Apologies for the mistakes in my French.
Ma vie étais changé la première fois j’ai vu Paris. My life was changed the first time I saw Paris.
Mon âme était venue en vie. My soul had come to life.
Mes genoux affaiblit My knees weaken
Mon coeur chante My heart sings
Paris et moi, nous bien allons ensemble comme les abeilles et miel Paris and me, we belong together like bees and honey
La douceur de vie The sweetness of life
Paris a sauvé moi. Paris saved me.
Sleep a dance of three
A body deprived of sleep
Is a body destined to fail
A mind deprived of sleep
Is a mind on the road to insanity
A soul deprived of sleep
Is a soul thirsting for God
Body, mind, soul locked in the dance of sleep
The body tosses
The mind wanders
The soul cries out
The body succumbs
The mind dreams
The soul searches
The body is refreshed
The mind is renewed
The soul is hopeful
And tomorrow they dance again
Sleep a dance of three
A body deprived of sleep
Is a body destined to fail
A mind deprived of sleep
Is a mind on the road to insanity
A soul deprived of sleep
Is a soul thirsting for God
Body, mind, soul locked in the dance of sleep
The body tosses
The mind wanders
The soul cries out
The body succumbs
The mind dreams
The soul searches
The body is refreshed
The mind is renewed
The soul is hopeful
And tomorrow they dance again
When I look into the mirror who do I see?
Who is that woman looking at me?
Is it the girl who had big daydreams,
Of love, adventure and French sunbeams?
Is it the teenager who doubted every decision she made?
The insecure girl who found herself betrayed?
Is it the young woman in love and ready to embark on life?
Or the woman whose husband sliced her heart with a knife?
Is it the mother blessed with two compassionate girls
Who has the love from two of God’s precious pearls?
Is it the woman who is past her prime?
Watching the clock and hearing the tick tock of time?
Or is it the woman who has fought and struggled to reclaim her life?
Learning new lessons, knowledge and how to deal with strife?
One image placed upon another to reflect not just one woman’s soul
But a blending of each reflection so she can learn she’s not broken but whole.
A serendipitous meeting
Brought about by a cloudy day
A moment caught but once in a lifetime
A lifetime caught in that moment
Enchanted
Spellbound by a kiss
Hearts intertwined
Lives slowly braided together one experience at a time
Strands of love added one child at a time
Life is magic
Simple moments linked together by the magic of love
The magic of life
I’ve been a talker my entire life. So much so it’s become a reoccurring joke with my family and friends. I always thought I chattered away because I was nervous and wanted to fill the empty space. Recently another possibility was presented to me. Do I talk too much so I don’t have to recognize what I am feeling? Do I use words to cover up my emotions?
I think there is a real chance this is true. When I was married, knowing in my gut my husband wasn’t faithful and I struggled with insecurity, I talked. If was busy talking I didn’t have to admit I was feeling insecure and why. If I admitted my husband wasn’t faithful then I would have to do something about it.
When I am in a social setting and feel like a square peg in a round hole, I chatter. I don’t have to admit I’m feeling scared or worried about being accepted. The words delay having to deal with my emotions.
Just as some people withdraw into themselves to ignore their emotions, I talk over mine. It’s time I’m quiet and listen to the sounds of my heart.
What is wrong with this Commercial?
There currently is a commercial for a company that makes scented candles. It’s supposed to evoke feels of caring and the love Christmas brings. I find the commercial sad and such a statement on what too many people think Christmas is.
In the ad a young couple is shown decorating and sharing time together one December evening. Then an old man is shown alone surrounded by pictures of his now dead wife. The scene definitely evokes sadness. He leaves his home and while he is gone his kindly, young neighbor goes and decorates his house so when he returns he can be filled with the love of Christmas. Why does this bother me? Why didn’t the young woman go over and ask her neighbor to join them? Why didn’t she truly extend the hand of love and hospitality?
Too many people have the belief Christmas is only about family. Thy don’t reach out beyond their own inner circle when celebrating the holidays. Why? Why do they close out the world when the world is so desperately in need of the love Christmas and Jesus brings?
This will be my third Christmas as a single woman. Not a single friend has called me once in these three years for Thanksgiving or Christmas to make sure I have someplace to go. They don’t think behind their own right circle of family. I always included people. I made sure everyone I knew had a place to go. I invited a young couple one year who where in church alone on Christmas Day. I asked them on 12-25. Sure it was a last minute invitation but I barely knew them and had no idea they would be alone but when I saw them I reached out. And they were thrilled to have somewhere to go. I’ve invited elderly couples who couldn’t be with their children and grandchildren.
People make assumptions. Oh she will be with her kids. Oh someone else will ask her. Or they suggest go and volunteer somewhere when all the person wants is to feel loved and wanted and not tossed aside.
So please take the time this Christmas season and ask someone to join you. Don’t let this season go by saying you are celebrating when love came into the world but don’t show it in your lives.
I’ve always heard they we have a twin somewhere in the world. No one has ever said I look like someone they know or someone famous but my daughters are told they look like two actresses. And they must because there is never any variation. It is always the same two actresses.
You can even find photos online of stars that look eerily similar to another star. Then there are the stories of families that swear a new child is a dead relative’s reincarnation. If your doppelgänger is someone bad does that mean you might share the same characteristics? The same evil soul? It would be interesting to find out how many traits look-a-likes actually share. So what do you think of the doppelgänger in the photo I posted? Eerily alike don’t you think? She even has a huge wart. My photo is posted after this photo. Do I have a doppelgänger? 
After being married for 30 years, divorced for almost 3 years, I am considering dating websites. I tried them when I first got divorced but thankfully realized facing rejection from thousands of men wasn’t a good idea.
I’ve read up on what makes a good profile and it seems everyone has a different opinion. I tend to agree with the folks that say photos are the most important along with a good headline. I know if I am not attracted to the photo I don’t read the profile. The challenge is remembering I am not that twenty something girl looking for a date. I read a dating expert say that we look at profiles with our young minds. So women see old men who look like their dads and grandpas and men see old women who look like their moms and grandmas. I admit that is true for me. And then add the additional challenge that men can date down in age, economics and education more easily than women. Now before you lecture me that age is a state of mind and older women date younger men, I am talking about relationships. I am not talking about friendships or a sexual affair even though things are necessary to a good relationship but many times we experience them individually.
I read something in a novel by Louise Penny which I want to use in my profile when I do get brave enough and strong enough to try dating again. This is paraphrased from The Long Way Home by Louise Penny.
She wasn’t made for a Paris runway but for good meals and books by the fire and laughter. She was constructed from and for happiness. She helps you discover how very attractive a heart and mind can be.
I learned that while writing can be expressive if unchecked it can turn depressive. I learned the world of bloggers has many kind and caring people. I was reminded how much I love words and writing. And I challenge myself to write a novel by 12-31-16. Thanks everyone
Sadly very true
image: Shutterstock
There’s this thing that happens whenever I speak about or write about women’s issues. Things like dress codes, rape culture and sexism. I get the comments: Aren’t there more important things to worry about? Is this really that big of a deal? Aren’t you being overly sensitive? Are you sure you’re being rational about this?
Every. Single. Time.
And every single time I get frustrated. Why don’t they get it?
I think I’ve figured out why.
They don’t know.
They don’t know about de-escalation. Minimizing. Quietly acquiescing.
Hell, even though women live it, we are not always aware of it. But we have all done it.
We have all learned, either by instinct or by trial and error, how to minimize a situation that makes us uncomfortable. How to avoid angering a man or endangering ourselves. We have all, on many occasions, ignored an offensive comment. We’ve all…
View original post 1,606 more words
You would never believe it but…
I was a teenage beauty queen
You would never believe it but…
I worked and saved enough money to travel Europe with a college tour group when I was 18 for six weeks, traveling to East Berlin through the now defunct Checkpoint Charlie.
You would never believe it but….
I was on TV with Bob Hope
You would never believe it but…
I was a winning game show contestant
You would never believe it but…
I was interviewed for a piece on the CBS Evening News with Dan Rather
You would never believe it but….
I took a leap of faith and went to France for 3 months to try and improve my French when I was 54.
You would never believe it but….
I dream of being a writer.
You would never believe it but ….
I do believe in hope, love and fresh starts
How many of us choose our destiny? We definitely play a role in our lives and what happens, but so much is out of our control.
Would I be different if my parents had never moved me at the age of 9 from Oklahoma to Minnesota therefore preventing the teasing which tore at my sense of value? I still hear the laughter ringing out as a recording of my voice is played back to the class and my distinctly southern accent stood in contrast the nasal, clipped sound of the north.
Would I be different if at 11.5 I wasn’t moved from Minnesota to Colorado with six weeks left of sixth grade. Not enough time to make friends and settle in, so a summer spent alone. Which meant having to begin 7th grade just a few months later at an entirely different school. Doing my best to figure out where I fit and finally finding my place to be moved again.
Midway in 9th grade a move to Las Vegas and a high school that was nothing like the one from which I had come. Sitting at lunch in the car with my mom for the first week so I wouldn’t cry and try to walk home. Spending another semester and summer alone to begin a new year once more with no friends.
Would I be different if I hadn’t desperately wanted to leave Las Vegas and ended up marrying a man a hardly knew? Spending 30 years of my life with him first in Iowa and then in Texas?
Would I be different if I had stayed in the place I had called home since 1986 rather than moving a mere 30 minutes away where it was convenient for my friends to forget me? If I had stayed would they still have forgotten me?
Would I be different if I hadn’t taken 3 months and gone to France to try and learn French and experience life from a different perspective? Staying in the security of the familiar?
Would I be different if I had made the choice not to leave Dallas-Fort Worth rather than taking a chance on a better life in a new place and all the struggles building a new life entails?
Of course there is no way to know. Our lives are shaped by so many things and places are but one. We are the sum of our experiences but until we die our life equation is never complete. There is always something more to add, subtract, multiply or divide in our lives.
To be honest I couldn’t find anything I felt worthy of readdressing. My mood is dark as is my future. I no longer think clearly or have the ability to read a book or watch a simple television show without seeing and thinking of all that was taken from me and what I will never experience again. And to aggravate me and wear my patience my cat will not stop crying. He meows over and over, louder and louder. Do you think he speaking for me? Crying the tears when I’m too lost to cry for myself?
To walk to the edge
Of the darkness
To lean
To peer
To try and see what lies beyond
Taking one step
One step over
Flying free
Released from hurt
Free falling
Falling free
Never to come back
“We read to know we’re not alone.” -William Nicholson, Shadowlands
I read everyday. It’s not unusual for me to read one book in two days. I read because I am alone. I am always alone. Except for the group I meet with three times a week, I see no one and I talk to no one.
Isolation is not a good thing but it is an addictive thing. It creeps up on you unexpectedly. One day turns to two and two turns into three and before you know it a week, a month goes by.
I never intended to be in this place of loneliness. This deep, dark well of drowning sadness. Someone born without a soul stole mine. And I won’t steal someone’s soul because I no longer have one. That is cruel and evil.
Everyday gets more difficult. Everyday is longer than the last. Everyday I think it will be my last.
10 pm: Bedtime
Toss and turn unable to get comfortable but my time was coming and I only had to wait until morning.
6 am: The alarm rings. I am awake because I never really fell asleep. I shake my husband out of his dreams and tell him we are due to arrive no later than 7 am.
6:15 am: A quick shower, get dressed, check my bag and tell my husband it is almost time to leave.
6:30 am: I call my parents and let them know we are leaving soon and to check on my daughter. She is still sound asleep.
6:40 am: It is still dark outside since it is a July day. The heat is stifling even at this hour. Though freshly showered, I can feel the sweat begin to bead and roll down my neck. I should have brought something to pull my hair back.
6:45 am: We leave for the short 15 minute drive.
7:00 am: I am dropped off and taken by wheelchair upstairs. My husband joins me as soon as he parks.
7:15 am: All checked in, ready to go but still apprehensive. This is my second time and just like last time I didn’t begin on my own. I needed help.
7:30 am: Dr. gives me a visit. Checks the pitocin drip. Contractions have begun. The Dr. guesses the baby will weigh between 7 and 8 pounds.
10:00 am: I ask for a pain reliever. Nurse gives me something but fails to tell me it is short term and won’t last more than 15 minutes.
10:15 am: Nurse suggests I make a bathroom run because she thinks it will be a long day.
10:30 am: Return to bed and tell nurse I need to push. She says there is no way because I wasn’t ready. I disagreed with her and said I NEED to push. Asked for more painkiller and was told it was too late.
11:05 am: Beautiful baby girl is born and I hear a round of applause. Putting my glasses on I realize there is a sea of faces in the birthing room. It was student nurse day and they just “happened” to stop in. Dr. guesses my new daughter weighs 9 lbs 13 oz. Official weight 10 lbs. Very good guess.
*** Lesson learned and shared with all mothers-to-be: If you do not want unexpected visitors in the birthing room, when you take your hospital tour and fill out paperwork ask if it is a teaching hospital and you want to specify you do not want students in your room. Every mother-to-be has been so happy I shared from my experience.
I went slightly over but I can never remember if one and two letter words count towards the total.
56 years of living a lie
Believing without questioning
You’re not enough
You won’t win
You prove how smart you are
You will do something and I will leave
No longer seeing your reflection
The spark, the joy smothered by words
Someone takes your hand at 56 years
They wipe away the hurt, the emptiness
They plant the seed of belief
Belief that you are enough
Belief you will win
Belief you are worthy of love
Belief you will never be abandoned
Belief in tomorrow
Have you ever read a book that is timeless? I believe Poldark is just that.A book written in the 1940s about life in the late 18th and early 19th centuries in Cornwall, England. The struggles faced then are as relevant as the ones we face today. Ross Poldark is a soldier just returning home from a war which was lost. He learns not only has the love of his life, Elizabeth agreed to marry his wealthy cousin Francis but his father is dead and his small estate in ruin.
Heartbroken Ross pours himself into his farm and reopening the mine on his land. Unlike his cousin Francis and his wife Elizabeth, Ross was never separated apart from the people on his father’s land. He grew up with the sons of the miners. They were his friends despite the huge difference in their social status. Ross’s experience in the war has given him a clearer perspective on life and the injustices he sees everyday in Cornwall and England.
Miners are forced to poach game to keep their families from starving while the gentry live a life of luxury which is paid for on the backs of the workers, the miners. Justice is only justice if it serves the gentry well because while they say all are equal before the law, that is not how it is actually carried out.
Ross finds himself torn between what he knows in his heart is right and what the people of his class tell him is right. It is the unexpected love and faith he finds in a young girl, a miner’s daughter, that helps Ross find his way.
He stumbles. He fails. He succeeds. He’s torn between love for two women. He carries on doing his best.
Aren’t these the same challenges we face today? The divide between the rich and poor growing. The idea that some are born to succeed and others to fail. Aren’t we struggling to find true justice in our court systems? Not justice for some but justice for all? Aren’t we fighting for education, jobs and the disenfranchised? Aren’t we working to save the men and women who return from war some broken and scarred changed forever? For soldiers who can’t find employment and face poverty? Aren’t we seeking our voice and our right to be heard even if we are poor or a minority or just the plain forgotten?
When Winston Graham published Poldark, World War II had just ended. His country was facing the very same challenges Ross faced when he returned from fighting the American War of Independence. The only difference is Britain won WWII and lost the AmericanRevolution but the returning soldiers faced the same fights as Ross did 150 years earlier. And now in the 21st century we are facing our biggest battle, the fight of ideology. Will we win this world war of terrorism imposed by the few on the many?
This is absolutely my favorite book series and I hope you find the time to read not just Poldark but all twelve books.
I never thought we would be apart for so many years. It seems like only yesterday we were young mothers raising our children. Struggling to make ends meet. Somehow we always managed to find the fun and humor in every day. But where have the years gone? When I look at you I see the same, sparkling young woman I met almost 30 years ago. You have the same spirit, creativity and joy for life. Now you are securely planted with a family of one husband, five children, four in-laws, nine grandchildren, a variety of pets and two spectacular homes. There is no one I’ve ever met that deserves happiness more than you do.
Me you ask? My life took an entirely different path than your own. I do have two lovely children and one son-in-law but I’ve lost everything else. My husband left me. I lost my home. I lost my friends. I lost my community. I lost all security. I even lost my faith for awhile. I lost my desire to see another day.
Why didn’t you know? Because you never asked. I don’t blame you. When a life is as full and rich as your’s is, time goes by quickly, like a flash of lightening. When life is broken and empty as mine is, time feels like a loud ticking clock. With each movement of the hand, it reminds you life is passing by and you don’t get a second chance. I don’t know if I don’t reach in for life enough or if when I do life spits me out. Honestly it feels like the second one.
I hope dear friend that we don’t go years without talking or seeing each other. I love you and always will.
Know the human body, especially your body, and you’ll be way ahead!
The Power of Story
Pieces of the Whole
Writing New Chapters when Life takes a Detour
read what you love
Enriching my life with books
My life on an unexpected path 