Love and Gratitude Are Always Available

Except for New Year's last year, this is my first holiday without my son.  My heart is heavy when I think of a couple of different family issues going on, but I am still so very grateful for many things.

This moment, I just got a phone call from my boy!  You should have seen my smile when I heard my phone going off because I just knew it would be him.

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I know that he will have a good time visiting that side of the family.  I love when he can be around family, even if it's not with me.  

I am also grateful for the show, Long Island Medium.  You know that satisfying moment when you are DONE cleaning the house?  I sat down yesterday after cleaning and watched an episode of Theresa Caputo talking to the dead.  I realized the error in feeling alone.  People often struggle with loss, grief, and sudden changes and feel that they are alone.  But, we are never alone.  I am not the type to be freaked out by that.  All around us, in the spaces we move in, is love and guidance that we do not see.  

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I am grateful for my home - that I have it, that I pay for it, that I cleaned it all yesterday.  It has a chance to stay clean for a few days at least.  Feels good.  

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Finally, I will be introduced to a new family at Thanksgiving.  I will host the meal at my house, so I will have visitors at my mercy when I get a little crazy in the kitchen with my wine.  I may sing and scare people off.  We will have to see.  

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My focus for now is to remember what I am grateful for and all that I have.  I'm happy and hopeful for the future and have a lot of love in my life even when I'm missing others.  

Cheers to you all for a beautiful Thanksgiving! 

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Divorce.

I don’t know the answers anymore.  I thought I had a certain life.  All picked out and planned.  It was all going well, until…Until time did us in.  We went along thinking time would take care of us.  But it does not.  You fuck it all up when you don’t keep an eye on time.  Time brings all these things you are supposed to do and be.  You are trapped in thinking you are supposed to keep everything going and hope that’s enough.  It’s not enough.  I know that now. 

You are supposed to exist in a life that is shared with others.  The biggest lie I believed was that I was supposed to find my own happiness.  Of course, you are supposed to find your own happiness.  But what I didn’t know, and perhaps what we both didn't know, was that your own happiness is supposed to be shared with someone else.  It doesn’t exist on your own island.  Hopefully, the happiness you are sharing is with the one you married.  

If I am to face this crushing heartache and a total “fuck you” to my life, then I must believe in what can come of this and be good. 

My son.  My son doesn’t understand why mommy and daddy aren’t together.  Sure, he’ll tell you the pat answer, “They argued.  They just couldn’t get along.”   But he has no idea.  He has no idea what has gone into all that.  A lifetime. 

Of course it’s not a lifetime.  It is a chapter, as they would say.  But, there’s my son.  Maybe he’s wondering why his chapter ended.  Maybe he is wondering where his new chapter begins.

He sees his new chapter.  He is living in his own chapter that was created for him by the adults that messed up the last chapter. 

If I want good to come of this, then I must be sure my son grows up to know some things. 

He needs to know that you have no fucking idea who you are when you are eighteen to thirty years old.  At least.  If you are going to choose someone during that time, then you better choose someone who will grow with you.  Someone who will be, at the core, a lot like you so they can grow with you.  But then, you see, there is the mistake.  You think you know who you are when you are twenty-two.  So, you think you can find someone enough like you who you can grow with, have a life with.  But life is long and so many lessons to learn.

You see how complicated this is?  I want good to come of this – life lessons for my son.  However, I am still learning.  It’s all we’ve got in this life, to keep learning. I still don’t know how I fell in love so hard, so right, so forever, and now, forever has ended with that person. 

In spite of all I don’t know, I want my son to know…

That love exists, and it exists hard, for the moment.  You create for yourself a life that can live on the waves of love that go on forever.  One love may not be enough.  One love may not see you through to all that you can be. 

My son, I loved your daddy.  More than words can say.  I always will in a way.  I am still realizing the mistakes we made. 

Life doesn’t wait for your learning. 

Life goes on and on, and you better pay attention.  You need to pay attention to yourself and the people you are closest to in order to make any meaning of it.  Don’t ignore the whispers of your heart.  Act on them.  Fear will keep you from that. 

Fuck fear. 

Fuck fear and all that it implies. 

I am not “down on love.”  I am not saying “only serve yourself.”  The messages I intend to instill are much more complicated than that. 

Realize that life will bring you so many surprises.  In so many stages in your life, and in so many ways.  Whether you are ready or not, you will handle those little shockers as well as the love you have built inside you.

Only love rules.

Me saying that only love rules is ironic, I know.  I am telling a story about divorce and life-lessons-for-my-son, and I am saying love rules all.  Well, it does.  Self-love, gratitude, and love for the world around you is what will help you build a good character – a good inside – so that you may steer through these challenges with a trust-worthy inner ear. 

Maybe all of this is more about myself than my son.  He will figure it out, just like we all do eventually.  My hope is that he knows, all along the way, the love that was there for him.  I want him to build on that love so much that he is able to look at the world with a lens of his own, a lens that has been tinted with good intentions. 

What I need to remember is that I did the best I could at the time.  If I don’t learn from that, then damn me.  I don’t need to be perfect.  I don’t need to create the perfect life.  My perfect life exists right now.  It exists right now in the choices I’ve made.  Most of those choices I’m happy with.  The other choices – I’m trying to listen to my inner ear, my inner heart about all of it.  I can only hope my son lives life the same way. 

And there is the gift to myself.  Hoping my son lives his life the same way.  Learning from mistakes.  Living life with love. 

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The above was written many months ago.  I have sat on it awhile.  It was writing that, in a way, inspired this blog, but I could not share.  I felt it was too soon.  Although truth exists in the moment, sometimes, we wait to share it for when it feels ok.  I don't know that me sharing this will feel ok with others, but it is my truth.  And, dammit, I  know that so many out there deal with divorce with children and struggle to make sense of it all.  

It's something I believe in.  Writing.  And sharing my words.

"I Wanna See You Be Brave"

I am no longer sick, but I have a damn busy life to live, you know.  I can angst about what to write.  I try to be all "intentional" about it.  There's something the reader wants to connect with, and I've got to hint at it every time.

It's hard.

So, I was thinking today (well, actually, I think a lot about this) about how we live in a very fear-based, fear-motivated society.

Wait!  Don't go.  Stick with me here.  You may think I'm going to get political and rambly, but I won't.

I think that we're on to something when we think about how NOT to live that way.  It just feels right to question this fear.  I speak for myself, I guess.  You may not feel the same.

Regardless of what we think about fear, I want to think about what it means to BE BRAVE.

Does it mean you are vulnerable?

Honest?

Dangerous?

Confident?

Gutsy?

Honorable?

It is a fascinating word.  Thinking about what brave means is like trying to perfectly capture "love" in one sentence.

I try to be brave.  I am still just so silly when it comes to some things.  Things that really freak me out:  the first 10 minutes roller skating, going down escalators, heights, and I don't like socializing sometimes.  I know I get better at being brave with age, so that is nice.  I do think I am braver in many "small" ways.  I'm pretty honest and speak my thoughts, and socialize more.  I have been brave in tough circumstances like giving birth, surviving surgeries and calamities, moving different places, trying new things, going through divorce.

It's a good thing that my brave is increasing because I have a son.  Maybe, even though he is so sensitive, he'll have a pretty good chance at living his life in a brave manner.  I guess, to me, brave is authentic.  It's really hard to be authentic, but to be authentic is good.  Right?  Or, is that another conversation?

Moving on, I am madly in love with this song.  I'm totally providing free publicity here because this song was my entire inspiration for this blog today.  A welcome inspiration.

I love the video.  You will too.

I promise.

Brave, Sara Bareilles

Ok, so it's kinda cheesy, but there's a place for that in my heart.

Report Me for Mucinex Abuse

You know when you're going on the third week with a lingering head cold, and everything just feels shitty?  That is the funk I've been in.  Plus, my job has been very demanding.  I come home, and I am a zombie.  I'm tired of feeling this way!

I took the day off today for rest and an attitude adjustment.  I remind myself of what I'm grateful for, which always helps.  I started feeling positively inspired, hallelu-yar!  Then, I remembered a poem I have written before that captures my mind space right now.  I published it on my previous blog, Pampers and Pinot.  I will re-post it today and keep resting.  Enjoy!

Great Expectations

Why do you worry
And pick at your finger.
Stop.
Put your hands down
And put them to the keyboard.

Take the load off your shoulders.
Set it down next to you.
Take a look at it,
Assess its mess
Of guilt, expectation, and shame.
Leave it there
To melt into the floor
And walk away.

You will start by walking
Then jogging
And running
With no expectation for how long,
And why can’t I go further?

This moment does not need to be
Perfect.
This moment
Exists for you.
And you can push the breath
Out of your body –
Feel your shoulders relieve
Down.

You will give to yourself
The love that is reserved for others.
Let your heart pour out.
Into your own body
And own the feeling it gives you.
Whatever it is - sadness, loss, joy, or hope -
It will run its course
Through your veins.
And you will still be the same.

A woman,
With hope for healing.

Defined Lines (We Ain't a Good Girl)

I am obsessed with a song today.  This happens sometimes.  It can be a crap shoot sometimes what I'm temporarily obsessed with.  My choices are dicey.  My family and friends also shudder when I announce a movie suggestion.  It can be either really good or really suck awful.

But, this song.  This song is really catchy.  It entertains me over and over.  So much that I will announce it to the Love and Blasphemy world.

It is a little odd that I like this song so much.  I enjoy a sexy, dominant male, even in a feminist world.  (Or, is it a feminist world?  Has it only been attempted?)  I also love being female.  I find it fun.

So, you should watch it.

I will probably post this blog, watch my own video, and watch it again.  Makes me happy to think that maybe one of you will also watch it more than once.

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Hours later - an update!!

The original You Tube video of this video was taken off You Tube for "violating the terms of policy," and upon further investigation, this was because it was too "sexually explicit."

I find this very interesting because the original Robin Thicke Blurred Lines video is still on You Tube, naked girls and all.  And goat.  Cause, you know, sluts hold goats.

WTF, You Tube?

So, these girlies are university types in New Zealand.  They put this "feminine parody" up on Friday night, and it's going viral.

Anyways, lucky it's a free of speech type of country.  Here's the link:



Robin Thicke - Blurred Lines [Feminist Parody] "Defined Lines" from Law Revue on Vimeo.

Put on a Brave Face

I'm linking up with Mama Kat for her Writer's Workshop this week.  The prompt I chose was:

Open your picture folders, close your eyes and pick a random photo to share and write about.

I randomly opened my pics folder on my desktop and quickly chose a folder without thinking, and this was the first picture I saw:

 

It took my breath away.  My heart hurt a little.  Unresolved grief washed over me. 

I try to stay positive, laugh through the tears, and reassure myself that it’s all going to be ok, but then there are moments when I have to just let myself feel the grief again.  Just for a moment. 

That picture was taken this time last year on the day that my ex-husband was moving out of the house.  The hardest part of that entire experience was worrying about my son and how he would handle all the change. 

I took him to the Manitou Arts and Crafts Festival for the day so that he didn’t have to watch his daddy move out.  He knew the basics of what was occurring that day, but he didn’t have to watch it. 

Don’t worry, he wasn’t stricken with grief, lying on the sidewalk, and I wasn’t taking pictures of sad things.  We had walked a lot that day, and we had to make it up a big hill before reaching our car.  Parker was in good spirits, but he was tired and decided to rest for a moment.  I was giggling as I took the picture, saying, “Geez, Parker, you’re just going to lay down right here?  I’m going to take your picture!” 

My happiness that day was basically fake.  I was just trying to get us through a very hard day.  I was putting on a brave face for my son.   I remember many times that day when I held back the tears and kept pressing forward.  You just aren’t allowed to grieve anytime you want when you have a child, and every mom can relate to that in some way.

I took him to lunch, and I remember every detail.  What we ate, where we sat, what toys he played with at the table.  I was hyper-alert because of my conflicted emotional state.  I was nervous, worried, and sad, and I just wanted my child to make it through the day without his mother losing it.  We went to the park and the festival.  Live music was playing, face-painted children ran around at the playground, crowds of people milled about talking and laughing. 

That’s the thing about life that we all inevitably learn.  In every experience that is sad and awful and heartbreaking, there are reminders all around that laughter is around the corner, rest will eventually come to you, and life goes on.  

And, sometimes when you're just putting on a brave face, you need to stop and lay down.

Work. It's Sometimes a Problem.

I know I've not been a frequent blogger lately.  I have good reasons (excuses) for that.

I started back at work.  I have nearly two months off every summer, and I am extremely grateful for that.  Going back to work can be a bit of a shock to the system (e.g., WTF?  I still have to do laundry and dishes?!).  I do love my career; however, no matter what, I will always maintain that a four-day work week would always be better than a five-day work week.

Here are some illustrations of the adaptations to change I've been faced with lately.

Level of Rested-ness

Off Work:

Found at: fbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd.net

During Work:

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Level of Overall Well-Being

Off Work:

During Work:

Suspicous

Ability to Handle Stress

Off Work:

Repinned From

During Work:

Run!

Hobbies

Off Work:

You too could quill Superman.

During Work:

Grocery shopping

Time with your Kid

Off Work

Parentsconnect.com

During Work:

Just Go To Bed

That's it.  It's way past my bedtime.  Tomorrow is Monday, and I'll be stealing moments in Blogland here and there but never when I'm at work. 

Call Me Cake Boss

As I'm known to do, I made my cousin a custom birthday cake.  She requested carrot cake with raisins.  I made her that, but I added some signature touches:

To see more of my fabulous cake skillz, you can click here and here.

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Don't Call Me Dummie

I'm linking up with Mama Kat for her writer's workshop.  

The prompt is: retell a conversation that made you laugh.

Don't Call Me Dummie

“Geez, I hope she’s alright,” I said. 

Earlier, I was talking on the sidewalk with a neighbor mom.  Her little daughter had run across the street to get to her mom.  She had tripped in the street and then gone into a seizure.  Everyone was shaken by the event, but everyone ended up being ok.  The little girl went with her mom in an ambulance to the hospital to be checked out.  After the fire department, EMT workers, and police had left, we were still talking about the event.

“Dummie?  Yeah, she runs and falls all the time,” my son said.

“What did you call her?”  I asked.

“Dummie!” My son exclaimed.

“Surely, her name is not Dummie.  Why do you think her name is Dummie?”  I asked.  I was part exasperated that my son could unknowingly be so rude, but I was also trying not to laugh.

“That’s what her brother calls her!” My son explained.  (My son usually shouts everything.)

I laughed.  “Well, that may be what her brother calls her, but I’m sure that’s not her name.”

“It is her name!  Darren calls her Dummie!” My son was getting frustrated with me, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

“Parker,” I said, “Brothers call their sister’s names.  Dummie is not a nice word for someone.  Even if that is what Darren calls her, you should not call her Dummie!”

……………………

The next day, Darren came over to play.  He explained that his sister was alright.  She would be monitored for the seizure.  It could have been a one-time occurrence, but we wouldn’t know yet.

I said, “Hey, Darren, by the way, what is your sister’s name?”

“Demi,” Darren said.

I just laughed and laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” Darren asked.

“Oh, nothing, we just thought her name was something different.”  I tried to calm my laughing.  “Demi is a pretty name.”

My son, Parker, who has the social grace of, well, a five year old, shouted, “We thought her name was Dummie!”

And we all laughed and laughed, but Darren did not. 

Cringe.

from Pinterest

And now my son is too.

About Me...

1. Wednesday, July 24th is Drive Thru day - do you have any drive thrus that you have a hard time passing?

Taco Bell is my fave!

2. Other than signing your name, when was the last time you physically wrote something?

Lists.  Many, many lists all the time.  Revised ones, typed ones, weekly vs. daily ones, grocery template lists, weekend task to-do lists.  

Lists keep my life flowing at a comfortable pace.  Or else I wouldn't know what the hell was going on. 

3. What was the first movie you saw in a movie theater? the latest one?

I think the first was E.T.  The last was Monsters University because, you know, I have a kid.

4. Have you ever visited Disney?

Many times!!  Love it!!  Can't wait to take my son there for the first time.

Now, you all need to answer this question in my comments!

Is the world going to hell in a hand basket, or is everything going to be alright?

(I am of the strong belief that everything is going to be alright.  People need to settle down with the Chicken Little attitudes.)

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You is Funny. You is Silly. You is Hilarious.

I want to get something straight around here.  There's a whole lot more love in my life than blasphemy, and I still deal with life with a wicked sense of humor.

Even during my hardest and most stressful times, my go-to strategy for feeling better is getting on Pinterest and perusing the "humor" category.

If I can squeeze out a couple of LOL's, everything's gonna be alright.

Let's see if it works for you.

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Sometimes, you just need to put that baby on the floor...

An Independent Woman

I listened to my father talk about his health, giving up trying to put a word in edge-wise.  Instead, I sat silently, chewing the skin off my left thumb.  Having a “conversation” with my father was hard work, emotionally.  I stepped outside of myself and noticed the gnawing anxiety growing in the middle of my body.  I noticed my stomach churning, and my impatience growing.  When I was able to ask a question, I asked something I knew would pique his interest.

“So, did you have lunch with Aunt Sandy recently?”  I asked.

“Yes, oh, yes!”  he said, surprised I knew about it.

“I saw it on Facebook,”  I explained.

My dad has not joined the Facebook world.  So, mentions of Facebook are amusing to him.  I believe my father does not join Facebook or engage in much of the world around him because it does not revolve around him and his issues and his health and his feelings and his ideas and his needs. 

My dad continued on, “…It was so funny when I saw my sister and cousins – they were talking about you!”

“Oh yeah?”  I asked.

My dad said, “They were talking about how upset they were that you were taking a break from…what is it….your blog?  They were so relieved to know that it is just a break and that you will continue it sometime.  Is that right?”

“Yes,” I said, laughing, always flattered by hearing that others follow my blog and care to read what I write.  I haven’t even seen this aunt or cousins for many years.

My father has never shown interest in reading my blog.  In fact, the second time I asked him about checking it out, I believe he said, “Oh, no, I have no interest in that kind of thing.” 

At that moment, my son started shouting in the background.  I tended to his needs, talking to my son while my dad waited on the phone. 

“I’m sorry,” I said to my dad for the interruption. 

“Oh, that’s ok,” my dad said.  “I always remember your brother shouting whenever I got on the phone!  There’s just something about being on the phone.  They suddenly need you then!”

“Yes,” I said, chuckling along while trying to wipe up the spill my son had caused. 

My dad went on, “You, though, you were always so self-sufficient.  So self-entertained.  You were a good girl.  Well, not that your brother wasn’t…anyways, you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. 

We wrapped up our conversation. 

Self-sufficient.  I am used to making myself this way.  It is a way of life.  Until you start to feel a little lonely.  Then, self-sufficient kind of sucks.  But, it appears that the men in my life need me to be self-sufficient.  So that I do not mind what it is that they need to do.  I am just now beginning to realize this.  What this means for the men in my life, I don’t know.  I am only starting to be concerned for what it means to me.    

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I Like You So Much, You Get Chicken Poop Cake

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We've been partying like animals over here.  My boyfriend's birthday has come and gone.  Just like I like it, there was lots of absurd hilarity.

One of my favorite absurdly hilarious things was the cake I made.  I am a really good cook.

When my birthday came around, my boyfriend made me a delicious and beautiful cake.  It was a raspberry cake filling with a light pistachio icing.  He even made the cake topper from clay and topped that with a butterfly.  You see:

Now you all know my age.  It is what it is.

For his birthday, my boyfriend asked for a peanut butter cake.  Well, alright.  I made a peanut butter cake (with home-made peanut butter) with a peanut chocolate frosting (with home-made confectioner's sugar!).  But, I didn't stop there.  The cake topper I chose was a stately and beautiful chicken.  It's what tied it all together.

My chicken poop cake:

It was really delicious.  

(Shhh!  Don't tell anyone.  The cake was even more blasphemous because I used a Paula Deen recipe.  From now on, I know she has a really fabulous chicken poop cake recipe.)

I am Mine

I am alone in a living room filled with toys.

Shoes on,

With nowhere I want to go,

Only wondering where I went.

You used to think I was so interesting.

You used to think,

So captivating.

Here I am,

Wanting your approval,

Your desire.

I am in a living room full of toys

With my shoes on,

Wondering where you went.

I am alone in my thoughts,

On what I am and who I can be.

I push past any moment that was defined by

Others.

I’m left with an ocean that goes beyond eternity, and it is mine alone.

The seas are rough,

But I call them home.

My heart has weathered more beyond your

Callous skin

And careless time.

I am here,

And I am mine.

Patrick Palmer

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Brothers from Other Mothers

One day, my little boy discovered that there was another little boy on the other side of the backyard fence.

They would look at each other and giggle and talk, but they were too young for climbing fences, walking around the block, or going over to someone's house alone.

I wrote about the cute-ness of it all on my previous blog, Pampers and Pinot.

Now, nearly two years after that post, there is a gate in the fence that separates our yards.  They can play to their hearts' content, and boy, do they play.  They are "best friends."  They say they wish they were brothers.

We went from this kind of experience:

 

To this!

It helps to have a handy boyfriend around!

That's my Parker boy.  His friend was not in the picture, but he was there, running through our sprinklers.

You’re Allowed to Feel Good

I'm linking up this week at Write on Edge for their Write at the Merge prompt:

I chose to write fiction with my Kate and Dr. Chase characters. 

You're Allowed to Feel Good

“No, keep going.  It’s nice to hear about the good times,” said Dr. Chase.

Kate smiled a little.  “Ok.  Well, we weren’t supposed to be there.  The lake was on private property, but Marisa and I would be up after work.  We’d sit by the edge of the lake and smoke and talk.  We hadn’t ever had any issues or seen anyone around the place.” 

Kate blushed a little before continuing.  “A couple times we had gone, um, skinny dipping, when it had been really hot out.  It just feels so good, you know?”

Dr. Chase smiled, “Yes, I know.”

Kate continued, “We weren’t too scared.  So we went ahead for a swim this one night, and while we were in the water, we saw flash lights approaching!”

“Oh, no!”  Dr. Chase was happy to see her patient lighten up a little.  Kate’s shoulders had lifted, and her face became brighter with animation.

“Yeah!  Then we heard someone asking, ‘Who’s down there?’  Thank goodness our clothes were right at the shore.  We were so quick.  We didn’t even say a thing to each other!  We just both knew that we were going to run and get the hell outta there.”  Kate laughed.

“Did you get away?  Did they see you?”  Dr. Chase asked.

“No, I mean, yes, we got away!  They didn’t see us.  Well, I don’t think,” she said with a chuckle.  “We splashed out of the water, grabbed our clothes and took off toward the tree line away from them.  Do you know how hard it is to get your clothes on quickly when you’re wet?  Oh, man.  We pulled them on though and got to our car and sped off.”

They spent a moment in silence while Kate was still smiling at the thought.  Gradually, Kate’s face began to change.  Tears came to her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. 

“I like hearing about some of the fun you guys had,” said Dr. Chase.

Kate sniffed and looked away.  Dr. Chase felt Kate pulling away and shutting down. 

“You know, you’re allowed to remember the good times and let it feel good,” Dr. Chase said softly. 

Kate said nothing.  She looked out the window.

“What are you feeling?” Dr. Chase asked.

Kate shifted in her seat.  “I don’t feel anything,” Kate said.

“You look like you feel something,” said Dr. Chase.

Kate’s foot began to bounce. 

Dr. Chase continued, “Can we just try-“

“No!” Kate interrupted.  “We’re not going to try anything.  We’re not going to talk about ‘how I feel and why’ because there’s no use!  When it comes down to it, I feel like shit and it’s all my fault.  Simple as that,” Kate said, looking the doctor straight in the eye.  “I’m fucking stuck in here, getting nowhere, but you know what?  I may as well be.  I may as well be stuck in hell for the shit I’ve put people through.  What makes you so lucky, Dr. Chase?  Why do you get to listen to my bitching and moaning?” 

Kate stood up.  “Never mind,” Kate said as she stood up.  She opened the office door.  “God dammit, this is a waste of time.”

Write on Edge

I Live to Blog Again

I am ready again to blog and write.  Life got in the way in a major way last year.  Overwhelmed with personal stress, I had to end my previous blog, Pampers and Pinot.  It had run its course anyway.  It was a great blog, and like Oprah, I had to leave while people still liked me.  You see, my head is still big enough to compare myself to Oprah and assume that I am liked by the masses.

I don’t aim to make everyone like me anymore.  I am simply myself and that is enough. 

My life went through a complete overhaul – the biggest being that I went through a divorce.  There were many health problems to get through (all is well now).  I had to focus on my son and his adjustment to all of these stressors. 

What hasn’t changed about me?  My sharp wit and tongue are always at the ready.  Laughing is an extremely important activity!  People may hold their breath when I begin to speak, but there is no need to worry.  My heart is big enough to make me cry every time I watch Brave.  I try to approach people with understanding and love.  My devious humor is just for fun. 

I am a very creative spirit.  Blogging keeps me writing.  Writing keeps me feeling good. 

The world is full of love – in so many forms.  The world is full of blasphemy – of all types.  I plan to write about both.  No holds barred.

I’m back.