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Don't judge a book by its cover... This isn't about tube anemones.
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS SQUIRT THE JUICE INTO THE EYES OF YOUR ENEMIES... |
| I had a lot of busy days lately, so I haven't had a chance to come here to my safe haven. I missed it. Today is my day off, and I literally haven't done anything except write and send secret gifts. It's nice to do absolutely nothing that requires walking, carrying, cleaning or moving. Good times! Wrote the first chapter of something that's been rattling around for a few months, and I'm pretty happy about it. I have to write long things by hand because I don't have a computer, and with my pain problems, it's been quite awhile since I've written anything serious. But I doubled up on the meds and said screw it. So I am happy. Now, today's prompt,... oh wait, first, congrats to Winnie  , blogger of the week! Good luck you four on your upcoming monthly blog! No pressure!Anyway, as I was saying, today's prompt, what three things would I do if I weren't afraid? That's an easy one. First, I would go skydiving. I long to see the Earth from a great, heavenly height. It would be even better if I could be safely ensconced in a spaceship in orbit. I could look out the window all day. Second, mountain climbing. I'm talking Everest. Or Olympus Mons, a volcanic mountain on Mars that makes Everest look like a pimple. So, I would take a spaceship, looking out the window at Earth, to Mars, where I would climb Olympus Mons. It would probably take years to gain the summit, and then I would look around in teary eyed victory, take in the glory of the red planet where angels and demons once warred, and then it would be time for a mix of numbers one and three... Base jump from the peak! I want one of those flying squirrel suits, so I can zoom around and around on my way down. No parachute, either. It should be the last thing I ever do, because what could top that? And when I hit the ground at a thousand miles an hour, there will be a giant red dust cloud so big that those poor unlucky souls still on Earth and not zipping through the cosmos will see it and remark in wonder, "There goes Shanna, smashing into the surface of Mars! Yay Shanna, to overcome her fears and live the dream!" |
| I am without a doubt a realist. I've tried being an optimist, but it didn't work out. I thought I might be a pessimist, but I just see things as they are. Good, bad, whatever. I hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. The glass is neither half empty, nor half full. It is simply a glass, holding liquid. I'd like to hope that things will be shiny and happy, but in case they aren't, I'm prepared for them to be dirty. Be prepared, constant vigilance, instant vengeance... wait, strike that last one. That's a secret. Expecting the unexpected. I get a lot of crap for that, because people scoff and say "How can you expect something that you don't expect?" That one's easy. Expect everything! Expect that at any moment, anything can happen. Jesus could come back, you could get abducted, you could win the lottery. At any time, gravity could reverse itself, dogs could talk, or fish might suddenly fall from the sky. If you expect these things all the time, you can either be prepared to deal with them, or be pleasantly (or unpleasantly) surprised when they don't happen. For example, I have to make $60 by Wednesday for the car payment. There's also gas, dogfood, and people food to consider. So make it $100. I think I can do it, but in case I don't, I've got my House collection to pawn (God forbid!!), and some movies I can sell. I'll make it. However, I also fear that my timing belt might be about to snap, my car will be worthless, I won't have a job, and I'll lose my health insurance. On the upside, I'll be saving money by being homeless. Again. I'm prepared for that to happen, and if it does, I'll deal with it. If not, I'll be very pleasantly surprised. See? That's how realism works. Combining optimism with pessimism, add a dash of quantum physics, and a pinch of chaos theory, bake at roughly 96 degrees for 34 years, and enjoy! Another thank you to my secret santa. I haven't had such a plethora of gifts since I was a kid! You've made me merry! I'm spreading honey, the flies are sweet and sticky. Have you spread any honey today?  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I didn't have much to say, so I was just going to say have a good week and everyone be safe and happy. But then I found out that the restaurant I managed until August, when the pain just got to be too much, got robbed tonight. Thankfully, they are all safe, no one got hurt. I'm not sure of the details, but I guess some guy just walked in and waved a gun around. I'll let you know as soon as I find out the particulars. SOOO... have a good week. Be safe. Robberies are prevalent near Christmas. Be aware of your surroundings at all times. Goodnight and have a wonderful tomorrow. Congratulations to Of Fire Born mourns Mama new activities director! And C.Evil , Weirdone-Back in the games  , and Winnie , for their shiny yellow cases! Also to johnny1209 Happy belated birthday! I'm a bit SLOOWW...Flies and Honey! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Congrats, new yellowcasers! You are preferred! Movin' on up, to the east side...  December 15, 2012: Name five moments in your life so far that you believe you will remember happily in your old age. Moments. The problem with moments is that they are not events. What is in a moment? How long does a moment last? Is it an actual measurement of time? And what is time? How does one kill it? How does one spend it, or lose it? And is it possible to catch it, like a rat in a trap, and hold it in your hand? Does it even exist, if you live within a moment forever? Ahh. Therein lies the rub, Horatio. No, I'm not drunk. Just murdering time. If a moment can, in fact, last for hours, then at least three of those moments are concerts. Geez, maybe all five. Number one, always, is the fourth Tool concert I went to. There was an interlude with a very Cirque Du Soleile theme, a man and woman, painted silver, high up at the top of the stage doing synchronized acrobatics on silks, to the pounding of drums and scream of guitars. I was so in the moment, so full of joy, that I felt the silk beneath my fingers, watched the band perform far below me, spun and twisted and flew as I became one with those two people. Nothing else existed in the world but that moving work of art, and I was a part, all the thrumming, vibrating strings of existance were one, and the whole universe was a living, breathing, writhing being, and it was me. I was it. We were everything. I worship in my own way, perhaps viewed as unconventional, but at that moment, I was within the Creator, and the Creator was within me. God and I were one with all in a thriving, living silence. I have never felt the same. Whew. Reliving that was amazing, as always, and simple words cannot truly describe what I feel. If you've ever seen a work of art, or heard a piece of music that moved you to tears of absolute joy, you understand perfectly. The second was Rammstein. It was a dream concert, five bands I loved, but Rammstein was the amazing part. They love fire. This joy was a little more animalistic, more calling to my wild nature, the one who revels in the darkness. It was shortly after 9-11, and there weren't a whole lot of people there. Maybe three or four hundred at most. So I was right up front, against the rail, without having the breath crushed out of me by those behind. The music began, like tribal drums in the heart of darkest Africa, and the singer emerged from the darkness. The man was on fire. Literally. He sang an entire three minute song while on fire. I could feel the heat radiate from his body. Then the keyboard player came out, wearing a weird sort of mask. Water began spraying, and put out the singer. Then the real fire started. There were times when I had toturn my head because I was afraid my face would burst into flames! Those Germans, they love fire. The lead guitar spewed flames, and he and the keyboard player had a fire and water battle. All I can say was Wow! It was HOT! Hmmm. The third was Disturbed. It was when they were still pretty much unheard of here, and they were playing at a small venue, a bar, really. Ten bucks! My friends and I were in excited concert mode, and I happened to glance up at the right moment... David Draiman (the singer, a delicious man) was standing behind Libs! I grabbed her so hard she had bruises the next day. Of course, those could have been from the mosh pit, but whatever. I pointed, and her jaw dropped. "No way!" We whipped out our ticket stubs and coolly sauntered up to him. Libs went first, handing him the ticket to sign. She didn't say a word. I watched as he signed it, also without a word, and handed it back to her, casting an appraising eye over her slender body. I planned what I would say, something witty, that would make him fall instantly in love with me. I handed him my ticket, opened my mouth to say "I'd love to talk to you about your work in the asylum." The dumbest giggle I ever heard emerged instead. I clapped a hand to my mouth in horror, and as he handed the autographed ticket stub back to me, a smile of blinding radiance lit his already gorgeous face, his eyes met mine, and he pressed the paper into my palm with both his hands. I think I mumbled thank you, turned away, and nearly died. The concert itself was of epic proportions, but that moment...*shiver*... glorious. The fourth was the umpteenth time for Tool, I don't even know how many times I've seen them, but it doesn't matter because it's always phenomenal. This time my love took me. I thought it was going to be the first time I'd ever miss them, because I didn't have the money. I had even taken the day off, because if I wasn't going, I sure as hell wasn't sitting at work and being miserable. Sitting at home alone instead. Suddenly love, who should have been at work, rushes through the door. "Get ready!" He says. "For what?" "Tool! I won tickets." He's changing out of his work clothes, and I'm dumbstruck. I said something poignant like, "Gu, bu, wha?" He tied his shoes and jumped up. "Come on!" He grabbed me and practically threw me in the car. We zipped down to the arena, parked, and bypassed the loooong line, going to the Will Call window. I still didn't believe we were going to get in. We did! He laughed at my surprise. He had never been to a Tool concert before, in fact, the last concert he'd been to was Willy Nelson. I was fascinated with his fascination. His eyes never left the stage. He doesn't know the words, but he knows the beauty for what it is. I kept finding myself watching him, as a smile would flit across his sweet face. He would grab my arm in excitement and yell, "Do you see that?" After the concert, he talked almost endlessly about what he'd seen, what he'd heard, what he'd liked and what he thought could have been better. Watching those emotions play across his face, again and again, and still, even today, when he recounts how he loved it, was actually better than the concert itself. Tickets: free. Parking: free. The look on love's face: priceless beyond measure. Yes. The fifth is also a concert, the last one I went to. Last year, this would be, around this time. Puscifer. Small venue. Had love on one side, and Libs on the other. It was another of those revalatory moments, though less so, because I had never seen Puscifer live, and I didn't want to miss a second. But always in my peripheral, I watched love staring intently, as if he were etching each moment into the glass of his mind, to be preserved for all eternity, and on the other side, watching Libs dance with wild abandon, all pain and problems forgotten in the doglike love of living in the moment. I felt like I could die right then, and all would be well, all would be well, all manner of things would be well. Strange. I never realized before that my best moments were concerts. I do realize, though, that I am inexplicably entertwined in the flow of music and love, love and music, spiral out, keep going, ride the spiral to the end, it may just go where no one's been...I think I can overcome death if I can just ride the music forever. It's about time for another moment, I think. You never know when one will strike. |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Someone reminded me that I have a lot of cool sigs that I'd forgotten, so I'm going to start sticking them in here. I miss them. Today's prompt- your last meal ever. What would it be, and with whom? 12-14 I am a ghost now, dead ashes in the wind, but I can tell you a story. My last story, as it happened. My last meal. I can remember being so excited. I had won a contest, have dinner with your idol, by writing an essay on my idol. Maynard James Keenan. It was a lovely essay, though I don't recall it now. It won me dinner with the man I had so longed to meet, and that was all that mattered. I dressed in a beautiful black silk gown, had a celebrity makeover and hairstylist. I looked absolutely amazing. A limo picked me up and drove me to the door of Maynard's beautiful home, and a butler, in typically stuffy butler style, ushered me in. Maynard sat in a high backed wooden chair, at a gorgeous cherrywood dining table, but rose as I entered, and kissed my hand. "You must be my dinner guest." He said, pulling out my chair. "And what is your name?" "Shanna." I said. My face was burning. I couldn't think of a thing to say, all the genius questions I'd planned, all the conversation...gone. He just smiled and took his seat across from me. "First course!" He called. The butler rushed in with a huge silver platter. On it rested stuffed portabello caps, carefully arranged in a spiral. He dished them out, six for me, and six for Maynard. Another butler appeared with a bottle of wine, labeled 'Caduceus Cellars'. Maynard nodded his approval and the butler poured us each a glass. I blushed again. "I'm sorry, but I don't drink." He paused in raising his glass, the enigmatic smile faltered a bit, then returned. "But you must try this! It's from my own vineyard, I picked and pressed and made it with my own hands." How could I possibly resist? I had dreamed of tasting this wine for years. What was I thinking by turning ot down? I raised my glass with a smile of my own. "To a wonderful dinner, and new friends!" He said. We clinked our glasses together, and I took a sip. It was magnificent. "Now, try these mushrooms. They are stuffed with cream cheese and shallots." He tried one, and closed his eyes in ecstasy as he slowly savored it. I tried one and agreed. Heavenly! In short order we had finished them. "Second course!" He called, and again, the butler rushed out. He carried two platters, placing one in front of each of us before whisking away the domed covers. Steak Wellington, glazed in a Shiraz wine sauce, with scalloped potatoes swimming on cream, with steamed vegetables on the side, drenched in Holendaise sauce. My eyes widened, and I looked into his eyes. "How did you know?" Maynard smiled. "I looked into it. Another toast?" I looked at the glass, half full of blood red liquid. What the hell. "To you." He said. I was speechless. My hand rose, with the glass, and I emptied it. The butler magically reappeared and refilled it. We began to eat, and I had a good buzz going on. I kept sipping the wine; it was so very good. I suddenly realized that we were both done eating, and my glass was empty again. The butler refilled it, and then brought desert. Chocolate pumpkin cheesescake. By then I was drunk. I was also very full. But my favorite dessert... I took a bite, and another sip...suddenly I couldn't breathe. I clutched my throat and began gasping. Maynard ran around the table to me. "What is it?" He managed to catch me before I fell out of the chair, and laid me on the cool marble floor. His face came to me as if down a long tunnel. He seemed very concerned, and began CPR. For one moment, I felt his mouth on mine. I tried to breathe his air... and then I was gone. At the autopsy, the Medical Examiner decreed cause of death as anaphylactic shock. Seems there were peanuts in the cheesecake, and I had suddenly become violently allergic. Weird. At least I got the best dinner of my life, and taste Maynard's wine, and feel his lips on mine. I died happy. |
Congrats to Of Fire Born mourns Mama for blogger of the week, and to all of us for writing great entries from the heart! I feel you are all my family, I tell you things that no one else knows, because I feel safe here, amongst my kindred spirits. Merry Christmas to all!  So... a holiday that didn't go as planned. I was going to go with the two New Year's in a row that went down the drain, but then my love, out of nowhere, reminded me of our first Christmas. I was a driver, obviously, since that's what I do, and my love was a cook at a different restaurant. Christmas Eve morning came, and we went to our respective jobs. An hour later the first blizzard in twenty years hit. Boy, was it a doozie! Seventy mile an hour straightline winds, snowflakes as big as kittens, or so it seemed. I drove a little Hyundai Accent hatchback, great for snow because it was so light. I had a delivery all the way across town, and had to stop every quarter mile to scrape the ice off my windshield, but eventually I got there. Had to spend twenty minutes chipping ice off the wipers before I could start back. It was ridiculous. I couldn't see a thing, just trusted in God to get me back. Finally got back to the store, and had one last delivery. We shut down, but it was close, so I took it. Got lost in a neighborhood I'd been in a thousand times. Finally found the house and leaped to the door through blinding, stinging snow, got back to the car, tried to put it in drive...it was already in drive! The snow was already so deep the car was just sitting there! Ahh! Got back, we were closed, so I checked out and started for home. Neither of us had phones at the time, so I didn't know if he was home, on his way, stuck at work or stranded somewhere. Got all the way to my street, and someone had abandoned their car on the corner, so I had to swing wide to keep from flying through a RentACenter window, and PLOOSH! Into a snow bank. Made it all that way just to get stuck twenty feet from my house. I walked home to get a shovel and dug myself out. By that time there was four feet of snow, and drifts up to eight feet in places! No end in sight. Parked across the street in a relatively sheltered area, and went home. Still worried about love, didn't know where he was. Oh well. I had presents to wrap and an unexpected day off... oh...the electric was out. Sigh. Did the thing you're never supposed to do, turned on the oven for heat. Wrapped presents with a flashlight. Was getting dark. Where was he? I put the presents under our little tree, and then all I could really do was read by candlelight. The house was so drafty that the oven was pretty pointless, so I got every blanket I had and covered up in bed. Soon I was asleep. I woke up...to more snow. The clock said 8:30. Pm or am, I wondered. Turned out to be am. Christmas morning. Still no love. By now I was seriously worried. And cold. All I could do was bundle up and read. It was -20 outside. I kept thinking about what if he's trying to walk home? He's nuts, he'd totally do that. The day passed slowly. By nightfall, I'd killed a bottle of rum, started singing drunken Christmas carols, and passed out. All I could do was pray he was okay. The day after Christmas, he showed up. Seems he had gotten stuck at work, then got his brother to come get him, so he could spend Christmas with me. When they drove by the house and didn't see my car, they assumed I'd gone to Libs house to weather the storm, and when they went there and didn't see my car, they went to his other brothers house, down the street from Libs. They had a nice family get together, complete with presents and a feast, while I huddled, worried out of my mind and freezing, with a book that turned out to be just awful. We laugh now, but still... he got the long end of the stick. Warmth and family and food. I don't laugh as much as him about it. So that was our first Christmas together. Did not go as planned. Night night friends. Me so sreepy. Long days and pleasant nights! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| December 11, 2012: What's one career you just could never do? We could start with the obvious careers I could never have: 1. Male stripper. As a rather well endowed member of the fairer sex, I don't think I could pull it off. 2. Lumberjack. I lack the wrist strength. 3. Bullfighter. I love animals. 4. Professional milk taster. Severely allergic. 5. Benadryl tester. Ironic. Sends me into anaphylactic shock. 6. Male body builder. 7. Sperm donor. Is that a career? Okay, enough of that. The one thing I could absolutely not do, is window washer of skyscrapers. Or construction worker on skyscrapers. Or mountain climber. Or tightrope walker... you get the picture. Nothing more than five feer off the ground. I could do autopsies, necropsies, I could be a doctor, a car salesman, a mortician, a racecar driver, but nothing that takes me off the ground. I can never see the Earth from above, and that makes me sad, but thank God for Google image, right? Til later my friends, and remember to coat Flies with Honey all day long! Then they fly around and spread it to others! And thanks to my Secret Santa! (((HUGS))) |
| Ugh. You're really making me stretch my mental muscles just lately. Regrets, pride, toys, gifts, and of course, The Meaning of Life. Excellent movie. Now I have to think of my most cherished childhood memory. Why couldn't it be my most horrific? Got LOTS of those, I could just pull one out of a hat. But cherished? I almost think it was the guitar I got for Christmas that one year, but there has to be something else. Something better. Something I cherished and forgot. Let me think for a moment while I take my meds. Be right back. Nope. I got nothin'. It was definitely the guitar. Everything else was tainted with some kind of shame or other pain. My favorite toy was a stuffed cat that I loved so much... but I got it for comfort when I was four and was undergoing treatment for leukemia that I DIDN'T HAVE (ironically, turned out to be cat scratch fever). Won the Science Fair in third grade, out of the entire school, but when I went to claim my award, my leg was asleep from sitting 'indian style' on the floor for an hour, and I fell down and twisted my ankle, in front of the entire school. Got lead in the sixth grade play, but the popular kids, who I beat out for the part, made me such a laughingstock that I gave it away and never tried out for another. Made lead in honor choir, but got pneumonia two days before a major competition and haven't sung the same since. Was first chair in the state in band, got a wicked solo, but when I walked out to play, all the children made like I was Godzilla attacking Japan, jumping in their seats each time I took a step. Even the adults laughed. Won a writing award, and those jealous bastards stole my ribbon and certificate and burned them. Etc, etc, so forth and so on. That's why I didn't write an entry for what I'm proud of. Please don't be bummed out or feel like there's nothing to say. It's just my life, and it's in the past. I've made peace with the fact that that's just how it goes. It's why I don't gamble. So absolutely, getting that unexpected guitar, and having no repercussions or pain to associate with it, my most cherished childhood memory. ******************************************** Movie review! Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter  I know, right? I'm as surprised as you, but it was good! As you may know, I'll watch anything that Tim Burton makes at least once, so I had already decided to see this when it first came out. I also am a fan of any truly awful horror flick, my favorite being an Indie New Zealand movie called Black Sheep, about genetically altered sheep that go rampaging about the countryside killing and eating people. There's also a truly awful movie called Rubber, about a serial killer tire. Yeah. Anyway, that's sort of what I expected here. I was pleasantly surprised. It was a mix of horror, history, and epic battle scenes. It was well thought out, giving good reason (beside the obvious) for Lincoln fighting to free slaves. With a nearly all star cast, and some great Matrix-like action sequences, it was an exciting and engaging film. Plus, you can't go wrong with a scene where one guy picks up a horse and hurls it at another guy! Awesome Civil War scenes, quick, entertaining history lessons, and the realization that Abraham Lincoln was a real human being, with real human problems. And maybe a few inhuman problems as well. The ending was rather sad however. Oh Henry, you bastard. You've doomed us all... Should have been called 'Abraham Lincoln kicks some undead ass!' Maybe not. Doesn't flow as nicely. Well, goodnight friends. Hope you haven't forgotten about me. I haven't forgotten you. Flies and Honey! |
| Today is free day. I like free day. First, a deep subject. Then I will get lighthearted, since I have some fun things to talk about. But first the deepness. I was coming back from walking the dogs. I live in the last apartment on the top, and as I was passing the middle one, this woman that I occasionally say hi to walked up to me. She looked like hell, but being a strung out hooker, she usually does. I took no note. Until she spoke. "Shanna. Robert's dead." It took me a second to register her words. First I thought How does she know my name? I don't even know hers. Then I realized, and my jaw dropped. Robert has been my neighbor for three years. A good guy. Always kept an eye on things when my love was out of town, always had a treat for the dogs. A terrible alcoholic, but sweet. He had diabetes and refused to admit it. He worked on a loading dock, and last week he fell off the dock and broke his leg in two places. Had pins and screws all in his leg, but he was a good sport about it. My love, that chick, and Robert's friend Don all took turns cooking for him. That chick cleaned for him. He was a good guy. That chick said she found him this morning when she came to give him a little silver Christmas tree. I saw she was clutching it. She must have been carrying it around all day. She said they thought it was probably a blood clot. I know better. It is possible, but I think it's far more likely that he OD'd. I have a weird way of looking at death, I guess, but I'm glad his suffering is over. I'm sorry for all the people he touched who won't see it that way. Especially Don, his best friend. Don's wife of thirty-some-odd years died last month. Robert was helping him get over it. I worry for him. So R.I.P., Robert, hope you're in whatever version of Heaven pleases you the most. ************************************************** Okay, past the deep, into the shallow. Setting up a new freshwater tank, just a little ten gallon. Got a few mystery snails, one blue, one gold, and the most adorable baby betta, she's about 1/2 inch, pure white with iridescent blue fins. So cute! My love named her Vera, after Norm's wife on Cheers, because she eats until she's about to explode. I conceded, but decided she will be Vera as in the Pink Floyd song. Also put in an african dwarf frog, he is also cute. Of course love wants to name him Norm. No. Today I got a pair of awesome butterfly loaches, and put in a bunch of plants, anachris, anubias, red ludwigia, and a nice rosette sword. Oh! And a guy at work gave me a huge chunk of quartz yesterday, and the second he handed it to me I knew it was going in there. I set it in front of the color changing bubble wand (which I love! LED's are kickass!) so it slowly changes color, glowing almost magically. Tomorrow I plan to add some glass catfish, and marble hatchets, if I can find them. I also want to get about twenty ghost shrimp, some cherry shrimp, and a few cute little panda cory's. That's the plan, anyway. If I can figure out how to post pics on here I will. It's pretty. Yes. Total fish nerd. Well, I'm about to watch Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter, so I'll go. Hopefully when I come back I'll have a good movie review. Oh! Movie review! The Lorax  It was cute, and clever, and quite funny. Could have done without the cutesy-poo singing numbers, but otherwise thoroughly enjoyable. Of course there must be a moral, which was to take care of the Earth, a fine moral indeed. Did anyone else notice that Mr. O'Hare looked just like the clothing designer from The Incredibles? They were practically twins, and of course they all look like that one woman...you know who I mean. Brain be moldy swiss cheese right now, yo. Anyway, they made it funny enough that adults could enjoy it as well, aside from the musical numbers. Why must there always be singing? Whatever. It was a cute and funny movie, and I enjoyed it. Aside from the singing. So goodnight, I'm TRYING desperately to catch up on several days of blog reading, I am getting there. Love has been off work this week and I'm enjoying spending some time with him. He's sad about Robert, too, and that keeps popping up at weird times. But I am here, and eventually I'll get around to catching up. Hate being behind. I feel like I'm not a part of the group. Until tomorrow, or midnight, if love nods off early, Flies and Honey! Spread it thick!  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Wow, I'm watching Slumdog Millionaire for the first time. Intense. Getting way behind on my blogging and reading. I will get around to reading it all, I promise. I'm blessed that I can still work, but recovery time is sloooow. So my entry will be short. What do I think I was born into this world for? To bear my children. They will undoubtedly change the world. Amazing children. Now that they are gone from my life, for now at least, my purpose is to make people laugh, and cry, and live vicariously. I have hope to see my kids again, and follow Gods weird plan for me, but am I fulfilling my purpose now? Sometimes I think so. Sometimes I wallow in misery and fulfill nothing. But most of the time I think I'm doing exactly what I was born into this world to do. Are you? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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I was never sick after a flight, real or imagined, and I have flown countless times.