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5 1/2 years through thick or thin, my best friend!

Posted on Fri,Jan.2nd,2015 at 17:54
I feel mostly: contemplativecontemplative
What do I hear?: Fade Into You




Recent. Life.

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app makes this crazy easy

Posted on Sat,Apr.26th,2014 at 22:28
Where am I?: Ocean Springs
I feel mostly: reflecting on my day before going to sleep
What do I hear?: FOX news annoying
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Today :) an hour of soaking in the sun with my gorgeous (almost 16 y/o daughter)


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Posting Dailey Again? Thinking about it...

Posted on Sat,Apr.26th,2014 at 21:32
I feel mostly: lazylazy
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I am surprised how thorough I had been with my journal here, but when I read back all those years ago ... I am thankful I wrote such clear memories ! Here I am now here and a photo of Paco ~Anthony my love of 4 1/2 years now...
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poetry found and continued :)

Posted on Sat,Mar.14th,2009 at 09:51
I feel mostly: artisticartistic
I see a post where I said I lost my poems, well FOUND MY LOST POEMS all of them :)

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:-)

Posted on Fri,Apr.4th,2008 at 19:00
*****


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just as I was warming up

Posted on Mon,Jul.30th,2007 at 22:34
I feel mostly: mellowmellow
What do I hear?: kids chattering in the kitchen

I volunteered this past summer at the Children's Art Camp through a local museum. 
Went to Horn Island for the first time and wondered how I have lived on the coast since I have been 13 and nobody ever took me before, but then remembered the type of life I had at that time for 2 years and then the years I was married with someone who wanted to control or hide me and then how I ran away basically after the divorce to another country in all my spare time, and it all made since that I had not ever been before to any of our little local islands until then.

I met a couple that has basically adopted me into their family.  We spend spare time and weekends together.  Literally, I have met their extended family.  My entry about the details here is a lazy quickie.  We go out, go to house parties and barbeques, with them introducing me to all their friends as we go along. Or we just laze around in their home with our kids all around us :-)

I met someone last month I think I just might be falling in love with quicker than he is willing to have me. I don't know what to do with the times we are not together since I want to have him constantly.  It's pitiable, truly.  I won't write about this openly because it is far too intimate and current.  Can you fall in love this fast?  I haven't even whispered the possibility to him of course.  I'll at least be honest and admit it here in my own written world.

I tried building a My Space but it doesn't feel at all like home.  I don't use it so far.  I am remembering how much I enjoy writing in this livejournal, and can't exactly say why I stopped writing so much.  Hiding I guess. 

I think I lost all my poetry.  I can't find the disk I saved it on and the original computer was rebuilt.  I used to nag myself to get them on paper but didn't.  How can I start all that writing over again?  I feel like I lost a part of me, my memories because everything I wrote was from life experience.

I am reading Anne Sexton's poems right now.  I bought her book of collected works. Have been reading a lot this summer.  Just now finished "A Thousand Splendid Suns."Khaled Hasseini (spelling check on that name later). Devastating.

Now I start back to work this week and summer feels like it just melted away.  Much of it in a haze.

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Grandpa on 2 Summer Days

Posted on Sat,Jun.23rd,2007 at 12:02
I feel mostly: indescribableripe
What do I hear?: fans whirring warm air around my head

I had two moments with my Grandpa I don't want to forget.  I was around him without trying to plan it.  He has actually sought to spend time with me on purpose the past two visits to Grandma's house.  

So here I am, wanting to feel the type of love that only comes by the act of being pursued when it comes to me in the most unexpected embodiment...Grandpa!  But why not my PawPaw?  It is as if his unconscious knew that I was craving attention, needing to spend quality time with someone who just wants to be around me for the sake of my company.  Grandpa, a someone who only wants good for me and has no alterior motives, is ideal.  Now I can refer to these days and have a comparison for simplistic companionship.  

All during our time together, because he is in his 80's, of course, the grey thought of dying is on the fringes of my mind.  I see his long nails, his faltering movements.  
What sort of activity does Grandpa seek with me?  Well, I needed the weedeater Momma gave to me (it was over there and I had to pick it up), but it broke while he was showing me how to start it.  Instead of sending me home with a broken down weedeater, he opted to work with me to fix it.  Even though I needed to get home to bake my little girl's Birthday cake with her, I knew it was my only chance.  
Feeling very much like a single mommie, I was helping him, holding the machine still, fitting the drill to the screws, and simulating other small manuvers his aged hands could no longer manage.  The darn thing never was fixable then.  It wasn't even my purpose to fix it at all anyway.  I would just buy a new one I kept thinking.  By the time it was back together again and still broken, I saw the material value of what it would have been if we had succeeded.  His tools were a bit rusted, fishing lures hung on the tack board.  Once he shot a pesky wasp with a dose of his lubricant through the long red arm attached to the spray can. Today, Grandpa made me spiritually fixable, taught me how to be patient and do what needs to be done with mechanical determination unto the last moment.

The next day, I wanted to pick some blueberries after swimming with my kids in my Aunt's pool.  The bushes are in the back yard at Grandma's so I went over there.  During the summers, at least one day, I use some time to pick blueberries for cooking.  After a bit of the late afternoon spent with me clammering through limbs and climbing up a little step ladder, Grandpa came outside to hold down the high branches for me so that I could get those big plump berries on the tops of the bushes.  He was so patient, insured that I went home with the best berries on the trees.  I have no Father.  Death.  Today, Grandpa is standing beside me and I can smell him like an old green paint-chipped skiff that has basked dry on many a summer day after rolling over the brackish brown waters of Mississippi rivers.


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