Tag: life

66 – Edits

I have been forced to live in a technological world for 43 years. It began when I enrolled in college. I took an English Comp and Statistics class. I had to do every thing on the computer. I complied. It was an edit in my life.

One thing always leads to another. Add on take away. That’s editing. When something doesn’t work – change it. If it’s wrong it’s wrong, forever.

It’s survival of the fittest. What makes sense to one person, confuses another. Some people never bother to write a sentence that needs editing. Nor do they think to change their life. To move. To learn new things.

To add to or take away.

That’s editing. My life is full of edits.

Somewhere in the South

3129 Phyllis St.

I travel south
down the river
in the morning

Crackers eat oatmeal for breakfast
Four roses are in the front yard
Saddle soap in the back

I climb
the steps
at noon

Where the crackers meet for lunch
Eat biscuits with gravy
She plays cards with a blind man
They laugh and tell – old stories

The sun follows I-10
and sets
behind Phyllis St.

Ponies walk for miles in circles
Gators mate
Boats float
Flamingos eat shrimp and die

I run
to the streets
in my twilight

Away from the crackers – Oatmeal shrimp – biscuits and gravy
The roses died – the saddle dried
The boat sunk
The blindman got lasix

I survive

Somewhere in the South


66 Photos – I am a Widget

I AM A WIDGET/Gallery Lover

My soul is enmeshed with these subjects. Each photo a memory. A person impressed in my being, like words in print. They tell a story. I know these people intimately, as I look at them over and over through the years.

If you are on an iPhone and you tap the horizontal bars in the right corner, my widgets will appear. They are mostly photo galleries. The first is always changing order. The other two are stationary. I recently updated all three. I am sad to say, that it took me two and a half months to follow through with this task.

I am getting back to this writing. Mostly in first person. The pictures are mostly of people. Loves of my life and people I had never seen before. I am fascinated by people.

My instagram https://www.instagram.com/everydaypaparazza/ has 800 portraits. Check them out. Yes, there is a turtle and a guitar. But most are people. Every day, extraordinary people. That was the purpose of the site. I wanted to link it as a widget in the sidebar but was unsuccessful.

Most of my unsuccessful technical endeavors go by the wayside until I am ready to tackle it.

In the meantime, I browse-look at my photos and read other’s blogs.

I am a happy widget.

As a side note to my sidebar – Many indigenous people do not want their photos taken. They believe their souls will be stolen. I encountered this at The Moon Dance in Costa Rica and with the Mayans in Guatemala. I could have snuck their photos but I backed off.

My soul has become entwined with all of these people.

We are one.

Change and Elevate

I am on the other side of a rough 4 1/2 years. Two of those years were spent with my daughter, Aislinn. She had cancer and toughed it out, getting chemical treatments and willing herself to live. It was so hard. But we had such wonderful times together. We experienced a beautiful closeness. The following two years were engulfed in Red Bulls. After having started drinking them to get myself through her life celebration, I had a serious addiction. Quit them October 20th, 2022. Then another six months, three in Fernandina and three in Costa Rica.

Costa Rica has saved me from myself. The air here is clean. You can feel the health as you inhale. I’ve just been quietly passing my days, playing with my kids here, swimming or Cross Fitting. I feel like a different person.

I dread going home. I look forward to seeing and being with friends. But I cringe at the thought of amped up tourists and new-to-the-island Yankees. It’s a prejudice.

A long time renter has moved out and that has left a void.

But I have some over-the-top neighbors that helped me tremendously. They let me wander around and be crazy. Reaching out to them. Making a nuisance of myself.

Trying not to become a recluse.

My family is shredded.

But I have a plan. I had hit a bottom when I arrived here January 1, 2023. I am going to adapt once again. I am an artist and I have been painting and woodworking. I have to do something to flee from any and all negativity. I want to be the best person that I can be.

It’s a tough road to navigate. But I am up to it.

66 – Thoughts on Bull Shit

My so called sister is full of shit –

I called her yesterday to discuss yet another sister who has showed up on our 23 and Me Ancestry. I don’t know why she would find it a hard to believe that this is our sister. Joan Ariel. DNA does not lie.

Continue reading 66 – Thoughts on Bull Shit

Day 153

This is day 153 of the year 2022. There are 215 days left. And I am here in the moment. En Route 66…………….

“Think of the life you have lived until now as over and, as a dead man, see what’s left as a bonus and live it according to Nature. Love the hand that fate deals you and play it as your own, for what could be more fitting?” – Marcus Aurelius

En Route 66 ***

Rooster, if we go down this path, what do you think will happen?

JBug depended on her husband. She looked at his grey hair and eyes that matched.

I don’t know. But if we don’t go, we’ll never know.

With locked wills and hubs, their minds were made. This wasn’t their first adventure.

Forgotten/Not Forgotten

I keep journals. Note books I use them to help me find peace and sort my life out. Thoughts on friends and finances.

I make changes in my life. However, I have the tendency to repeat. When writing things down, it becomes obvious.

The photo on the left is of my friend Connie. She was loved by many people. I had written about being with her when she passed, 2015. In the photo, we were at the funeral of Rachael Sutton. (She initiated Starting Point – you know it or you don’t.)

Connie passed with lung cancer.

As she was dying, she told me stories of her life. They were great stories. She didn’t want anyone to know. They were antics of her mother, Hazel. Poor Hazel.

I never knew Hazel, but I admired her in a way that Connie couldn’t. She wasn’t my mother.