Weather gray and cloudy
rolled out of bed
dressed in workout clothes….hahaha
off to McDonald’s to visit with the WWII vets who meet there every morning
they give good advice and seem to know where to go for just about anything
they tolerate me as one of the guys, knowing I am not there to flirt or find a husband
they are genuine persons whom I respect and like
had an egg, cheese,bacon biscuits
came home and burned my throat with warm (hot) vinegar, water and honey…had to take to the bed while the pain went away, felt like a heart attach, kind of
just so you know, or care to know, I am writing this as a diary for my children, in case they ever wonder, as I do, what my mother did every day.
the weather is gray with chance of rain
Breakfast: four white donuts; 2 cups of black coffee
Daughter called. She was 50 on May 23 and we had been playing phone tag
Had 2nd cup of coffee on neighbors front porch
Spoke with Chris about deck and tinting front storm windows to cut down the terrific problem of too much sun in the afternoon streaming in the 17 feet of windows in living room
Called lawn care service re cutting lawn. He changed prices from what he said on Friday to today
Went to Staples to purchase ink for copier, printer, scanner, etc. while I was getting older, ink dries faster and cost more
On to Subway for a foot long heart healthy sandwich which will last a couple of meals. I do not cook. I doctored the 1/4 of the sandwich with sun dried tomatoes, pumpkin seeds, almond silvers. Had a bit of tomato basil soup and a chocolate Boost to balance out lunch!
Stopped on my street to talk to the lawn care company working at the McMansion yard
Now, I will read.
Two items worthy of mention: fired two teenage grass cutters
Called the eye surgeon about not disclosing that the drops I use at night turns your eyes from blue to brown. The only thing I liked about my face were my bluest of blue eyes. Now they are gray. This and other adverse reactions I am having to these eye drops for open angular glaucoma are not pleasant at all: now having asthmatic bronchitis rather than just bronchitis. I could go on but most things are reversible when stopping the drops except the eye color….really a bummer….must accept the situation. I am only upset that this was not explained to me at the beginning; I was not given the right to choose. When will doctors learn they are not God?
Today a terrorist was sentenced to death
at some future unknown date
a death he deserves, in my opinion.
At birth we were sentenced to death
at some future unknown date
whether we deserve to die on that date
is uncertain but a certainty.
Fear not death to live
certain that we will die
In our time.
It is confusing to me
why it would be difficult
to vote for the death penalty
when we all have the same sentence.
today I killed my friend
when I moved here
a beautiful magnolia tree
Laddie loved to lie
under this magnificent giant
your huge limbs
birds sang their songs
within your leaves
today I hugged you
patted the scars
i am so sorry that you have to die today
this great tree had to die
mold can be deadly
allergies are my constant companion
the termite inspection
revealed I had one small puddle of water
under the house
I need to watch for mold
the sides and under my tree
never completely dried
this friend was reaching out
for the house
sawdust and pollen
my heart dropped
as I heard
“it is over”
of the tree
Laddie joined us
we traveled awhile
together as one
In between until
my great tree
for your shade
your dark shiny leaves
i am so sorry you
had to die today
Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”
The demon of wanting to know the truth when there is no truth but your own truth; your own mind sees and hears things differently than any other mind on earth. However, having said that could we agree that if one sets about to expose the truth that one would look for facts as set forth in other author’s books? I do not know if this is true or not because all of life, at some point seems to be a fabrication; writing is a journey back into the soul as you relieve all that you have already lived and tried to forget or maybe tried to remember the good and failed because perhaps there was not enough good to remember. If one is often told that if only you could be more like your siblings you would not get into so much trouble. Is that the truth or did you just dream this bad dream and wake into a loving world. Parents can love their children but not really like them and the child knows when that is true. The wisdom of children far outweighs any other wisdom. It is the innocence of childhood before the world beats it out and flattens this wisdom.
Writing wrings the last drop of blood; tears the fabric of your soul and leaves you lying there in your own powerless state to change what might have been except maybe through writing the facts as you find them within the confines of a library or other public domain sources.
Neither is this true. There is no truth. There is no way to know absolutely what you search for. It is an impossible task but one must try to follow that path because there are gems along the way that may substitute for what you have looked for.
Is this a rant or a revelation? You choose.
Don’t you love all the dangling prepositions?