sometimes my kids floor me

my oldest son does not like english, it is one of the hardest classes for him.

his latest assignment was to write a poem about himself titled ‘the song of me’

i did not even have to remind him.

in fact, i went in one night to tell him lights out and bedtime when i saw him sitting on his bed writing and working on this homework assignment.

i was so flabbergasted i just turned and walked out of the room muttering ‘i have seen a miracle, stay up as late as you want.’

here is the finished product, with his permission of course, that i wanted to share.

before you read it, understand that he is a very introspective person, rarely sharing in detail his feelings and thoughts.

needless to say, i loved this.

this is a song of myself, a song of an extremely odd man who believes in no right or wrong but rather a maze where the path maker makes the paths, diverged into choices. one, the path leads to the perfect end, the other meant to distract and lead you away from the straight path, but sometimes the path maker will change the course of the maze. this is a song of a man, who though given many trials, has made him stronger, through separation has made his new family closer, through his weirdness has gotten him more friends than he could ever imagine, through more cruelty has made him stronger than steel, through others disabilities has made him more understanding, through these trials he has been made into who he is today.

this is the song of a strange man who loves things that to some people would seem childish or silly like dragons that people believe do not exist but to the man it is anything but fake. ponies that can talk and act like people, extraordinary people that can bend the stubbornness of the earth, the force of the air, the ferocity of water, and the beautiful but destructive power of the fire. a man with a blue police box that is bigger on the inside and can travel through time and space, monsters from legends and myths to the monsters of today, pirates searching for new lands and treasure, creatures of amazing power that live along side humans in peace and harmony, an universe where super humans are abundant, some fight to protect those who can’t while others seek harm to the hero and the innocent.

this is a man who believes in a world filled with elves, dwarves, orcs, and hobbits all involved over a small magic ring.

this is the song of a man who does what others think is strange or immature and doesn’t pay any heed to any of the scorning because this is who he is whether people like him or not. one of these acts is living like a hobbit which mostly involves walking around without any shoes.

this is a song about a man who is more of a jack of all trades and hopes to be a blacksmith of old.

this is a song of me, keaton morrison, the craziest man alive.

a girl and her dragon

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how to kill all the love in your marriage

“the doctor said you needed to go in and get more blood work.” i told the hubby.

“don’t worry i will.” the hubby, the great procrastinator, said.

when the doctor says your blood work is all messed up, and to come back in and get it re-done, that just seems like something you take care of immediately.

“i will make the appointment.” i said.

“no, you will not.” he said.

“yes, i will.” i said.

“i will go when you make a dentist appointment to get your teeth cleaned.” he triumphed.

stalemate for approximately 2 seconds, dental appointment made.

see, i have a severe dental phobia.

the last time i had my teeth cleaned was 24 years ago.

on monday, i faced that fear and went.

my blood pressure is usually 117/72.

at the dentist office the first reading was 142/96.

“that is really high.” the¬†hygienist¬†said. (why don’t they just call them hellgienists?)

“um, that is usually not that high.”

so she took it again; this time it was 146/105.

this was my first inkling that i should have just let my hubby’s blood work be.

she brought out that ridiculous scraper thingy that i am still not sure why anyone thought it was a good idea to scrape teeth with metal shaped like a hook, and began scraping.

then i tasted blood.

apparently, i was the only one seriously concerned i was tasting blood.

i was also falling out of love with my hubby with each scrape of the tooth.

after 65 minutes of scraping, the dentist came in to poke around.

“how’s mark?” he asked.

“he’s the reason i am in this damn chair and i don’t love him anymore.” i replied.

seems after he was done poking, the hygienist wanted to do some more poking and scraping.

“no.” i said.

“no?” they both said.

“get me out of this chair.”

“you only have about 20 more minutes.”

“i don’t care.”

“you have to come back.”

“i will do whatever you want, just get me out of this chair.”

seeing the crazed look of panic, they soon agreed with me.

i am allegedly supposed to go back next monday.

things i learned about my teeth i did not know for 24 years:

i don’t have any cavities, but i am sure i will now that the top 3 layers of enamel have been scraped off.

i still have some baby teeth which is why i am so mature.

next time, the hubby’s blood work can be as messed up as it wants to be.

i am still trying to fall back in love with the hubby.