?

Log in

I Keep Forgetting To Blog...

I am a denizen of Facebook. As such I often write long rambling posts there that probably should be on my blog and yet I like to engage in conversation with people on Facebook. I post my blog links there but I don't know if people read my blog posts the same way they do my status updates on Facebook. It is such a quandary. What to do? What to do? First world problems indeed! :-P

One of the things I have been meaning to blog about is my hair. When I was a kid and up until a very few years ago my hair was straight. In fact I am going to post a picture of a picture of a picture from my senior yearbook that shows just how STRAIGHT my hair was. Now I was an anomaly in the family. My Eichelmann relatives have CURLY hair. Lots of curls and my granddaughter, Jessica, inheirited the curly hair gene with a vengence. That girl has some SERIOUS curls.

Well, starting about ten years or so ago I developed a wave at the nape of my neck. This was an odd development because my hair simply did not curl. Efforts with curlers, hairspray, gel and mousse were fruitless. Perms didn't last long because my hair grew so fast that my crown was very soon flat ant the curls I did have were coming loose. Curly hair just wasn't in my cards, or was it.

Two or so years ago when my "buzzed" hair would start to grow out I would have very abundant curls at my neckline. They looked like the little curls on ducks tails so I called them my "duck ass curls." In the past year however the rest of my hair has decided to get in on the act. When it is hot and humid my hair CURLS all over the place. There are soft little curls bouncing around in the breeze on my little fat head. I mean what the heck. I never had a natural curl before but now...yes now at the ripe old age of 59 I finally have curly Eichelmann hair. Well, at least for the summer and at least while it is this length. It blows my mind.

I cannot seem to capture my wispy little curls via picture however. I will keep trying but they are so soft and my hair is so dark that they fade into the rest of my hair. It makes me sad too because they are just so darned cute. Oh well, first world problems again.

Ciao!
In 2009 and 2010 there were lots of fun contests that I amazingly kept winning. Most were promotion for and by writers, but some were writing contests. I think that those were my favorites. My most valuable prizes were my Kindle that I won from writer Moses Siregar III and the Ipad that I won from some writing website not a personal author and I don't remember which one(bad Ardee) However the prizes I won for my writng really jazzed me up.

I think that I won books as prizes for all of the writing contests which is certainly apropos. The best of the best though to me was a signed copy of an autobiography of Gertrude Stein. I won the book because whatever I wrote, a paragraph or two, impressed Ms. Stein's biographer as being the most like Ms. Stein's style of writing. Well, to me that was AWESOME!!! I got first place...so very awesome!!!!

You see when I first "met" Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, it was "love at first sight." I was in high school at Mount St. Mary. I think I was in the ninth grade.(The year I also met Richard Brautigan, but I digress.)I can't remember how many times I read "The Autobiograph of Alice B. Toklas" but I was entranced. I wrote page after page of stories in the style of Gertrude Stein. I read everything I could find about she and Alice B. Toklas. I wanted to move to Paris. I wanted it all. This was in the early 70s so there was not nearly the information availabel back then that there was now but obviously all of that writing practice in years back paid off because when I wrote my paragraph(s) for the contest I just sat down and wrote them. It all came back to me at the time and it was quickly a done deal...a WINNING done deal.

My fifteen year old self did happy dances in the middle of the street when I found out I had won. She had practiced Ms. Stein's style of writing day in and day out. She had learned to let the stylist prose flow freely and about 35 years later after no practice for many decades was able to produce a satisfactory sample again. It was so wonderful.

Now I don't know if I could pull it off again. I was just inspired and on fire. It was such fun.

I keep practicing my craft. I write every single day. I don't always write well but I do write. My novels are getting bogged down by real llife and many days I struggle to pound out 500 words. My goal is to write a minimum of 2K a day. Some days I breeze along and can do that. Ohter days, well not so much but I #amwriting. I love to write. It is my soul and has been for many, many years. I know I started making up stories in my head when I was very young at least five or six, maybe even before that. I started getting them on paper around the sixth grade. I probably would have managed sooner but handwriting did not come easily to me and was a source of much emotional and verbal abuse by teachers especially in the fourth and fifth grades(except the last six weeks of the year because I transferred schools.)The issues with actually writing via pen and paper persisted throughout the years even though I have volumes of poorly written pages in smeared ink and pencil. When I learned to type I got an old fashioned typewriter and began to pound out my stories on it. I am so grateful to have a computer to write on these days because "arthur" has made even signing a check difficult so I rely on my computer to continue to produce written words when I can squeeze them out of my brain.

I so love to write. I am glad that even though I could once write in the style of e.e. cummings, Richard Brautigan and Gertrude Stein that I have developed the bohemian, grammatically incorrect and poorly punctuated style of one Ardee-ann Eichelmann. Her style seems to fit me the best.

Ciao!

Oddities....

Life and things are just plain odd, crazy and queer. I have learned by experience that the "I've fallen and I can't get up" commercials are not nearly as amusing as I once thought they were. No they are not! I hope that you never have to find this out first hand. Now, let me clarify that I have NEVER thought that falls by anyone were at all amusing but I thought that these commercials were. That has all changed.

Also, Kroger's "Zesty Buffalo Wings" are really not all that "zesty." I had to add Sriracha sauce to each one to liven them up. Don't say that you haven't been warned. However let me add that the "mild" Buffalo Wings you can get from Pizza Hut will spark your lights. Go figure.

I have learned in recent years that I can blunder way too much in my intereactions with others. I was always good at communicating. If I hurt someone it was usually because I had intended to do just that but now I seem to be able to hurt others in ways that I never intended. It isn't that I am intentionally thoughtless but I can screw up royally without ever intending to do so. It hurts me to hurt others. This newfound "talent" is killing my soul. Sometimes it seems that no matter what I do I  f'ck up and hurt someone. I cannot believe that this is happening with me. I can't seem to get things right. I keep trying though. UGH!

I think this is enough for one night. Life is just weirding out all around me. HELP!

Ciao!

Miss Teffers is in recuperative care(rehab lite)following a recent hospitalization. I still need to write more about Teffer's grand adventure but will do that later this week.

This tale focus' on today's visit with the Teffs. Zyoh and I took her walker to her so that she would have it now that PT is having her get up and walk more.

While we were visiting Teff told Zyoh to tie a blue medical glove on the walker to identifiy it as hers. She had been told by PT to make sure that her walker was evident as her own walker and not Rehab property. Thus the request to tie the glove on it.

Now, the walker has stickers from Medic Medical Supply in it which is certainly different from Baptist Rehab Institute and it would have been helpful for Teffs to have told us about this before we got the walker there so we could have something other than a medical glove tied onto the walker.

Zyoh and I were rolling our eyes at Teff. I stated that if we had known this in advance that Zyoh and I could have gone to the dollar store to get s set of handcuffs to hang on the walker adding that surely no one else had handcuffs on their walkers and their presence would give other people something to wonder about. As I smiled a wicked smile Teffs was protesting but Zyoh just blew up the glove and tied the inflated glove to her mother's walker.

Zyoh and I laughed Teffie was not amused but the glove stayed. Zyoh and I tend to gang up on Teffs sometimes. Poor Teffers! LOL!

After this merriment about decorating the walker we continuted to visit for a while. When it came time for us to depart I went to use the "loo" before we left. Well, to my amusement the shower chair in the bathroom looked like it had been designed for some nefarious purpose by the Marquis de Sade himself. Well, I was even more inspired. Bwa, ha, ha!!!

Zyoh and I took our leave but I made arrangements to come back later in order to bring some other things to Miss Teffers. Well, after dropping Zyoh off I went to the dollar store, bought some handcuffs and then proceded to go back to the Rehab center. I gave Teffie the items that I was there to deliver, visited some more, then before taking my leave I again visited the rest room. I attached a set of handcuffs to each arm of the chair, said my goodbyes and left. Somehow I managed to keep from dying laughing until I got into the elevator. I am now waiting for the response of Teffie and the facility staff. I am so evil. I really am going to hell for being warped, twisted and downright mean.

It I do not live to write another word this escapade has been worth whatever price I may pay. Trouble is my middle name!

Ciao!

Stream of Consciousness....

I am tired. You know that kind of fatigue that cuts through to your very core. Yeah, that. It. Is. Intense.

The well feels dry and yet there must still be something left lining the parched bottom of the vessel for I continue to work, write, live, love, laugh, sleep, eat, lather, rinse, repeat. I don't stop no matter how very much I want to do so. I have too much to do. It isn't just labor, grind and drudgery although sometimes I fear I make it sound that way for the exhasution depletes my resources so very much but I have way too much living to do. I have butterflies, bees, sunsets, leaves blowing in the wind, creamy white magnolias and little yapping dogs to watch and enjoy. There is much life to be lived even if the physical perimeters are vastly constricted at this time in my existance. I can still enjoy a vicarious experience by writing and sharing with others. I have a dear friend who made a road trip recently. She took photos of the open road. They spoke to my soul and I too was out driving in a car, just to go, just to experience, just to be. I remember those days of freedom well. They came back to me in a rush, suddenly I was in my Toyota station wagon, a large glass of iced tea at the ready and a menthol cigarette in my mouth. I was free for a bit, away from the ties that bind listening to classic rock on the radio, singing along poorly and dancing behind the steering wheel. Yes, the "Sparrow in the Heather" aided and abetted me in the jailbreak. I was free for a bit before the warden captured me again returning me to the reality of the four walls that define my life. I am not truly captive though. I look outside. I hear the highway talking to me. I know it is close. I know that freedom lurks just beyond my doorway in the woods and on the interstate screaming nearby. I do not despair. I dream. I know that there is more. I hold onto that knowledge, wait impatiently for the day when I can again dive headfirst into the "more" and zipline across the barriers I seem to have erected for myself. My spirit is free and I smile at the willful rebellion that keeps me alive.

I am not a possessive woman. I have lost much, so very much. It pains me to think of all that I have lost. I have lived a life of great emotional pain that covers so very many facets of my being. Most of this is related to the numerous losses that I have alluded to but in the midst of all the grieving and loss let me state clearly, adamently and succinctly that you are mine. You cannot excise me from your DNA no matter how hard you may try. I gave birth to you. I reared you. I sacrificed for you. I love you. I don't know why the attempted amputation has occurred but let me make it clear my progeny I cannot and will not be erased. I stand here like a rock. I am both the immovable object and the irrestible force just as you are. I am steadfast and unstoppable. Even when I am in the grave I will live on as long as you live and have descendents who are alive. I cannot be expunged or obliterated. I will continue to stand back but I do that voluntarily respecting whatever decision it is that you have made. I have chosen to honor you in a way you have denied me. I reared you to have due regard for others in your life. It seems that the lessons were lost in so many ways although your ability to "razzle-dazzle" has fooled so many. I see you. I am not blind. Despite the hurt I love you still. I do not bind you. You are free but don't try to deny me. I am here, just like I always have been, especially when you needed me. I never abandoned you. I was here when there was a vast sucking vacuum elsewhere. It seems that you have forgotten that however so I am reminding you. I am the rock upon which your foundation was built. I am not the sand that blew away in the wind leaving you alone and vulnerable. I am and will always be your bedrock.

Life rolls on. I still enjoy it. Sometimes I think that life is a Sherman tank trying to mow me down but I am still standing. I am resilliant. I am tenacious. I laugh in the face of danger. I mock that which threatens to destroy me. If that bothers you then it is your problem not mine. I am fighting for survival, I will win no matter what the cost and I know just how exacting the price can be. I have already paid dearly for choices I have made get through the dark night. I am sure that my tab will continue to become larger still but don't think that I will be deterred for , my friends, am made of powerful stuff. The survivor always is. We know how to walk through fire. The blast furnace doesn't scare me. I have already strolled through the Gates of Hell only to come back out the other side and emerge victorious. I am the Phoenix. Never count me out!

Ciao!

The Missing Blogger...

I just saw that it has been more than 2 months since I posted on the blog. I have written many things on Facebook that probably should have been blog posts but I find myself on Facebook engaging in my rambling stream of consciousness. It feels more like a dialogue with people I know so I suppose that is why I find myself writing journalesque entries on Facebook.

My life is eminantly complicated. I am often overwhelmed by everything but I am a strong swimmer so I am keeping pace with the current of the "River of Life" as it tries to have its way with me. I do sometimes have to stop and rest but I learned how to float very well at the YWCA here in the Big Rock city when I was about 4 years old. So I have those survival skills needed to get through everything. I can even handle the waterfalls and rapids that I encounter. I am one tough cookie. Never count the fat chick out.

I am doing the prep for an upper and lower GI on Thursday. Talk about fun! Woo hoo! I don't have my Koolaid or Jello made yet. You know with Jello at least you can feel like you have something to eat. Well, I have been dealing with too much and life has been rather complicated so the Jello sits in the box. There are also pain issues to deal with and I have been "sippin' on fire" so there you go. Maybe I can get the Jello made later tonight. We will see. I am not looking forward to this whole ordeal. LOL! No one looks forward to a colonoscopy so I am not alone in this whiny time of dreaded "stuff." I am just babbling about it for the world to read. Some people have more sense than to do such a thing.

I keep working on my writing and find it to be frustrating at times. I have found that I am really good at writing the "stuff" of a story scenes, action, you know stuff(such a wonderful literary term). I am also pretty darned killer at writing dialogue. HOWEVER, I am not good at writing them at the same time. So I have pages of "stuff" and pages of dialogue for five related novels right now(no I can't focus on just one at a time). My plan is to try to merge the "stuff" and the conversation at some point. I can now see why I started to focus on writing personal essays and stories, as in being a story teller, instead of writing fiction. I have all of these stories in me like you wouldn't believe but getting them out is an excruciating process. I am even doing a good job of avoiding my tendancy to edit as I write. I am not writing the same sentance forty times trying to craft the perfect sentence. NaNoWriMo helped me to break that habit for the most part. It is all still such a struggle as I deal with brain fog, pain issues that affect my ability to type and then the emotional aspect of purging that which is bound up inside my gray matter. Like so many have said before me I have had to "suffer for my art." That being said I will never quit writing.

********************************************************************

I started writing this post 10 days ago. I got interuppted and then didn't return to it. I am posting it unfinished. Who knows what I was going to write next? I don't!

Ciao!

My Past Two Weeks....

I have had an interesting two weeks. On Friday March 18th I had to eat nuclear eggs. Don't ask, okay yes they were gross but only because they were powdered eggs that were cold and runny. I still have the emesis bag they gave me for "just in case." It is handy for the bedside table and no I am NOT pregnant with morning sickness thank you very much.
On the same day I started having a sore throat. I thought it might be from something with the eggs or the dry hospital air. I was hoping it wasn't an overactive imagination related to the idea of the runny nuclear eggs. The sore throat was better(I thought)on Saturday, decided it must have been dry air or allergy something. By Sunday the sore throat was getting worse again but still thought it was allergy something. On Monday I felt like I had been gargling battery acid. Tuesday I realized I had a cold. I was not happy because my birthday was Saturday and I had plans. I hoped for the best.
By Thursday I realized had been an optimistic fool, who was craving Chinese food like crazy. Due to the fact that I had been running fever to the point of soaking my clothes, sheets, blankets and etc. Along with having serious chills I began to fear that I had the flu. I'd had my flu shot though. I was beginning to feel gypped by the Public Health Officials who had attempted to predict what flu viruses would be the most prevalent for this year. Then I remembered that getting the shot had saved me from being lectured by my mother many times and the lecture that was surely coming if I did indeed have the flu. I felt less gypped and was glad that I had gotten the shot even if I was one sick puppy.
On Monday, the 28th of March I acknowledged to myself that there were worse things than the flu but at that moment I thought that the flu was bad enough. I was trying to be optimistic again because I was supposed to be going to Oaklawn on April 2nd with members of my graduating class. Woo hoo classes of 1975 from Mount St. Mary and Catholic High School.
On Wednesday March 30th I realized that I was being overly optimistic again, I canceled our ride to Oaklawn with my friend Dee, who had most graciously offered to take Stephanie and I, he continued to be very sweet saying that if I woke up feeling okay Saturday morning I could still have them pick us up. Dee is way too kind. I hope he had a great time and won money at the races. I just couldn't sniffle and cough in a car with he and his lovely wife for a trip to Hot Springs and back. That would have been tacky and as everyone knows there is nothing tackier than being tacky.
By Friday, April Fool's Day I realized that even though I was still sniffling and coughing that my chest was not on fire, my episodes of fever were gone and decided that I could at least do my birthday celebration with Stephanie and our Zyoh her daughter. I anticipated having some fun. Friday afternoon I went to the grocery store. I should not have done that but at least did not have a relapse. I also learned that even with a small, personally owned "handi-cart" that despite claims to the contrary getting groceries into the house with a walker can be a challenge but I had some Canada Dry that I was hell bent to get into the house. From now on I will wait to get soda into the house with Zyoh's help. I can wait until she can help me get it into the house. Another lesson to add to life lesson's for Ardee Eichelmann that will be promptly forgotten when I decide to be hardheaded again, which could be as soon as tomorrow.
Saturday arrived. It was a beautiful day. I was so very happy for all of my compadres who were going to be at Oaklawn. I was also excited because I was planning to have a super wonderful day. I was NOT disappointed.
Stephanie went and got Zyoh. For my birthday we got a 32" flat screen television. Zyoh set it up. I promptly watched Potatoe by the Flameing Daeth Fearies on You Tube. Stephanie was not as excited about that as I was and told me that I could not play YouTube full blast at three in the morning. I began to wish that I'd had a smart TV when we lived in our somewhat secluded little cottage although I am sure that Stephanie would have put the same limitation on my listening enjoyment. LOL! To my excitement I can even operate the new television and we have a GREAT picture. To those who don't know, we were still watching an old analog television until we moved on January 25th of this year. Not only was it an analog television but it was one that my son was going to throw away in around 2003 because it didn't work right. It served us well. We had a small flat screen television that we put in the living room when we moved. That television is now in my room just in case I should decide to watch television in bed. However, in the name of full disclosure to let you know how much television I watch I had gone to watch a basketball game on the small analog portable TV in my room recently and attempted to make the picture clearer my messing with the built on "rabbit ears." Sigh, I am just not a techie nor do I watch television much but I do think that by having Netflix, Pandora and YouTube available in the living room available in the living room that might change a little bit. Do not remind me that I am still way behind the curve with relation to updated electronics, just let me be excited about my new toy.
Speaking of new toys I also got an electric wine cork remover. Yes, I know, still behind the times but this means that I might, note the world MIGHT, be able to remove wine corks on my own. Now in the matter of full disclosure again, let me say that I still prefer Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill, my palate has not matured since high school however, I have a friend who sent me a case of some very fancy shmancy wine that cost more than I spend on groceries in four months. How do I know how much it cost, I looked it up online because of course, it came with a gift receipt. Yes, I am bad but since I own a $100 dollar bottle of wine and have not purchased $100 dollars worth of wine in the past 30 years I wish that I could sell my wine on Craigslist. Instead I am drinking it, enjoying it and wishing I had a more sophisticated wine palate, however I do know that one does not refrigerate red wine AND I was able to pick out the notes in the first bottle of red wine that I opened. I know this because I went and read the reviews for the wine, so I am not a totally lost cause. Oh, one last comment about the electric wine cork remover. I promptly noted that it looked like a light saber and started to play with it at which point it was taken away from me. I was shown how to use it, like I will remember but I do have an instruction manual that I will promptly lose and it was then taken to be charged up. I would rather use it as a light saber but I can still do so when no one is looking. Bwa, ha, ha!!!
After the light saber debacle I opened my birthday card at which point I arrived on the BESTEST part of my birthday present. It was a gift certificate to get my nose repierced. Woo hoo! I am a 59 year old grandmother with a buzz cut, a tattoo(I will gratefully accept gift certificates for additional tattoos and body piercings)and NOW I was going to get my nose pierced again. WOWZER!!!! Naturally I was ready to go get my nose pierced. Who cares that I am still blowing my nose all day long? If you can't handle a little pain so that you can have your nose pierced well, then really, just have a plain looking nose. Be my guest!
We arrived at the Psychedelic Butterfly on South University, owned by Chris Santa Cruz of the world famous Santa Cruz brothers, to get my nose pierced. Yes, I toddled up to get my nose pierced with my walker. I may be 59 and use a walker but by golly I have my nose pierced again. There is a whole story about having to convince the body piercing staff to pierce my nose the way I wanted it done but I had Zyoh to help me translate what I wanted in the language these young women fully understood(Damn, I might be getting old)plus the owner Chris Santa Cruz came through at the opportune moment and the young lady took the moment to try to convince us that they could not do a piercing like I wanted but he told them yes they could but it was $5 dollars more. I refrained from smirking at them. Zyoh, of course, was willing to pay the premium price for the nose piercing and we went to have the deed done but only after being told by the young lady signing me in that I was lucky that the regular body piercer was out sick yesterday because she would NOT have done the kind of nose piercing that I wanted but the young lady who was working had no problem doing it. Woo hoo!!! I have my nose pierced my way and since this is the era of phones that have cameras in them and Facebook my nose piercing has been documented for posterity and posting on Facebook, Twitter and my blog. Would you expect any less? No, of course, not!!!
After I proudly exited the tattoo parlor with my newly pierced nose behind my zippy little walker we went to get the Chinese food that I had been craving. Now, I realize not everything I am going to mention is truly Chinese food and it certainly is not authentic Chinese food but it is what I wanted. I ate sushi like crazy, I can never get enough sushi, I also had some kim chee that was so good I thought mistakenly that it was homemade, not to mention Sesame Chicken and Spicy Chicken. The buffet was on its A++++ game yesterday and the Spicy Chicken literally melted in my mouth. OMG I was a very happy little girl. BTW, the fresh jalapenos in the Spicy Chicken(like I said not authentic)and the Sriracha sauce made my nose really run and I was a little less cavalier about blowing my nose with a freshly pierced nose especially on the rough paper towels in the ladies room but like I said, if you can't handle a little pain you don't need to have your nose pierced anyway. Of course, that is just me.
Now, on to the pictures of my new nose ring and the nose piercing experience. WOOT!!! I had an awesome day even if I did miss the outing at Oaklawn, which according the reports of my friends, was a blast but I am preparing for next year because as you know I am an eternal optimist. Oh, one last thing about the pictures do not attempt to count the wrinkles, smile lines, chins, crow's feet or gray hairs. It will be in vain just remember that I am very proud of all of them. I have earned those bad boys and wear them like badges of honor just like I do my new nose ring. I am my own little somebody and I love every single minute of it.
No, I did not proofread this post and in the name of even more vanity I was listening to The Boss' channel on Spotify. Now you are fully informed or bored to death, take your pick. Oh yes, I am also doing laundry and cooking dinner too. LOL!

Skeeter Skeet ~ A Tribute To My Mother...

When I was a kid, as in less than four years old, I saw a movie called "The Big Circus." In it was a clown named Skeeter Skeet. I developed some kind of obsession about Skeeter Skeet and was so in love with that clown even though the clown doll I had terrifed me. Go figure! Anyway, because I just loved, loved, loved Skeeter Skeet my mom did a "paint by number" clown picture to hang on my wall. I, of course, called that clown Skeeter Skeet. I don't remember how many years Skeeter Skeet was hung on my walls growing up but it was for many years, probably until I discovered 16 Magazine, The Beatles, The Monkees, The Cowsills(John Cowsill, dreamy)and such. That would have been around age nine or ten.

It wasn't until I was a teenager that I asked mom where the name Skeeter Skeet came from and that I found out he had been a character in a movie that we had seen. At that point I became obsessed with finding out what the name of the movie was as my mom did not remember.

For years I watched and looked for circus movies to no avail. Remember this was in the days before Google. It also turns out that the character's name was only "Skeeter," who cares to me he will always be Skeeter Skeet but my story is not yet finished.

Finally one day there was a movie on cable called "The Big Circus." I was able to watch and record it. To my everlasting delight IT was THE movie with Skeeter Skeet who by the way was played by Peter Lorre one of my favorite character actors. I was and remain very, very excited.

My mom somehow ended up with Skeeter Skeet in her possession(I probably left him behind when I moved out)but gave the painting to me when she gifted me with a box of goodies from my childhood including photographs. Skeeter Skeet ended up in a drawer and stayed there until we moved. Since we have landed in our new apartment he now hangs above my computer desk and I get to see him every day.

My mom did a great job of painting Skeeter Skeet. I cannot imagine how she got all of the many features painted when she was a young wife and mother taking care of two little girls. That had to have been a lot of work and required a great deal of patience. I have long appreciated the effort she made to paint Skeeter Skeet for me and the painting has always had a very, very special place in my life and heart. You must understand that I totally flunked out on paint by numbers, my mom is not at ALL crafty and so this was a SERIOUS labor of love. I will never forget that.(imagine little heart emoticon in this space)

I have included a photograph of Skeeter Skeet. It is a little blurry because my hand keeps shaking when I go to take the pic. Maybe someday I will get a photo that does justice to all of the work that my mom did to paint this beloved clown picture for me. Thanks again mom! I love and appreciate you.


Ciao!

I get it...I hope you understand that...

What a day!

More fodder for the book, tense moments, Zyoh's little dog died in the middle of the night and here I am needing to go to sleep and yet not feeling sleepy. My heart hurts. Zyoh was crying so hard. She felt like she had let her little dog down when she had been taking him to the vet, including a specialist in an effort to find out what was wrong with him and get him well. It was so very heartbreaking.

I gave Life a stern talking to on Facebook but I doubt it will do any good. Life does what life will do whether we like it or not. Just like anybody else, Life has its own ideas about things.

Sometimes I just wonder. Someone said that I overthink things. Maybe I do but things need to be thought about and that is just that.

It is what it is.

Ciao!

Profile

Sesame Street Ninja
ardeeeichelmann
ardeeeichelmann

Latest Month

August 2016
S M T W T F S
 123456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
28293031   

Tags

Syndicate

RSS Atom
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Kenn Wislander