the waning moon,
Reminding me how far away from you
I am.  I wonder how I’ll make it through
The next ten days before the end of June.

I curl up on the edge of this king bed,
A pillow crackles underneath my head.
I clutch another, wish for you instead.

— Stace Johnson, 2006

Southwest By South

By lytspeed Posted in General Leave a reply

I never learn.

I keep hoping that I will find a good Mexican food restaurant in the South, and I keep being disappointed.

The last time I did this, I went to a no-name restaurant in Olive Branch, Mississippi. I had hoped that I would get some authentic Mexican food if I steered clear of major chains, but it was not to be.

When my food arrived, I was shocked. The “enchilada sauce” was basically thin ketchup, the gound beef had no seasoning, and the cheese on the taco was mozzarella. It was a huge disappointment.

Today, I’m in Atlanta, and I had lunch at a restaurant called Frontera Mex-Mex Grill. The atmosphere is not bad, the Diet Coke is perfectly balanced (I am in Atlanta, after all, the home of Coca-Cola), and the salsas are not bad, if a little bland for my taste.

 

Mexican food -- sort of

Now the bad news. Once again, the cheese on the taco and enchilada is mozzarella (or some non-Mexican white cheese.) However, the ground beef tastes pretty good, and the enchilada sauce is … okay, I guess. The real disappointment is the blob in the upper left corner, with the flag sticking out of it. Believe it or not, that’s not a dumpling sitting on a pool of hollandaise, though it appears to be. It’s actually supposed to be a chile relleno. Yes, there is a paper-thin piece of green chile under the deep-fried skin; I checked.

Don’t let this happen to you. If you are from the Southwest, like me, do yourself a favor and avoid Mexican food restaurants in the South. Go get some good ribs, or jambalaya, or something that the South is famous for. Your stomach will thank you.

Blowing the Dust Off

By lytspeed Posted in Family, Non-Fiction Leave a reply

It looks like it’s time to blow the dust off this blog again. Was the last entry really in November 2005? That doesn’t seem that long ago, but according to my calendar, it was about eight months ago. My, how time flies.

A number of things have come to pass since then, including gainful employment with IBM. In addition, I have a few more ComputorEdge articles under my belt, Keith and Logan are out of school for the year, and I have another writing opportunity taking shape behind this curtain over here.

But the most significant thing to happen in the last few months involves my wife, Lannette. She has been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia Syndrome (FMS), a recognized disability under the Americans with Disabilities Act. FMS is an often misunderstood malady, and some doctors don’t even recognize it as a valid disorder. Personally, I think they would recognize its validity if they had to deal with it from day to day.

I don’t have FMS, but I am familiar with it. I recognize it from when my brother had Fibromyalgia as a corrollary to Sjogren’s Syndrome. Lannette’s situation is a bit different, because FMS is her primary diagnosis; it is the source of unpredictable pain that moves all over her body from day to day. Living with FMS is a crap shoot for her. She just returned from a trip to visit family in the Pacific Northwest, and even though it was supposed to be a relaxing, renewing trip, it wore her out. She was exhausted when she arrived at DIA, and is taking it easy for a few days.

I’m constantly amazed by my wife. She’s the strongest survivor I’ve ever known. She was two blocks away from the Murrah Buiding in Oklahoma City when Timothy McVeigh blew it up on April 19th, 1995. She has been physically abused in ways that would stagger anyone, yet she still had the strength to fight back from all of that to start and administer an Internet newsgroup for women who have survived domestic violence.

I know that she will find her way through this challenge, find her “new normal.” She always has, always will.

Shekhinah

By lytspeed Posted in Original Poetry Leave a reply

You press my head into your breast, my tongue
Pulls in a little more. Your nipples send
A shiver to the center of your core.

My lips move down, I taste your nectar, wet
And warm between your lips. I lick your clit
And when you gasp I ride your writhing hips.
You arch your back and thrust your mound against
My wet and eager face. Your cries subside as I
Slide up to share with you your taste.
We kiss beneath an ethereal mist;
Our love is why the ether can exist.

You taste your juices on my tongue and kiss
Me deeply, hard and long. You wrap your legs
Around my waist and pull me to you, strong.
I slide inside you, smooth and deep, as far
Inside as I can be. You moan and tell
Me, “Fuck me!”, in your eyes, intensity.
As I explode inside you with a squeal,
The mist above turns into something real.

We love on many levels; it reflects
Into the worlds above. The Being born
Of mist becomes an offspring of our love.

— Stace Johnson, 2006