jan roswold brown: Preview "Success and failure, percentages"

jan roswold brown: Preview "Success and failure, percentages"

Success and failure, percentages

I wrote a lively little piece about walking and venting about life in general, but somehow screwed up trying to post it. Rather than try to duplicate my meanderings maybe everyone should imagine their own venting about success, failure. So, today, I will address denial. Denial: the ability to not see the truth that stares at you and speaks in loud voices in your ears and sends you away with guilt wrapped around you like a necklace made of heavy stones. We rationalize what we want to do. And what we don't want to do. Not quite convincing us that we shouldn't carry the guilt around. So, after days of full on denial about what I really should do and what is good for me and what I WANT to do. I give in to denial. I have prayed. I think I know what is right, I am just not ready to give up what I think I want and shouldn't. Oh well. If I am lucky, I won't be able to post this either. Denial. It's an art

Venting about walking

The NOVEL continues

Okay.  So, I am re-writing my novel,  WAKING UP, for the ....umpteenth time.  As I take out the very poorly written parts, the book gets shorter.  And shorter.  This may end up as 'short' story.
Well, poopah.
I do add things, and mostly I like what I add, until I read the entire chapter and go,.....hmmmm, didn't I already say that?  Or, more likely, that's dumb.
But I still enjoy the process.  I write every day, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening, sometimes both.
My days are lovely.  As soon as I get up, dressed, teeth brushed, I am out the door for my morning walk.  I hate it.  I am, however, 'mildly over nourished', and if I don't exercise, I will become fat.  My husband said that time is nearing.  Boo Hiss.  Or is it Boo Him?
So I walk.  Somedays I go to the pool and swim instead, or in addition too.  Yesterday, I walked and went to the gym.  I hate it all.
In a perfect world, we could eat pretty much what we want, (with reason, of course, and everyones reasons are different :).), exercise moderately; walking to the fridge, bathroom, car, around the mall, etc., and stay a normal size.  Like an 6, or 8.  Well, I'm a 12, once in a while a 10, and once in a while a 14, but mostly a 12.  If I get down to a 10 or :) an 8, I will have to buy new clothes.  I think my husband would rather I stay fat.
I have altered my diet.  I no longer have my snifter of B & B in the evening.  I have only one beer before dinner, not two.  I don't eat potato chips, I have switched to baked sweet potato chips.  I eat my hamburgers without the bun.  I limit my ice cream to Gelato. And, well, that's about it.  I mean we are trying to eat more healthy, but it's hard.
I don't do hard very well.
So, my rant for the day is over.
Couldn't I just take a pill?

Uh oh. It's Friday the 13th. My 63rd birthday. I'm having a great day, kinda waiting for the 'other shoe' to drop. Hope it does't! 102 earthquakes here in the last 13 days. Most pretty small, but....does this mean something?

Thirty one years ago today, my youngest child was born. She was 5 pounds even, so scrawny she looked like a baby bird. Lots of brown curly hair. Now she is married, 2 loving children, going to school to become an RN. You never foresee what these tiny babies will do nor how they will fill, crush, and fill again your heart. Happy Birthday, my daughter. You are loved.

My dog is a poodle, not a pitbull. I'm afraid of pitbulls. My husband loves me. I love him back. Our three married children have blessed us with nine grandchildren. We live in a tiny, lovely home in a place with palm trees, sunshine, free golf and lots of good friends. We have a great little van we travel in. Most of our family are pretty healthy and ALMOST normal. Money coming in is close to money going out. Sometimes. Is life perfect? Pretty much. Does it have to be? Not at all. I don't know the reason God has blessed us with such bounty, I can't think of any reason we deserve it. On my knees, I thank you Lord, for all you have provided. It isn't luck. Maybe someday the other shoe will drop, meanwhile, I'm going to sit in the sun, have a glass of wine, lay my head back, smile and breathe deep.

The story of Pietro and Valencia was born November 26, 2009, Thanksgiving, after an evening of dancing, dreaming and wine. I have had the honor of sharing the creating of this saga with my brother. What a wonderful experience; I wrote a chapter, then he wrote the next. Not only was it fun and challenging, but it brought us closer to an understanding of ourselves and each other. Everyone should be so lucky. I have had great difficulties with editing. I write it but when it appears it's all jumbled up. In frustration I have given up trying to fix it, please forgive the details, just enjoy the story. Two years, four months, one day and the end is now here. I will miss the rash, naive young lovers, the loyal but weak villagers, and yes, even the evil Coyote. It's been a fun journey and I have truly enjoyed it. Will I write another? Who knows? It's all part of God's plan. Jan Roswold Brown P.S. I know there is someone out there who can teach me the technical part of this blogging. I really am not an idiot, just...well...you know. I would love to be able to present this story properly. Volunteers welcome.

Pietro and Valencia part seventeen

The Coyote was on the prowl. A venomous slime oozed out of his pores, his hair was matted with vomit and his clothes stiff with dried offal. He cared not at all. He was consumed with the need for revenge, something he was very familiar with. His body was weak, dehydrated, sore, but he was in his truck, it was running, rough, but running. He didn't know it but he was very close to the turnoff that led to Estrella's little house. "Madre Diaz!" The Coyote spit out words like bullets. "Where is that fucking road? If that little sucker gave me wrong information I will go back to the village and kill him again!" The people back in the village had yet to discover that a young boy had been tortured and murdered. When the body was found, with the letters c, o, and y, scratched crookedly in the dirt, a bloodied hand grasping a bloody stick, it was obvious that the boy had been left for dead, that he had lived only long enough to try to identify his killer, that he had suffered terribly before death gave him release from his pain. No one had any doubts who it was that had created this gruesome scene. If the villagers had been angry with the actions of the Coyote before, it was nothing compared to the rage that grew within each of them now. The young boys Mother kneeled on the ground next to her son beating the ground with her hands, keening with her loss. A few of the men drew away from the crowd. No words were spoken, they knew what they must do. Each went their separate ways to gather things they would need to punish the man, no, the animal they would soon seek. It was not long before they met again, loaded their things into a truck, most of them riding in the back, and blew dust as they headed out to capture their prey. El Diablo's truck slid sideways, brakes squealing, as he tried to make the turn that would lead him to Estrella. The truck rocked, almost on two wheels before the spinning tires grabbed the dust and the vehicle roared on. "I am coming, you old whore! You will tell me where they went or get your wrinkled old skin ready to be scraped from your body!". The Coyote howled. He almost hoped the old woman would resist so he could cause more pain. He thought of the screams he would hear. He smiled. He was pushing the truck so hard it slid from side to side as he flew up the road. It was not long before Estrella's house came into view. The grin grew wider. The mouth and the spaces where teeth used to be formed an evil look, almost like a face carved into a jack-o-lantern. Estrella saw dust before she heard the sounds of the truck. She knew who was coming. She was ready for him. She knew the information he sought from her would never pass her lips. After a life lived alone, caring for herself, Estrella was not afraid to die to protect Pietro and Valencia, in fact, it was her plan to do just that. The Coyote would not be expecting that. Her lips curved into a smile. She was sorry that she wouldn't live to see the frustration and anger that would distort the Coyote's evil face. If one could look down from the sky over the desert between the village and Talico, they would see Pietro and Valencia limping down the mountain, the dead jeep left behind, very close to reaching their destination. The retched Coyote still had fuel left but it would not be enough to catch the young couple. With no information from Estrella, the Coyote's search zigzagged all over the mountain, his efforts to get his revenge successfully foiled, at least for now. And the villagers following the Coyote? They knew where they were going. They had left Estrella's after burying her mutilated body, easily finding the trail the Coyote left. If one could look down from the skies would would they wonder how it would all end? Or just smile, knowing it was all part of God's plan.

Pietro an Valencia part sixteen

The light from the star faded as the suns light crept over the nearby hills. Valencia's eyes watered. Sadly she looked at Pietro, "Pietro, do you think we are close to Talico now?"
"I hope so, I know we are very close to being out of gas.". Pietro said softly.
He hated to give her reason to be sad but he could not hide the fact that the gas was almost gone, maybe a few more hours, maybe more if the going was not too rough.
Valencia rubbed the tears from her eyes, struggling to recapture the confidence she had felt last night when the star appeared. "I am such a putta! I wanted to follow the star's light. I truly believed it would lead us to Talico. Now, maybe we are lost. The map, Estrella's map, we don't even know where we are. She would be very disappointed in me. Stupid putta!"
Valencia hugged her knees trying to make herself smaller. She was so tired, so dirty, so hungry. Where had her faith gone? For a moment she even wondered if she should have stayed at home, not gone with Pietro. Horrified she screamed. "No! No,no,no! I will never regret wanting to be with my love and if it is God's plan to die here in the mountains, then we die,"
Pietro's eyes grew large with fear. Had she doubted her decision? His guilt grew, he should not have taken her from the safety of her family, the comforts of her home, the good food, plentiful money, the opportunities to have a better life. He could offer her nothing, but his love. Nothing. He pressed down hard on the brake pedal bringing them to a shuddering stop.
Valencia let go of her knees and pushed her shoulders back. Her mouth turned into a defensive
line, her jaw tightened with determination.
"Pietro, forgive this foolish girl, I know God will help us. I love you more than myself. Of course," she replied, a tired smile curving her lips up at the corners, "I honestly don't love myself very much at the moment. I stink!"
The young woman laughed throwing her head back, hair flying freely. Coyly she looked up at Pietro. " mi amore, can you love a stinking little Mexican girl?"
Pietro could feel his body relax with relief then stiffen with pride. She did love him!
"Hey, you had better remember you are my stinky woman!" His dust covered face, streaked with sweat, looked younger then a few minutes earlier. Pride, joy and passion once more were reflected by his smile.
Valencia brought one shoulder up to her chin and shyly ,flirtingly, blinked her eyes. "Pietro, my stallion, have you stopped here to ravish this poor stinky woman?"
Pietro laughed and reached for her, but she wiggled away and jumped out of the old jeep.
She ran around with her lover chasing her until finally, she let him catch her and they both dropped to the ground.
"I could have you now, you know, if I was not so stinky. Maybe ....... After we bathe .....in that little creek over there?"
Valencia gasped. "Oh Pietro! You are so mean to tease me! Really, is there really water? How could I have missed it?"
Pietro helped her stand and they hurried to the creek. In reality it was more like a dried up creek with a trickle of water lazily drifting down between the rocks, but it was water. They
tore at their clothes and greedily plunged their hands into the wettness. First, pouring the water sloppily into their mouths, then rubbing the sweat, dirt and despair from their bodies.
They threw water at each other. They laughed. And lastly they laid down holding each other, kissing, touching. Their groans were loud and silky with desire. Sweat returned but this time it did not make them feel dirty, but hot, naked, crazy with longing.
It took some time before the love noises slowed and the young lovers lust turned into soft, sweet holding.
"Pietro, I am thinking I need to wash all over again!". Valencia grinned, the look of a child in wonder blooming on her face.
Pietro rose and quickly stuck his hand into the water and tenderly began to wash Valencia. He started with her face, slowly moving down until he reached her belly. He stopped, looking into her eyes, he grinned wickedly, "Valencia, my love, I am going to stop before I start something else.".
Valencia pouted but knew he was right. They both returned to the water, this time with little haste, and cleaned themselves once again. They stood, letting the morning sun dry their bodies, looking around, wondering which direction they should go today. Dressing in dirty clothes, the two filled all the jugs with water and climbed back into the jeep.
Pietro started the engine and began steering the jeep down the mountain,careful to avoid the rocks.
"Pietro, how do you know which way to go? There is no star.". Valencia asked.
"My love, God will show us the way, he will take us where he wants us to go.". Pietro smiled. "Isn't that what you told me?"
Valencia put her hand on top of Pietro's, she relaxed into the seat. "Yes. Oh Pietro, yes, God will not desert us now."
The old jeep rumbled on. The fuel tank was nearing empty, but their faith was renewed. They would find the way. God would steer the jeep to safety.

Pietro and Valencia, part fifteen

Pietro and Valencia drove slowly over the rough ground, hoping they were heading in the right direction.
Tampico, their destination, was somewhere out beyond their sight. Both were silent. Suddenly Valencia screamed and pointed up towards the heaven, "look Pietro, see the star, like the star that guided Joseph and Mary to Bethlehem!". Valencia's eyes were watery, the pupils big and black, her face full of pure faith.
Pietro looked at her with wonder. She was so beautiful. As much as he loved her, Pietro was very afraid he did not deserve this sweet lovely girl.
Valencia poked Pietro gently with her elbow, "hey, you are not looking! Look, look at the star! Pietro, it surely will guide us to Tampico!"
Pietro looked upward and saw a star so bright he was almost convinced that Valencia's belief seemed possible. He knew it could not be, but he would not tell Valencia, she was so sure.
"Of course, my love, God is showing us the way." Pietro tried to make his words as passionate as his beloved, but she heard the doubt.
"Pietro, please you must believe, I have lived in God's arms all of my life, I know this is his hand at work, I know it. We must get going, now, while it is dark and we can follow the
light."
Pietro nodded. He held Valencia tightly in his arms, his lips kissing the tender spot just
behind her ear. He heard her groan and felt her body relaxing into his. "yes, my love, it is
as you say. Forgive me for my stupid ways, I was not raised in the church like you, I will
trust in you as you trust in the Lord and we will both find the way."
Valencia turned her head so their lips met. It was a brief kiss, but there was deep passion behind it.
Within minutes they were following the light. Pietro still had doubts, but after a little
while, he began to believe that the star was indeed guiding them....somewhere.
They rode in silence. Two young hearts full of possibilities.

The Coyote would have laughed grimly if he had known what the two runaways were thinking, but
at the moment he was himself praying......and cursing...as his belly and bowels roared in
pain.
He couldn't have anything left in his body. Never had he puked so much. Never had his bowels run so violently, exploding without notice, the foul smelling excrement flowing down his legs
when he tried to stand. His clothes had been shed long before, when the horror had first
begun.
He thought of the men back in town. The ones that had caused this. He wanted to kill them all.
"Fuck with me will you? Your life is over, I will make you eat your own shit before I am through with you!".
The Coyote ranted in between dry heaves, naming the men in the little town one by one. "filthy scum! You and you stupid families will all pay!". Small smile made his face even uglier.
Maybe he would burn the whole town. They had it coming, scum sucking bastards!
His body folded over, cramps and spasms of unbelievable pain racking his fat body. Hours later, when the cramps at last stopped, the Coyote rolled over, his body covered with the sticky, stinking diarrhea and vomitus. He didn't even know that he had rolled around until his head lay in the offal.
The people of the town would have been celebrating, at least until El Diablo returned to seek
his vengeance.
The episode had lasted several hours. The sleep, or whatever it was, would delay him hours more. The weakness that followed made even him think briefly about turning back.
He wanted to kill the ones who caused his pain.
He also wanted to find the little Mexican whore and show her what a real man could do, with that pitiful boyfriend watching while his fucking girlfriend got fucked, over and over until
she was dead. Maybe he would even continue after that. His pleasure coming from the pain
that would be etched on Pietro's wet horror filled face.
The sick smile that touched his lips was only momentary. Only seconds passed before he felt his stomach rolling over, and once again his body emptied yellow bile and mucus, over and over
again.
The 'brave' Coyote passed out.
He did not see the star that Valencia and Pietro saw. He wouldn't have understood. God had
left him behind long ago, and El Diablo hadn't even noticed.