Karen Loftis Rankowitz

Prologue Humidity's stifling blanket is gone and each breath comes easier. Squirrels scurry to gather a harvest before the snows of winter shroud a frozen landscape in pristine whiteness. Awakened is the smoke, exhaled from chimneys not used since March and families get cozy in the midst of the shadows cast by dancing flames; the warmth wrapped around them. While most celebrate this transformation of the seasons, I do not. Overwhelmed with feelings of anxiety, fall's vivid colors seen on the trees, is a dreadful reminder that they will soon seek me out. As though I will be the one to unburden them and move them beyond the interim - between here and now and heaven or hell. Like life that has been sucked from the lushness of summer, autumn falls dead. The daylight slips away and darkness steals its splendor. Only shades in gray are left behind the closed shutters. I will no longer hear the peep frogs or crickets that lulled me to sleep only a few short weeks ago. Instead, I w

Though the warm weather here in Connecticut will give way to cooler temperatures, motorcycles will still be on the roads, often into November. Since the streets are busy with bikes and BMW's, trucks and tractor-trailers learning to travel together sensibly is a positive step in ensuring the safety of all. Generally, motorists know to look for other cars on the roads, not motorcycles. To share the road safely drivers need to be watchful of motorcyclists. Research has shown that 75% of motorcycle fatalities have involved another vehicle, and two out of every three were the fault of the driver in the other vehicle. What can you do to avoid being part of these statistics? Give the motorcyclist a full lane to ride in and allow the same room when passing as you would a car. Pay attention when making a left turn, at intersections and when changing lanes. Most crashes occur when the cyclist is traveling straight and the other vehicle is making a left turn. It is difficult to judge the

Potty training is not about the progression from diapers to big boy underwear. It's a process that continues into adulthood, especially for boys, and sad to say some never become fully trained. Lift the seat and aim. Though this combination may necessitate some study of geometric angles, it isn't rocket science. The task requires no more effort than raising an arm, yet it seems my boys' arms do not move this way. Not unless this action involves hitting or eating. So I thought if eating moves arms then drinking must too. However, the signs I stuck to the seat, "Flip-Top-Lid" gave them no clue. They must have assumed it was a target, since aim only counts in sports and video games. I do dream of some day having my own bathroom, a sanctuary where offenders are ban. Fingers, notes, and cat food don't fit under the door and the dog does not drink from the faucet. The "I have had enough" moment came in an eruption, literally. My child, the one that never

I asked for a hysterectomy for my 40 th birthday. What I got instead was bronchitis, a double ear infection, and a mammogram. I had put it off for long enough. I finally made the overdue appointment with my gynecologist. I was told that a mammogram was in order because I am, of course, 40. I took the detailed information the receptionist, so kindly, gave to me even though it wasn't what I asked for. As I sat in the waiting room, I read the pamphlet but couldn't fathom why, after everything else I've gone through with them, would they subject me to more nastiness. "Is there no limit?" I asked while patting my chest in reassurance. I was sure the words printed were encrypted. A secret code my mind readily translated from "It will be fine, it's really not that bad" to "Good, LORD, you want what?" The Procedure: Do not apply deodorant/antiperspirant on the day of the procedure. But, it was here in the decoding process where I began to sweat.

Cut me from the cloth once spun By poets great and apt I've read Thoreau and even Donne For course I may adapt Dickenson, Walt Whitman too Love poems and the dreary Perusing I have read them through Selfish for a theory Meter count and rhyming flow But naught has been refined Insight fed will ever grow Sighting eyes once blind Perhaps to travel world by train And view a tranquil scene But skill it seems to have no reign On thoughts without routine In front of me the first, the best I am the lone caboose Oh, to hell with this and all the rest I'll stick with Dr. Suess

Tear stained parchment, my pen hard pressed Longing to engage With callous judgment, my pain is forced Scrawled upon a page What echoed? Only ramblings Unforgiving to my muse Obliteration or creation What passage shall I choose? While inspiration eluded insight Dark reaper took its hold Leaving only emptiness From where my thoughts it stole Knowledge caged in prison walls It taunted mind's contention Gallows looming, tethered and trite Weary from dissension. My passion placed in tightened noose I braced for broken spirit Cast into disparity I feared, lest not submit My vision lured into dark depths To execute its pledge, The void, it stared back into me When fate stalled at its edge Of Harvester, you wish to know How death befell its rage? Persistently, I chose my path Now scripted on this page Though content, I am, this moment's time Freed from lowly troll I often sense its haunting ghost Consorting with my soul So, should you read u

I wouldn't have been so alarmed if my children were home, when it hit me on the head. However, I was alone and naked and in my shower. All I thought was it must have been a bug. Probably a big bug by the thwack I suffered. I felt so vulnerable, and exposed, standing there but ran my hand through my wet hair and pried it out. I squinted, cause I can't see without glasses, steadied my shaking hand, and focused in on the Q-Tip. "That's odd." I said, and looked up. There must have been 137 of them just hanging from the ceiling. They were dripping down like stalactite formations from Carlsbad Caverns that tourists pay a ton of money to see. Squinting harder, I discovered the ceiling wasn't the only surface afflicted; they were everywhere. For two boys who wouldn't find the hamper if it was woven out of hundred dollar bills , one of them found the super-sized box of 300 plus Q-tips, and together they transformed my shower into a cavern. I vaguely recalled the s

I have listened to my motivational tapes, diligently watched the "cleanliness is next to Godliness" infomercials and performed my daily stress reducing yoga, which has eased my mind, but has cause much stress to muscles I haven't used since birthing my children. I am ready to clean my house, not just 'tidy up' but get into places that haven't seen the light of day since…well, my last bout of ambition. Most would consider this a task to perform during the springtime. However, I am a procrastinator so the deed doesn't get started until late summer. I admit I am a disaster at domestication. I have not been declared a Federal disaster yet, but I do make such a mess when I try to clean. I am relieved that the cleaning product gurus recognize this crisis. They are now making bazillions of new and improved devices to help me out. Take Swiffer for example. They have the Sweeper, the Carpet Flick, Swiffer Sweeper+Vac, and for dust, there are Swiffer Duster

The school year is over and we are into the busy summer season. I would like to share some of the excursions my boys and I have enjoyed over the past summer as I attempted to keep the boredom at bay while trying to maintain everyone's sanity. My sanity, it has slipped a bit, but my laughter remains a steady source of strength. The park was fun as well as healthy. We brought scooters and skateboards, sunscreen and plenty of water. Movie matinees were a retreat from the heat and less expensive than nighttime shows, and with the money we saved on tickets we had enough to splurge for tasty treats. A first aid kit on all outings is a well thought out necessity for my crew. Others may not need this at the movies, but I like to 'be on the safe side'. As I again look forward to neglecting housework, eating in the car, and giving thanks for "Tide with Bleach Alternative", I think about how other families might battle boredom, and ride the waves during these hot humid days

I had met the parenting challenge head on and was instantly knocked on my bottom, kicked, pooped on, and left for dead. But only after my son was fed, rocked, bathed, changed then bathed and changed again. I was washing bottles, "Shout" ing out formula stains on every one's clothing and desperately trying to keep up with cooking, cleaning, and being a wife. So, really, I had no time to be dead. My time was spent being exhausted, depressed, doing all I could to console my colicky child, and crying, a lot. Oh, I had heard of mothers who loved being pregnant , how infancy was simply the most joyous time. Their child napped twice a day for three hours and slept through the night at six-weeks-old. Well, I wasn't buying it. I thought surely these mothers are faking it and their babies must be too. Then that glorious day came, when my child actually did sleep for five straight, uninterrupted hours. OK , so he was 12 months old and down to only one half-hour nap a

Give me a serious situation, like parent-teacher conferences or a call from the school principal and I will always find humor in it. I know it's not proper. So, I have researched the cause of my inappropriate behavior and have come to only one conclusion - prenatal vitamins. The manufacturer of these supplement servings must have included something to promote the growth of my funny bone. They knew I would need a lot of 'funny', pre-natal, even years later. After the last big snowfall and just enough rain to leave a thin sheet of ice - a perfect recipe for crispy daggers of disaster - my son Christian ventured out onto the frozen snow to bring our dog into the house. The dog's chain was wrapped around my Rose of Sharon bush, which was now uprooted and being dragged around. To free to dog, Christian took hold of the dog collar in one hand and released the leash with the other. Though the dog may have appeared to be in distress, he was smart and quick. The dog kn

I saw a carpenter ant in my house today. Though it was the only one I had seen this year, I was quite concerned by its presence. It was the size of a miniature Chihuahua . How a Chihuahua can be miniaturized I wasn't sure, but apparently it has been done. My first thought was to step on it, which I did. But, then I thought about the possibility of there being more than just this one. "It must have a family." I said, as I peered down at its corpse. Probably a large, extended family that would be mad about what I did. I first Googled 'riot control' on the Internet , found nothing to help me there so, I searched 'pest control'. I was flabbergasted by the amount of information. "This is such a serious problem." I whispered so 'the family' wouldn't know what I was up to. I decided to heed the professionals' advice. I printed what was helpful and formulated my plan, drawing schematics and highlighting the pertinent blurbs and bull