No tacos Tonight

June 23, 2016

My husband says when I shop and just slam things in the refrigerator because I am on a roll to do “other things”, before the heat sets in, I create bombs!

Well………BOOM!  Opened it and sure enough the unbreakable bowl flew out and dropped directly before me on the carpet – and the bowl into slivers.  It was a strange break. So much for an unbreakable dish!

No spaghetti for tonight

Choices.  I could have cried.  But instead I chose to laugh.  It did seem funny and trivial in the scheme of things.  An unbreakable bowl, red taco sauce on the carpet, and having to fix something else for dinner.  Sniff, sniff, boo-hoo – just kidding!  I laughed.  I did create a bomb.  Just glad it didn’t land on my toes!

Onward and upward.  Laugh when you can, cry if need be, walk away if possible, fight only for life, and pray, pray, pray!   Choose to create bountiful moments one right after the other.  It is MUCH MORE FUN to keep the sense of humor in tact.

I am counting on you to take charge of your “moments” and even if you blow it one moment – start again – the next!

If any of you have read my blog, that particular website disappeared, along with (if I don’t have copies somewhere) over 200 posts!  So I will let you know when and if I am going to start another.  In the meantime I will probably just combine the stress management information with this blog!

CREATE your day.  No matter what happens, you have the choice to REACT 100% of the time, however you choose.  I choose happy!




DREAM of the Kilo Year

June 2, 2016

This dream two nights ago took me to a new level of dream reality. My dreams have nothing to do with my faith as that is like a rock – but sometimes they seem to allow me to have another reality. A reality now where there is no disability. There is so much as an finite human I have still to learn; so many talents that none of us bring to light because we do not know, or do not believe strongly enough to manifest the being of these gifts.

All my life, since a few nightmares when I was a child, I have had AMAZING dreams.My father did too. They are (some people have asked me) in color, and it has been easy to sometimes awake and then go back to sleep and pick up where I left off.

My dreams have been answers two prayers, at least twice that I remember specifically. I love my dreams.

I wasn’t in a good place in this dream. Very rarely have I personally ever been afraid in a dream, and through I cannot remember what the dream was (that is rare too as sometimes my dreams stay with me for days or indefinitely) – I was frightened.

Since my puppy was big enough to jump on the bed, each morning I awake with him lying next to me. I open my eyes and he is sound asleep next to me, or I awake to his eyes looking directly into mine.

Back to the dream. That morning I did open my eyes – I wanted to leave the dream I think – but apparently, not really!  I put my arm around the sleeping dog and closed my eyes and went immediately back to sleep.

The dream began again, but this time I wasn’t frightened – my puppy was right next to me and I had my arm around him. I was no longer afraid. He was absolutely with me.

What is so unusual about this dream is it is the first one that I have come back to this reality, and taken “someone” with me into my dream. Though I have no memory of what the dream was at all, I remember I was no longer frightened. I could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath – and he was awake and checking the perimeter around us.

I woke up and my arm was still around him, but this time he was alert, and checking the perimeter around us. It still amazes me because he came into the dream upon my need and request.  He has begun to stay with me every step I take…almost as if remembers……


What do you think of when you awake?

May 15, 2016

I wake and my brain begins to think of everything! Why does bad things happen to good people? Can we turn things around just by thinking differently? What makes me care about people I don’t even know, that are half way around the world? Why do we always try to pigeonhole a person before we know the real person? What makes us keep trying when everything has gone wrong? Have all people thought of suicide at least one time? If someone told me they would kill me would I really stand up for what I believe? Are puppies just a beautiful gift from a creative creator? Dreams are so real. Is this life really real, or are my dreams real and this is just a manifestation of my mind?

Then I get up and head for the coffee. In five minutes of lying in my bed and trying to wake up, m mind has already asked hundreds, not just a few, questions about it all!

My best bet, and this is the truth, is to drop to my knees before rising, and give thanks for another breath, and lay the concerns in my brain before my Master. I know I ask more thank I give thanks, but thanks is always on my mind, and when I sway just a bit off my true path, my life begins to diminish in small currents of unrest and dissatisfaction. It always happens. I just don’t always recognize it until I am bursting into tears and wondering why good things happen to bad people.

It is like a cycle an alcoholic follows. Don’t drink. Just to ease the concerns of the day.

If one made me relax, two will help a bit more. The increase of alcohol is in small increments. It may take days to reach for and consume “more than enough” to be drunk and disoriented. To be waking the next morning with regret and sorrow and no memory of the horrible things someone says you did. It may happen that same hour. Open your eyes and your life is passed by. It could have happened to me. Don’t drink.

Without God there is a hole in my heart that cannot be filled. Without God there is no peace beyond understanding. Without God love diminishes and that empty space becomes filled with treachery and evil that lurks everywhere to snap you up and eat you alive.

With God, all things are possible.

Therein, I will forgo the second cup of coffee and make my way to my bed and carefully get to my knees. I love to pray with surrender and respect, and when I get on my knees I feel I am honoring God a bit more – though I know He accepts prayers at any time and anywhere. He loves to hear from his children…even if they have yet to learn they are His. Even if they hesitate to use His proper name, as a parent hearing his child say “daddy”, and though he may be far away, the child’s daddy will hear the child’s call.

Love one another. Forgive one another. Love your Creator. Remember these are our tasks. We are not here to judge one another. Ease your mind and let the Spirit fill His home made within our early bodies and mind.

As we think so shall we become.   Mind over matter. Be grateful for each Nano second and waste them not!

You might this this photo isn’t related to this post – and it really isn’t – but I wanted to share something I snapped while out running errands a week or so ago.  These are my favorite type clouds, and for a moment they took me to a dream state of peeking out from between the clouds to check out earth!  I moment of fantasy and pleasure out of no where.  They are abundant – just open your eyes and have a blessed day!

cloudsCulumus clouds                                             Splendid, eh?


Single Working Mothers

May 7, 2016

Just a special Happy Mother’s Day for all you single working mothers raising children!

You NEVER get to rest!   I am so proud of my daughter as she has two children and is doing such an amazing job!

She rises early and gets breakfast for the kiddos and gets them ready for school.  She gets herself ready for a very difficult job – one she spent seven years in school to get.  She wanted to be sure to take care of her children if one day she found herself single, with children, and in need of providing everything!  That is thinking a head for no matter what is to come!

After a difficult day at work, commuting, and then picking up the children, she does whatever it is that needs to be done……shopping, writing bills and balancing the budget, cooking, cleaning, and just whatever needs her attention.

However, I am so proud of her because her first and most important job to her, is being a good mommy.  She always takes time to help her children with tasks, homework, or getting ready for bed.  She does gets involved with children’s organizations, school events, special things like sports, or extra help in areas that are needed.  She makes sure she talks to her children, LISTENS to her children, and tells her children she loves them – on a regular basis!

She is their best friend, their best everything, and she even allows them, after everything else, to jump in bed with her and cuddle.  Of course that is after reading them books, saying prayers and tucking them into their own beds!  Then at some point they manage to wiggle under her covers for a while.  img_1100.jpg

I have just given you a brief overview of her life….her children are her life, and they may never know the extent to which she goes to make sure she does the best for them humanly possible!  Of course Grandma will be sure to let them know if they ever give her any trouble!

Really this is a tribute to her – and more – a tribute to all you single working moms that never have too many people really sit down and think of all a single working woman must do to make the “family” work!

SO MOMS, be assured that there are many admirers out here in the world….they may never tell you in person, but they see you, appreciate what you are doing, and know that one day your children will be loving and wonderful human beings because of YOUR efforts.  YOUR JOB MAY NOT BE GLAMOROUS.  It certainly doesn’t pay you in cash to compensate for giving your lives for your children, BUT I PROMISE – they will know some day what you’ve done….and for sure, GOD IS WATCHING YOU, AND WITH A SMILE!


HAPPY MOTHERS DAY to you, and to all the women who are working towards building character and decent human beings for the future.  BRAVO!



A flower for you!

May 6, 2016

God's arrangement


March 4, 2016

“My life is like a continually changing convergence of forms, a kaleidoscope of ever moving- breathing- me.   On the outside I have softened to a sweet and tender place.  Yet inside I am like the hard seed in a cherry or a plumb, unable and unwilling to succumb to being eaten by this world. God placed the seed and it is in my heart until my last breath. I choose to acknowledge it and with intellect allowed my feet to be directed to my futures.”

I will never give up and never give in.  I will continue to repeat the mantra reiterated in the first paragraph. I am not empowered by the spirit of this world.

Abruptly as we finished unloading the boxes, there was a knock at the door. The man told us we needed to put on shoes, grab a bag, and head to a meeting place several blocks away. The neighbor’s homes were scattered on this big piece of land, but close enough to wave and yell hello. My new neighbor yelled, “Come on we need to get there quickly.

Try as I may I couldn’t find shoes and finally gave up, borrowing my sisters slippers. The family drove in two cars, my husband and son and myself, and my sister and her eldest son.

When we arrived at the “center” we were told to sit quietly and then moved to another area where we were allowed to choose a seat in a small group.   My husband sat next to me . Though because of my recent operation and the back injuries that I sustained several years ago I could not find something adequate.

A man, of Asian descent came up behind us and told me to settle down and handed us a cookie and a glass of something to drink.

All the while I felt that while were viewing what had been told was a “movie” for the neighbors, our homes were being ransacked neatly and carefully. Somehow I envisioned every corner and hiding place were being painstakingly gone through and replaced carefully to look as if no one had been there at all. The dogs knew, but I knew they would know to watch for their safety as well, and might think it good to remain out of sight.

After scoping in all the small groups around me, there were about five of them, I noticed there were peoples of all ages, health, and race – with the exception of Asian. I saw anyone that was Asian was working, male or female.

Within a brief time my husband was becoming irritated for my comfort, and was slapped several times and told to sit down. Fear began enveloping everyone in the room and we knew it had begun.

One by one individuals were selected and placed in a special chair – gone over and told what was really each person’s ailment or need. Someone was dispatched to replace the brace on my lower left side – to the opposite side. It didn’t matter how I protested, it was done.

My husband, nephew and sister were taken out of view. After reviving the injury to a selected correction, I was placed in the chair. I was angry and fearful and told them to stop. I felt pressure on the top of my chair and I was dropped out of view of the others

I found myself sitting in a chair opposite to an Asian woman – I have no enemies – no bigotry within me, but distinctly the woman was tiny (as were the men- short, that is to say), and with a distinct look in the face and eyes. The woman was stern and had scissors in her hand.

I said, “DO NOT CUT MY HAIR.” It is my hair. She told me, “Oh I won’t.”

The next thing I remember is feeling the back of my hair and instead of waist length, it was cropped short and had almost a roosters top piece. I was so angry. But my anger was ignored. I wanted to reach out and grab her and tear her apart – I was so angry with all of it. I couldn’t.

I silently cursed her. With my lips closed I did something I have not done for eons of time and cursed her over and over again..I knew there was an evil power in the curses.  I looked for my husband and he came to me – much shorter and almost placid in appearance. My nephew appeared too, and he was silenced and subdued. We were told we could leave.

I asked my husband if he was all right and he said that the Marine training had been more severe, just different. My nephew did not speak.  I could not find my sister.

We got up and walked towards the door. The rooms were still full and yet it was quiet.

Outside cars and trucks were parking and leaving, always directed by someone Asian.

The last thing I remember is waking up in my bed and sitting up abruptly. The happiness was gone and a hard stern look was upon my face. I was absolutely traumatized and felt an angry demeanor within my personal realm.

I found myself walking towards the kitchen, and the tears began to flow. It was over for now. For now.



The Road Ahead

March 3, 2016

My life is like a continually changing convergence of forms, a kaleidoscope of ever moving- breathing- me.   On the outside I have softened to a sweet and tender place.  Yet inside I am like the hard seed in a cherry or a plumb, unable and unwilling to succumb to being eaten by this world. God placed the seed and it is in my heart until my last breath. I choose to acknowledge it and with intellect allowed my feet to be directed to my futures.


I have never traveled on this road before.  Upward and onward. As I close my eyes, for a moment I feel the warmth of the sun on my back.  I’ve seen this road before…many times at dusk before the dark envelops the earth. Before I close my eyes to let my body regenerate and rest.

A dirt road as wide as a couple holding hands, and in view as far as the eye can see.  On each side of the road trees, the trees are all tall and green, and as thick as the thickest hedge in England.

The trees change but the road never does.  There have always been trees, and the sound of leaves bristling against one another when a murmur of a breeze makes its way between leaves.

I know there is sound, and yet I never hear it.  I hear only quiet and my bare feet shuffling the fine dirt on the road.

There is no end to the road, and the light is always before me. Sometimes it seems as if I am still and the road and trees are moving past me.  I have never been afraid here.

The road before me is changing, ever changing.

I have never traveled on this road before.  I notice the trees grow barren and leaves begin to fall and drift in the breeze.  As branches become visible and the leaves deep on the road I see how the branches twist and turn, always reaching for the light.

I shuffle my feet through the mounds of leaves built from wind plucking them from the trees and blowing just far enough for them to weave through each other and finally stack one upon the other.

I love the crackling of leaves as I march picking my legs high so I can come down on leaves and hear the rustle of them breaking into smaller and finer pieces.

The birds now silenced, have gone to another spring.  Everything is still and the quiet permeates me until from I hear the leaves behind me lift and drop with the spring of the dog that has always been with me.

I think angels come in different forms to protect and watch over us.  I felt the wet nose hit the back of my leg as my angel skidded from running to catch up, to a complete stop just behind me.  It was a butterfly that slowed his march with me, and a quick roll in the leaves, just for fun.

The warmth of the sun has diminished now but the brightness of it makes me lower my head just a bit.  It sits before me and once again the earth turns beneath my feet and the trees whisk behind me.  The ride increases in speed as I stand solidly hoping it slows for me, just a bit.  I love the road and looking far a head until it vanishes and there is just the vertical line I see.


It is evening.  Mountains lie before me, and a rainbow burst between the clouds and settles in my vision .  I am not afraid, but I am not ready to go further just quite yet.  I will settle in near the skeleton of the big old oak and my puppy curled tightly next to me.  The Son will come.  I know it.  I will be ready.

Actors, Emmy’s and the Media

February 2, 2016

If the media would either SHUT UP or GET IT RIGHT – I will guarantee there would be more peace in the world. They stir the cauldron and write a potion that incites, aggravates, and puts fear in the hearts of men.

Just a bit of a correction concerning the Emmys, which honestly I hate and don’t watch. It is a group of people giving awards to other people who are already placed on pedestals and earn WAY TOO MUCH money.

First, do not tell me that Jada’s husband, Will, did not know she was going to film and post her complaints…. I have been married 28 years and even for non-stars (well, my husband is still a shining star to me), we could never keep that kind of thing from each other. My oh my, was her poor husband surprised when he saw her video. Baloney.

Secondly, she was wrong. Here are a few facts:

  1. The Academy has a larger percentage of American-Africans (note the order) than other branches.
  2. In the last few years best acting Oscars have gone to Forrest Whitaker (King of Scotland), Mo’Nique (Precious), Viola Davis (The Help), Lupita Nyong’O (12 Years a Slave), and a nomination to another actor in that movie, Chiwetel Ejiofor.
  3. Beyond that, 12 Years a Slave won three Oscars in 2014, Selma nominated for best picture 2015. A few months ago the academy gave Spike Lee an honorary Oscar for his contributions in the field.
  4. Mexicans (who are still a minority) count. Alejandro G. Inn won a directing Oscar last year, and is nominated again this year for Revenant.


I just think they were being infantile because (waa waa) Will didn’t win! Are Oscars about diversity anyway? – Or talent and excellence in acting and directing?


Jada’s innocent plea made me want to throw up. I wonder what she would look like with no plastic surgery and no makeup….poor multi-millionaire / or billionaire.


ANOTHER thought. Actors have money. Actors seem to “adopt” a lot. Actors always seem to adopt from another country – Africa mostly. I thought the biggest stumbling block for people to adopt here in the USA was the cost……what about the DIVERSE number of children in America’s orphanages?????


Holly weird and the Media – two evil representations of who is important, what should be worshipped, and everything we should shame ourselves for doing….but we can do EVERYTHING!


I got it out. The truth reigns. Now I have to brush my teeth and wash my face – after I throw up about all the crap – including this IOWA gar-baagge’. (You know – garbage!)


The House Next Door

January 31, 2016

I sat on the stoop, knees bent, with elbows placed precisely so I could rest the weight of head on my hands. It was quiet. I looked towards the two-lane road, rarely used these days, and noticed the large trees sitting with limbs bent and nearly touching the ground. It had been a while since anyone had manicured the yard. The trees stood almost as tall as the old two-story home. It was rather a forest of birds and grass, and plants gone wild, and growing together. It was quiet and beautiful.

I looked directly in front of me, across the way. My neighbor was standing, with her easel in front and brush in hand. I had always admired her talent as an artist, whether it be painting, etching, knitting, or decorating her home. It was never “to not to be touch” decor – it was comfort first. I was reminded of a large old cabin in the woods. Soft pillows were strewn around and with candles and a light fragrance of incense filling the room, one always felt welcomed.

I said, Good morning, and she smiled and waved. We had lived next door to each other for many years in these big two story wooden homes. Yet we spent little time together. I remember a few times specifically. Her husband and girls always remained a family and I was glad, but I could feel a touch of envy, as my life hadn’t been so calm and solid.

The girls came out the front door ready to leave for some adventure for the day. They weren’t girls anymore. They were young women. I greeted them and warm smiles were directed my way. I noticed my neighbor’s painting was much larger than usual – and the subject was a city. I remembered cities vaguely.

I rose and stretched and waved good-by and opened the front door to go in a do something – I’ve forgotten just what right now – but I know it included coffee. The bells on the door tinkled and I decided to leave it open to bring the fragrance of the trees to me.

Both home stood as large monuments to past days. Fireplaces, larges kitchens to gather in, and often the smell of something homemade sitting on the windowsill to cool. Her home welcomed large groups of friends quite often. I could sit near the window in the bedroom upstairs and watch as the children ran the circumference of the front porch past the narrow walkway to the large deck in the back. Most gatherings filled her home. If I scanned from front to back, there were people sitting in rocking chairs quietly visiting in front. With windows open the sound of the music flowed out and up, and was usually a pleasant instrumental that was contusive of relaxing…as I looked at the large back porch the children laughed and played jacks, and the adults were, drink in hand, talking and perhaps partaking of a fine selection of weed.

But there was never discord among the quests. Below the deck as you stepped toward the forest that surrounded us, she had grown a vegetable garden that produced large plump tomatoes, string beans, and pumpkins. She rotated her crops and was had quite the green thumb. I loved having the family next door. Her husband was usually there, and was quiet, but he partnered her in her creativity, and was friendly and welcoming.

What amazes me is that after the years I never even knew the name of one person that lived in the home. I liked them all. I felt she and I could have been friends. Names didn’t seem to matter. What mattered was the heart of the home, and because of the heart of the home I was glad they lived near.

I quite of the house rather startled me initially. With no one there and little furniture, my footsteps almost echoed throughout. I’d left a warm fire crackling in the fireplace, and it reminded me that because of the immense size of it, I never used any other source to heat.

The embers of the fire at the end of the evening drifted upward and the bedrooms were just warm enough to feel comfortable when I slipped under my down comforter. By the time the sun finally set behind the view of the trees of the forest, I always looked forward to the night.

It was a time to pray and a time to sleep and regenerate. A time to dream.

That night I found myself in the same dream I’d had so many times before. It was specific. So many familiar characters and places. I don’t know how many times I’d had this dream before, but a part of me did not want to wake up.

I felt the wet nose of the puppy pressing against mine, and I curled up and moved away from the side of the bed. I wasn’t ready to awake. Again the persistent puppy tried to arouse me. This time I felt a wet tongue touch my lips. That did it. I awoke and knew it was time to get a cup of coffee. I looked at the clock. It was later than I had expected.

I stretched and then realized even the pretending to be asleep to dream was actually a dream. I dreamed I had to get up from my dream, when I was actually just dreaming. I had to actually wake up to get up. Is that a dream in a dream?

This brief part of my dream is that – only a brief representation of part of my recurring dream. No worries, if it interested you I recall all of it, to this point, as if it were my simultaneous life. For now it is time for coffee.




January 29, 2016

Easier said than done.  However in order to enjoy my day I am going to now allow myself 15 minutes to breathe mindfully, to stretch easily, and to pray to keep my mind in a positive mode.

The reason I am feeling in need of a brief “regenerative relaxation” is because I just spent a bit more time than I planned on my blog. My subject was about the homeless and the plight of us all, therein.

It may have sounded negative, but I believe I ended the post with ideas to help however many individuals choose to follow.  I follow my own advice.  I also allow myself to regenerate and relax after writing something that made my blood boil for a moment or two.

CREATE a beautiful day for yourself.  I will be in the process of doing the same as soon as this post is posted!  God help and bless us all.

FYI: if you read that blog, remember I have helped people, and will continue to do so when I can and feel the situation is real.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 583 other followers