Grandma's Got Tattoos

 

Grandma's Got Tattoos

Written and Illustrated by Nona Kayla

Ernesto has been bullied for having a large birthmark on his face. He goes to Grandma for some comfort and words of calm advice. Grandma tells him a story of her own adventures about being different. She sets off on an adventure one day, with her faithful companion, June E. Purr. They overcome storms, blockages, and unusual encounters. Along the way, she meets a helpful pant, a special animal, and a personal guide who all help to build feelings of confidence, resourcefulness, and self-esteem.

Wonderful absolutely wonderful. Historically time and patterns repeat like the ancient art of storytelling, sitting around the campfire or the evening fireplace with full bellies and listening to the storyteller ( the elders), it’s a love message of I believe in you and I unconditionally love you too... The receding pandemic has highlighted these truths of connection. This delightful book should be read to not only children, teens, and young adults but also middle-aged adults too who want to remember dear loved ones or want to find a heart grandmother or grandfather, remember to seek and you shall receive ... Mother Earth is plentiful.. thank you Kayla Nona - Janice Carr

This is a wonderful book for young and old alike. I thoroughly loved the message and the uplifting storyline. Great book. - Justice

Threesomes

 

A good laugh, a good 

Cry, handkerchief

Chance to say goodbye

Me you and Jenny

Rubbing soft triangle ears

Slip away through veils

I and my muse, Death

Crafting the epitaphs of

Who will be the next

Memorial

Cloying, pungent

Wilted Easter lilies

Metallic, bitter

Day old microwave coffee, sour

Slimy mushroom caps, spores

Unforgettable 

Sung acapella

Selenite heart

Bird's eye maple urn

A braid of horsehair 

Tiny sweet angel

Stain glass reflections

Bathe

Generations of

Salted tears

Go Slow

Go slow, go slow

Get better at saying no

Say yes to less

Forget the mess

No need for multi tasking

Simply focus that's all I'm asking

Let the coffee do it's drip

Before savoring that very first sip

The only ones who want you to be fast

Is of course the starving cats

So go slow,

So slow

Remember

You've got

Nowhere to go

Spell It Out

Handwriting is a 

Magical tool, a runic

Wisdom transcription

Thoughts on Altars

I have alters all around my house and garden. Sacred little spaces. Pockets of time. Symbols infused with intention, placed deliberately.

In our bedroom is our relationship altar filled with the knick knacks of our wedding and wooing. In the bathroom is simply an altar to cleansing and purifying starting the day. All my little aromatherapy bottles lined up in a row. And then there's what I consider my personal altar where I very rarely sit, but I always pull at least three cards to set my intention for the day.
Downstairs, as soon as you walk in is the front altar which changes seasonally or more accurately according to my moods. Often it has thank you notes, holiday cards, just this feeling of greetings from the beyond. The kitchen is dominated by Laphrodite sitting on her cake platter because yes, I serve the goddess. However, mostly it is taken up Chip's papers which I try to organize by providing a basket.

The back room also has a relationship altar in the appropriate feng shui corner. It is currently also graced by a thank you card, a beautiful quilted bird reminding me to light a healing candle every day. One could say that the octopus in the guest bathroom is an altar into itself, sitting on top of the pearls and jewels that I so carefully hot glued together. Chip’s office is simply an altar to chaos. The piles everywhere I cannot fathom the depths.

Then we arrive at my office and my bookcase which of course has my books on it. How else do I honor my writing except by looking at the books that I have published, there was a mug with a butterfly on one side and the words Most Special Mom on the other that holds my fine tip Sharpies, my favorite writing implement. There's a large panorama of the sunset with the moon rising. Or maybe it's sunrise with the moon setting. My husband took from the summit and printed on a metallic paper that makes the most beautiful indigo violet. There are the rose petals that Lisa handed to us on the first day of class. A small miniature hand that is open reminds me of the other hands I have seen on Lisa's altar. In particular, the healing Hamsa hand from my stepson. I have a blue ink bottle that is a part of the set that usually sits in my window that belonged to my parents for as long as I can remember. I have no idea when I absconded with it.

In it are four feathers - a Macaw feather, a raven feather, a blue jay feather, another parrot feather. As a hypnotherapist, mostly what I do is parrot back to my client so the parrot is a very special bird to me as well as the local Ravens. There is the conch shell that I've written about before and a model of the universe that I use when doing astrology readings. There is a thin Balinese goddess in prayer position representing Reiki. She is graced by a swan and I took quite some time to paint her in practically the same colors as the image behind her. A random client gave me a pair of earrings with glass origami peace birds. A little too big for me to actually have to wear myself, but they sure look great on her. There's a small bottle of lavender. My favorite scent to wear.Today’s tarot card ard I pulled which happens to be the hermit go on a retreat. There's a bumper sticker that says My Magic is Good. My Magic is Strong. I put a lot of time into these. Nothing actually happened with that particular project, but I do like how the colors pick up the colors from both the parrot feathers, Balinese goddess and the sunset/sunrise above. I have a name tag that says Reverend Rose that is encrusted in pink zirconia and diamonds. I love how gaudy it is and my Balinese goddess has a gold watch. A gold pocket watch wrapped around her.

Many moons ago when I lived at 325 Broadway. Barely 23 years old. I decided to clean out the tiny shack in order to have a place to store my bike. It took me the entire day to get rid of the paint cans. Kerosene cans tin cans rat traps rakes rusted garden implements amount of dirt, grass and dust I swept and swept. There was only one little pile left and I remember thinking nobody will ever know and I thought to myself but I will know I will always know. And so I swept that last little pile into my metal dust pan and low and behold a gold pocket watch. I'm talking 18 carat gold and gray from the 1800s broken. Sure, but what a treasure this has been on my altar for the last 233 years now. At some point it fell and the clock face broke but I won’t repair it. I see the fine cracks like the laugh lines around my face. They indicate times that have gone by. I always joke to my clients that I'm not going to pull out a pocket watch to hypnotize you, but I know it is sitting there as a magical tool in case I ever need it and that's a good story.

Musings

I don't want to say that Death is my muse.

Just a hitchhiker
along for the ride
swap a story or two
part ways

I picked her up
on the way to San Diego
Last September
Now we journey
Back to Bonners Ferry

Backgammon
Ripping paper
Morgue

Somewhere on her GPS is
East Pueblo Street
Via Crostini
Walk Circle

I’d like her to be dropped off
For at least a little while,
Give room for a new passenger

Maybe Hope
Needs a ride
Home