Here Today Gone Tomorrow

Like magnolias and lilacs in Texas

They don't stay around very long

Their essence is easily recalled

When you hear a certain song

These are such rare ones to find

Or maybe they were looking for you

Drawn into their life like a beacon

For a week a month or a year or two

Such an impression is rarely made

So deeply it touches you to make it last

Like molten lava poured into your soul

An ache when they dissolve into the past

Forward we go to embrace what is yet to be

Striving to build our own happy lives

Keep going to keep going each day

Doing good in the world of deep dives

Never kick yourself for who you once were

Revel in whom you are and what lies in store

Gift the same to others to be free from the past

Knowing they also don't live there anymore

Today I'm missing so many someone's so much

Bringing up tears from my heart and my eyes

Steady steady girl you know you've got this

Whether you think not or you realize

There's still more to do in my little life

Still shooting for the stars and the moon

Like lilacs in Texas in the spring

Like Michael Jackson gone too soon

Happy Birthday

Happy angel birthday if you truly have passed

The memories made with your loved ones will

Be the kind that will forever last

A spot in lives in hearts that only you can fill

All day today I thought of you in a loving way

Thought I smelled your scent wafting on the breeze

Such long such wide so cruelly stolen from the day

While it's your essence that your loved one needs

Deeds of cruelty deeds of mercy to try to be kind

I know you weren't perfect though to me you are

It's how I preserve the times we had in a heart so blind

How you made me feel sitting next to you in your car

Left hand on the steering wheel the other holding my hand

So many smiles with music with laughing about that

Which only the two of us could secretly understand

Two hearts in synch filling one seat where we sat

You told me that I had changed torment into a heavenly life

Made you feel what you thought you could never feel

Even asked me so sweetly if I would become your wife

A moment that felt so genuinely heart stopping surreal

Now I will wish a Happy Birthday to you wherever you are

Gazing up at our star with a glowing beautiful moon

Believing you are up there still there as my shining star

Saying goodbye holds heartbreak so I say I'll see you soon

Thank you for helping me when I needed your help the most

 

A Few Months

It's been some time since the news was told to me. Although I have cried, regretted, kicked myself, part of me still doesn't believe.

I love him, still.

That is the part that lives for certain.

When something catches my attention, I still pause. A slight gasp. Often, I have to find a place to hide, hating to cry in public. The tears happen, unable to stop them. I cry for Steve. For what we could have had. For what we should have had. 

A few months, or years or however long. It's still there.

Tonight, I play his music, I gaze at his photos, I talk to him out loud, I tell my puppy about him. Letting the tears for him course down my face for him. For the loss I feel. For the torment he felt. 

For him.

For me.

For us.

For what might have been.

It's an indulgence, I admit, giving in to the passion, the sorrow, the loss, the love. The everything that was him. 

He may feel or have felt the same. Does it really matter? To my broken heart, it does.

It matters when I hear a song

That he used to sing along

It matters when tears wet my face

Missing someone I can't replace

It matters when I envision his grimace

Memories that time cannot erase

It matters when he is in my dreams

How very real it always seems

It matters when I awaken from sleep

Having relived a connection so deep

It matters when I think of the pain

Of his loved ones who still remain

It matters oh yes it matters in my heart & mind

You will be remembered my love though I am left behind

Someone?

 

Someone you love is someone who

Once was very dear to you

Touched your heart your soul your mind

Helped you to be the one to find

Someone you love is someone who

Was twice the longing to be so true

Unlocked the places of your very soul

That put you on your path to be whole

Someone you love is someone who

Many times showed how much you grew

From not knowing all you could be

Escaping abuse to becoming free

Someone you love is someone who

May or may not still love you

Even when they know it from the start

Cease to claim that piece of your heart

PJ & The Next Phase

For several years, I have been wishing for, sometimes talking about "my dream".

What is my dream? 

It's simple, really, it's also complex in some ways.

Remaining single allows me to choose my own destiny, mostly. My own life path, working toward what will give me the most happiness. I already have the first part.

My dream dog, PJ. Shortened version of Poseiden Jack.

It takes time to make personal dreams into reality. The whole dream life is:

A Doberman Puppy. ✔ 

A custom dream house (process started!)

A horse of my own.

My plan is to move further south, to live near the ocean, going to the beach when the weather allows. An architect is drawing up the plans & calculating the cost of my dream home.

4 Master Bedrooms, a great room, a small sitting room, spacious kitchen, a dining room that can seat up to 12 people.

It takes time, diligence, patience. Having lots of patience is my forte'.

Being a passionate needleworker has built the quality of patience for me.

Some people will say that it takes a lot of patience to do the detailed, heirloom quality needlework that I do. While it may be a person that had patience to start with, that does this. My experience was more like, I wasn't a patient person. 

Needlework built my patience.

This is the most recent project I finished.

The title is Gift of Peace from Lavender & Lace Designs. The designer is Marilyn Leavitt Imblum (RIP August 2012).

I stitched it on antique white 32 Belfast linen. I made a few changes to suit my taste. The shiny coin is a US quarter to show scale. The little white bird he is holding is a dove, symbol of peace.

Isn't he lovely!

Looking back at the designs I used to work from, many that required more skill were intimidating to me. Now, they are easy, diving in is fun, exciting. Time consuming, yes. I love it!

PJs bedtime is 2030 hrs.

Yep, just like a child, he has a bedtime routine. I cuddle him, read to him, give him a small snack. Then, put his blanky & pacifier in his crate. He makes a nest with his blanky, starts suckling it. Soon, he's snoring, making puppy like suckling noises. 

So precious.

Did I mention that I love this dog so much!

He is similar to having a child in so many ways. Relishing each life stage, he goes through as it goes faster than a human baby. Today had its ups & downs. 

Usually, I rise from my bed, get dressed, take vitamins, make PJs food. I get him from his crate, take him out to go potty, come in, he eats his breakfast while I check emails.

After that, he has finished his food, we go to the dog park. I don't want a yard full of doggie-doo, going to the dog park, I pick up after him. It's the law!

Well, today had a few "surprises".

PJ tried to tell me, I was less tuned in than I ought to have been. He was very quiet in the back seat. Usually, he is excited & squealing on the way to the dog park.

Then, I smelled it and it wasn't a dog fart.

Mmm Hmm.

Thankfully it was solid. First time for everything. It could have been much worse than it was. This, I fully realize.

Dog poo in the car!

I love my dog.

I love my dog.

He knew he was guilty, I knew I was just as guilty as I cleaned up the small mess in the back seat. I wasn't taking his cue as I ought to have. Wet wipes to the rescue.

Once I took care of things, PJ was happily running the length of the dog park. Front gate to back fence over then over again.

He is just so beautiful. I would say poetry in motion, he is more like a wild stallion running like the wind.

It was someone else who noticed.

Usually, I walk the whole time PJ & I are at the park. 10 - 20 laps.

I was at the back of the park when I saw someone come to the front gate then enter the park. PJ was there in a flash!

It was a guy who had been admiring PJ for awhile. Getting to the front, he told me how beautiful PJ is & who had trained him then where he could get a Doberman as beautiful as PJ.

At that moment, I was so proud. 

All the dog poo in the car that I had cleaned up ceased to matter.

I put PJ through some of his commands. The guy was so impressed.

Then, I let him know that I had put a lot of work into him. That I began training PJ when he was 10 weeks of age, that he was presently 14 months of age. That I had taken 2 weeks off of work, froze my gym membership for 3 months. Just so PJ & I could adjust to each other then I could start training him. I slept by his crate with a pillow & blanket. He cried less in his crate though he still cried. After 2 months he actually loved his crate, went in voluntarily, no commands or coaxing needed.

It took time, effort, patience, cleaning up messes. 

PJ IS a great dog, he became a well-trained dog because I trained him, myself.

Telling the guy who the breeder was that I bought PJ from, that it was a process, that it would take a bit of time. He seemed to be the patient type of person. Maybe, in time, I will see him at the dog park where our dobies can play together.

Help The World

 

If you buy drinks in multiples, held together by thin plastic. Have you given much thought to it? Sure, it's a nifty invention for people. It's so much more.

So many useful things can be made from upcycling these. By fastening several of these together, a volleyball net can be made, a replacement for a basketball net. A small net to hang in the corner of a child's room or a playroom to store toys that are not being played with.

So many uses!

If none of these or any other uses apply or appeal to you, here is something to think about. When you dispose of the plastic item, it will most likely end up in a landfill or dump. Wild animals go into these areas looking for food. Those plastic rings can be deadly. Before disposing of them, to be kind to wildlife, cut the rings so they can't be wrapped around a wild bird or animal, choking the creature or hobbling them or worse.

It only takes a minute or so to snip the plastic rings, save an animal.

The animal kingdom is so diverse. Everyone knows that in 4 season climates, birds will gather in autumn to fly south for the winter. Many animals also hibernate during winter. While it's a kind action to take, to put food out for birds. Putting the food out too early can hinder the instinct to fly south.

Animals are tender creatures. Wild animals as well as domestic. They are all at the mercy of human beings. When we think of them, their welfare, their lives, their food sources. 

It's best to be thoughtful. Best to be kind.

Hot Aussie Theory

I know which show I'm going to on my next trip to Vegas.

This is a combo post of history & my own personal theory. Two in one, how about that.

People may know that between 1788 - 1868 Great Britain sent over 162,000 people who had committed crimes, to Australia. In 1833 alone, 7,000 people were transported on large prison ships of which only 5,000 survived. The ships were cramped, uncomfortable. 

Rats & other disease carrying pests tended to overpopulate on the long seafaring voyages.

Prisoners who were thought to be dangerous, violent, belligerent were shackled or otherwise immobilized for long stretches of time. Food was scarce, the quality of it was poor, much of it was spoiled or stale. The crew & prisoners ate it anyway. 

Many of these male criminals fit in with the extremely attractive bad boy look & personality. Way to go Great Britain. 

Unload thousands of hot looking criminals to one big continent. 

Let them seed & breed, battle it out with each other. Let them crank out insanely attractive progeny who may or may not turn to criminal behavior as they become adolescents, then, adults. Most children follow their parents' example as a way to conduct themselves. A handful will choose a different life whether for the better or the other.

Granted, many of the ones sent packing committed minor infractions, sending them away was a way to rid England of all levels of riff raff. From --->the teenager who had no food, was so hungry she or he grabbed something, ate it without paying for it.

To ---> the drunk person (male or female) who had caused a public ruckus over & over, causing malcontent amongst the other people.

Off to Aussieland with you and don't come back

As most of the non-indigenous people arrived, began to procreate. Many people, at least in attractiveness, hit the genetic jackpot so much so that the continent began to be populated with such good-looking people that the word began to spread. The tales of men going into a tavern where each serving wench was even more comely than the one before. Ladies who had been to Australia would trade titillating gossip away from where the menfolk could hear. 

Talk of very muscular men with no shirt also no fear. They were still mostly in possession of decent manners as well as a chivalrous attitude toward those of the fairer gender.

The last prison ship arrived in Australia in January 1867 in the Freemantle. 267 souls aboard. It marked the end of 80 years of shipping even the mildest of offenders to Australia still under the rule of Great Britain.

Let's attempt to flip the deporting of criminals to Australia on its butt.

There are those out there who believe that the criminals never made it to Australia. The claim is that the ships, laden with minor to serious offenders, were instructed to sail far from land. So that if the prisoners were dumped into the ocean, their chances of reaching land were most unlikely. Then, the prisoners were dumped into the ocean.

The conspiracy theory is that there were well concocted lies, forged documents by government officials. Furthermore, it's proposed that the Aussies who verify that their ancestors were shipped to Australia are well paid actors/actresses. More recently AI generated personas have been created to further attempt to support that the prisoners were deposited in Australia, not dumped into the ocean.

This is just a theory, albeit a terrible one, it has never been proved nor disproved.

Whatever the theory is, there have been a positive disproportionate number of hot hot Aussies. They were considered British subjects until 1984 after which the people of Australia were considered to be simply, Australian Citizens. Great Britain had colonized Australia in the past. Aussie government plus many citizens wanted to break free from being under British rule. It was time.

There are so many reasons as to why Australia & many people from there are so appealing. The weather tends to be very comfortable. The population of the continent as a whole is lower than other continents with the same land mass. Australians mostly enjoy a laid-back lifestyle. There are plenty of beaches along with perfect beach weather. This gives so many people who live there, a natural glow from the year round mostly sunny weather.

One aspect it seems mandatory to mention is the Australian accent or Australian English. Granted, not all people like the way it sounds. Some peeps don't like the way Aussies sound, oh, but most peeps do!

(see what I did?)

The sound is unmistakable. The terminology is also unique.

Here's an easy to remember one - Aussie! An Australian citizen.

Brolly - Umbrella\

Barbie - BBQ

Fair Dinkum - Straight Forward

Avo - Avocado

Legless - Someone who is very intoxicated

Pissed - Intoxicated or drunk

Stubby - A bottle of Beer

Clucky - Maternal

Coppers - Police Men

Drongo - A fool or someone acting like one

(Don't be a drongo, mate!)

Footy - Football

Root Rat - A nympho, especially a guy

Sheila - A woman

Up Yourself - Snobby or stuck up

Roos loose in the top paddock - Crazy or a bit wacky

Budgie Smugglers - Speedo swimsuit

Bruce - An Aussie guy

Some of these you may have heard before as so many have been adopted outside of Australia. Some of them make sense, some make no sense unless you're a bloke or a sheila.

The Cardigan

 

Quite often that which is passed down father to son or mother to daughter is done so without the successive owners knowing "the story". Oh, everyone, every place, everything has a story.

In my short life, there are plenty of stories. True stories.

Being the lowest rank in the USAF, fresh out of BMT, my first base was Hickam AB, Honolulu, Hawai'i. I know. Pua ting, you.

As having very much of my own money was new to me, it was a new discovering of what I liked, shaping my own personal style. 

As many people know, Hawai'i is a warm, humid, tropical climate.

With that said, I went into the Hickam AB, BX (Base Exchange) one day, I saw a small rack of hand crocheted cardigans. To me, they were elegant, light. Perfect as a light cardigan for evenings out on the town.

Alas, the price was more than I could afford.

Being the very lowest rank in the USAF had certain benefits. Benefits such as being given the benefit of the doubt for any faux pas due to my rank & inexperience. One of those benefits was not a higher salary. The cardigan had captured my attention. Trying it on felt so nice. It was a very lightweight elegant wrap. The softness of the lacy crocheted pattern against the backs of my arms was equally nice. Still, I didn't have enough $$ to justify spending so much on something that was more of a want, less of a need.

It's granted that my basic needs were provided for.

Housing (barracks life, ugh)

Meals (Chow hall!)

Uniforms (USAF baby!)

Utilities (AC can be pricy)

Still, I was only 19, had never been taught how to manage money. At that time, I would spend close to my entire salary in the first week of the month.

Oops!

Still had a lot to learn about impulse spending, money management. Skills that had been taught to many of my peers weren't taught to me as they ought to have been.

Every chance I got, I went into the BX to try the cardigan on, tried to talk myself into buying one in my size. There were several, maybe 20 of the cardigans in different sizes. It seemed that one in my size would be around for a while. What had escaped my notice was that someone was watching me. Every time I went in, to try the cardigan on, someone was watching me.

After a month & 1/2 or so, I went into the BX to try a cardigan on, possibly, finally, buy one. As I went to the rack where they were there before. They were all gone. Looking around, hoping they had only been moved, my heart sank. Please keep in mind, I was only 19. Also, it felt as if I was less mature than my peers. Looking without finding the cardigan was far from the end of the world.

For me, it was a deep let down.

As hard as I fought it, a couple tears slipped down my face. The person who had been watching me, approached, asked me if I needed to sit for a moment. He guided me to a place with a small table & 2 chairs, asked me to wait there for him to come back.

It was a bit perplexing, still, I had the time to sit for a few minutes.

After a short time, the guy reappeared, walked toward me. He had the cardigan that was just my size, in his hands. Unsure of what was happening, I asked him where he had found it. I told him that my rank was very low, that I had wanted the cardigan very much, couldn't afford it.

As it turned out, he was the manager of the BX.

He held the price tag up, turned it over, wrote $1.00 on it. A price I could easily afford. He smiled, I grinned great big, a couple of happy tears slipped down my face.

He accompanied me to the register where he told the cashier that he had okayed the discount.

I was so overjoyed, although I was just going to the beach that day, I wore the beautiful cardigan over my hot pink bikini. It was perfect, so versatile it could be worn just about anywhere. With a bikini, jeans & tee or an evening gown.

I was to go out with a guy I had been spending time with later in the day. The cardigan would be perfect.

When my guy picked me up, he handed a dozen white roses to me as he had every time we went out. He complimented me on how beautiful the cardigan looked on me. If it was possible it made me like him a bit more, even like the cardigan a bit more.

He was such a great guy, the times he and I spent together were fun, memorable. It seemed that the good feelings between us had somewhat transferred to how I felt about the cardigan.

Fast forward.

My eldest daughter saw the cardigan in my closet, one day, really liked it. Earlier I had loaned it to another girl who hadn't been very careful with it. Some of the threads in the back had been burned by a cigarette while she had it. I wanted it to be perfect for my daughter

After asking around a bit, a lady whom I knew to be a master at crochet, agreed to repair it for me. She did such a great job it looked just as pristine as it did the day that I bought it. 

My eldest daughter began wearing the cardigan a lot. As something that sometimes happens, she regarded it as hers. It was time for me to let go of the cardigan along with the memories I attached to it. Letting go of the cardigan, while still keeping the memories in my heart.

My daughter didn't know the circumstance of my longing for the cardigan or the kindness of the BX manager. She, also, never knew about the hot guy I had dated & that I wore the cardigan every time I went out with him. She and I are not on speaking terms, as sometimes happens when adult children no longer need nor care about their parents. It's more about her husbands disrespectful treatment of me than anything. I divorced her father, who was abusive, who had treated me that way, I won't accept it from a SIL.

If she reads my blogs, which I doubt she does, she will see the circumstances plus, what it was that made me feel such fondness for the beautiful, timeless cardigan.

Maybe, someday, she will eventually pass it on, as well.

Recently, while shopping online, on Etsy, I saw it!

An exact match of the beautiful cardigan I had bought so long ago. It's 100% certain that it isn't the one my daughter inherited from me.

Yes, I bought it.

Yes, it's just as beautiful though it was more than $1.00.

With bated breath, I waited for my treasured cardigan to arrive. After it was delivered to my front porch, I took it inside. 

With my heart pounding, carefully unwrapping it.

The seller had generously included 2 more pieces with it. This cardigan is just as beautiful as the one I had passed down. Maybe, this one was passed down or will be passed down to someone who fancies it as much as I do. Different reasons, it's also just as elegant, versatile, timeless as the first one was.

Monogamy From The Heart

 If you have been reading my blog (no obligation) you might see that I have started many projects. Specifically, needlework projects. When I hit a rough time in life, I start a new project. It gives me the same sensation as falling in love.

An aunt whom I dearly love has said that people don't fall in love, they fall in horse crap, just don't know the difference.

In my particular attitude I probably have fallen in love with a project so many times I could start my own stable.

As it's the case, later in my stitching time, I learned to stick to one project to completion. Currently, Gift of Peace by Marilyn Leavitt Imblum of Lavender & Lace Designs. I started this design so long ago, truly, I don't remember when. It was misplaced.

I love it so much. Though I hadn't finished the first one, I started it again. This time around I finished it, sent it off to a professional framers to celebrate my win. While going through possessions, I found it. The first one. This time around, I'm sticking to this one project until completion.

It's easier to be faithful in a relationship than it is for me to stick to one project at a time. So far, I'm sticking to it. The different shades of red, the similar shades of white & ecru. It was a bit monotonous as relationships can often become. It became a bit boring. Still, I am sticking with it.

Why?

Because I want to complete this. Want to finish what I started.

In this dishonorable, in this disposable world?

Methinks it is.

There is a phrase that comes to mind.

"Why is it that when half begun creative joys diminish. It's more exciting to begin again than it ever is to finish."

That's saying it all, that's the belief, anyway.

It's a saying, a belief that it's necessary for me to detach from.

The projects that I have started, I intend to finish. As I'm still young enough to finish these, one by one, then I can enjoy seeing them on the wall or wherever they are placed.

True to Your Heart

Ask yourself, if you woke up one warm sweet morning, found that you had zero prior memory of who you are, who & what would you be?

For my fellow lady hawks out there, who are peaking at night. Ditto except if you had let your creativity carry you all night then slept all day, awakened shortly after moonrise. If you only had knowledge from the moment you awakened, who would you suppose yourself to be?

Feel it or reach into your imagination down deep into your identity, follow it. 

Have courage, it can be or become a bit scary.

You have an absence of memory of any hurts, pains or unkindness that may have befallen you. Equally, what your job or career is, escapes you. There are photos of people who you suppose you know in that space you awakened in or have known yet you're drawing as many blanks as to who they are just as the unanswered details of who you are or were.

This is about something else if you think it's Alzheimer's.

Nice try.

As you fish around inside your heart, your mind, feel for what appeals to you. 

What would you suppose your passions are?

What do you feel your natural abilities are?

What knowledge do you have whether natural or educated in?

When something comes to you, a tickle in your brain.

Something that is so ASMR it feels to be as much a part of you as your arms, legs, eyes, ears or what you have.

Unless it's something hopefully not illegal, immoral or self-harming, that's you.

Think about it.

I'll wait.

10 

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

For many people their passion can be something artistic, creative, trendy or some other such that won't immediately pay the water bill.

The act of following a passion is often a long road of starving, suffering, ridicule, pressure from those who lack understanding. Sometimes it can even be disgust, ridicule, backstabbing, ostracization. The term "starving artist" is close to reality.

Albeit late in my life, a new lease came to me. Being truthful, it was a combo of prepped - worked - hoped for. Keeping myself ready to receive, waiting, even starving (limited nutrition or food), dreaming big, I kept going. A still small message played in a loop in my head. It told me to keep going, keep striving, that I would have all that I had lost that I still wanted, that I would receive it plus more. 

More spiritual, more healing, more encouraging than anything.

After the new lease on life happened, there was a bit of doubt, a bit of suffering, anxiety, depression, bulimia. The insomnia I thought I had conquered came back with vengeance.

Trauma from the past, which I had pushed down deep began to affect me. It had affected me for a few decades, it was necessary to put it to the side. It could no longer be ignored, had to be dealt with. After a counselor I went to, lied to me, betrayed me, the realization that it was completely up to me to work through it on my own. When even a trained, skilled counselor with a stellar reputation can violate the ethics of their practice it's a clear indication that you're on your own.

One day, I hit rock bottom, unfortunately it wasn't buns of steel.

At the lowest point I had ever been, this message came to me. 

From that point onward, it became a mantra. A message so powerful, so beautiful, so comforting. It became my mantra to repeat in my mind when the inevitable challenges arose. Clinging to it was all to be done to keep going.

By doing this, I felt multiple shifts starting at the core of my being.

All of the pains of biting criticisms, the unkind treatment from those who were supposed to love me, began melting away. The pain was replaced with peace, quiet confidence, love filled thoughts.

During this time, it was a wondrous rediscovery of who I was along with stepping into becoming someone new.

It would be a falsehood to say it was easy.

Peeps, it was a ton of work.

Along the way, many people whom I had known before dropped away, frightened by who I was becoming. People who wanted me to stay the same as I was when they met me. It was for their comfort in whom they perceived me to be.

Change was scary enough for me, adding the fear of others was unbearable. Those who truly cared about me were delighted to see the positive changes I was making, stuck by me. Even offered encouragement when it was needed.

In present day, as a continued exploration of this new identity, personal growth is continuing. Forward motion is less scary, more exciting than anything. Discovering, even gravitating toward whatever beneficial element it is that draws me to it. The nature of growth is to (within reason) change with the times or volunteer to be left behind. By staying stuck in prior ways, ideas, practices one truly is volunteering to be left behind. 

Some people derive comfort from that, that's also okay.

Being true to my heart causes me to push away a layer of the cocoon to feel the freshness of a butterfly. Until the feeling of a cocoon closing around me begins again, then, pushing through it, life is once more, fresh, new, with more forward movement.

It falls short of saying;

 "I wish I could" or "Doing the work is optional".

It's definitely required to do the work, totally worth it.