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Archive for the ‘family’ Category


My head was thumping. I was having trouble thinking.

Oh God!

I shot straight up, realizing the lump in the bed next to me was alive and possibly awake. A sliver of light broke through the darkened hotel room.

Minutes ticked by while my mind raced to remember.

Why was I in a hotel room? Convention, yeah, we were at a convention. Who was we? Me and my three closest friends.

A late night of shots and gambling left me hazy as to the details. The other three lumps began stirring. Three heads started popping up, then burrowing back into their pillows and back up again. If I had a mallet I could have played whack-a-mole.

I flipped on the lamp.

Holy mackerel!

I fell asleep with my friends in the room and woke up with three trolls instead. These women were able to completely change the shape and color of their features.

I have a heart-shaped birthmark on my cheek. I like to tell young tattooed people it started as a little heart by my eye. But by the time I’m eighty it’ll have fallen to my boob and look like an arrow pointing straight to hell.  I digress.

That mark is always there no matter how much stuff I try to cover it with.  I feel like a throw back to the Jurassic period.

I was on my knees praying to Maybelline to save me.

Holy Sephora! How’d they do that Cover Girl?

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were close but not this close

Excuse me I want out of that family.

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243

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Presentation1

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02 (5)

April

Uncertainty

April 1

I was cleaning off my desk. I wanted everything to be ready, just in case. There was a pile of self help books. All designed to help you figure out what you really want to do. I keep starting them, then tossing them aside. I’m not sure I ever really performed the exercises or answered the profound questions. Why do you need so many books to answer one simple question – “what should you do with your life”? I set them aside. Possible lymphoma the doctor had said. Perhaps, if she were right, I’d go through them during chemo.

I boxed up all my paints – oils, watercolors, pastels, stabilizers, thickeners, and brushes. I doubt I’ll be using them any time soon. Perhaps I should give them to some young artist, maybe the Allen boy. Art supplies are expensive and he’s in college. He’d appreciate them.

I found the paint set I got for my tenth birthday, tubes of acrylics in a little wooden box. There were plastic inserts used to mix the paints with just the right amount of water. I used these to create my first masterpiece of a horse, Old Billy, eating grass in front of the barn. The brushes are gone, the paints dried up and the plastic inserts have disintegrated, but I think I’ll keep them just the same.

I keep thinking about my mother, diagnosed with cancer at my age, dead two years later. But I don’t have to worry, I don’t have cancer.

I sorted through some old files and found sketches I’d made in high school. When I was young, I thought I’d be an artist, a painter. I’ve been painting and drawing for as long as I can remember. I don’t know what I’ll do with these old pictures, but I can’t throw them away.

When should I tell my family? My younger sister, Allie has depended on me since our parents died. I don’t want to worry her if it turns out to be nothing, but I don’t want to wait too long either. I just don’t want to worry anyone if I don’t have to.

For more in this story, select the Meet Me By the Gate tab at the top of the page.

 

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penny black woman

My sister was tired of expensive cable bills, so she cancelled her cable.

Of course a cable company representative called to try and entice her back with a special offer. He asked, “I see you cancelled your cable service. May I ask why?”

I’m sure he expecting some reply like, ‘It’s too expensive’ or maybe ‘I don’t really watch it that much’.

Did my sister say one of these canned replies? No.

She said, “I canceled cable to get the devil out of my life.”

The voice on the other end of the phone was silent. That’s right, try to find a special offer for demonic possession. That story surely became call center legend.

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photo_zps39f3d4ee

 My nephew, the Pistol is five and in kindergarten. He brings home a folder everyday in which the teacher puts a smiley or frowny face and my sister is required to sign it.

When my sister asked for the folder, the Pistol said, “That folder is filled with lies, written by a liar.”

Of course it was a frowny face and read, the Pistol pulled his pants down and sat on a table.

When questioned further, the Pistol replied, “No, I pulled my pants down, then up and then sat on the table.”

His teacher told my sister not to worry about it. It’ll be better once he’s moved to the gifted program.

What the teacher really meant – “Don’t worry about it. It’ll be better once he’s out of my class.”

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57 (2)

My dog, Blind Dog, is afraid of the broom, the mop, cell phones, the car, white linoleum, ipods, sticks, bugs, leaves, loud noises, …

She’s brave enough to bark at things from the livingroom window. In an effort to increase her self-esteem, I’m now encouraging her to bark at other dogs from the window.

“Get ‘em Blind Dog, blood makes the grass grow green”.

They say dogs are like their owners, I don’t see it.

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kid winter girl

Remember those childhood games we use to all play when a do over would save the day? And you look and you think and you wonder.

You wish you had those do overs in life. You could back it all up and make it all right. And you look and you think and you wonder.

And now that you’re grown You have to play it alone. And you look and you think and you wonder.

Is this the day that will end it all? Is this the day that you finally fall? And you look and you think and you wonder.

Should you be playing at all? Would you be safer not risking the fall? And you look and you think and you wonder.

 

 

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water baby kid

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