The Mother Load Has MOVED!

The Mother Load has lef the building. Please come check out my fancy new digs at:

http://www.erinmargolin.com/

and my new Facebook fan page is here:

http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/RoadToMyWriterRoots

New Orleans Honeysuckle: Gramma's Backyard

image courtesy of lakeshorepreserve.wisc.edu

Honeysuckle vines spill over the fence, falling like a fountain, cascades of bright green.
The white flowers in my grandmother's backyard look like tiny, delicate bells

I tenderly bring the clear drop of nectar to my lips, tasting its sweetness

The sweetness of childhood, innocence.

Pumping my legs on Gramma's wooden swing, gripping its thick ropes

Hanging from the old, wise oak tree with branches stretching to the sky

I look up at him in wonder while I swing

Watching my own feet as they propel me higher and higher
My hair swings back to slap my face each time, a quick sting like a bee.

I'm wearing white socks folded down once with my brown sandals

I can see the light brown hair on my legs, the scar on my right knee

From when I fell off my bike the year before.

this was not taken on that day, but you can see my sandals with socks

my beautiful mom, & my younger brother, "Markie"

My mom does headstands on the old blanket in the middle of the yard, making us laugh.

She is thin, beautiful, talented, full of fun and light. Her feet are bare.

I can't stand on my head. But she can do everything.

And her feet are much prettier than mine.

I don't take off my shoes after I swing--

The St. Augustine grass is rough and crunchy and makes my ankles itch.

Now:
Can I make myself new again?

Can I start over, a slate wiped clean?

Innocent like that day in the backyard.

It's time for a swing.

Evolution & Revolution

As many of you know, I've been working on a new blog. It's close to completion and I'm beyond excited. I've been stripping down, baring my soul and blending the old with the new in many ways.

The Mother Load is evolving. I'm takin' it to the next level, ya'll.

This video clip was taken in December, but I wanted to wait to share it until my new blog was almost ready. Thanks to Lee and Tracie for filming it and going with me! This day was monumental and marked a significant change in my way of thinking. The tattoo embodies the inspiration behind my tag line: The Road to My Writer Roots. New Orleans is my home, where so much happened to me. It's my heart, where I write from. And now I carry it with me on my right hip---a glorious fleur de lis that makes my father want to curl up and die.




You can view the finished product in a post here.

Lies & 1 Truth

The glorious Tulpen Elefanten of Bad Words tagged me in her Memetastic post. Since I haven't done anything fun here in a while according to The Father Load , I'm going to participate.

Here's the poop scoop on this game/meme, according to Tulpen:

You must list 5 things about yourself; 4 of them must be bold-faced lies. Just make some shit up, we'll never know; one of them has to be true, though. Of course, nobody will ever know the difference, so we're just on the honor system here. I trust you. Except for the 4 you lied about, you lying bastards! But don't go crazy trying to think of stuff as we're not really interested in quality here. Then you must pass this on to 5 bloggers.

Now for the 4 lies and a truth:

1. When I was six my baby brother, Kevin, was born and I was super jealous. My parents had just given me this book with its all-too-vivid illustrations of two cartoon characters doing the sex:

image courtesy of Amazon.com

So I asked my brother, Mark, who was four at the time, to help me in my pregnancy endeavors. I ordered him to lie on top of me (I bossed him & he did everything I said) so we could make a baby STAT. He did, we snorted and giggled, and then I told him we were all done. Needless to say, no baby was made that day.

2.) As I was going through security at Nashville airport yesterday, I got stopped because I forgot to put my Poo Potpourri in a ziploc bag. I was mortified, but the TSA guy just chuckled and shook his head,  then handed it back to me.

image courtesy of http://poopourri.com/

3.) I brought The Father Load's giant suitcase to Blissdom and sweated like a pig hauling it through the Gaylord Opryland. What's up with calling it Gaylord, anyway? I always overpack. It's silly because why was I trying to dress to impress 600+ women and four men? I got lost approximately 22 times in 72 hours. I can't read maps. The highlight of the conference? When KLZ (Taming Insanity) ate my banana. Ooooooh. That was HAWT.
 

image courtesy of photobucket.com

4.) I'm hopelessly in love with Natalie Portman. I loved her in Black Swan. Because apparently I'm all dark, heavy, and twisty like that. But aren't many writers born out of dark and twisty lives like Sylvia Plath who stuck her head in the oven?

images courtesy of Google.com

5.) These are my feet:

image courtesy of Google.com

I've chosen to pass this nonsense along to these lucky ladies (who you should be following, DUH):
1.) Terri Sonoda (@Tsonoda)
2.) Snuggle Wasteland (@MsWasteland)
3.) Totally Ovar It (@TotallyOvarIt)
4.) Taming Insanity (@TamingInsanity)
5.) Crayon Wrangler (@CrayonWrangler)


Cheers!