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No word from my sister again, I wonder if she is ok and things have gone the way she anticipated. She was lonely and this seemed like a good idea at the time. She spent all her days and half the damm night on the computer with people from all over the world. I went to the chat room she hangs out in once and it was just like going to a bar. All kinds of people and all kinds of BS just like the good old days when I would try and figure out her attraction for the bar.
You should have been at the game last night. It was great. The fact that we lost is almost, and I repeat almost beside the point. It was an absolutely awesome game from the aspect of seeing young boys pulling together and almost getting the game back. It was the attitude and the effort that should be rewarded and I think that the kids really got that out of it for a change. If you have ever been involved with Little League you know it can be very bad and most of that is the parents. The kids are fine.
"There was a girl, who had a curl, right in the middle of her forehead.” I was saying that all day the other day and don’t have a clue where it came from. I think it came from my childhood. I can’t finish it though. It was making everyone around me nuts by not having the next line. I of course thought it was funnier than ever because it made everyone else nuts. I am definitely rude that way. If it bugs you it makes me happy. My whole family is like that. My children are not. I wonder why.
Well I bet there will be lots of stories of festivities on here today. I have my share as well. I love the day, love what it represents and love the fun the whole family has in celebration. It is the first pool party of the year and usually is like this every year. It took a few summers to figure that out but I have it now. Our day was spent in the kitchen, the yard and the pool. It is an unofficial start of summer for this family. It is the day that reminds me of our blessings.
Getting up early is such a good feeling. Now that is assuming you feel good. I feel good today and got up early so the old attitude is high, life is good, and the flowers have never smelled so sweet. Isn’t that ridiculous? Ha! I often get a kick out of feeling this good and feeling sorry for people who don’t. It makes me want to avoid people with that “voice of doom" attitude that often surround us. About two of those and they can poke lots of holes in this puffed up day I’m having. Just being is good.
It is really sad to watch the decline of someone or something that you love. A living being that is dying slowly but surely as I myself am. I know we all die as we have all lived. It is the other side of the coin, the plus and the minus, the black and the white. It is the opposite force that must be reckoned with just as good and evil. Life and the entire universe are in constant opposition and I never thought of it that way before, but as I watch Pete go I realize how it is.
I was sitting at my computer eating lunch and wondering what to write about today when a co-worker suggested lunch. Well I don't think so. Who wants to write about lunch let alone read about lunch? Lunch is like an assumed fact. It needs no discussion at all. It is what it is. Tuna, salad, cheese, Pepsi, juice, sandwiches, packed, bought, what difference does it make? It is the middle of the day and time for a break. Sometimes you eat in and sometimes out. Sometimes you have the money for it and sometimes not. Lunch is no big deal.
Don’t ask me why but yesterday I thought of something very unpleasant, of a time when life was not so good. I was pregnant with my second child, married to a real jerk (my fault of course) and he was out most every evening drinking beer with his buddies and generally not being around or involved with our child. I was thinking of the time he hit me and I nearly lost the baby from being shoved around. It is something I never think of and don’t want to now,but in it came anyway, so now out it goes.
Boy I am so nervous. We are in the playoffs, Little League of course, and I can’t tell you how nerve racking these games are. I am surprised at myself. My grandson is such a steady little player. Not the best but very good and more importantly very consistent. He hit an in the park home run the other night and you won’t believe what my strong, strong impulse was to do. I wanted to cut him a check right on the spot and toss it to him in the dugout, but then thought better of it. He loves money.
Two of my friends did not do the month of June and of course I couldn’t read them. I gage their happiness on here. I know one had a bad month with so much going on it is reasonable she couldn’t do it but the other has all the time in the world. I am a little weird about this 100 Words thing. It took me awhile to get started and not be embarrassed about writing but now I am dedicated and don’t give a hoot what anyone thinks of what I have to say. It is what it is.
I am very lucky. I work with some of the nicest people you could ever want to be around. I really enjoy their attitudes, consideration and general kindness to me and to each other. Respect is a wonderful thing. Can you imagine what it would be like without it? Mutual respect is what Aretha Franklin sings about. Societies are built on it. The biggest one is called self-respect. It is what you want to build in your children to help insure their happiness. It is crucial for survival and without it life can be a really tough place to live.
As I write each day about different things my thoughts often go to my nephew. He is twenty-four and still doing little to nothing with his life. I also love him more than your normal nephew. He is living with a girl, working part time and calls feeling down because she has all the money and treats him badly. I tell him he prostituting himself and he says “What?” I think he is and just saw it. If I could see his face when I said that I would know that he gets it now. This is the price tag.
I talked a long while with my brother last night. We spoke of all things old and new and feelings of the same vintage. I never know how these conversations start but they do and they are good for us I think. It is a chance to open up old wounds that are still festering and give them some more air in hopes they will eventually heal completely. His mom and mine are not the same and we don’t have the history we need together yet we struggle through all the muck and strengthen our bond. We just met you see.
I have to stop reading the 100 Words of other people. I love what a lot of them write and I admire all the adjectives they use like a painter uses a paintbrush but I can’t come close to the prose. Some are beautiful and some are butt stupid. Some are very depressing and I worry about the people writing them. A whole month of talk of self-destruction, talk of fear really. It makes me feel very bad and makes me want to reach out to them, explain a little more about life and the temporary place we hold here.
Obviously I can’t spell anymore. And to think I won the third grade spelling bee. Those were the glory days. Life was so much fun, even when we had our chores to do. It was after the chores that I lived for and loved. The reward of complete freedom to run in the fields, play with turtles in the creek or just lay in the tall grass and feel the wind blow across your face. If I close my eyes and really concentrate I can recapture that for just one fleeting moment. I want to capture it a bit longer.
Dammit I want a cigarette. I have written about many things in the last couple of months and not once did I mention “I want a cigarette.” It is an absolute bitch to quit smoking and I think the worst part is that you tell yourself that the more time that passes the easier it will be. Bull!!! It is still hard. I have 7 months under my belt and I still want a damm cigarette. It is easier is some ways no doubt but when the urge comes, for just a second you think” Give me that damm cigarette.”
I swim at night and I walk at lunch Slim and trim is what I want. I used to have it in my youth And wasted much on candy not fruit. I am not fat and I am not slim. I am not sure what group I’m in. I eat and sleep as I always did But results may vary when you’re over that hill I just ate lunch and had some time So I wrote this poem to fill my mind I am over the hill and feeling fine. What the heck, I got my hundred words and lunch.
I have a little picture on the side of my computer at work. I cut it from an advertisement for a magazine, which I didn’t order, but I cut this out and felt a little like I may be steeling something. I am not sure why. Maybe because the magazine was full of these sorts of things and it wasn’t good enough to order but good enough to keep. Anyway it has a little girl sitting on the side of a hill and she is looking out across the landscape just wondering, you can tell. And it says, “Inquire Within.”
I walk each day at lunch and you may think it kind of lame. I walk around just once and always it is the same. The length should vary and the scenery too but I just stay at it and keep that groove. I walk because it feels good and I walk so I won’t smoke and I found out by accident that I also just don’t bloat. I never meant for all this to rhyme and now of course I am out of time. I just wanted to talk about the way I keep my little route. That’s all.
I lack freedom. I can feel it and I can see it and it is close enough to touch. Once in a while I actually feel it brush past me on its way to someone who will embrace it, the way it should be embraced. Why am I so afraid of it? It doesn’t have to be complete abandonment of responsibilities, as I seem to have it in my mind. I can take small pieces of it, enjoy them one at a time. Fear is death not freedom. Big pieces will choke you. Easy does it is what they say.
If you are facing the front it looks like you are in a black box. There is some chrome and you see where the black stops but that is about it. I ponder the box from within and begin to think of unknown things and unknown spaces. If you just let your mind keep going into the black you begin to feel as though you could be floating in a weightless state. It feels as if you enter a dream state or cross that line into self-hypnosis, then the control begins to slip. I jump, because control I cannot lose.
I think of her every day, at least once a day. I still cannot understand the mentality of a suicide and I should be grateful I guess. She is not calling me daily now. How could she? Her sister has stopped all contact, but of course I knew she would. She is such a phony witch I could hardly bear her anyway. SOOO European I could hardly stand it as well, born in California and transplanted to Belgium, thank God. She wants me to ship the ashes to her and I guess I will do that much for the deceased.
I often wonder at night when sleep doesn’t come easily, what it will be like to make the final cross over. I can only assume there will be a final crossing over. If you are religious you know there is a space for you and who with but there is much debate on whether there is, let us say, a holding area for the return of Christ before crossing. I can’t figure it out. I have spent much time contemplating the whole idea of life, death and any area in between. I have a better understanding as each year passes.
When I was young I used to believe there is one way and one way only to follow the teachings of the bible. As I progress in years, knowledge and life experience in general, I realize more and more the commonalities of teaching from all over the world. We are a mixed batch of people that is for sure but when you take the time to listen the stories are all the same. The history, the promises, the laws, the goodness and the love are in each and every one. Christians are the only ones who believe Christ is God.
Today is Don’s birthday. I remember it every year without fail. I remind his children and wish I could buy a gift. I have always cared about him and will til the day I die but he is married to someone else and I don’t want to disrespect that. After all that has happened to us and all we went through together, none of it matters. We have a separate place for each other that will always be kept special, that no one else can ever fill. It has always been this way and it always will be this way.
She sits in that chair day after day. Each time I see her she is more bent and twisted than the time before. She was in a terrible car accident many years ago and it affected her in the same manner as a stroke would affect the body. Gradually she made her progress and walked with her husband again, played with her children, even went to work with a terrible limp. Then the unthinkable happens, her husband is killed in a hit and run accident. “God does not give us more than we can bear,” she says. She is my hero.
How can you love them so much and yet get soooo upset with them. He is an adult, dammit, and I expect he would have concerns for problems he created or contributed to whether it was an accident or intentional. I care about all his problems, great and small even the self-inflicted ones. Of course I am the mom and therein lies the difference between my solutions and his. This thing called mother is –I started to say over rated- but you see already the anger is leaving me and I am working on a solution to this little problem.
Do you ever start your 100 Words and wonder what you haven’t talked about or given your opinion on already? And of course there is always the thought that your opinion is not something people want to read about and I got a feeling I’m right on that one. So today I will give nothing and expect nothing and nature is in balance. I got a notice for a magazine I ordered and they are closing down so instead of giving me back my money they are sending me a totally different magazine in which I have no interest. Balance
There is probably nothing more harmful than the human mouth. What comes from it is so unpredictable because of the connection to the brain. This part is debatable for some of us because the mouth opens and out come words we sometimes can’t recognize and swear did not come from us. On a normal basis the brain and mouth work well together but under stress, anger or other high emotions they usually disconnect. I am not sure if the brain doesn’t want responsibility for the mouth or the mouth just tells the brain to buzz off. Either way is painful.
He runs from the house with all he owns on his back at 6:00am pulling his only child along with him, the child calling out, “ The cops are coming.” This is how he lives and this is what he chooses. The child's mother is left in the house with the other partiers. When they slow down a ways from the house the boy starts to laugh and talk of how close they came to getting in trouble. The father laughs with him, idiot that he is. I think the child would rather cry but it would do no good.
The funniest thing happened at dinner last night. My daughter had invited me over and I was dirty from working in the yard all afternoon so I said sure if it is only family. She said yes so of course I went. While we were eating and my grandson was seeing how bad he could gross me out, and he did, the subject of being right or left handed came up. From no where comes the commit from my son in law that his son, like himself, would have been left handed but my daughter and I both changed him. HUH?
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