Tough Ladies

I have two very dear friends, Amber and Donna, that are among the strongest women I know. No matter the adversity they face, they always seem to come out on top, whether individually or together.

They became life partners just over a year ago. It was obviously a perfect match to anyone that bothered to pay attention to them. Since that time, they have both lost jobs which caused them to lose their home. There was even a time they lived in their vehicle. Yet, they kept their faith in each other and in God that things would work out.

Soon after, Donna found out she had multiple myeloma, a serious form of cancer of the plasma cells in bone marrow. The nearest medical facility that was close enough to offer treatment was 2 hours away. They temporarily lived in their vehicle on the campus while chemotherapy and other treatments were suffered through. They were able to get into housing on campus for cancer patients.

While Donna received debilitating doses of chemo, Amber found a job that kept her away long hours. Neither, one of these strong women wanted the other to know how much each was doing their own suffering.

On occasion, I will get a phone call from Amber, "You don't have to say anything, I just need to vent if you have the time.” I take the time to listen and offer advice on occasion, but most of the time, I just let her vent.

A few days ago, Amber called and vented. Her biggest complaint was Donna being stubborn, and not taking care of herself, by going to the doctor when she is feeling bad. Amber’s concern is that Donna’s immune system is so low due to the chemo treatments if Donna catches so much as a cold, she could end up in the hospital. Amber talked about how hard it has been for her to be strong for Donna, yet Donna won’t ask Amber for help, or at times, even admit she doesn’t feel good. She wants Donna to ask her to stay home from work once in a while to take care of her or go to the doctor with her. Donna usually refuses in both cases.

That same day, I get a text from Donna, telling me that she is having a hard time going through all of it alone. That she misses Amber so much, and she knows she has to be strong for her and Donna’s daughter. That she really has no friends to talk to. Donna says she knows Amber has to work, but wants Amber with her when she has to go through something scary. I am already hearing Donna say just the opposite of what Amber was telling.

Donna said she knows Amber wants to be with her and that she hurts so bad when she is alone. The next thing Donna texts me is almost word for word what Amber has said in the past. “I can’t touch her or hold her close if I get bad news.” Amber has said before she doesn’t feel like she can hold Donna without hurting her. Then she apologizes to me for venting.

My response to Donna: “I don’t mind you venting to me. I can imagine it is hard. Maybe you two knot heads need to stop being strong for the other and actually let each other know when you are feeling vulnerable. Both of you putting on the strong front is actually pushing the other away for fear of letting each other know you need the emotional support. Both of you need to stop internalizing and let all the pent up emotions out before you too far away from each other.

Donna responds with, “You are correct as usual! I love you and thank you for the advice, we really do, thanks.

“I love you guys too, and both of you can’t take care of each other or your daughter if you don’t take care of yourselves FIRST!

Perfectly Imperfect Childhood

Growing up on a farm in Northeast Arkansas was a simple, yet happy life. An only child, with neighbors scarce, I became best friends with my imagination. I was a full-fleged tomboy. I could play for hours in the dirt and be happy as a pig in mud. 


My Dad, Albert. The middle child of nine, five boys, 4 girls. Old school country. Born between the Great Depression and World War II. He was raised on hard work and love. 


My Mom, Myrna. Carefree and spontaneous. Two older brothers and a little sister. Raised in a home where love was key and acceptance was expected. 


As an only child, I don't feel that I was spoiled. I didn't always get what I wanted, but I didn't do without either. I didn't have the newest and best of everything that was out there. 


My first memories consist of riding on the tractor with my dad, listening to him whistle. The tractor, an old 4010 John Deere, with no cab. I can close my eyes and feel the vibrations from the fender well I would sit on. I can here the distinct popping sounds from the engine and I can still smell the fresh turned earth.


Memories of Mom, she was always there for me and still is to this day. Mom, always doing something. She taught me how to cook and sew. She showed me how to use my imagination. She always has a book laying open nearby. It was Mom that guided me to putting words on paper, whether it was to be creative or to let go of disappointment and anger, or to share happy times.


I am so fortunate that both of my parents are still in my life today. They have gone their separate ways, but they still hold me together. 


I became the me I am because of the way they raised me. I am happy with myself, within and without. Sure, I am not perfect by any sense of the word. But, I can proudly say, I am perfectly imperfect, shaped by a perfectly imperfect childhood. 

Blue Rose Tattoo

Whenever I think of my childhood
There will be memories of you and I
I knew we would always be together
But this is not what I had in mind


We were born as cousins
But sisters under the skin
Even with your little brother
We had the best childhood then


I wanted to hate God
That day he took you away
Why would he let that man
Murder you that way


Every time I see blue roses
They make me think of you
They are the perfect match
For your beauty shining through


You come to me in my dreams 
I see you standing there
You look at me with a smile
And tell me you’ll always be here


You say your work here is not over
God has picked you with his own hand
To continuously look over my shoulder
And keep me safe while on this land


It’s been said that angels
Are sent from heaven above
Now you are my guardian angel
Whose heart is filled with love


I have a tattoo of blue roses
You’re forever in my heart
I can’t say goodbye to yesterday
For me it’s just too hard.


In loving memory of Sandra Ann Bass

What's Wrong ?

The drops of rain

unceremoniously tear

the petals

from the roses,

leaving them

battered and broken

on the cold

uncaring earth,

echoing the tears

flowing

from my eyes

that were

squeezed

cruelly

from my heart,

one

beat

at a time

because of

your selfishness.

They pool

on my face

and you

have the

unmitigated gall

to ask

"What's wrong?"

Fantasy is beyond reality. Or, is it?

Reality can be a dream coming true. 
Sometimes, reality is unbelievable like some dreams.
Fantasy is infatuation with that which will never be reality.
When our dreams become reality, it's like living a fantasy.


Where does the circle end?


Reality can be, "I wish I was sleeping."
In my dreams I would be in a reality that would turn into a fantasy when I awaken.
In reality, I know for a fact my dream was a fantasy.


When dreams come true, whether the sleeping dreams, or the fantastical dreams, they become reality.
So, your fantasy that you dreamed is now your reality.
Conscious dreams can come true, which means you can live in a fantasy world. 
You can dream and fantasize but you have to make sure those dreams and fantasies don't go beyond reality. 
In conclusion, dreams or fantasies can come true as long as you are true to your own reality.


I believe I have over-thought my definitions of reality, dream and fantasy and have come very close to confusing myself. I obviously have way too much time on my hands and need to leave the coffee alone.

Becoming a blogger? Am I crazy?

For quite some time, I have considered starting a blog. I don't have a clue why. I don't even read that many blogs, it just seems like something that I can do at work during my down time. I spend 12 hours at a time in a chair in front of 3 computer screens, one of which is a 48" flat screen. It gets a little boring at times. 


I try to find creative ways to entertain myself. I get tired of watching television, so I listen to music. I get tired of the noise, so I read.  Then the phone rings and scares the crap out of me. I do my job which may take all of 10 minutes from one phone call, if that much, and go back to doing whatever I was doing to begin with. 


I don't keep a diary, I keep random thoughts on scraps of paper. I have dozens of small journals with hundreds of random thoughts. Many of which mean absolutely nothing to anyone but me. It keeps my brain functioning on something besides time stamps on a computer screen or a giant map with GPS locators of vehicles that I have to control.


I do random altered art projects, which many times consists of cutting things out of magazines to make other things. I hope to post pictures of some of my projects on here eventually. 


Some days, I ramble on about random thoughts, some days I have a focused idea. There are times that I get pissed and get on my soapbox and rant until I feel I have emptied that thought process for the moment. 


I guess I can say this is the start of a new chapter in my life. A way getting a multitude of unorganized thoughts on "paper".  My thoughts meander and much of the time my brain is like a kaleidoscope, ever changing and producing new thoughts and ideas. 


Welcome to my kaleidoscopic meanderings.