“There is a deep want in me for giving and an immense guilt I feel when I must force myself to stop. I’m always stuck trying to find a balance between those who could care less and those who just need to be cherished regardless if they give back to me. I never want to give something genuine and expect anything in return. To me it ceases to be a gift. But the pragmatic side of me bows my head in disappointment sometimes in the realization I must not matter to them. Can you sustain an open heart and giving spirit like altruism? Or does everything rely on a system of exchange? It really has been a life long dilemma”. ♡
Always a struggle…the one thing I have remembered from my Father…don’t do anything expecting something in return….if you give, give from your goodness and your heart…but never expect something back….
and sometime’s it’s hard not too…I guess it’s just part of being human and growing….always growing.

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Buford the dog with his boy and the girl…

Years had passed since she’d danced on the hill…she lived with the nuns, cooking and cleaning…it paid for her room and they gave her a meal…and prayed for her soul…and
quietly she lived after years on the hill….
The day she remembered, the sun warm and shinny…the fields filled with flowers, had spread like a blanket…they’d laid on the grass her head on his heart, listening to it beat and his belly grumble…the dog had stayed with them…running and playing, rabbits to chase, sticks to bring back…he guarded them well, and payed them with licks and a fun wagging tail…

years had passed since she’d danced on the hill…she lived with the nuns, cooking and cleaning…it paid for her room and they gave her a meal…and prayed for her soul…and
quietly she lived after years on the hill….
the day she remembered, the sun warm and shinny…the fields filled with flowers, had spread like a blanket…they’d laid on the grass her head on his heart, listening to it beat and his belly grumble…the dog had stayed with them…running and playing, rabbits to chase, sticks to bring back…he guarded them well, and paid them with licks and a fun wagging tail…

The  two of them…Buford the dog, making them three…down the hill they walked, singing a song…the wind brought the scent of millions of flowers, it went to the ocean, it went to the sea…it traveled the earth and back to the three…
Sadly, today would be the end of the three…they’d frolicked and played, sang songs and they prayed…
they’d slept on the grass, and kissed while sitting on rocks like shaped like stairs…holding hands they’d shared secrets and stories…they’d loved and they’d argued, but always at night they’d laid their head on a pillow of grass, tight in each others arms they slept and they dreamed, Buford, between them keeping them safe and keeping them close…he loved their playful laughter and sing song voices…he fetched and he ran and wagged his long tail…they threw him a bone and life was so swell…today it would not end so well…

The house at the end of the hill looked lovely and sweet, window boxes filled with flowers of blue and light dew drops fell on the leafs…they walked to the door, smelling bread baking and apples growing on a tree by the swing…,the dog growled and backed back…warning them of danger and and harm…they knocked and they knocked, no one came out…he pulled on the door, and it opened up…inside it was warm, pillows on floor, a stove filled with food, a table to sit, with glasses full of drink…they sat and they ate, they laughed and they danced so happy and glad…
the darkness came quick….and sleep came and took them to dreams of hills and the dog…
of hugs and songs sung…sitting on rocks and stealing a kiss….the morning came quick and when she awoke, he was no where to be found…she looked and she called, she screamed and she cried, the dog at her side…the room was all bare…no sign of the pillows, no smell of the bread…no drink to be had…just one lone bare room and a hook on a wall where hung his
wool hat….she howled like the dog and ran like the wind, looking for him…into the forrest she ran, without looking ahead..she tumbled and fell into a deep well…the dog whined and whined and didn’t know why, they both were no more…the day grew darker and the owls did they hoot…the wolfs howled and the dog shed a tear…the people he loved, no longer there….
at long last a woman came by…she laughed with a sneer and played with her hands…her nails like a hook, she picked up the dog and threw him on air, where he landed on him…laying down, lost as a soul…alone in the fog…away from the girl he would not see…the dog cried and pawed at the boy…wake up and get up…they walked up the hill, the dog and the boy…back to the convent, with handfuls of flowers, to lay at the alter…prayers to said, songs to be sung…the girl had been lost…they wondered away…and found a new land…they encountered a girl, fair, tall with red hair…they built a new life and had little ones… Buford watched and despaired at the lost girl in the well….
Back at the hill the nuns found the girl, all wet and alone…sick as a bird, they carried her back…back to her room…they fed her and prayed, prayer after prayer…..she called out his name and Buford’s name too…..she spent her days walking the hill, cooking and cleaning…
wishing and dreaming…the boy and the dog…were now dreams…lost out at sea…she looked to the sea and cried tears of salt, her heart each day died….until she was old…the last of her days, she laid in her bed…with a ribbon of silk he given her once…the sound of the dog…greeted her walk, up the hill, white clouds and light surrounded her small frame….she looked down the hill so far down the way…she spotted him there…with a babe on his knee…she cried and she smiled…at his lucky break…he’d made it to old age, with a grandchild in arm…a ribbon she dropped and it flew to down the hill, like a song it had flown to the yard down below…the girl and the dog, now old and in disrepair…they watched the ribbon as it fell on the man…it fell on his hand…a smile and a tear ran down his face…his eyes, sparkled with green and blue flecks, up at the sky…the child asking where ribbons came from…he sat on his chair and held out the ribbon…from heaven above, the ribbon did fall, a girl it belonged too…and girl and a dog…that played on the hill…we played and we laughed, we ran like the wind…we kissed as we sat on rocks like a stair…he closed both his eyes and slowly breathed out…his soul lifted up and to be greeted up high…the girl and the dog, sat by the spring…with water so blue and quenching their thirst…they waited for him..he landed softly, his feet like a feather…..a ribbon he held..it went on her hair….they walked from the spring, flowers beneath, blue skies above…Buford the dog, the boy and the girl…running and dancing with songs in their hearts…they walked and they walked the boy and his dog and the girl her hand in his hand…..

 

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the two of them…Buford the dog, making them three…down the hill they walked, singing a song…the wind brought the scent of millions of flowers, it went to the ocean, it went to the sea…it traveled the earth and back to the three…
today would be the end of the three…they’d frolicked and played, sang songs and they prayed…
they’d slept on the grass, and kissed while sitting on rocks…holding hands they’d shared secrets and stories…they’d loved and they’d argued, but always at night they’d laid their head on a pillow of grass, tight in each others arms they slept and they dreamed, Buford, between them keeping them safe and keeping them close…he loved their playful laughter and sing song voices…he fetched and he ran and wagged his long tail…they threw him a bone and life was so swell…today it would not end so well…

the house at the end of the hill looked lovely and sweet, window boxes filled with flowers of blue and light dew drops fell on the leafs…they walked to the door, smelling bread baking and apples growing on a tree by the swing…,the dog growled and backed way , way back…warning them of danger and and harm…they knocked and they knocked, no one came out…he pulled on the door, and it opened up…inside it was warm, pillows on floor, a stove filled with food, a table to sit, with glasses full of drink…they sat and they ate, they laughed and they danced so happy and glad…
the darkness came quick….and sleep came and took them to dreams of hills and the dog…
of hugs and songs sung…sitting on rocks and stealing a kiss….the morning came quick and when she awoke, he was no where to be found…she looked and she called, she screamed and she cried, the dog at her side…the room was all bare…no sign of the pillows, no smell of the bread…no drink to be had…just one lone bare room and a hook on a wall where hung his
wool hat….she howled like the dog and ran like the wind, looking for him…into the forrest she ran, without looking ahead..she tumbled and fell into a deep well…the dog whined and whined and didn’t know why, they both were no more…the day grew darker and the owls did they hoot…the wolfs howled and the dog shed a tear…the people he loved, no longer there….
at long last a woman came by…she laughed with a sneer and played with her hands…her nails like a hook, she picked up the dog and threw him on air, where he landed on him…laying down, lost as a soul…alone in the fog…away from the girl he would not see…the dog cried and pawed at the boy…wake up and get up…they walked up the hill, the dog and the boy…back to the convent, with handfuls of flowers, to lay at the alter…prayers to said, songs to be sung…the girl had been lost…they wondered away…and found a new land…they encountered a girl, fair, tall with red hair…they built a new life and had little ones… Buford watched and despaired at the lost girl in the well….
back at the hill the nuns found the girl, all wet and alone…sick as a bird, they carried her back…back to her room…they fed her and prayed, prayer after prayer…..she called out his name and Buford’s name too…..she spent her days walking the hill, cooking and cleaning…
wishing and dreaming…the boy and the dog…were now dreams…lost out at sea…she looked to the sea and cried tears of salt, her heart each day died….until she was old…the last of her days, she laid in her bed…with a ribbon of silk he given her once…the sound of the dog…greeted her walk, up the hill, white clouds and light surrounded her frame….she looked down the hill so far down the way…she spotted him there…with a babe on his knee…she cried and she smiled…at his lucky break…he’d made it to old age, with a grandchild in arm…a ribbon she dropped and it flew to down the hill, like a song it had flown to the yard down below…the girl and the dog, now old and in disrepair…they watched the ribbon as it fell on the man…it fell on his hand…a smile and a tear ran down his small face…his eyes, sparkled with green and blue flecks, up at the sky…the child asking where ribbons came from…he sat on his chair and held out the ribbon…from heaven above, the ribbon did fall, a girl it belonged too…and a girl and a dog…that played on the hill…we played and we laughed, we ran like the wind…we kissed as we sat on rocks like a stair…he closed both his eyes and slowly breathed out…his soul lifted up and to be greeted up high…the girl and the dog, sat by the spring…with water so blue and quenching their thirst…they waited for him..he landed softly, his feet like feathers….a ribbon he held..it went on her hair….they walked from the spring, flowers beneath, blue skies above…Buford the dog, the boy and the girl…running and dancing with songs in their hearts…they walked and they walked the boy and his dog and the girl her hand in his hand…..

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2014 in review

Considering no one knows about my blog….I’m surprised I even got this….

But as with most things that I do, it’s fun to write….intresting to go back and see what I was feeling a year ago…or even a month ago…though lately, those feelings are all connected and have strung out like a piece of gum you pull from your mouth….seeing how far you can pull before it breaks.

Well, I guess, I’ll continue….it’s a good way to vent….maybe because I don’t have anyone bitching at me and telling me “I’m wrong”…..And honestly who really cares what I have to say, or even what I think.  The worlds managed to spin on it’s predetermined course and it’s still on it’s axis, so my words don’t shake anyone’s world.  And they aren’t meant too.

Happy New Year.

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 300 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 5 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Some days, it just doesn’t pay to wake up or to be nice!

Fair: 1.
in accordance with the rules or standards; legitimate.
“the group has achieved fair and equal representation for all its members”
synonyms: just, equitable, honest, upright, honorable, trustworthy; More
antonyms: unjust, biased
just or appropriate in the circumstances.

It seems that ever so often I get a lesson in what fair is. Today’s been one of those days. Ever get up with the best of intentions on your mind? And then someone throws a grenade in your parade.  Sometimes, I wish I had a heart of stone.  I wish, I didn’t care, I wish, I fucking wish I could die! Because life just isn’t fucking fair!

A glass of wine, that always makes thing fair!

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I’m Crazy

http://www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2014/07/09/men-really-need-to-stop-calling-women-crazy/

Remember the song, Crazy, sung by Patsy Cline?

I’m crazy for loving you! Maybe we give men the power to use the word, crazy.

I’ve fallen into the bad habit of calling myself crazy….when I have an outburst of emotions; good, bad…”I’m crazy ” I’m feeling crazy, I’m having a crazy moment. I say.
No, I’m not crazy. I’m angry. Angry does not make you crazy, well unless you start throwing things.
I’m upset, not crazy. I feel insecure, I’m not crazy. I’m afraid, I’m not crazy! My feelings are hurt, I’m not crazy. You hurt me, I’m not crazy. I’m tired, I’m not crazy.

Anytime, I have some emotional outburst, I’m crazy. No. I am not crazy.
I’m just an emotional woman. Sometimes I cry because, I’m sad, I’m tired, or I’m happy. Sometimes, I just don’t know why I have an emotional outburst.
Sometimes I just hold everything in and one word, one small unintended action can cause me to lose it and just burst out in tears. But, I am not crazy.

I’m tired of being labeled, crazy! When you catch someone in a lie, they tell you, your crazy! When someone defends their behavior, by turning the argument against you and the first words that come out, “your fucking crazy”….your having a crazy episode, your one crazy bitch”

People are so quick to define you, to keep from being honest about their actions and behavior.
Maybe the thing that bothers me most….is that these are people whom you love and people that tell you they love you.

I not crazy. I’m just tired.
How does one find a place that doesn’t exist, never has, and never will.
I’ve lived most of my life with few rules. One of them, don’t ever do anything for someone expecting something in return. Whatever you may do, for anyone….never expect anything in return, not even a thank you.
And lately, the giving jar has been running really low….and I need it filled…and maybe I need a little validation. Maybe that’s asking too much.
What am I. Who am I. What do I mean in life, in your life?

I’m not crazy. I just love life and you.

Place

Sometimes I’m reminded of my place in life…..well, especially in the life of the people we know. The people we love, and the people we think love us.

Today….I will start treating people like they treat me! Seems only fair.
With indifference and certainly with a lack of consideration!

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Another Year!

It’s not a bad thing being 63….I feel the same way I did yesterday! But ask me that a year from today….

I don’t mind birthdays, I just wish they didn’t get here, so quick!
Life is suppose to slow down at some point….or so I heard…..when you get old, when you retire, when the kids are all gone…but it just doesn’t seem like it does….it moves a little faster and in those quiet moments when no ones around and no ones listening, I sit and contemplate my existence…and count my blessings, one more day, one more memory, one more hug, one more kiss….the sweet words of being told your loved and cared for…the little arms of hugs and the arms of of the people who love me, the ones I love. All tightly squeezing and caring around your neck become more precious and inviting….

The shared memories with friends, and family…
The everyday tasks and the continued gifts of sights and sounds, smells and touch..
The world lives at your fingertips…..a slight caresses, a beautiful rose from my garden, the striking red colors of cardinals flying about….a beautiful sunset in the horizon, like a painting, as the evening sets and night takes hold of your hand and gently sits with you in slumber…dreams of faraway places, people you’ve loved and love…all waking you up to greet another day….another sunrise.

It’s a beautiful October day…..the spirit of my parents, my sister take an extra tight hold of my heart and soul this days….fond and joyful memories…smiles and caring words…they filter softly and gently thru the breeze, touching my heart….how I miss them so…but they live in my memory…they live in each of us who carry their blood and DNA…always here…Always!

I’ve had a wonderful morning….in the presence of God…with the the man I love most in this world. In the good things that have helped shape me into the woman I am today…even the negative, even the unkind people have helped. Tall the things to give us courage, help us to love harder, be more appreciative of the blessings we have, of life!

It’s a good day to be alive!!!

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