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My mom was 9 when America entered World War Two. She watched as cousins, uncles, her first crush went off to war. She went with her parents to see the news reels and watched for familiar names in the rolls … Continue reading
I am grateful for:
• The blood that runs through these veins and this dang sinus cold for they tell me I’m alive
• For my friends good fortunes and success for I don’t want them to suffer
• For my friends “challenges” for it is through our mistakes that we learn
• my struggles, for I’m still standing
• My pain, for it’s an opportunity to rise above
• Others misconceptions of me, for it is fun to blow their minds
• Another year with my mom; for they get more precious with time
And there I stop as always fate interrupts and gives me a moments pause.
Tonight my mom took a nasty fall, landing on her right knee and smashing her forehead against the dryer. The very sharp surgical steel knife she had in her hand cut her nose in the process and the force with which she hit the dryer broker her nose.
There was so much blood. So much. I managed some how to get it clotted using pressure and ice. But, still needed to call the emt’s.
I spent hours in the emergency room trying to calm her down she was shaking so. All she kept talking about was getting her damn turkey in the oven.
She was so fragile, so small. I wanted to rock her in my arms.
She was terrified that it was going to be complications which would keep her in the hospital.
But, around 3am we found out that besides the nose break and enormous lumps on her forehead and knee, she was going to be ok.
I got her home and settled at 4am. Now I’m sitting her, keeping vigil while she tries to sleep.
I don’t care about the turkey or the pastries. I will stay with her tonight and tomorrow if she can’t make it to dinner.
Tonight I was given a gift. One that resonates in my heart and will be there long after her bruises, cuts and nose have healed. I am so lucky to have her in my life
“Be Limitless”
Boston has been frozen over for the last 30+ days. Under mountains of frozen water the city slumbers, gasps for breath and waits for the warmth of change. Like the city itself, my family has been frozen; in an … Continue reading
I have heard this line all my life. My life has challenged me with this premise constantly. However, this month with the snow piling up in Boston, and the events that have transpired over the last week have proven to … Continue reading
You live and you learn.
I never expected to get banned from Facebook, even for an hour, and certainly not for violating obscenity and pornography laws. Yet that is exactly what happened.
I have participated in only 4 educational nude shoots. All of which would be classified in the area of fine art nude.
I have only posted pictures on my Facebook photography page from two of them. The first over a year ago, which consisted of two photographs with an eyes wide shut theme.
The second set was on beach nudes. I particularly liked the resulting photos which were inspired by oils of water nymphs and mermaids.
I posted them at 2 am on Sunday night/ Monday morning.
They were up all day and getting some likes. Then I get up from a nap at 9pm and it said I was in violation. It listed several photos all from my personal FB page’s mobile uploads and none of which were nudes, but wanted me to remove the offending images (this despite removing all but 4 of the pics themselves).
After scrolling all through the photos they asked me to review, I certified that there weren’t any nudes in the batch.
I went on playing my games etc. and then about 2am, I got another notice saying that well, basically they missed one that showed a breast. Really?
I get videos of folks simulating sex, men masturbating etc. there are plenty of topless pics on other FB photography pages. Yet, I get this notice that they have removed the offensive photo and have banned me from posting for 24 hours.
I went to several photography pages to see if I was correct and there were full frontal nude males and topless females etc.
So, I sent them a messages explaining that these were fine art nudes based on classical oil paintings from the great artists of the renaissance that can be found in any museum. I explained my knowledge of the other works available on FB and based on that, I didn’t believe the ban was warranted…
I’m still banned, I’m guessing until 2 am tomorrow. How ridiculous.
So I googled if this has happened to others and indeed it has. It seems I have probably been the victim of one of my “followers” complaining. Turns out if nipples are visible they can decide to remove the photo…although they don’t in every case.
It makes me wonder how a photo of a “siren on the shore” with just one breast revealed in profile, is more offensive than a guy simulating a tribal dance completely naked and while it was in shadow, his penis is clearly visible. That photo (which is also art) is still up. My single breast was removed.
I wonder if I had listed the photo as Silkies found on a beach by National Geographic if they would let it stay up?
What has this ordeal with my sister taught me?
Well it’s brought up a lot of old wounds. I realize I can never truly walk away from the past. It’s always with me. I have come to terms with my father’s alcohol and abuse. I built a wall around me to protect myself from it. I never wanted to end up with someone like dad, yet that’s my greatest fear.
To be drawn inexplicably to his personality. The charismatic charmer on the outside that masks a raging demon within. It’s what I know. It’s what I stay away from.
Maybe that’s why Dee’s illness feels like such a sucker punch. I wasn’t expecting it.
Now I sit here and I understand me. I can’t ever be with an alcoholic. No matter what I may feel for him. To choose to live that life would destroy me.
I’m not condemning the multitudes who are seeking help and staying sober. I’m proud for them, really.
But whether you see it as a flaw in my character or a strength in my resolve, I understand my limits.
I can’t choose my family. They are my blood and I endure, but I won’t court a love with an addict. To let them into my private world and watch as it crumbles…there would be nothing left of me.
How I wish I were free…to find my own balance without the weights that bind me here. It would be nice to live in Germany for two years. To walk on the shores of Bremen, really explore my heritage. But circumstance won’t allow for it. My timing is off. I need to balance me before I take another into my soul. When I’m ready, he will appear and he will be a good man, a sober man, with a wicked sense of humor. And I will be glad at the person I am by knowing him.
I am coming up on my 4 year anniversary of the end of my breast cancer treatment and while my body is not the same as it was prior to treatment, I am not devastatingly deformed and disabled.
I do suffer from fatigue, night sweats and insomnia which can truly be annoying. My hair is back but not at the level of thickness it once was. My eyelashes and brows have not come back well, and I keep gaining weight.
I am sure the weight us complicated by my medications all which state they cause weight gain. So I’ve decided to change my diet to help naturally ease the hot flashes and improve my energy.
Where to start? A cookbook for post breast cancer, right? With over 30 years under their belts, they are bound to have one!
So I head to my iTunes (what good is a cookbook if it’s not accessible) and I pull up a selection. A pick some samples to review and immediately get disappointed. None of these so called cookbooks give recipes in their samples.
Now I don’t know about you but I select cookbook for the number of recipes I would actually eat and enjoy making. So, when I get to my third sample with no table of contents and no recipes, I’m annoyed. It seems that these books are set up with a lecture about breast cancer, your risks of getting it and how it’s diagnosed and treated as their very long intro. Ah excuse me, I’ve been there, done that and bought the t-shirt. So how about a freakin recipe in your supposed “post treatment cookbooks”.
Finally I get to the last selection and it is by far the worst. If there is a recipe at all it’s buried somewhere within the hidden pages. But, what makes this the worst is that it’s sample is nothing more than a condemnation of the current medical treatment for breast cancer. If I were just starting this journey it would scare the shit out of me and I would wonder why live at all. I’m just going to die from a horrible complication from treatment!
None of these samples led me to purchase a book. In fact just the opposite. I decided that it is more advantageous for me to go to an actual bookstore with real books that I can look at.
Folks keep telling me print books are dead, well in the case of recipes…the hard copy cookbook is alive and well for me!
My friend was celebrating his birthday. He is famous for wild dance parties that last until the wee hours of the morning. I’ve stayed to the end of many of those parties, but sadly not recently.
Dee had just come home from the hospital, so I had cancelled the majority my weekend plans, but I promised him that I would come by for at least one drink.
It’s been a year since I had been out dancing and I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.
I loved the energy, seeing old friends and (while I left really early) feeling revitalized when I went home
So to my friend, Luis. Happy Birthday!
Next year I promised I will be able to stay longer! Oh and you still need to cook me dinner (lol before I am 90)
Toora, loora, loora
Toora, loora, li
Toora, loora, loora
Hush, now, don’t you cry
Ah,
Toora, loora, loora
Toora, loora, li
Toora, loora, loora
It’s an Irish lullaby
Over in Killarney, many years ago
My mother sang this song to me in tones so sweet and low
Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way
And I’d give the world if she could sing that song to me this day
Toora, loora, loora
Toora, loora, li
Toora, loora, loora
Hush, now, don’t you cry
Ah,
Toora, loora, loora
Toora, loora, li
Toora, loora, loora
It’s an Irish lullaby
Dear mom…
You’re right down stairs, yet I can’t make myself get out of bed and go to you. I can’t ask you to hold me in your arms and stroke my hair and sing this song to me until I fall off to sleep. I’ve grown too old for such things.
Oh, but how hearing this brings back such sweet memories. Bittersweet feelings rise in me as I know I can never have those days back. The bed time stories, the lullabies, the soft sweet way you had in sending me off to my dreams, I remember them all. I remember the tenderness.
It’s one of my most treasured memories and one of the things I will miss the most until the day I die. Thank you for giving me such a precious thing to hold on to.
Love you
Hospital cafes a rife with RAK opportunities. Today a round of coffees for the 6 people behind me.
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