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Tuesday, June 17, 2014

 Today is an anniversary. How do you mark the anniversary of the worse day of your life?
  I suppose that's not entirely true. It was more like the first day of many really bad days. For months after that day, my heart physically ached in my chest. I guess that's where that saying comes from. I felt like I couldn't breath. I constantly found myself ducking outside, or under a fan, to catch my breath. If I wasn't crying, when I looked at Jon, I would see he was crying, and it would start again. I cried until my eyes hurt, and I thought there could be no tears left to cry,  and then I cried again.
 It's better now. Most days, I walk through life with the sadness, like a black dog nipping at my heels. He's a constant companion, pleading for my attention, but I manage to stay one step ahead. Then, this morning he caught me sleeping, made his way into my dreams, and when I awoke, there he was,
sitting fully on my chest, breaking my heart. Then the darkness.
 In my despair, I remind myself, God is still listening. On the cross, Christ's heart was filled with a mother's grief, for every child lost across time. He made a way for their reunion. This sadness is my Babylon, my exile from which I have already been delivered.
 I saw this little flower on my walk this morning, and, silly as it may sound, I felt like God put it there to remind me, He loves me, and I'm going to be OK.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Where Chickens Roam

 Recently, Jon and I stumbled into one of those trendy, new restaurants in Dallas. Apparently, it's in vogue to have such bad lighting, old people can't see where to walk, sit, or read a menu. Soon, a thin, sufficiently tattooed waitress came over to explain our choices. She started off by saying all their beef was grain fed and they only served free range chickens. At this point, I didn't hear another word, as my mind began to wander.

 How, exactly do you capture and kill a free range chicken? Do you chase it around the yard with an ax, or sneak up on it with a gun? I thought about the little chicken running around, the "range", eating worms and singing like Louie Armstrong, What A Wonderful World. Then suddenly, there's a giant with an ax. Would it be less cruel to raise the chick in a tightly populated pen, knowing her fate?

 Also, these grain fed cows, the waitress spoke of, might prefer to be grazing in a meadow somewhere. Grass has got to be better than grain. Cows always look so sad. Maybe the fresh air and sunshine in a green pasture is just what they need. But, if that's true, maybe it isn't so bad to let the chickens run free, while they can.

 I don't really care to hear what my dinners life was like before, and I believe there are many others, who feel the same. Maybe the restaurant should rethink their strategy. I ordered a salad.

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Welcome 2014

 Looks like I waited a little too long to say happy new year, but Happy New Year, anyway.

If January is any indication, ours is going to be an expensive year. We had to have our foundation worked on. It had fallen, over three inches on one corner, and a little less elsewhere. This is something that happens in this part of the country, so it was not unexpected. It should last another thirty years, which is longer than I expect to live. The people we bought our house from, had fixed all the cracks, probably trying to cover up the problem. When they started lifting the house, all those places began to re crack. Now we have a new project.

 I have a new TV addiction for 2014. I hear everyone talking about Breaking Bad, and how if they didn't watch before, they are now getting caught up on past episodes. I watched that show when it first started, and found out, right away, I am not that tough. The only kind of meanness, and violence I can handle is on Pretty Little Liars. I am completely hung up on PLL, as well as Ravenswood. I usually watch these shows during the day, when I'm home alone. Ravenswood gets a little scary, but I can't stop watching it.
 The thing that bothers me about Pretty Little Liars, is the way those, supposed high school girls, dress. You might think they went shopping in Grandma's closet. And Grandma was an Airline stewardess in the 60's, who hung out in Jazz clubs, with Grace Slick and Twiggy. These days you might catch Grandma sitting at a slot machine in Vegas. I'm trying to say, the girls wear extremely gawdy, tacky clothing, like leopard skin leggings with ankle boots.
Also, these girls do very adult things. One picked up a guy at a bar, that apparently has no problem admitting high school kids, only to find, on the first day of school, that he was her new English teacher. I can honestly say, I was never attracted to any of my teachers. Not even the coaches, with their polyester knit, high rise shorts, and knee socks, caught my attention.
 I'm not saying we were all that innocent as teenagers, but it was a different time. It was a time when we never suspected Elton John as being anything, but straight. It also was a time when being straight meant you didn't get high. The reason I never thought  Elton John, or anyone else for that matter, was gay, was I didn't care. Everyone loved his music. We didn't need to know everything about everyone. We just wanted their 8 tracks, not their dating or fashion advice.

 I am happy to say, I have officially lost 30 real pounds, and only have 25 more to go. It has taken months to get this far, but in the past, any weight I lost quickly, returned in double. I have found the secret to loosing weight, and keeping it off is, to have your doctor say you are going to die. OK, that and counting carbs and fat.

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A wife, mother, and spoiler of small dogs, I grew up in a small West Texas town, with my eyes full of sand, and my heart full of joy.


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