Simply Danielle

The 50 Something Woman

2012-01-30T00:51:00.000-08:00

Packed full of past experience and blindsighted because of it, the 50 something woman
is feared by society as determental to almost all others. Mocked by many, viewed as selfish, entitled, and a hazard to the spirit of young women everywhere. Yet, this very time of her life is one of power and freedom, a time she can give some of the greatest insights as a woman, if only she can release her bite from injustice and the lies she was told. Danni Love 2012

One More Life

2011-12-26T17:52:00.001-08:00

DLOVE 2011

I am Guilty

2011-12-26T16:04:00.001-08:00

I am guilty and I will pay but I seen the asphalt free and clear and everyone was moving over for me and that in itself was a miracle because of course I was late and then I got that feeling- maybe you know the one- after 13 years of abstinence I still remembered it too. I saw the motorcycle and the man with the brown shirt. He flashed his lights and tapped on my passenger window where beyond him was the most beautiful blue that Malibu is famous for. I was so struck by the beauty my eyes smiled. I handed him my cards and he left. He came back to the car with the yellow paper and thanked me for being kind. I'm sure for him a traffic ticket is a sight for sore eyes after all he has seen. On the way back I didn't hit above 50 once.
DLove 2011

In Stone

2011-10-15T19:44:00.001-07:00

I don't write everything in stone ~somethings I carve in tables ~stuff I type on Facebook is usually written in mud.
DLove 2011

Dissonance

2011-09-13T14:51:00.000-07:00

This isn't exactly a flower. It’s a huge pod of seedsthat came from one lowly Mammoth sunflower seed. And it isn't the right kindbecause most everyone who loves wild birds knows the best kind of seed is the Black Oil. I'm told fancy birds love them. And yet I'ma rookie when it comes to these huge plants that somehow look liketall people as the summer dances by. Most of them looked like tired oldsisters. I planted 4 black on white stripe and fell in love.Water was all I had to do and they shot up tall and proud. When the yellow pedals emerged, I couldn't help but grab my camera. I took shots like they were family. Meanwhile my father calls and says the Black Oil went up in price by 300% at harvestthis year. I guess even the fancy birds will need to go back to the simple life and munch on the stripe variety this winter.
DLOVE 2011

Your Mom's Smile

2011-09-12T18:14:00.000-07:00

I saw your mom smile

seen her red hair shine

her young skin glow

I breathed the crisp brown oak leaves

and the heat of an early fall afternoon

a puff of diesel

the pull of the yellow bus

and we were gone

some 40 years ago

DLOVE 2011

Carpenteria

2011-08-23T12:06:00.000-07:00

The photographer was here

I am Guilty and I will Pay

2011-08-22T00:06:00.000-07:00

I'm a Happy Girl

2011-08-18T22:07:00.000-07:00

First thing I do like most people is make the coffee- a dash ofsalt- a sprinkle of Cinnamon and 1/4 cup ground coffee slightly rounded- 4 cupsof water. I'll pull the cup from the carousel pour the half and half-not toomuch because I don't like it Swiss. The cream is heated for 18 seconds in the microwavethat is kept in the laundry-anything more than that and it will scald. I sing “Heysoul sister ain’t that Mister Mister on the radio…” then carry it back to thekitchen and slide a piece of 15 grain into the toaster. I drop my toast on a plastic plate, cover it with blueberries, vanilla yogurt and maplesyrup, I push the screen door open because if I don't I'd spill my coffee onthe front step,carry my breakfast out with the confidence of a server, and sit- sipping my coffee like it was amother's secret. Its quiet this morning except for the green that's been wavingfor the last three months and a mourning dove calling. The breeze makes me pullmy shoulders close. It's hard to believe summer is ending. Eucalyptus leaveshang over the green grass. Vines of flowers have found their way up the woodenfence. Lawn mower men come and mess up the calm for half a cup and then back toquiet. This is my living in the present each moment open to the waxing andwaning of time. I couldn't buy this feeling even if the economy was good. Iguess I could say I'm pretty much a happy girl.
DLOVE 2011

Dressed in White for Fall

2011-08-18T20:36:00.000-07:00

I pushed a seed into the soil
waited a couple days when a lime green
shoot poked out. Two leaves emerged and then four-eight- and ten.
For the next few weeks I watered in barefeet
stepped on the warm grass and wondered how
this tall thin plant would become a flower.
The sun pulled the water from the grass and left it brown. Congress stonewalled the progess of the United States. And on August 14 I awoke to a dull grey sky filled with the ocean layer, smiled and grabbed my camera. The flower came the same day summer prepared to say goodbye. I took a picture of both. DLOVE 2011

Natalie Illeana (Ille)

2011-05-09T16:44:00.000-07:00

Grandma Florida

2011-05-09T16:31:00.000-07:00

When They Want One But You're NOT Ready

2011-05-09T14:51:00.000-07:00

Paper Cell Phones

Creator and Actress-Cloe Love
Director/Screenwriter-Danielle Love
Videographer/Editor- Natalie Illeana
Music Production-Natalie Illeana "Girl on the Bike" Singer/Songwriter/Musician

Alternatives to the Nonsense Life

2010-09-11T08:53:00.000-07:00

Natalie Illeana singer songwriter musician and my daughter

Lead Role

2010-09-10T21:44:00.000-07:00

little little you're JuST mad

bIG ANd MEAn just like your dAD

steal away a child's DEligHt

make her LIfE one great big fight

she'll come to KNoW the lie you live

in between the tHInGs you give

she'll GRiNd her teeth and make YOu cry

victim plays are hARd tO bUY

DLove 2010

Wave

2010-09-10T20:50:00.000-07:00

Way up high
from the tips of the sky
falling by the trees
teasing the eucalyptus branches
through the California breeze
a crisp idea
a calm understanding
peace for you and me

DLove 2009

I'm Dancing for Me

2010-06-27T00:28:00.000-07:00

It could be the most embarrassing thing to do and I did it. I was at a mall in California where you'd think most of the people living here would be used to public displays of interpretation. But it is hardly so. One year I trudged a blankets with my daughter to the high school stadium to watch the city's fireworks display. On the visitors side of the bleachers city officials granted a stage be placed at the 50 yard line. Band after band played, most all were want-to-be rock bands with music that almost made the beat. I drank a coke with my 6 year old daughter and sang "We will we will rock you". My eyes scanned the grassy area between the football field and the rock stars. There was no one dancing, very few people singing and most were oblivious to the music. The guitars got louder as the night came on. Children ran around with glow light necklaces and bracelets. I looked at my daughter with a big smile and said, do you want to dance? She jumped to her feet and before I could get to the empty grass she was swinging her "heavy" foot as in ballet. At least one thousand people looked. Before the thought of fear came to my mind I scolded myself for doubt gulped and stepped into the grassy knoll. There was nothing I could do but dance. I had never taken a dance lesson in my life but frequently danced as exercise. Now I'm not going to tell you that the dance was such a huge success or that people roared with praise or that other people found pity on me because none of these were the case. Instead, I danced with my daughter swinging my arms around my head and wiggling my body to the beat. I was as exhilarated as I was scared. My breath was short and soon I had to go back to my blanket. Once I fell onto the fleece, I was able to see the people watching my daughter. Some smiles, some stood with their mouths open, a few children stood by the sidelines wiggling their feet or twisting their bodies. One woman shook her head.

Almost two years have gone by and tonight was the second time in my life I stood in a crowd and waited. The band plucked the strings of their guitars. The drums rumbled the stage. I tapped my hands to the beat. There were women on the opposite side of the area shaking Maracas, taping their shoes. It was the third piece to play. The Mexican Jazz lead guitarist invited people to dance but no one came to the dance area.

A fourth song was about to start when I felt that beat. It was my song. I could do this one. I stepped closer to the dance area and swayed back and forth. I giggled yelling for the other women to help me out. I wiggled some more and soon I had made a commitment that I couldn't turn back on. I twirled and swayed, pushed my hands in the air. I was dancing and dancing alone. It was my moment to show the world I wasn't going to mind what they said anymore. I have grown tired of listening to the "you can't do that"-"you're not good enough"-"you need to be awarded that privilege". I was dancing to strengthen my belief in myself. I was dancing for me.
Danielle Love 2010

Remember the Flower Power

2010-04-09T11:05:00.001-07:00

Blue Ribbon

2010-03-23T06:33:00.000-07:00

I'll keep going- you know

Going to think of you like I always have

Going to keep you in my world
whether you are here or there

because I love you like sunshine

like the first day I saw you

like that silky blue ribbon
you slipped through your hair

DLove March 2010

Goose Bumps

2010-02-11T19:31:00.000-08:00

"Do what gives you Goosebumps and do it well." Harry slouched in front of a crowd of 15 people in a tattered green hoodie and jeans he wore the day before. He stuttered a couple of times as he carefully chose American slang over German. "Goosebumps, right?" And then the twinkle in his eye helped me to lean back in my chair. He spoke as if he was in an AA meeting explaining all the dumb mistakes he had made. Yet, Harry had just sold his business in printing with a grand profit. He shook his head reminiscing "like this one mistake I made. I was hoping to get this contract with a major retailer and I didn't have everything in order. I did my best to see the shirt was printed with good quality and rushed it off to the company. Two years went by and I get this phone call asking me to come to their office." "Your work is good quality." the man told him. Harry smiled. "But do me a favor, and get our name right next time. QuikSilver is spelled with a k not a ck." Harry looked up at us shaking his head and waving, “I can't believe I did that, they are huge you know and I got a lot of money from them. I'm glad they were able to see my good side." It takes a good eye to see the good side. Danielle Love 2010

Making of a Goddess

2010-02-10T17:25:00.000-08:00

She was a princess at three
and still at five
At seven she was a music star
At nine a math champion
and then at 12 she noticed her knees
shaped unlike the girls she'd seen
At 17 she was invisible
At 20 she was angry
and then she was busy
and rounder and stressed
At 45 her children left home
and the mirror in the hall was empty
but when she stepped in front of it
She was a goddess
Happy with it all

Danielle Love 2009

Society of Neglect

2010-02-09T12:32:00.000-08:00

DLOVE 2010

Aftermath

2010-02-08T22:01:00.000-08:00

It's not the whirl of the wind or the crashing of walls that threatens the human spirit. It's not the fatal loss of blood or torn limbs. It's not even in the midst of death. Yet, it's the aftermath long after the rescue workers have gone home or the judge has made the sentence or the pall bearers have shut the casket. It can only be found during the silence, when there's nothing more to do; nothing more to say; nothing more to think. This is the time when values change, when ideas long held are dropped. It is in this silence we understand our true selves; what enlightenment we may reach; what limits we are willing to cross. It is a desperate time yet simply a time to be.

DLove 2010

Marlo and Me

2010-02-02T01:02:00.000-08:00

Me and Marlo, it's that crazy day where you break down and admit you look like some famous person. I grew up thinking I looked like Marlo Thomas. I loved her father Danny and I loved her style. People used to make comments about me and how much I looked like her. I felt a kind of kindship. Then when I put our pictures together the first thing I thought was I look like Mary Tyler Moore, what was I thinking?
Danielle

Onomatopoeia

2010-01-10T22:39:00.000-08:00

Onomatopoeia words that are created from the sound. Like woof woof, or buzz. I hadn't opened a book on grammar. I was coming up my drive and the word popped into my mind maybe 40 years after my 7th grade english teacher said it. Sometimes it's the smell or maybe a song that brings perfectly odd memories to life. This time I just can't say. hmmm

Your Skates

2010-01-07T16:22:00.000-08:00

In the midst of January
it rained as the winds of Canada blew
I laced up your skates and wove through black oak
gathering the essence
of me

Danielle Love 2010

No Yellow Snow in Camarillo

2009-12-02T00:13:00.000-08:00

2009-11-27T23:40:00.000-08:00

Danielle Love 2009

Every Day American Dad

2009-11-11T12:43:00.001-08:00

All I knew about Korea was the silk pajamas. Remenants of the war hung from our bedroom windows as curtains-navy blue wool blankets. My father was in the Air Force. When he signed his parents were concerned. It was another conflict and although planes were used in WWII, congress was not finished contemplating the use of air planes against North Korea. In this picture he was thin very thin fed on a normal military diet of powdered eggs, canned stew and canned ham. He couldn't wait to get back to the states for a home cooked meal. While he traveled from Korea to Japan to Wake Island on to California and over to New York he thought about the food, all the good foods his mother used to make and food he was hoping his nine month pregnant wife could possibly prepare. He left the plane and took a bus back to military housing. His digestive juices sprung from his glands. As he opened the trailer door he met his wife, relieved to see him and having contractions 5 minutes apart. He ignored the disappointment and grabbed the suitcase. The young couple jumped into the black Ford and sped away. Hospital noise, exhaustion and one new baby later, this soldier drove home cracked three eggs in an iron skillet, toasted two slices of bread and poured himself a tall glass of whole milk.

Thank you dad. Danielle Love 2009

Show not Tell

2009-11-08T22:35:00.000-08:00

Show me so I can compare it to the strength of a tree; let me smell it, taste it, feel the energy around it. How will I know what you mean to teach if what you share is hearsay? Our educational systems reward the mediocre not the passionate and yet we expect passion from those same students. We will achieve the standards in education we yearn for when we recognize and rally the creative mind. Danielle Love

The Neighbor Girl

2009-11-06T09:20:00.000-08:00

Like a Bridge

2009-10-19T09:41:00.001-07:00

Bridge the Gap
Water Over the Bridge
Bridge Over the River Kwai
Talahatchee Bridge
The Bridges of Madison County
Song Bridges
Jeff Bridges
London Bridges falling down

Danielle Love 2009

Yarmouth England
On May 2,1845 A large group of children were crowded on a suspension bridge. They were there to watch a flock of geese pull a Circus Clown down the river in a wooden barrel. As the barrel passed under the bridge the children rushed to the other side to get a closer look. The suspension chains on the south side snapped and the bridge deck tipped over spilling them into the water. Seventy-nine people drowned some adult and mainly children. It was the Yarmouth bridge that fell down. They took the kids and wrapped them up. Ashes ashes they all went down.

Joanie

2009-10-13T07:40:00.000-07:00

This is a before shot; before six children and swim lessons at the Morocco pool, before serving Friday night perch in her white uniform and a Carol Burnette hair do. Young Joanie fresh worldly and in the know. She's standing to your left. She knew all the movie stars and dance routines, painted, wrote screenplays, directed school productions and church Christmas pageants. She danced on the "Ted Max Show" in the 1950's winning her a moment of fame. Her parents were Romanian immigrants with strong stoic natures. They are the reason she trudged through the death of her youngest child. In 1987, she was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in a time when there was little to do about it. Twenty-two years has passed-I'm sure it's hard watching your body wither. It's even harder to watch the world go by. Yet Joanie has influenced the world. She's showed us how to take it like a woman. She's laid in bed and proved her strength. Joanie has moxie- something we all could benefit from. Danielle Love 2009

Artists and Others

2009-09-17T11:53:00.000-07:00

She is an artist, music expression. No doubt a life filled with objection in a world that's justified with straight lines and complacency. She lives in danger where governments see her as a threat to national security- a curious mind. Artists and educators- people who consider the rules then finger their truth. It's an obvious disparity in our society. Ideas are nothing more than wisps of thought until they are calculated, measured, censored, marketed, and bought. Yet, without those that interpret life with symbols how would the count begin, how would we ascertain what ideas are of value? As it seems we do not, instead we limit voice so choice is easy. You accept it or not, hardly a measurable democracy.

No Attachments

2009-08-25T21:41:00.001-07:00

When the Wind Hits the Fan

2009-08-24T13:52:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was one of those days. You know what I mean, like when you slammed your pick-up in reverse and hit your grandma's whirly-bird. You always hated that thing; twirling in the wind with those two wings that are suppose to look like it's flying, but it's not. You know it's not. Almost everyone that knows anything about water fowl knows it. But not your grandma, or maybe she does but somehow she's decided it makes the house look festive. Maybe she just wanted to keep the blue jays from eating her goose berry bush. But you don't care; because all you're looking at is the 5 foot long scratch you carved into the side of your Ford 250. Even if its a gas guzzling hog, you still wanted it to look good. Still took it to the car wash at the Arco Station until they raised the price by three bucks. Now you've gotta run the hose over it every time you race down the gravel road or the sky decides to drop a little humidity. It never rains but boy can it ruin the shine by spitting a few drops of what? Can they even call that stuff rain. Why in the hell doesn't it ever rain here. I mean we've lost a million acres to fire. We do every year and yet somehow there's always more trees to burn more houses to evacuate. My aunt nearly lost her place this spring. But she's not the only one. A lot people been losing their places. Where does everyone go if they can't stay in the house they called home. What's the sense in making people leave. Is it better for our society to have people on the street rather than staying in their houses. What does it matter anyway. The economy will get better and people will start paying again. Yesterday I passed a vacant house. The MLS put pictures up that were taken when the family still lived there. When the house was still alive. There was a Christmas tree in the front room. The fireplace was all decked out with five stockings hung. Family photos were scattered around the interior. But now, nothing. The swimming pool was murky covered with black leaves. No giggles echoing from the yard. The people left most of the stuff they didn't want in the garage. Twelve years of growth marked the walls. Smiling faces left on the mirror. Light fixtures and appliances gone. The family certainly didn't leave without a fight. Makes you wonder why no one bought the house back when it was living. It's a sad event, families that were once hopeful, now displaced. What if we didn't have a boom or burst. What if corporations and people had similar equitable goals. Would yesterday be different? Would the whirly-bird look festive to me?

Color Gaps

2009-08-03T13:33:00.000-07:00

Danielle Love 2009

Coming into View

2009-07-23T23:28:00.000-07:00

AKA

2009-07-10T07:20:00.000-07:00

Most parents slave over lists of names to find the very finest for their new child. Our village of care givers did too. Eight years ago, we came up with the name Cloe Illeana with the umlaut over the letter e to give it an artsy feel. As you can see already the dots never get there. Cloe is a cute name for a cute little girl. But then one day I called her Cloakie with the slip of my tongue and today when ever I'm feeling oakley doakley this is what I call her.

When my sister-in-law had her first son, she announced the name of her son as David Ryan and then quickly exclaimed "but we're going to call him Keith". Although I gave her my best contorted quizzical face, this is not so uncommon. I have a friend that named her little girl Marie and calls her Macy. Macy's family calls her this but the rest of us kinda shrug our shoulders and hesitantly call her Marie. My sister's kid was name Kathleen and they've called her Callie since birth. My brothers kid was named Katie and now that she's almost out of high school she's decided to go by Kathleen. I guess since Callie didn't use it, Katie has the right.

When you think about it, giving someone a name that will effect them the rest of their lives is a huge monumental experience and whose to say that the name giver is in any way capable of coming close when thousands of hormones are spewing through their plasma. My family of all people has had a history of legal name changing. Of course when my grandparents came from the old country as we like to say, Akim Udeau didn't sound so good to American ears, so instead he was renamed John Odessa. His son-my uncle wanted to work in retail and made the jump as well. He chose David Gold to help his career. These two brave souls were exemplary to the rest. My mother disliked the name Illeana as well as her middle name and decided on Joann. I changed my name when I was 26 from Danni Jo to Danielle. I thought it help my business presence. My brother changed his name from Bob to Rob. But it hasn't stopped yet. I spent many hours naming my first daughter and so far she hasn't rebuked her first or the Romanian influence of her middle name. Yet she decided her last name was too much baggage and left it behind the day she moved out.

In other cases, it seems the names given actually directed the person entire life's journey. My dentist's parents named him Dennis Smiler. I wonder if he felt any pressure. I had a foot doctor with the last name Sole and one named Shoemaker but he didn't make shoes.

People have the right to change their names but sometimes when it seems almost obvious they should do so it simply doesn't happen. In high school I had a girl friend named Bambie Hooker, a neighbor named Chanda Leer, and there was some girl that lived in the next county that was named Imagine Pigg. The kids called her Ima.

I guess all in all it doesn't really matter as long as you're comfortable with the one you chose. My little sister has been thinking of changing her name to Imagine. Her last name is Love, no kidding.

Danielle Love 2009
AKA Danni Jo Love et al

I've Got to Fly

2009-06-29T11:52:00.000-07:00

You put anyone in a cage and soon enough they'll crimp the bars and drag their feet behind them. Having little money is sometimes a fact of life. Having no place to go is a monkey of a different size. I want to fly as in fly away and land on a different can of soda. Where the sweet is new and the sticky is kind. It's been years since I've sunk my feet in the yellow sand of Northern Indiana and plucked a sand bur from my toe. I'm going home.

I've got 50

2009-06-10T08:49:00.000-07:00

"I've got 50, counting my new elephant. " Jenna smiles.

"And I have one now too mom." My daughter looks sheepishly at me. Jenna and Cloe (pronounced Clo eee) are second graders with gleaming eyes and wiggling legs. They both wear capri pants and t-shirts with dolphins on them.

"You've got to get a code," says Jenna. Jenna hesitates and looks at me."

I stand outside on the back porch spinning a baseball bat off the top of my shoe. "I thought we were gonna play ball." I bite my lip and wait.

"Ah well, I helped Cloe set up her Webkinz account on the Internet at my house. I hope that's okay." Jenna's eyes gleam blue then serious. You can't forget the password and oh, never forget the code," Jenna bends squinting at Cloe's eyes then looks up at me. "You ought to keep the code for her."

In toy world, Webkinz dominated the market for the last few years while Barbie and her trashy sidekick Bratz lost ground. A warehouse of Hannah Montana clothing and High School Musical products landed in famous places like Goodwill,the Salvation Army thrift stores and The Dollar Stores. Yet both Neopets and Webkinz thrived. It's a bust in the toy market similar to the Beanie Babies craze in the 90's. The difference is technology.

According to Excitement and Innovation Rule Toy Fair 2008 by Denise Van Patten, About.com "Webkinz and similar toys that link to online worlds have changed the amount of time (and dollars) that children and even adults spend on standard toys. Most of the highly collectible toys today (Webkinz, Neopets) and most major dolls (Barbie, Bratz) have online worlds where those who love the products can be truly immersed. This trend is fraught with danger, though, since a badly developed web site is probably worse than no site at all, and site development is expensive."

If you haven't experienced this stuff animal revelry, you're one of the few and you might want to plan an attack against it. After receiving a Webkinz, a child will run to the computer and want more. They'll want to download questionable promises of fun.

"It's a craze," Jenna's mom says. "I love them too, I just bought the Samoa, looks just like our dog Katie."

Jeanie is a credentials specialist in public education. She demonstrates the concept and her love for the toy while her 10 year old grandson bounces around in front of the computer screen. You get to buy things for them, she says running her index finger across the glass. They get credits and design their own rooms. Jeanie raises her eye brows in the direction of her grandson who spends a considerable amount of time with her. "Sometimes he is on there (Webkinz website) three to four hours, it really helps his ADHD."

It's no big surprise that kids get excited about using the computer, further it's seems we as parents have grown comfortable with the idea of at least one Game Boy or Playstation maybe an X-Box or the more physically friendly Wii. Yet somehow the idea of good health and exercise pushed by parents and governmental agencies doesn't gel well with this sit down almost addictive new lifestyle.

Cloe loves the Webkinz dog, yet after my laptop crashed due to an unauthorized download, we put the dog away. For a couple of days Cloe sat on the couch drawing circles in the dust on our coffee table. Then one spring day she scrambles inside our junk closet and pulls out a baseball mitt from the bottom of a basket. "Where's the bat?" She asks. Ever since then, we've been riding bikes, playing ball and doing cartwheels in the back yard. In July she'll be 8 years old and I'll be 52. Cloe is hoping for a skateboard. No Internet connection needed. Danielle Love 2009

http://www.zazzle.com/lilboutlot

http://www.webkinz.com/

Waiting for me to Write

2009-05-14T13:19:00.001-07:00

In 1965 my mother leaned over a pot of boiling potatoes and fear encircled her mind. "You know some day your grandmother won't be here, you should write her a letter." I folded the cuff of a sleeve and placed the laundry on the oak table. My mother didn't scream the words yet the words imprinted in my mind like the moan of a mourning dove. It was my grandmother's first response that encouraged me for the next 30 years. At the end of her life, she wrote less. Sometimes two weeks fell before a letter would return. Instead of stepping ahead, I'd wait to write. She must have lost interest I'd think. Then I'd pull blue stationery from my mail box and feel relief. I dismissed the ninety-five years she had already spent here on earth and went on with my life. Somewhere in the midst of this, she died. I've asked my mother several times what happened but somehow my brain won't allow me to remember. I don't have her in some grave in northern Indiana like I should. She's still in Florida waiting for me to write. Danielle Love 2009

Today in California

2009-05-08T12:25:00.000-07:00

A sonic wave rolled over the desert spread out beyond the Inland Empire and impacted my house. When it hit, the girls were playing Pet Shop on the patio. I rushed them inside like an earthquake had just erupted. My daughter delayed my request packing her toys back into a case. I shouted at her to come. The Navy and Homeland Security darted through my head. Terrorists I worried. The sound came from above. I scanned the neighborhood. There were quick exits from the house across the street and then a return. "Did you feel that?" I yelled. My neighbor shouted from under the hood of his car, "The shuttle." Seconds later he was on my drive. "They needed to land in California today, right about now I suppose"

Where did you get that Hair

2009-04-16T11:24:00.000-07:00

I pull into a parking lot and they see me. I push my cart toward the 99cent store and there they are. Some times I meet anxious new talkers who have a grocery cart full of stories. Other times I'll meet Audry. She's usually in between a Chevy Capri and the blue Buick she drives squeezing her big pocket book between her bosom and the steering wheel. "Oh, hey" she yells. By the time I spot her she has her eyes back on the wheel tugging her purse.

"Hello" I yell back, you going in?"

She budges from the Buick but her taupe Moccasin shoes aren't moving. " Hey I've been wondering." She rearranges the turquoise cardigan around her frumpy neck and twists her polyester slacks around her thick waist. "I've been thinking." She says.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" I ask.

"Who did your hair? It's just lovely dear."

It's the first time our eyes meet. "Well, thank you Audry." I run my fingers through my shoulder length hair and look toward the store. "You going in?" I ask.

"Yeah, yeah," she says, "but where do you go?"

I scan the white tufts of hair that barely cover her ears. "Up town." I nod.

"Up town where? Who does your hair honey?"

I push my cart toward the door twisting my body watching as her short round body scoots behind me. "Your hair looks fine Audry. I like it like that."

Audry stops and frowns. She reaches for a lock of white hair at the peak of her hair line and tugs. As she pulls, I see what looks like a reverse kind of meta-morphism. The white wig slips over her dull blue eyes and down her face. My eyes widen. Underneath is a mass of salt and pepper hair covered in a black hair net. "You probably thought this old thing was real." She giggles twirling the white wig around her fingers. "My hair is as long as yours kiddo." My eyes dart across the parking lot and back on her.

My seven year old knows to expect extra time in the 99cent store. She calls me the Senior Citizen Magnet. In the midst of begging for employment, I'm making new friends with time to talk. They give me seasoned advice on divorce and many stories about daughters that keep children from their grandparents. They show me pictures of their pets and share memories of their mothers, and most often we wonder why some illnesses have become a household word. They pepper my life with home town goodness and help me believe in the world again.
Yesterday, I was in aisle 7 at the 99cent store gripping a bottle of VO-5 when I hear Audry say hello. She's wearing a pair of jeans with a short sleeve T belted around her waist. Her lips smeared with glossy pink lip stick and her hair golden blond with highlights. "I love your hair." I say. "Where did you get it done? I ask.

Look

2009-04-15T09:42:00.000-07:00

A Place with Space by Danielle Love 2009

2009-04-14T17:20:00.000-07:00

Bird Race

2009-04-09T11:20:00.000-07:00

Most years we get Mallards hiding under ice plant hoping to take a waddle down to the pool.
Early last March I woke to find a female sitting on a rock ledge eying the bush above.
She made a nest in full view and turned her eggs as I watched. Two weeks later, I woke again to some strange feeling. I checked the back window to find an empty nest. Bits of egg shells scattered the hill. The female was gone.
I used to think wildlife did instinctively well when it came to taking care of themselves. I believed they never got sick or lived with a chronic illness. Yet since I moved to this house eight years ago, I've seen finches who leave the nest not ready to fly. I've seen rabbits play on large stretches of concrete while hawks circle above. This spring our big event is a nest of hummingbirds. It was built at eye view close to the barbecue. When I first spotted it, I discovered two tiny eggs. They hatched and grew. One opened it's eyes wide while the other only bobbed. Today there is only one bird in the nest. There are ants crawling on it's feathers. It's coat is growing dull. It's eyes are shut.

Danielle Love 2009

Spring Comes Every Year

2009-04-08T17:44:00.000-07:00

DLOVE 2008

Camp 29

2009-04-06T11:44:00.000-07:00

North Korea
Children of the salt mines

Poem and Illustration by Danielle Love 2007

Hyatt Regency Century Plaza LA

2009-01-24T10:18:00.000-08:00

My Favorite Forever

2009-01-24T07:01:00.000-08:00

It tasted like maple pancakes. I found it at Von's in Camarillo- Millstone's Breakfast coffee. It was the only store I knew that carried the aromatic flavor. I liked it hot with a good amount of wholesome cream and sugar. Mellow brown with sweet steam. I proclaimed it as my favorite coffee- forever and made special trips into town to get it. After a few months, I bought multiple bags of this maple delight. It opened my eyes in the morning. Just the idea brought me down stairs with a smile on my face. At times, I'd drive by the store on my way to the post office or Kinkos and think I should get a few extra just in case. The smell gave me that warm comfort of morning. I'd toss the extra bags into the freezer and smile.
About a year later, I get a call from my sister. She's planning a trip to Bali with her friends and one of them can't make it. I could go she says if I don't say anything stupid. "Like what?" I ask but she doesn't have anything pertinent just adamant that I probably will. It's a month long adventure and I need to pack light. On our way to LAX I want to stop at Von's to buy a couple bags of my forever blend. She has a better idea. We trudge up the grade on our way to Whole Foods. I peer out the window as the hills and buildings scramble by. I imagine an aisle of coffee, probably organic probably brands I'll never hear of. My fingers rub against each other in a rhythmic vibration. The radio is low and I sing when my sister shouts, "Stop it, what are you doing that for?" I mumble, I need to buy coffee and look back at the buildings. "There's better coffee than that. Are you going to be like this in Bali?"
A month later, we returned north on the 101. I want my first stop to be Von's. I go alone and push my cart to aisle 14 but instead of the long row of coffees, someone truncated the entire span. I grab a store clerk and inquire. "Where's my coffee?" His eyes sparkle. "Oh you're looking for Millstone, it's in bakery." I make a beeline to the blueberry muffins and iced cinnamon rolls. I maneuver my cart in front of the rich brown display and scan the shelves. Creme Brule, Carmel, Cinnamon Hazelnut, Vanilla Nut Creme. My forehead squeezes, my eyes dart over the selections. Nothing. I study carefully. Still nothing. Shoppers reach over me pull one bag flash a satisfied look and turn. After several minutes I reach for Cinnamon Hazelnut. I sip it for the next year leaving most of the coffee to cool and then turn cold. The cream gathers over the brown and curdles.
It was a lack luster year, mornings came and went but not like before, not like the rush of adrenaline that got me up from just thinking of the sweet blend. A friend suggests I give it up. Even just one cup makes her nervous. She needs to sneak a nap in the early afternoon because of coffee. I look at her staring. What kind of woman is this? I think. Give up coffee, I don't think so. And then everything changes. I move into town. I find this little rental that's perfect for me but the best part is my neighbors. They work for International Coffees and roast beans with brands like The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. Then yesterday, they give me this bag of fresh roasted Bali Blue Moon; a brand spanking new blend, no artificial flavors, just rich dark coffee and nothing like that trip to Bali. I think I'll make it my favorite forever.

Danielle Love 2009

Dirty Jeans

2009-01-23T22:10:00.000-08:00

There goes my ear again. It's been buzzing since September, burning, aching. I've kept my upper lip stiff and my chin high but something has to break. Maybe you already know, maybe you don't want to hear it anymore, but I can't breath. This morning my daughter and I sifted through her clothes looking for pants that she could exchange for the ones that showed five inches of her Halloween socks. She pulls out a pair of shorts and insists they will work. But, it's raining and gray and chilly and I tell her no. I think of her teachers and what teachers think when they see a student with ill fitting clothes. "You can't wear those." I shout. "Why?" she cries. "Because, you have to graduate from college and they already have you on the at-risk list." She pulls out a skirt she wore in first grade. The last time she wore it the waist band left a deviating red ring on her skin.
"Not that one either, where's your jeans?" I ask. She pulls a pair from under her bed; they're crumpled and turned inside out. "I don't want to wear them again, it's Friday."
"Friday? What's that have to do with anything, they're jeans." I tug the denim right side out. Wear these, it's okay." I brush my fingers across ketchup.
She shakes her head and looks down tears well up. "I want to go home." She whispers. The burn in my ear grows. The echo of my house with the empty rooms crosses my mind. The woman from Wells Fargo bellows in my head.
I've been checking my e-mails for almost ten months waiting for a decision on a job- any job. I could help, I could improve, share my knowledge, my wisdom. I rub my ear like I'm scrubbing a cookie sheet. It feels like Katrina, it feels like California fire, it feels like mid-western tornadoes.

Danielle Love 2009 (available for freelance writing)

Come Home Dani

2009-01-23T17:00:00.000-08:00

I was living at the University of Colorado when I received a letter. The envelope had blue roses scattered over the top with my name written in cursive. I slit the envelop and read a very detailed request. The greeting had my name on the front page. But as I read things became very clear this letter was not from my mom. It was from a woman in Ohio. The letter begged and pleaded for Dani to come home. Her father had died. There seemed to be some sort of problem with dad and his daughter, Dani. She was never coming back But that wasn't a problem until now. It seemed the whole family was bent out of shape because of the will. Daddy was a bit manipulative and secretive. Twenty year earlier he had bought a trucking business and kept that a secret. He also kept his will a secret and died telling only his attorney. His family had no idea of the riches he had stored, not even his wife. Even though they sure could have used it. The will demanded his lost daughter's return or else no one would get their fair share of his millions instead he would will his millions to his brother. Although it was quite interesting, it had nothing to do with me and this is what I told Mrs. Holcomb on the phone. But most people have complex lives and this was no different. Mrs. Holcomb demanded I stop the rival. "I know Ken has put you up to this, just come home." She cried. I tried to comfort her and then said goodbye. I tucked the letter in a book and went back to browning a pound of ground round.

A month later, I got a second letter from a man who would be my brother if I was the other Dani Holcomb. He was not amused. He scribbled several accusations about my conduct and threatened to come steal me away. He needed the money dad had provided, all six of the siblings were disparate and I needed to stop being a pigheaded baby. He left me a number to call. Instead I wrote a letter to the return address.

I didn't hear from him or his mother in nearly six months. I finished my class and moved back to Colorado Springs. I was commuting to Boulder to complete my course work and as I drove back home I noticed three police cars in front of my house. The front door was wide open and inside were six police officers drilling my husband Ken. "Tell them", Ken shouted as soon as he noticed the whites of my eyes. "She's not the one your looking for."

The police had scoured my house looking for me with a suspicious report that Ken had kidnapped Dani and was harboring her in Colorado Springs. The police left calmly and my husband and I were assured this was the end of it.

A week later, I received a registered letter from an attorney in Ohio. It was a notice of sequester. I was to be in court the following week 2:00 pm. Tucked in the envelop was a flight to Ohio with a note pleading for me to come. I was to think of the families that would not get the money without my signature. I was to think of my mother who had lived a hard life without resources for many years. For six days I wondered. I pondered. I read the ticket over and again. I thought of the children, the brothers and sisters. I thought of Dani and what must have really happened to keep her from her family for so long.
Everyone encouraged me to go. Just sign it, they said. I wanted to for them and yet I wanted not to for Dani. The next day I woke early, pulled the ticket from my purse and called Mrs. Holcomb. I'm sorry I told her but this is for Dani.

.
Treatment and Screenplay 2005 copyright

Posted by simplydanielle at 10:01 PM 0 comments

The Way It Was

2009-01-23T15:39:00.001-08:00

The tide went out
The people mourned
The water perceived unlike before
Farewell ten thousand times or more
The way it was
The sparkling shores

They reconstructed
pared life down
pushed blame and mud between the stones
while starfish clung to the silent sound

Danielle Love 2009

The Sun is Rising

2009-01-23T13:18:00.000-08:00

We are snotty
little brats
teens whipping our tails
with no consequence
We scrape life from our plates
as starving children harden our hearts
We want more not less
We kill to keep our cars fueled
our household goods cheap
We live poorly
love loosely
teach our children competition over compassion
We tuck the sick and aging into cubbies
like an old pair of Stilettos
Yet our adolescent reign is finished
It's time to survey the land
gather understandings beyond
the black book
What does it matter who we are
when we have no eyes to see
no desire to open our minds
no heart to walk beyond prayer
The sun is rising
our lives depend on it
DLOVE 2008

Wave

2009-01-23T13:16:00.000-08:00

Way up high
from the tips of the sky
falling by the trees
teasing the eucalyptus branches
through the California breeze
a crisp idea
a calm understanding
peace for you and me

Danielle Love 2009

Bent Up

2009-01-23T13:15:00.000-08:00

It should be a terrible night. In fact, I'd probably be excused if I threw a little tantrum. But I'm sitting in my chair singing to Nancy Griffith's Five and Dime. Maybe that's the reason why I'm doing okay. I found two songs today. Two I had stashed away in the early 90's when things were just as tough as today.

I didn't have a stack of them with the words "recession" written on them, but then maybe I just listened to more music when things are scarce. The other CD was produced by DeDannan, some Celtic fare that was popular along with big jackets with fifty pockets and watches with moons and suns dancing around the dial.

The nineties were historical for me; a time to grieve over the loss of my young sister. I had just left a Ph.D. program; tore and broken. I'd play out the next ten years wandering. She had died of the disease I was carrying. Death was interesting, how could it not be. Two months after we had buried her, I grabbed the rungs of my headboard and kept myself from running back home to pull her out.

We had made a mistake. It wasn't a nightmare, it was true and it was time to get back to living. I knew this, but doing so would mean I had to let go of her hand and let her gently fall back into her sleep. Instead I gripped tight.

I had experience with tenacity and it wouldn't let me down. There will come a day when the gods are not looking and she will come back to us, I thought. People said it's been too long. You should be done by now. But what death experts say should take one year took me ten.

On the verge of 2000, I took a deep breath and then exhaled all the bent up feelings I had shoved into my back pocket. I let go of the promise to steal her from the gods and got on with my life. One day just like everyone always says.

The more I lived the less I died. It would become my mantra, my new beginning, my new living. Eight years later, I have tools up my coat more powerful than any Ph.D could have given me. Throw a tantrum? I don't think so, I've got living to do. Everything is going to be okay.

Throw a Sheep At

2009-01-23T13:14:00.001-08:00

This quasi-meditation group inaugurated me as the singer. I'm not all that good or all that bad but it's pretty cool. Isn't it the ultimate goal to have a group of people who think you're the best at something? They do. We spend an hour meditating to our goals and then lend support to people in our lives. Last week one of the girls had just went skiing and taken a young man along with her family to learn what it feels like to be 22 with sticks on your feet and fall down a mountain for the first time. " He did well. in fact I was surprised, how well." she said. "Oh, really," I responded, "I just threw a sheep at him." The girls laughed a little and went on about the trip. "I was thinking of giving him a yellow snow cone that would have been funny too since I heard he took a black diamond." I continued. The girls were stooped. Some gave erratic head shakes and others giggled. "You threw a sheep at him?" a tall styling brunette asked. "Yeah, why not? He can take it." I laughed and laughed until I realized she and they had no idea of this thing of throwing or slapping or dropping hippos. So I bubble wrapped all of them.

Dirty Jeans

2009-01-23T11:54:00.000-08:00

A Florida Vacation

2008-12-18T20:40:00.000-08:00

Christmas 1970 my parents began this Christmas tradition of traveling to Florida. It was the same year I fell in love with the song, "There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays." My mother hated it and threatened to place me in animated suspension until they got back. Going at Christmas was the solution to one trip to Florida in August. In 1965 my grandma came to Chicago to visit us for two months. My mother thought it would be nice to take her back to Tampa- in a Country Squire station wagon. It was the sixties which means the family average was up by 33% and interstate highways were far between states.

We packed up the car all nine of us including grandma, luggage, and food for the next fourteen hours. My mother brought the big aluminum bread box and crammed it with fried chicken, potato salad with eggs, and pie. Never even thought of bringing water, but we did have two gallon Thermos' of red Kool-aid. From Chicago we took Hwy 41 all the way down. Three, six, nine. My littlest sister sat with my parents in the front seat. My grandma with the oldest girls and then way in the back sitting on a "flower power" sleeping bag with the picnic dinner was my brother, my littler sister and me. We did fine until we hit Indianapolis and it started to rain. My father had planned ahead and wrapped our Samsonite in oil laden canvas. It began to pour and the oil merged over the windshield. Wipers smearing petroleum over glass as we sang "We ALL Live in a Yellow Submarine".

My father kept driving. We might have stopped for gas but the service was so good that I don't remember, except that we left my littler sister behind. One quick turn-around in the grassy median and we were back at Standard Oil in no time. Life was simpler then.
The trip continued on that way for the full 7 days- 4 on the road and 3 off. We went to two amusement parks, some cave in Kentucky, the Gulf of Mexico, dinner on the water and Stuckey's. I'm not sure why but I still want to have Christmas with these people. Or maybe that is why. I don't travel much but when I do it's usually back home.

Danielle Love 2008 Freelance