The man and I hadn’t been to a proper sit down restaurant since before covid started… and six months before that. I don’t like eating out anymore. The tables seem closer together these days and people are loud, especially children. One of my favorite sounds is kids playing out in the yard or street… but transfer those cries and screams to a booth behind me and food is the last thing I want. Escape becomes a priority.Continue reading “Escape”
I’m coming out of a hole. Digging up. While in one I never comprehend the walls and floor are dirt. That the light is low. That communication is muffled at best. There’s no love, no laughter. Numb to everything else, I bury myself in ancient reruns and audio books and the rest of the world, myself included, is shut out.
It’s not until I stick my nose above the dirt that I recognize there is a world and it’s alight with living. Because whatever I was doing was not living.
Don’t think I’m bi-polar, since this didn’t start until sometime around or after age 55. Some holes are very bad and I can’t find my way out for a month or more. Others are short, as I believe this to be. How would I know, really, since there are no timepieces in holes. I almost wrote hell. Don’t know when I dig in or how long I languish therein.
Luckily, this wasn’t a sinkhole.
I bought paint. And new drapes. Clawing my way out, one purchase at a time. I buy, therefore I am.
The Brindleton Bay docks at night.
I dunno; my brain is stuck therefore I cannot think of anything else. Oh, not sims. Another sister popped up, a lovely person who will probably visit this summer. Well, you know the Cracker Box. I’m mentally rebuilding the thing; painting, new rugs, some plants…. a new master bath redo would be grand, since I took a sledgehammer to the original and it sits… like a demented shell of the room it was… with a toilet. I would never take out a toilet willy-nilly.
What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Sims.
This looks like any other crafted bear, right? It’s not. O.D. makes special occasion/bereavement bears so she made one for Breagha, who passed on August 5, 2019.
The outside is made from Bree’s favorite bandannas and inside Tonie put her favorite pink Wooba toy and some of her hair.
Yes, I broke down when she handed the bear to me; Bree is finally home again. And now, after not dreaming about her, she’s there when I sleep. I’ll cherish this little bit of Bree as long as I live.
Thank you, O.D.
As I wrote in the last post, I put this here not for anything or anyone other than myself. It’s what happened after a Cat 3 ran over us in 2005. Nothing like Andrew, but still…
Thank God it’s cool!! If this had happened in August we’d be miserable. Even a normal October day is usually warm and humid. Two colds fronts equal another miracle! Before she left for home Tonie and I went to Publix for staples and of course she left for home with one of my bags. A heartfelt thank you to Publix for opening their doors! Without power they may have been trying to get shed of some perishables, I don’t know. That’s what I’d do, anyway.
The line outside Home Depot is long, considering the generators haven’t arrived. We need a generator and a new gas grill (not to worry, we have two generators now). Cleaning the fridge and freezer out.
Dammit, Tonie left with my trail shoes!Continue reading “The Aftermath”
Ran across this account of Hurricane Wilma’s aftermath while cleaning out my desk. Though I wrote about Hurricane Andrew’s passing, it’s certainly not for consumption. Our experiences after Wilma, though, are simply boring. Putting it here to save it.
Hubris and the Hurricane or How We Found our Miracle
::Cue the Gilligan’s Island theme::Continue reading “Wilma”
As usual I went out with the dogs early this morning. The day was breaking. Soft tendrils of pink floated across the western sky.. then billowed, like cream in coffee. Then upon entering the back yard, I saw much the same, but on a grander scale: the eastern sky was alight with corals and pinks! Alive with color, pinks alone wove their way north then settled west, as if the angels were knitting.
No, I can’t take a decent photograph of the sky.
Not this morning. Dug this out of my drafts folder.Continue reading “Pink Sky at Morn”
My digital picture folders start with May, 2004. Thought I’d pull some out into the fresh air.
There were a couple of young Breagha, but I can’t.