The King’s Highway



What are a few songs that would provide the soundtrack to your life and why?

When I was growing up I listened to a lot of Elvis Presley.

My Mom was a fan of his so we had his albums in the living room but at some point I started to snag them and take them to my room and listen to them on my own.

I think Mom was very pleased with that, so when we would go to the store I’d ask to buy Elvis records and she wouldn’t tell me which ones to get, I’d have to choose them on my own.

I enjoyed doing that.

But this song was my hands down favorite.

When I was around 10 I’d come home from school, head straight for my room and put this song on my record player, jump up on my bed and I’d sing along with Elvis until my voice was gone.

In the story of my life we’d hear this when the going gets rough and I get tough.

With a smile of course.

Back to Elvis…sort of.

This is the theme song from Bubba Ho-Tep starring Bruce Campbell. The song is called The King’s Highway and the first time I heard it, it went into my head and stayed there note for note.

This song would show up if my life were on a screen and there’s a shot of me writing. You’d see  the world is running right by my window ( I’ll bet you’d see freaky stuff like dogs and Martians and monsters and spaceships and kids playing with Hula Hoops and yo-yos) and I finally  look up and notice and think for a minute maybe I should be out there…but then I look down and keep writing.

It all started when I was kid- the writing, the weird take on the world, me never fitting in anywhere or with anyone and not really getting it. I just thought that’s the way it was.

You got an idea or had a talent or a dream and you’d have to see it through alone.

I  learned that from my Grandparents.

So in my life story I’d be looking in a mirror, reflecting on my life and as you’d see me ageing back to that fearless little kid who was called  ‘ Baby Monster’  You’d hear this song- it represents my Grandparents who all passed on there love of Glen Miller to me.

So there it is, some of the songs that make up the soundtrack of my life.

Listening to these songs I’m thinking…it hasn’t been all together a bad ride.


The Legend Of The Hairy Eyeball

Childhood Revisited

What is your earliest memory? Describe it in detail, and tell us why you think that experience was the one to stick with you.

One of my earliest memories involves my eyeball.

Well both of them.

We got into a lot of trouble back in our young day.



When I was about four I had apparently mastered the art of  the infamous ” Hairy Eyeball.”

I would get into more trouble for the hairy eyeball  then I did for anything I ever said- and I was quite the verbal little creature.

So here it is:


I would drop the hairy eyeball the same way other people dropped the ” F ” bomb. I used it all the time. I over used it. I would actually practice it in my Mom’s dressing table mirror.

Everyone hated my Hairy Eyeball- except for me and possibly one or two of my Grandma’s canefield cats.

The rest of the cats, other small children and people with weak hearts hated that look.

Blah, blah, blah.

My Dad used to say my face was going to freeze like that in the hope  the threat of that happening would break me of the habit.

His Father pointed out that would probably suit me just fine.

Which was true.

I learned learned the art of the Hairy Eyeball from the Master… she could do the Hairy Eyeball like nobody’s business.

I envy her skill to this day… so who taught it to me?

My Grandmother:


I still use the Hairy Eyeball to this day.

It’s brilliant.

I don’t have to yell or swear or turn into a drama queen and wave my hands around. I don’t have to slam back a few drinks to ‘settle nerves or ratchet them up. I don’t have to suck on a cigarette ( I don’t smoke anyway ) and shoot those little jets of smoke out of my nose or from between my teeth like a Ninja Dragon.

I just give them the  Hairy Eyeball


And one day I hope to pass that skill along to my future Grandchildren.

Until then…its mine ALL mine.

Three Little Things


For the next year, I resolve …


I usually don’t get overly excited or sentimental when a New Year rolls around.

But for ’16 I’ve actually come up with some things I’d like to accomplish.

So here we go…

For starters, I want more sweetness in my life


I don’t care if it’s food or the way I treat myself.

I want to be kinder to myself and to the people around around me.

But mostly myself I want to be sweeter to myself because I am so worth it.

Ha ha ha.


I’ve got two writing projects I want to accomplish.

One involves my blogging- the other involves my book.

So that means between cupcake binges and getting my manicures and pedicures ( and I hereby resolve to do a whole lot more of THAT ) I want to focus, focus, focus on my writing.

I’m sure that one is on the top of my list and the reason why is simple.

I’ve seem a lot, I’ve done a lot and I have a lot to say.

And I love to tell stories, so this one should be do-able.


I’m not sure if I hate mirrors or if I’m afraid of them.

It’s a little of both.

Mirrors creep me out.

So  this year I’m going to get over my hatred of mirrors.

I might even buy a few and pull my full length mirror out of my closet (it’s way in the back facing the wall ) and use it.

Baby steps. Baby steps. I’m not going to jump into that one fast.


So here I go into 2016 with three little goals.

It should be an interesting ride.


Cerbie On My Trail


Write whatever you normally write about, and weave in a book quote, film quote, or song lyric that’s been sticking with you this week.

One of the finest, sweetest dogs to ever come into my life was Cerbie.

I used to say Cerbie should have been born human and beach bum- she should have spent her days watching the ocean, and her nights by a bonfire and she would have always been smiling and making friends with travelers to her beach from all over the world.

Instead, Cerbie was born a Mastiff/Retriever and she spent her days playing Mom our cats who came into our lives as kittens. She would follow me from room to room wagging her tail with this light just shining from her eyes.

She still followed me from room to room with that light even when her arthritis was so bad it took her minutes instead of seconds to follow me down the hallway.

The day Cerbie died, my soul just broke- I didn’t think it was possible to feel that after I had lost my cat Wolfie a few years before (He lived to be 17. Cerbie only made it to 10 years)

But I was so wrong. There was plenty left to hurt as I discovered.

I always called Cerbie my Little Girl- she was younger then my dog Domino and Wolfie. But Cerbie was a very big dog and weighed a solid 85 pounds.

She didn’t have an once of fat on her. It was all sweetness and muscle.

Cerberus Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Cerbie was her nickname.

The thing of it is, her name was (is)  Cerberus and I did name her after the three headed dog that guarded the gates to Hades.

When Cerberus was in the yard with my nieces ( who were toddlers at the time ) or with her cats, or I was walking her she was all business.

She was kind, but she wouldn’t let anybody stand too close ( she’s sort of worked her way between me and whoever she viewed as a ‘stranger’). She’d only move if the person moved back.

I let her do that. I mean, if my dog didn’t trust you, why should I? Right?

I’m proud to say Cerbie lived up to that name when she was in guard dog mode.


One day I heard my two nieces consoling ” Cerbie ” as they called her.

” It’s okay Cerbie, maybe your other two heads will grow in when you get older. Don’t worry. We won’t let the other Cerbies laugh at you.”


I’m not so sure why Hell Hound On My Trail by Robert Johnson pops into my head when I think of Cerbie. I’m sure it’s not for the obvious reason- that she was named Cerberus.

I think it’s this line:

And the days keeps on worryin’ me,
there’s a hellhound1 on my trail,
hellhound on my trail, hellhound on my trail

Unlike the man in the song, I didn’t fear the hellhound on my trail.

When she was alive Cerbie had a distinctive walk as she aged and her arthritis started to settle in.

Sometimes I think I can hear her following me and I hope she is.

I hope she always does.

The Karma Bus Stops Here

crossroads guitar:::Holidailies Prompt:::

Your best experience getting rid of something

A few years ago I would have never dreamed of kicking anyone to the curb, no matter how much grief they had caused me.

I didn’t lay awake at night hoping people who had crossed me would find themselves chocking on cherry pit or sailing through a windshield.

I guess I believed in Karma in a very big way so I never let that anger eat it’s way into my soul. I never even let that fire or anger work it’s way into my stories.

I’d talk about a million and one cool ways I’d like to take revenge, but at the end of the day I just wouldn’t let myself feel it.


I really believed that there was a price to be paid for that kind of thing, so I was careful what I wished for. 

Karma, I believed was like the Universe- it demands balance.


And then one day I decided that this Karma thing is a bunch of hooey.

I’ve been watching people do whatever it takes to get themselves through the day.

You know how the Aztecs would haul people up and do thousands of human sacrifices a year?


That’s nothing compared to the mischief, the meanness, the skullduggery the ” me first ” or  ” I DESERVE to be happy” spiel I hear before someone takes out a knife and jams it into the back of their friends or family members because, oh Hell, they don’t need a reason.

So what happens to these people?

Not an effing thing- they merrily go on using and hurting their nearest and dearest or their friends or anyone else who happens to be close at hand and despite the pain and obvious chaos they cause they don’t stop.



I don’t believe in Karma anymore. I think its wishful thinking- that when we’ve been hurt or injured by someone Karma frees us so we can go our merry way because the Universe will sort them out.

So you don’t defend  yourself, you don’t ask for justice and you dare not wish for revenge.

I’ve come to the crossroads in my thinking, and I’m thinking it time to let that kind of thinking go.


It’s a nice idea, a great concept but I’m not so sure it has a place in the real world.

Does it?




:::Holidailies Prompt:::

Recycling Christmas


Every Christmas and every New Years I go into the season thinking it’s time to make a fresh start of it- expand on the good things, toss out the bad.

Celebrate it all and  move into the New Year open to whatever comes my way.


Before she died my Aunt suffered from severe depression.

I remember I was watching her draw ( she was a very talented artist) and I was telling her how I was doing a lot of writing and I hoped to write books one day.

She looked so sad and she said, ” People in our family all had dreams and none of them ever came true.”

She died a year later.

That’s what her New Years brought her- despair, grief, sadness and death. I wish she could have known more then that in her 39 years of life.

When I think about ringing in the New Year, that anything is possible so why can’t that anything be great? I remember that last conversation with my Aunt and I wonder if I’m just fooling myself.

Is New Years is just another date that we face with all of the despair and pain and sadness from the year before. Or do we get a clean slate, a chance to start anew. 

I’m not sure.

I wish I was.



The Love Of Thousands


What are your thoughts on aging? How will you stay young at heart as you get older?


Here’s my thought on aging:

It happens.

How do I plan on staying young as it happens?

I don’t.

I mean, are you kidding me? Being young is hard work. It’s brutal. I have the battle scares to prove it- we all do. Why in all things that we wish for, do you wish for that?

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

I’ve heard people say it over and over again, ” I don’t want to die old and alone.”

None of us do, but at the end of the day, it’s just going to be us and the Grim Reaper.

All the hand holding in the world won’t keep him away.

Not youth, not magic or chanting or the best drugs in the world.

This is the how why and how I keep my chin up:


I’ve made it to 51…and God willing I will make it far beyond.

My nephew died as a young man. He never got the chance to even come close to being  51 let alone 81 or 91. I can say that of my friends and relatives who have passed.

 I believe they are the ones who are cheering me on and giving me strength as the years pass. I think they are the reason I can look in the mirror and say, ” Whoa lady, will you look at those lines on your forehead and near your eyes” with a laugh

I have been blessed with with youth, I have been blessed with gray hair, the chance to experience my bum knee getting a little worse each year.

I have been given the gift of living a full life.

I don’t want to stay young, I don’t want to stay old. I want to experience and feel it all and when my clock stops and it’s time to move on I think I’ll be ready for it.

At any rate…

Fingers crossed!