Posted in Blogging, Dreaming, Experience, food, Fun, New life, Writing

Who Shall it be?

I have one assignment from Blogging 101 that I have left unfinished. We were to decide whom our audience will be. I know having a specific audience increases your opportunity to have more followers. I have a book review blog which clearly is aimed at readers. Daphne’s Book List  and I have a blog called Living Like Demelza where I write about the qualities of Demelza Poldark. She is a character by Winston Graham in the Poldark series. I am striving to be more like Demelza.

So who is the audience for this blog, Life Rewritten. I think I will focus on people who want to expand their life experience. It is so easy to stick to your routine and never try anything new, even if it’s close by. This is my own personal challenge right now. I used to be very adventurous but since my divorce, I have become a hermit and this has to stop. This is no way to live and I can’t continue like this.

So my audience will be those of you who are looking to expand your life experiences through all sorts of means. I won’t focus one thing, say travel. I am going to add New Experience Recap Wednesday. Every Wednesday post a link in the comment section to what you new experience you tried that week. Was it a new recipe? A new restaurant? Make a new friend? Go to a new place? Just write about your experience and tag it NewExperienceRecapWednesday.

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How to Gain Free Publicity for Your Page: Reblogging

Check this out

Posted in Blogging

French Friday 

Place dû Grande Marché, Tours, France

“Bien écouter et bien répondre est une des plus grandes perfections qu’on puisse avoir dans la conversation.”

François de la Rochefoucauld 1613-1680

To listen closely and reply well is the highest perfection we are able to attain in the art of conversation.”

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One Day a Decision


   The air was still heavy with humidity. 10:30 pm and the temperature was still hovering around 98 degrees. I had decided to walk the short distance because I was confident it would be much cooler by now. Seriously it was October 1st and it felt like the middle of summer. My heels were killing me. I wanted to take them off, but without street lights my fear of stepping on something disgusting kept them on.

   I didn’t need an alarm clock, not once I had children. Prior to that time, an alarm clock was a necessity. Now that the girls were in school, my own body clock woke me everyday without fail around 6:30 am. The sun wasn’t quite up yet. We still had another month before we moved the clocks an hour backwards. The darker sky always made rising a little more difficult. My husband snored soundly next to me. Getting up with the girls wasn’t something he ever did and I had given up trying. I made my way upstairs, carefully kissed each of my sweet daughters, rubbing their backs and instructing them to get up for school. They never complained, not yet any way.

I took my time walking. The cooler temperatures indoors should have made me pick up my pace, but I couldn’t face home yet. Having just spent several hours in the company of eleven other women made me question my judgement. This happened every month, every first Wednesday. It had happened for the past ten years, ever since we started meeting. The sighing came naturally and without much thought. I was just happy to be alone so no one could question my mood. Somehow I always managed to stay lighthearted on these nights. Even after all of these years, no one had ever looked beyond the surface to see the unhappiness behind the eyes.

Breakfast was always a quiet time at our home. I read the paper, the girls ate and it wasn’t until they were finished any of us were awake enough to talk. Quickly upstairs to finish getting ready for school, I cleaned up the kitchen while they finished. I had already been up an hour and my husband, their dad was still in bed. I had stopped resenting his lack of help in the morning and had begun to cherish my time alone with the girls. There was something almost sacred about those morning hours. There hadn’t been a chance to muddy the day with worries or responsibilities that at times felt overwhelming as I faced them alone. We lived close to the school, but it was my joy to walk them through the park, over the creek bridge and through the small grove of trees that separated us from the school. A quick kiss and hug, and they headed off for the last of the walk alone.

However, I had hoped someone would remember, but no. The evening transpired like always. We chatted, got ourselves a beverage and took our places at one of the three tables. The night was punctuated with yells of delight as someone had rolled three sixes, a bunco. When had first gathered to play this silly game of bunco, we focused on the game and seemed to complete many rounds. If we won, we moved to the next table, losers stayed. But as the years passed, we played fewer games and spent the majority of the evening talking. My feet wouldn’t make it much further in these heels. I needed to pick up my pace if possible. I was surprised to find myself filled with disappointment. I was almost 40 years old, much too mature to be disappointed over something so childish. However, I had hoped someone would remember, but no.

My husband was waiting for me when I came back from dropping the girls off at school. He was waiting for me to make him breakfast. He wasn’t much of a talker and while he read the paper religiously, he never really expressed any opinion about the world, national or even local politics. He announced he had made plans to meet friends that day. They were going to have lunch and go look at the newest boats. As a pilot he was often off during the week and this enabled him to meet his fellow pilot friends. He never asked me what my plans were for the day. He never did. I swear I could feel the crack in my heart grow. My day was spent at home with the typical responsibilities you’d expect a full-time mother and wife to have.

Turning the corner I could see my house. My shirt was now dampened all down my back and clung between my breasts. I made the last of the walk without my shoes. The pain finally over ruled my fear of stepping into something I’d regret. I couldn’t bring myself to go inside, not yet. I sat on the bench in our yard and looked at the sky. It was cloudy so the stars weren’t visible and it made for a darker night. Was that a message? The darkness of the night? I couldn’t see a point of light anywhere. I could feel the tears begin and I fought with all I had to hold them in, but to no avail. I sat on that bench as it neared 11 pm that Wednesday night. Crying for what I had didn’t have and crying for the blessing I did have.

After school was filled with homework, snacks and dinner. The girls talked animatedly about their day. I never failed to ask the same two questions. What was the most interesting or unusual thing you learned today. And what was the silliest thing you learned or did today. Those questions always managed to bring forth a fount of information. I had learned early on the simple how was school, never elicited more than a blank yes or no. The three of us had a lively conversation and after dinner I waited, but nothing. My husband left the table, grabbed a beer and headed upstairs to his home theater. The girls were old enough I didn’t need to leave written instructions for my husband but I did it anyway.

Now sitting on the bench, I realized I had to make a decision. Would I continue to live a life that on the surface looked wonderful but underneath was empty and lacking in love? My gut said it was time to go, to leave. My heart said I was being silly to be upset over something so childish. My head argued back that this was not a one time oversight. This happened year after year  and it was a sign of something deeper. Just like the darkened, starless night was speaking to me and telling me there would be no light in my life as long as I stayed. My heart spoke back reminding me of my beautiful children, comfortable life and the promise I had made all those years ago. My heart said I was being superficial. My head said it was just another strong message of how little I was valued. All I knew, was at that moment I couldn’t make any decision. All I could do was pick up my shoes, unlock the door and head upstairs for a quick shower. I would consider everything tomorrow in the light of the day. I would reexamine my life but not today, not on my birthday.

Posted in Blogging, Dreaming, Faith, God, Hiding, love

Writing 101 Vignettes

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 I blew on the window and saw old Jack Frost. Taking my finger, I drew a heart but as quickly as it was drawn, it was gone. Is that what love was like? Was it there one minute and gone the next? Did it come in on the wind and leave with the rain? This is a question I couldn’t answer. And no matter how many time my breath gave me canvas to draw on the window pane, t never gave me the answer I was seeking. The love I was seeking was never there.

  She sits at the table and stares out the window. It’s a cold day, the wind is blowing and frost forms on the glass panes. Even from across the room, I can feel her longing. She doesn’t move. I am not even sure she blinks. I do see her reach for the glass. She never draws anything but a heart. And the heart, the love never lasts. It always fades away before she has a chance to capture it.

  The house looks so warm. The snow is slowly growing deeper. The flakes are large and heavy, sticking to my hat, coat and gloves as I make my way towards my car. I see her everyday looking out the window. She never smiles. I wave to her but she never waves back. Even from here, I can sense something is right. Sometimes there is a heart on the window, but before I can tell if she has written something else, it has faded.

Why doesn’t she look my way? Why doesn’t she feel my love? I reach out to her. Doesn’t she see that? Maybe My love doesn’t come in the manner which she expects. I am not a knight in shining armor. I won’t marry her. I won’t forcibly move her from the chair and the window, but I will wait. I will wait patiently. She used to know me. We used to spend time together, quietly talking and listening. But she turned her eyes away and lost sight of what matters. Now she sits and draws hearts on the frosted window pane, when all the love she will ever need is here with Me, her Lord.

Posted in Blogging, Writing

50 Words Prompt


Being succinct and precise with words is not a quality I possess. I tend to be loquacious and verbose.  For me to limit a post to 50 words would be like trying to stop the wind from blowing, but to be a good writer, it is important to write well and well doesn’t always mean more. (56 words).

Posted in family, food, math, New life, reunions, summer, writing101

Two plus Two equals Four


   As a simple math question the answer is yes 2 + 2 = 4 but in terms of life nothing could be further from the truth. When two people join together and create a new life, they become 3. And most families add to that number and become 4, 5, 6 or more.

  If your family is close then there is a good chance you will have experienced a family reunion. It is a large party where the progeny of two people all come together. In my family it was the children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and great-great grandchildren of George and Rose. Over 100 people would gather in the heat of the summer, in a park in Oklahoma City with containers of fried chicken, potato salad, watermelon, homegrown tomatoes, lots and lots of pie, and if we were really lucky someone would make homemade ice cream.

  My mother was an only child and I have only one sister, so in my daily life we had a very small family. So on those yearly summer days, to learn I was part of something bigger, a family with many branches helped me feel grounded and reminded me I belonged. Maybe my lineage wasn’t to fabulous wealth or royalty, but it was clear my lineage was one of love, caring and a deep and abiding faith in God.

  We no longer go to those reunions. My grandmother and all of her siblings have passed on. The group has now splintered off as those other great aunts and uncles have become great, great grandparents in their own right. So they began having their own reunions. Life goes on. Modern life has taken everyone in their own directions. I think about trying to revive the family reunion even though my own family is small. It would consist of 9 people. But I pray and hope that it will grow as my children and my sister’s children marry and have children of their own. So no, I don’t think 2 + 2 = 4.

If you want to have our own family reunion here are some resources: Family Reunion Planning  and Family Reunion Ideas

Posted in Blogging, Dreaming, Hiding, New life

What do I do when I am not writing?

I spend to much time dreaming and not enough time doing. I make lists. I make plans. I read and research something I want to do. I read for pleasure. I think about all the what ifs in life and make more lists of what would be different if I was different.

I stay inside. I’m hiding from the world right now. I shouldn’t be. I’m in a new city with new things to see and do, so I make a list again. And promise myself that tomorrow will be different. That the part of me that loves exploring life and learning new things isn’t dead. It’s just recuperating from an almost fatal wound.

I spend too much time dreaming and not enough time doing when I am not writing. I need to really live my life to have something worthy of which to write.

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Living with Crazy makes you Crazy


     I lived in the Dallas-Fort Worth area for 30 years. My life was built there. It is where we bought our first home, had our second child, made friends and enjoyed the fruits of our labor. I stayed home and took care of our daughters, our life and my husband when he was home. I was so proud and grateful for all his hard work. But time and time again, a terrible secret would be revealed about my now ex-husband. I convinced myself over and over that all men used porn. He told me all the pilots went to strip clubs and I needed to understand. I learned he had cheated on me with flight attendants but he convinced me that it was my fault. Then the phone call came from the police detective. Turns out all those trips to the hardware store, were actually trips to spy on girls at an apartment swimming pool and masturbate at the same time. He was a peeping tom! Of course you say, she definitely left now. Sad to say, I didn’t. He convinced me he would get help and he also said it was my fault. If I hadn’t married him when he was so young, (24) he wouldn’t feel like he had missed out on all the available sex.

   Time and time again, I’d find porn and it escalated. I found rape porn. I threatened to leave but here is a piece of advice, do not make a threat if you don’t intend to follow through with it. Again he agreed to go to counseling but it didn’t last long. His drinking increased, more strip clubs and our relationship slowly deteriorated. After one full year of counseling with a pastor/counselor, he confessed to using prostitutes at erotic massage parlors. Now hold onto your hat for this one ladies and gentlemen; it wasn’t real sex because he only paid for hand jobs. Did I leave? No. By now I was fully buried and not able to make a sound decision. He had eroded away any sense of value I had. We spent $7,000 going to The Meadows Clinic in Wickenburg, AZ. He never did any of the things they told him to do to get better.We ended up living separate lives but in the same house for two years. I know I should have left him countless times, but I loved him and hoped to work it out.

   Now for those of you who have never lived with a narcissist, you will never be able to understand. But imagine standing on a sandy beach and slowly over time the sand begins to sink. It happens so slowly, you don’t even realize it is happening. You are busy enjoying the sunset. You are busy watching the waves. You are busy thinking about the life you have. And then one day you realize that you’ve been buried alive underneath the sand that has slowly been eroding away. That is life with a narcissist. If you go to Living with a Narcissist or Life with a Narcissistic Psychopath you can find more information. It will help explain why I didn’t leave. Why I waited for him to leave me.

   After the divorce I spiraled out of control. I had written my life story and the chapters I saw in my future included my ex-husband, our daughters and their future families, travel, our friends and a secure life. When he left, he didn’t look back. It was as though our daughters and I never existed. At the age of 54, he walked away from 30 years of marriage and a life we had built. And I am not exaggerating. He lied to me and took $3000 of the $9000 cash I got in the divorce settlement. Our daughter had to try to explain to him that he had lied about needing the money. He never got it. Our daughters and son-in-law met with him and told him they would be there and stand by his side as he got help. But he never, even to this day has admitted he has any problems. Classic narcissistic behavior, he has no empathy for others, nor can he ever see or accept that he might have a problem. Sadly our daughters have fully cut him out of their lives.

   I did lose it for a while. I spiraled downward as he went right into a new relationship with a much younger woman. I stalked him. I harassed him. It is not something I am proud of but after you have lived with someone whose goal is to slowly drive you crazy, it can’t be surprising to end up crazy. I got myself together and left the country for 3 months. When I came back, I was still sad but no longer a crazy lady.

   Why am I telling you all of this? Because if you are unhappy and feel bad about yourself, if you feel like you walk on eggshells in your relationship then start reading the articles on those links. Don’t let a someone steal years of your life from you and then discard you like a piece of trash without batting an eye. You don’t want to end up where I am. I am almost 56, unemployed, living in a new city with no friends and worry things won’t change. That is why I am blogging. I am hoping it helps me begin to rewrite this new chapter of my life in a positive and good way.

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If we were walking in the garden. . .


     If we were walking in the garden, I would tell you how good it feels to have company, to not be alone for another 24 hours.


    If we were walking in the garden, I would bring you up-to-date on my job search. You would learn I received another rejection with the same lame excuse. We have decided to move forward with another candidate. When I ask for specific suggestions, they give no feedback. I listened to NPR the other day and the entire broadcast on my way home was about the fact age discrimination is real and active in the job market. So where does that leave me at almost 56?

    If we were walking in the garden, I would ask for a hug because now that DSC_0020I no longer live with my daughter or near my other daughter, I am completely hug deprived. I always told my girls you needed 10 hugs a day to be happy and healthy,

DSC_0010   If we were walking in the garden, I would be quiet. I would listen for birds. I would listen to the waterfall. I would take in all the sounds and allow them to quiet my spirit.

   If we were walking in the garden, I’d ask if money was no object what DSC_0009would you do and where would you go? I would listen to your dreams and encourage you to follow them.

  DSC_0017 If we were walking in the garden, I would thank you for taking some of your day to spend with me because we know we make time for what we feel is important. If your friends aren’t spending time with you, contacting you or remembering you even in a small way, you know your friendship is not important to them.


If we were walking in the garden, I would ask would you like to take a walk again on another day>