another year has come to an end so raise your glass and toast your friend to love to life to freinds so dear to those who can not be here.we wish you all the very best .happy new year to all
Work to do with Sonny(my horse)
Me
Deisel's stong points:
Deisel needs work here:
Khadin's strong points:
Khadin needs work on these:
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Cara's good stuff:
Cara needs work here:
Wow. 2009 already!
Can't help wondering what could have been. It happens every year. Today would have been my mother's birthday, she'd be 71.
If, if, if, I play this game with myself where I go back to a random time in our lives - hers and mine. I pull her out of her picture and insert her into mine. I say, "If she was sober she would have loved to be part of this with me."�
Today, she's been gone (dead) for almost 20 years but she's still very vivid in my head. I can still hear her�laugh and�the smell of her Emerade perfume mixed with hairspray and cigarettes. That look in her�eyes that always made me feel sorry for her, guilty for everything that made her unhappy.��The way she'd hold her cigarette or�break a new piece of gum in half. The sound of ice clinking in her glass when she'd call me too late at night just to ask me something that would always lead to an argument. How she danced. That she was shorter than me. How she looked with those curlers she put in her hair every single night. How she called her mother "Mama".�Her "I love you" only spoken through�a drunken slur.�The sound of her purse snapping shut, her keys in her hand and the ring she always wore on her pinkie. She was so pretty but she didn't think so. She got alot of attention from men but she always chose the worst to bring home. She cried often, I rememer what that sounded like too.
If she were sober and here now I'd love to have her with me everyday to do all the simple things my days are full of. We'd have coffee together in the morning, we'd go shopping for our groceries together just like we did every Saturday when I was a kid. I'd take her to the mall and we'd have lunch and shop till we were exhausted. I'd make my spaghetti sause for her, not quite like hers but I know she'd love it. We'd watch old movies and cry - then laugh at ourselves. She'd love being with my kids and be so proud of all they've done with themselves. She'd get on a plane and go see her grandaughter in Portland because she'd want to see what its like for her up there. She'd go check out my son's office, so proud to be introduced as his Grandma Carolyn. I know she'd be at every one of the football games to see our baby play for only a minute or two, because she'd want him to know she was proud of him. She'd be thrilled with Danny because - because he is thrilling! His life is full and she'd be constantly wanting to hear his latest escapade. I'd help her clean her house and she'd iron my pillowcases. We'd do everything and nothing together. We'd go for walks downtown and sit in�my yard watching�the flowers grow. I'd go to her first when I needed someone to listen and she'd be the first I told when I got my job with Pam.
What could have been might have been like that, might have been different we'll never know so I might as well have it as sweet as sugar. This is my story now, I'll tell it my way.
She can't hide no matter how hard she tries, her secret disguised behind the lies.� And at night she cries away her pride, with eyes shut tight staring at her inside.� All her friends know why she can't sleep at night, all her family asking is she alright.� All she wants to do is get rid of this hell, well all she's got to do is stop kiddin herself.� She can only fool herself for so long...
Christmas is over. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Thank goodness.
Thank Shirley really. I think it was a gift from her that she passed on the 23rd. I know Dad was dredding the 25th with her still suffering in her bed. He told me how Lisa was making plans that everyone would come to his house for Christmas day. She just told him that that's what was going to happen. I imagine she thought she was helping him, thinking that he'd want his family there to comfort him that day. She was good intentioned I'm sure.� It took him a minute but he realized that it wasn't sittin well with him and put a halt to the preparations, pointed out the obvious: how can I stand having a houseful of celebrators when my wife is dying in the back bedroom?? "Just ain't right" he told her and she agreed, "I don't know what I was thinking."�
So that was that, he ordered food for only himself, Jan and Lee to be picked up on�xmas eve. And as it turned out, Shirley was gone, everything that�Hospice had supplied for her was removed by them the same morning that she passed (within hours). There was nothing to do, no more cries from the back room, no more meds to measure and record, no more whispers of love,�no more promises that it's going to be ok.�
The vigil ended almost as suddenly as it started. I know it's going to take time for all of them that watched 24/7 over Shirley to accept that, I imagine their pain and emtiness is too much for them at times, I'll help my Dad as much as he'll let me but losing his wife is mostly his burdon to bear.�
they aer so nerves that tippy toe
they said not for me to email them
they aer acting very nervous
like they aer hiding something
mabe they have a body down the elevator shafted ahhahahhah