Five Minutes

Got new glasses. I can see! It is awesome to see the print on the boxes at Wal-Mart. Unfortunately I have not seen Mr. Owl in awhile because I could not see him. I have vision again. I'll update immediately when I see him again. If you don't have a clue what I am talking about one of my earlier blogs is sure to include information regarding Mr. Owl.

Life is strange. Life is challenging. Life is a gift. Life is a two-edged sword! Life is a trip. Life is short. Life sucks for an hour, exhilarates for an hour, bores me for an hour and so on and so forth. Life is fragile. Life was a magazine. Bravo to life!

I cut the grass this afternoon. The backyard was a jungle. Now my body is asking me what I was thinking yet my mind is at peace as my hard work made a difference to our home. I know, what do you care, right? I'm wondering that myself. Just writing about me cutting the grass. YAY! Big deal! People do that sort of thing all the time! Small successes count!

Late for bed, as usual. My large kitten, emphasis on large, is vying for my attention by biting at wires under my desk. Do you have a tangled mess of electrical cords, computer cords, recharging device lines, etc. under your desk?

Speaking into an abyss as there has not been a comment on any of my posts in a long, long time. If I yelled "hello" into this blog I would get an echo in return. Hello, ello, llo, lo........!

I think five minutes is up. Probably more. I dunno. Peace out!

Ignorance is bliss! Awareness brings responsibility!

Recently I made a decision to begin a free course of studies provided by the Voice of Martyrs (VOM). They are a Christian organization who draw attention to the martyrdom of Christians throughout the world. This topic has drawn my attention from time to time. I admit I avoided looking too closely at any data or listening to stories of Christian persecution. I knew the moment I began educating myself I would also become responsible for my knowledge. I also knew that I have not, to my knowledge, suffered so much as a breath of persecution as an American Christian. Viewing videos and learning the extent of persecution in other parts of the world drops the scales from my eyes. What I would look away from, avoid when presented with it, I now can see.

The suffering I have learned of in the short time since I began these courses is overwhelming. I remember going to the Grand Canyon as a teen-ager and looking at the vastness of the canyon. I remember looking down into the canyon as I stood behind the safety of a fence. With growing awe I realized that my mind did not have the ability to perceive the depth of this magnificent Grand Canyon. My vision saw the depth. My mind could not encompass what my eyes transmitted back to it. About half-way down is where my mind stopped and I found myself unable to relate to the reality of that great vastness. So it is with the reality of the persecution of Christians around the world. I read the words, watch and listen to the videos, absorb the statistics yet I cannot relate to the reality. Perhaps this is why I was drawn to pursue these courses from VOM. Perhaps it is time to study, listen, view, pray and understand the truth of persecution.

I anticipate to hold this pattern of distancing myself from the reality for awhile longer. After that my normal reaction is anger fueling a desire in me to conquer a reality I cannot begin to accept. Some time will pass and I will allow the truth of martydom and persecution to settle into my psyche. I will allow myself to identify with the truth and then I will ask God what He will have me to do as a response to my identification.

The pursuit of knowledge can be a dangerous business. It can alter our world in small and large ways. Once the scales fall from our eyes and we see what has been hidden we are responsible for that knowledge. May God help those suffering for His name's sake tonight!

Been Gone

went to Virginia to attend my oldest grandson's high school graduation and triple loved it because i have three grandchildren so it is triple love and then you add my daughter and her husband and it is triple plus two love. i could add more because i did receive a bunch of love and hope i gave some also. great week-end. left friday and came back today, sunday. short and very sweet trip. i love virginia. my family lives in the country. i mean, really...in the country. beautiful green trees and pastures with light green grasses, honeysuckle aroma that went straight to my head triggering years of  memories of the scent of honeysuckle. virginia red clay, gravel roads, country air, the works. can you tell i enjoyed it?

home now and up way too late for my own good but i didn't want to go to sleep before writing a bit.

a man i care for very much is fighting for his life at the VA hospital. he is having dreams or visions of beautiful mansions. he tells his wife they are not visions or dream. they are real and they are too beautiful to describe. he says there are no words to describe their beauty. he is in a va hospital and in a hospital room but he sees it and exclaims how beautiful the room is and tells his wife how beautiful the room is to him. one foot here and one foot in heaven. i am so grateful he is seeing beauty and is not afraid. he is an awesome man. we all love him very much!

night!

Just A Little Something....

http://youtu.be/M9K7mlpgUJ8

Please listen. The rest of this post will make ever so much more sense.

                                                          Meet Arrogance and Ego

Masters of Disguise

 

 

Listening to a few songs from way back in the day when my mind was under the influence of, well, more than a couple of things. I was 17 when I heard the song I have attached. I was gone...way gone on a drug trip that lasted 13 hours. Yeah, you are right! I should have known better. Good Day Sunshine has been a part of me in an intrinsic way since the day I heard it playing when my own brain did not know me. Writing is about truth either in your face or disguised in stories born of truth. This writing today is the truth. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Behind a mask I hid
myself. Behind that mask
was another and another
and another.
But the truth came crashing in
One day
Despite my clever disguise,
The truth came in.                                                                                                                                 
C'est moi mon ami!
You've been found!       

 

It's Me!

Yesterday I quoted Mr. Sponsorpants who has a blog that I follow regularly. Today I am myself.  "Ms. Smartypants" comes to mind as a fair moniker for me. A main trait of mine is known in varying circles as "the gift of blarney". I can spin a tale, trade sarcasms with the best of the sharp tongued devils I have met and, on many an occasion, appear to know far more about a subject than I actually know. I know enough to give me the threads of a conversation which coupled with my gift for gab fools some of the people some of the time. There is a saying used in a group I attend. It goes like this: "I am frequently wrong but I'm never in doubt." Voila! C'est moi! (For folks who did not 'parlez the francais' in high school the interpretation, southern style, is "that's me folks!")

Desperate for a change of topic the frogs singing around the swimming pool tonight are loud enough for me to hear in my bedroom. The impact lessens as reality demands that I remind the reader that I live in an aluminum condominium or mobile home or trailer depending on preference. The walls are thinner than in a "real" house. I love the smugness of folks who think trailers are not real houses. Mine has real people in it. Real pets dominating the environment. Real furniture. Real relationships. Real food. It can be seen using Google Earth. How real does a house need to be to qualify for the "house" honor. Yes, I know that the big, bad wolf could huff and puff and blow my house down faster than a brick house or a sturdy home made of wood. If a wolf did blow it over would he be blowing over less than a house? I can hear you suggesting that I am confusing "house" and "home" with each other. I have a home in my trailer. I do not have a home in a house. Why is it that a bit of shame haunts me when I say to someone that I live in a trailer and in a trailer park? I know a woman who, after years of knowing me, still looks at me as if to say, "You poor thing." My first instinct is to punch her in the nose to deflate her a bit. My second instinct is a wee sense of shame as if I have made an unforgiveable mistake by virtue of my residence. I finally coped with this woman by removing myself from her circle of friends. Her house sits on the side of a golf course and has a lovely yard and a beautiful interior with deep carpet and expensive furniture she bought in her first marriage when she was wealthy. I like it. I won't lie. I don't want to live there nor do I envy her but I can be honest and tell you that her house is lovely and in a lovely neighborhood.

Time to switch subjects. Oh how I do ramble on about one thing or the other. I worked today. I work from home. I am a customer service agent using a telephone and computer from home. I like the work and the flexible hours. I am beginning to notice the personality differences of customers associated with the company that is hosting their conference. Financial companies tend to have participants who are nice but easy to frustrate. Fast food companies have many Hispanic managers. Customers who call in that work for auto part companies are friendly, kinda down to earth in their responses. A demographics of sorts is developing in my mind based on my interactions with customers who work for different types of companies. I spend an average of 45 seconds on line with each person. Those short periods of time spread over a length of time develop discernible patterns, predictable conclusions that I draw from while answering calls. It is not my imagination. A true call center agent with a curiosity about people and a head for drawing conclusions from multiple sources of data can infer with a high degree of predictability how defined groups of people will respond on the average. Or, to keep it southern, "Folks is folks." It is a "fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly" parallel.

Putting on the brakes now! Preparing to close out. Building the courage to face a sink full of dishes, two bossy cats and a litter box. Might watch Criminal Minds and learn how make-believe psychotics kill people. Might come in handy if I ever want to be a make-believe psychotic. "Back off 'varmints' I'm a make-believe psychotic with an inferiority complex. Them's the worst kind!"

Sweet dreams!

Quoting from a blog called Mr. Sponsorpants because I needed to see it often. Oh yeah, I am a sober alcoholic hence the AA part.

Other people's behavior -- either today, or in the past -- no longer dictates my behavior.

If there are monsters in your past, you can be free of them forever...

if you learn to (truly) forgive.

The book "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book) observes, first and foremost, that "...the world and its people are often quite wrong..."

It then goes on to suggest that the people who wronged us were themselves spiritually sick.

It can be a long hard journey to true forgiveness sometimes, but in my experience, that belief is where it starts.

Call it envy or call it jealousy!

Envy and jealousy seem, to me, to be two sides of the same coin. I am thinking of these two words because overhearing conversations at church today I heard families talking about their vacations either upcoming or recently taken. I felt a pull of angst in my heart. I adore to go on vacation to a beach area about just south of us and have not been in two years due to finances. I have not taken a  "stacation" which is my fault. Until today I did not even give that a thought in my head. To be honest while listening to the description of a week's vacation to the mountains for one family I know I simply was green with envy or jealousy...call it what you will...you get my drift.

Interestingly enough I am completely in love with this little motel that sits just off the ocean and is about a 3 hours drive from our home. It is a practical motel for fishermen and their families. There is a pier adjacent to the motel. Separate owners but certainly nicely co-joined. The rooms are simple, made to accomodate sand and the detritus of going to and from the beach. The walk to the beach is ridiculously short. It is a no-frills place. I love it. We go, when we go, in the fall or early winter. No tourists, quiet, sliding doors open with the breeze from the ocean bearing the sound of breaking waves into our room. A small balcony with a couple of chairs overlook out to the ocean. Well, enough of that because the irony of this awesomeness is that I am, at heart, deliriously in love with the mountains of North Carolina. I crave to move there having lived in those mountains as a young girl. My sister lives in the mountains. Visiting her is bitter-sweet as I hold back tears born from the deep yearning I have to stay and never leave again and, yet, the motel on the coast of North Carolina entrances me.

But, at this present time, my finances do not favor travel of any kind other than local comings and goings. So I listened to the several conversations going on about vacations and lusted after the idea of one, As a recovering alcoholic I know full well that expectations of any kind are a set-up for misery in my mind. My best times have been largely unplanned, spur of the moment choices. Given time to think things through I spin tales in my mind; grandiose, dripping in unrealistic expectations. This thinking sets an evil trap for me as there is no chance that my expectations are realistic or attainable in a real world. Best for me to plan quickly and execute before I trail off into a dream world.

My envy and jealously were a part of me that began to effortlessly spin a tale to trap myself. I am the spider with her web and I am the insect caught in the web. I don't want to go to Dollywood for vacation or to go at the peak of tourist season. I forgot that this morning as I spun the web I stuck to in my head.

Stuff

Writing for the sake of writing and making an effort to do so daily is not as easy as I thought it would be for me. I suspect the word "discipline" plays a significant part in my lapses. Disciplined is not the first word anyone would assign to me on the best of days. On my other days they would laugh and make fun. I believe many of us believe we can sit down at the keyboard and write eloquently straight from the brain and be fresh and new each day. I do write straight from my brain...no notes or research or even thinking things through. Most of my posts take under 15 minutes. Imagine what I could accomplish if I chose to develop my writing or what I could ruin. I believe stream of consciousness and impromptu venues suit me best though I could be lying to myself in order to avoid discipline in my daily life. Yep! I will bet that is my dirty, little secret. I don't relish the idea of writing being a discipline. I want to be a writing savant and spend my days pouring out words onto paper that are undeniably the best of the best. Of course once I finished for the day someone might have to feed and bathe me and put me to bed as "savant" is associated with one highly evolved and unexplainable talent at the cost of a balanced mind and body. As much as I dislike the idea of a daily discipline (which I have not achieved to this point) I believe I would choose it over having an amazing talent at the keyboard with no other faculties fully intact.

I wonder how my mind goes off on these tangents. I intended to write about the smells of the night air as I walked home from my mother's home. I intended to mention the faint scent of gardenias wafting through the air evoking a deep southern response from me. A response so tied to the spirit of a southern girl that the scent may be an integral part of my DNA. Steps further towards my home the air held the scent of rinse softener from a nearby neighbor's home as their clothes spun in the dryer. A tall pine tree in the corner of my front yard splayed out in partial view as the street lamp that lights my living room also lit the pine tree until the surrounding darkness took over where the light left off.

It is a metaphor for life. We stand in the glow of the light as it pushes out into the darkness. We avoid acknowledging our fear that the darkness will swallow us whole. At the furtherest end of the light all of us meet darkness and we cannot find our way. Many of us learn to carry light with us to banish the darkness.

Well, our siamese kitten (tongue in cheek, as the once tiny kitten is as big as a full grown cat) wanted to climb into my lap and snuggle. He never knew his mother. A wonderful woman bottle fed him and let him sleep with her when he was too young to be adopted to a family. He fit into our hands at the time. Today, not so many weeks later, he is a poser posing as a kitten in an adult cat's body. Anyway, he begged to get into my lap asking for hugs and stroking of his back and scratching behind his ears .I pulled him close to me so I could continue to type.  In short order he grew weary of the laptop and jumped off my lap in search of something a bit more interesting!

I am fading fast. Night!

Six Minutes

Six minutes before I shut down and go to my mother's and watch a movie. Six minutes to express myself in writing. Six minutes to think, think, think...or not!

I cleaned my neighbor's home today. She pays me. I have found that I enjoy the work of cleaning other people's homes. Much like the proverbial carpenter who does beautiful work on other homes but his own home is always in progress; I have a cluttered home in need of someone to clean it. Oh the horror that it should be me. Seems like I cleaned it just a few months ago or part of it at least.

I also clean the building of the church I attend or rather I do the vacumming and clean the bathrooms. No pay. Goodness knows I gain so much more from my life in that church family than I can ever repay. Cleaning is an act of love and obedience to God. Again, apparently I have not gotten that message about my own home.

One minute...there is a lesson in this post. I don't have a clue what it might be but I am sure there is a lesson in it. As we say in a group I love deeply, "More will be revealed...".

No time left. Shut down.

Letting go of what I didn't have in the first place!

My oldest grandson is graduating from high school this year. He is an amazing human being. He was from the day he entered this world. He sees life in unique ways and has always chosen to walk to the beat of his own drum. I saw on Facebook that he won a number of awards at Senior Day at the school he attends in Virginia. The pictures of him are awesome. He is so tall and grown and I am so proud of him. He graduates at the end of May. Life broadens out to meet him with the multitude of choices all vying for his attention.

And this is what I am letting go of because I cannot have the expectation any longer in my head. I did not know he was having a Senior's Day where he would be getting awards. I find out about it on Facebook in posts that are not even directly meant for me. He is graduating in a little over a week and I have no idea what day. I have been out of the loop for so long when it comes to high school graduations that I cannot remember the traditional stuff like when they are usually held. There are no phone calls to share the news of this day with me or to invite me to attend if I want to make the drive. I have been invited to attend graduation with the caveat that I understand things are going to be busy and there won't be much individual time. My expectation was that as these life events came into my grandchildren's lives I would know, someone would tell me and I could make a decision about being able to make the trip. My expectations have been that I would be involved in some small way. My assumption is that the mistakes I made in the past have cost me this opportunity to share in the joy and build-up to these times in the lives of my family in Virginia. I love all of them so much. I know they love me.

I wrestle with this sense of loss and inevitability as time passes by. I mourn it. I expected to be included and expectations are of no real value. Looking at the pictures of Forrest in his cap and gown gave me a thrill and I thought why my daughter did not call or mention to me about this day. Maybe I have broken something between us that is irrevocable and for that I am  full of sorrow and wish it were different between she and I. But it isn't. My job is to let that expectation go like a balloon leaving the hand of a child as the helium lifts it higher and higher. It is my job to accept life on its own terms and leave it with God. This is such an awesome time in my grandson's life. I burst with priide and love him more than he will ever know. My heart is happy for him. I'm letting go of what I did not have in the first place which is peace of mind with things exactly as they are today. Letting go by the grace of God!

#$&** and Happy Thoughts

The cellphone I use is old. It works fine. It does not have a camera and does not have a query keyboard for texting. It suits my needs perfectly and I have never been where I could not get a signal. Says a lot for this old, flip phone of mine. BUT today I wanted to change the voicemail greeting. A simple thing, right? Easy! NOT!! I have worked diligently to figure out how to find the settings for changing the greeting on my voicemail. I have viewed numerous websites, used codes, updated voice commands, gone round and round the numerous options available to me and could not find the voicemail options. In desperation I succumbed to deleting messages from my voicemail and VOILA! at the end of the messages I was offered options for making changes. Oh I should put my head down on my desk and cry. Really? I have to delete all the messages that are old before getting to the options for voicemail. REALLY?? Too freaking much for a complicated mind such as mine and ridiculous that the options should be hidden under a pile of undeleted voice messages. Maybe that is where my glasses are also. I have not been able to find them for days. Maybe I am nuts or developing a gap in my brain into which the memory of how to find things has fallen. My message is changed now. Ta! Da! Just think what it would have been like if I had a new phone with all the bells and whistles. Oh the horror of the thought. Technilogically challenged in a technilogical age, doomed to obsolescence...poor me! A little bitty phone got the best of me again. Please, beam me up, Scotty!

Happy Thoughts - had lunch with two of my best friends today. They happen to be married and a bit older than I; though not by much. As usual the time with them was delightful and went by all too fast. I travelled to New Bern to see them. There was a show of old, remodeled cars going on so downtown was packed. Flowers were out in containers at the entrance to shops and a light rain fell leaving the smell of rain in the air and raindrops twinkling in the sun as they clung to potted flowers. Great food at lunch. Great company at lunch. Familiar banter back and forth, laughter, sharing of opinions and mutual respect for one another. I call that a happy time! I am blessed!

Tomorrow is Mother'sDay! I never know how to deal with Mother's Day. This year is going to be relaxed and comfortable with little to dwell on other than it is Mother's Day. Simple! I cannot bear complicated Mother's Day feelings. For me tomorrow is an easy does it day!

%&$*^ cats have run all around me meowing and pawing at me. I fed them (though it was not time) and they have chilled out completely. They must be related to me. Caught a glimpse of a brilliantly red cardinal on my birdfeeder today. Took my breath away for a moment. He flew off quickly. He did not know I could not come through the wall to snatch at him. Boy, that bird was a looker! High fashion red, healthy and proud of it. Probably got eggs all over the place by different females, of course. He got my attention!

Ciao!

Oh the irony of it all...

Talking is an art form for me. I was born into a family of talkers. I learned at an early age that to get attention in one of our family gatherings it was important to get into a conversation, hold your own in that conversation and be able to talk to another group all at the same time. This was made truly chaotic as each and every family member seemed engaged in the same behavior creating a cacophony of voices and laughter. Friends brought into one of our gatherings would watch and listen in stunned silence often asking later how we possibly communicated in such a manner. This was on my father's side of the family. As the years have passed it has become undeniable that a fair number of us are not exactly poster children for mental health. Perhaps we were practicing for the mania that would later display itself in more than a few of us. Others of us slipped into long term depressions or heard voices and yelled at things that were not visible to anyone else. Others of us turned to drugs and alcohol which was my ticket into the family looney bin; Southern eccentrics to a fault if I put a spin on it.

Talking, storytelling, free advice, street corner b.s., long discussions about pretty much any topic and, following in my father's footsteps, talking to myself, have been my way of expression. The irony is that I am sick with something that is affecting my voice. I am in speech therapy. Friends find this hilariously funny! Talking creates exhaustion and muscular stress. My voice gives out when I am working and on the phone. Blip! I am talking and then I am croaking, at best, or unable to get a word out which is worse when a customer is on the other end of the phone.

Resting my throat muscles, my voice and suppressing my talkative nature is incredibly difficult. Everyone I know comes to mind and I think of something I need to tell them. I'm telling you this woman needs to communicate. It is in my blood. I have been sick in so many ways that I have lost track. This illness comes when I have begun working from home and am on the phone taking customer service calls. My perfect job, right? Flexible hours, helping people and talking to them is right up my alley! BUT the irony of it all is that my one prized possession, my voice, has turned traitor on me. Accepting things for what they are is not easy. Don't let anyone tell you it is easy. They are lying through their teeth. This is tough and I am not accepting it well. Oh, I'm not saying I can't talk at all but if I don't rest my voice and follow doctor's orders I can see that in my future. "Woe is me" sounds dramatic enough right now. Forthunately I am sleepy and ready for bed. I wonder if I talk in my sleep? Just sayin'!

Stuff

Sitting here at my laptop I hear the washing machine kick into the rinse cycle. I hear the faint murmur of the t.v. show my husband is watching in the living room. The keys click as I keyboard and my big black cat meows from atop my printer. The water in the washer slushes around...back and forth with the agitated motion designed to clean clothes better.
 Jeez! The black cat is scratching at the back of my chair and increasing his meow to include a note of drama. The last time he climbed the back of this chair he caught me with his paw and claw. I screamed out and he ran off in fear for his life. NOT!! What he wants is food although he is, by no means, starving and the Siamese will let him do the fussing until I go feed them a little something just to get some peace and quiet. So, yes, they are spoiled. Feeding on demand and I am the pawn in that game.
It has been another cloudy, windy and sprinkly wet day. It is cool. Very cool for the first part of May. Most of next week is more of the same. I like it. As I have grown older I have developed a love for gray, cloudy days with cool air and a light rain. When I was much younger I was a child of the sun often staying long hours at the beach when I lived in Florida. My daughter, who was about 2 years old at the time, would play and play. We lived on the Gulf Coast. The waves were tiny and the water was deliciously refreshing. She and I spent hours hanging out and getting deep tans. I did cover her with sunscreen but I let myself crisp into a dark tan. Oh, those were the days! I was barely 20 years old. I lived with a guy who was a nice guy, we smoked Jamaican reefer and sat on the porch watching the squirrels run along the electric line across the street. We hung out. My daughter fit right into the scene as she was born knowing her own mind and was able to chill out big time. It was a fragment of my hippie-dippy life. Of course, as I have done many times since, I blew up the whole thing and moved on. In retrospect my decision to move on was disastarous. I have paid the price for my choices at that time in my life many times over up to this very day.
No need to focus on the past too much. Pain and joy intermingle. I have been a difficult woman to bring into submission and finally into acceptance and a bit of peace. I spent many years in utter turmoil taking my kids along for the ride without a true understanding of what that would mean for them. I loved them so much but I could not tame the beast in me or at least I did not tame it for a very long time. Forgiving myself has been an incredibly long journey. There are times when I am not sure I have fully finished that job.
So, no Mr. Owl tonight. The wind is up and the light rain continues. I wish for a screened veranda with a hammock that I could sleep in on nights like tonight. Lordy that would be so fine!
Kisses! Good night!

Technologically Challenged - Paranoid of the Establishment and Such

Blogger, which is the venue from which I do this blog, offers the use of Google+. Google+ sounds great. The chance is that I would see comments that are being made...if any are being made. So I thought to myself, "Self! Try out that Google+. What can it hurt?" Turns out that trying to sign-up for Google+ was like nailing jello to the wall for me. I needed to make circles of friends. The profile I have now on Blogger is one that I like but my profile will change if I choose to use Google+. Then my inherent "old hippie" suspicion of the establishment kicked in and I began to think that I might not like being seen so much or would I even know if I were being seen and I did not want to change my profile or my picture and do comments matter that much to me? After all there is the No Comment thing at the bottom of the blog and anyone wishing to leave a comment can click on that and do so. So I became even more suspicious of the motive behind wanting me to use Google+ SO BADLY. I go by the theory that if an organization wants me to use a product so much that they make extravagant claims then the product must be detrimental to me or there is something I am not understanding. Actually I was not understanding how to get set up and they were using my real name because Elizabeth is a pen name and I don't really want my real name hanging out in outer space when I don't even know I launched it. My real name is not that common. I am protective of my privacy in that weird and twisted way that makes zero sense considering I blog about my life. Lets face it. Blogging is not saying "Come see me soon." I am particularly private about my residence. I don't mind people knowing where I live. I just don't do visitors well. Family, o.k. That's about it. Am I anti-social? Nope! I just like to have control of my little piece of the world. I've got a bit of PTSD. It shows when I think of having visitors. How I went from Google+ to this conversation is a mystery to me. I suppose it is the whole being visible to the "public" or it could be that I am too technologically challenged to figure out how to sign up properly or to lazy to work at it or, and this is the best answer, I don't truly give a tinker's damn about it. Not yet, at any rate. Maybe another time. Maybe when I write something that is truly worthy of reading and want to strut my stuff. But then again...I may well choose another name and change the profile to a "not me" profile. Imagine me writing as a "not me". That's a great idea for a blog. Not tonight. I have suffered the trauma of considering Google+ as a viable option. The stress of hiding while trying to show myself has left me sleepy and ready for bed. Poor, foolish paranoid woman avoids helpful technical suggestion out of fear of the unknown. Good grief! I'll probably sleep with my dagger a bit closer to the bed and dream of Matrix-like attacks marching on my blogger page claiming it for a pseudo-world of whacked out machinations. WHAT!! I have no clue what that is suppose to mean and I don't care...nope! I simply don't care. My brain is waving bye now! Sleep tight all. More will be revealed.

A Yearning for Sonny

A friend posted in Facebook that she had a bad night last night and a bad day today. She said she was snuggling with her dog in the bed and that made her feel better. I thought of Sonny. He was my doxie for nearly 16 years. I felt the familiar yearning to see him again. He slept with me. I often gave him the best part of my cozy little bed. People who do not understand the relationship a person can have with a beloved dog think giving the dog the best part of the bed because he has already gone to sleep and you don't want to wake him up is insane. Well, to be honest, it seemed so to me at times also but I rarely disturbed Sonny once he found his "spot". In the last months of his life he began sleeping right in the middle of the bed leaving no room for me so I would move him gently to one side. He was blind and had progressive congestive heart failure and was probably a wee bit deaf. Moving him startled him at times but I had to sleep and I always petted him and we talked about the time when I would need to let him go. I promised him that I would be brave and let him go when there was no more quality of life for him. I remember my last night with him. He was struggling for breath and trying to rest. I gave him a pain pill to ease his discomfort and I stroked him and whispered to him how much I loved him. We went to the vet the next day and, as I expected, I came home and Sonny did not come home. He was off running free from pain and suffering. He may have met Rico and Sugar, two cats he grew up with, as soon as he crossed over. I was left here to grapple with the realization that the love I shared with Sonny transcended our differences. We were the best of the best...true family. I am not ready to start a new relationship with a dog at this moment though I know there will come a day when I will meet a dog who calls my name and I will call him mine.

Good-night, Sonny, sleep well in your new home! I love you!

Early Morning, Blurry eyes

went to bed close to on time last night. woke up almost 8 hours later. this is a freaking miracle for me. opened the blinds a bit to see slices of a blue sky with large, puffy clouds and the sun strutting herself coming up high enough to shine into my window through my neighbor's pines and water oak trees. i am a tree freak. a trend in our neighborhood is to cut down trees that are inconvenient. each tree taken down hurts me deeply. our park has been protected by these trees during storms and hurricanes. i have lived here 13 years and not one tree has fallen on one home. debris? yes, goodness knows, pines make debris an art form. they can be a monumental inconvenience but does that mean cuting them down for our convenience is justifiable in the scheme of things. call me an eccentric. call me a tree hugger. trees are beautiful. they give far more than they take. well enuff of that sermon from me. i have my opinions. i won't beat the page to death writing about them further.

prayers came to my mind the moment i opened my eyes. God is magnificent. God is my abba (father)! God is the God of theAngel Armies! Praise God from whom all blessings flow. I know! It does not always seem that blessings flow from God to you. The only way to know someone is to spend time with them. The better you know them the more you trust and understand them. word!

gotta get ready for work. i'm craving caffeine big time. i think i'll hit mickey d's before getting started this morning. i wish each of you a very groovy day filled with glittering joys and peace of mind.