While spending the morning with my hubby talking about nothing important and both doing our little things, my husbands little thing was gluing something with super glue and said I couldn’t laugh if his hand was stuck to it, so I laughed ahead of time.
the funny thing is his hand wasn’t stuck and neither was what he was gluing, He said sometimes it takes a while. My response: “Isn’t it funny how it takes a while for it to stick to whatever you are gluing it to but every time I have ever used it my fingers are stuck together immediately”? Isn’t it ironic
Thank you daily inspiration
There is a mysterious world on the thin strip of paper hidden behind the picture frames that quietly waits for the awkward moment.
The creatures of this world, are the rejects only labeled “who is that “, usually stay hidden from view but at times do appear in the one picture that everyone has smiled in, awkward!.
Human nature causes us to do everything imaginable to get the unwanted participant back hidden under the frame, cut it, turn it, resized the picture, get a different frame have become a familiar ritual just to get the “Who is that” visitor back to his world and under control.
It will most likely be a vicious cycle for as long as paper is available .
Save the planet go digital.
Thanks for the inspiration
Reading about blogging through grief accidently turned me into a sobbing useless wreck for an hour when I decided to wake up and write my own and see if it helps. In October 2013 I was hospitalized for going into preterm labor and that is where I stayed for what seemed like forever. I had been under an enormous amount of stress from my family (extended family aunts and uncles) and it was apparently getting to me. On November 25 my mother-in-law passed away having lost to cancer. I was not about to attend the memorial service still being in the hospital and it being against medical advice. Apparently sometimes those doctors know what they are talking about. On December 2nd at 8 am I went into labor and delivered twins at only 25 weeks. John and Jason were amazing weighing just under 2 pounds each. The first few days were quite a ride, they went from improving to having infections to being taken off medication to having brain bleed, both of them. They were not even cared for in the same room but they both ended up with lung infections at the same time. I inquired because in my opinion you get an infection by being infected. Probably when the housekeeper was empting the trash right next to his open pod.
Our sons passed away only 17 days after they were born after having been given a grave prognosis and being told that the had no chance and it was in our best interest to terminate life support. I kick my self about every day wonder who I thought I was to make that decision for them. Especially after finding out the only life support they were on was a respirator. They fought so hard but their little faces looked like they were a hundred years old and had lived a hard life. At least they were finally at peace.
Not 3 days after we were contacted that they needed the final arrangements for the babies and we told them that we would be coming to pick them up. We had planned on burying them on family property. When we went to pick them up we were told that that case had been turned over to the Adult protective services to investigate. We were even more upset at this point as we were right on the skirt of Christmas. I was leery wondering how CPS would be involved, they didn’t have enough money to take care of the children being beat to death but are still alive. As it turned out they lied but the accurate part was that it had been referred to CPS in the form of a complaint against me and my daughter was not being cared for among other things. When we got the call we were in her office with in 3 hours and she told us it was the strangest case she had ever seen. After the investigation there was found to be no error or my part.
Our choice to take possession and transport the babies was made after much research and documentation. Sometimes called home funeral or home burial in the state of Texas it is legal to take possession of a deceased person by the next of kin. We just decided the $900 each would be better spent on our daughters college fund. They were only 2 pounds each and for a 6 foot man we were going to move in a trash can. It took the help of the head of legal for home burials in our area to step in and we came to an agreement although it was not the legal or appropriate one. So they are at peace in our favorite place.
Our tragedy like so many others took a part of both of our spirits but we move on with the thought ” The ones we love live on in the memories we share of them.” It is just to bad that a closed minded and nosey person had to make a bad situation worse.
Thank you for the inspiration
1.Drive home from the airport with the windows down and breath in the clean country air and try to reduce the smell of the city
2. Chase cows in my car
3. Go for a treasure walk to see what surprises the land left us to find.
4. Watch the deer run across the yard at sunset
5. look up at the night sky and watch a billion stars shine bright and see a few fall
6. Make wishes
7. Go to sleep dreaming they come true.
Although age is just a number it is a designation on a scale that measures life experiences and the changes that come with them. As a tiny baby we are labeled and placed into categories that correspond to behaviors’ some way and not age. Toddler, kid, pre-teen, tween, teen, young adult, adult or elderly are normally used to group how you act. Me personally I am in my 40’s with a new baby, now I know why 20 year olds have them and 40 year olds are grandparents. I do have more patience and appreciate the special moments I am able to spend with her. My little toddler that I can’t find exactly what age that is but that is what the babycenter.com newsletter keeps telling me, melts my heart. I try to be the free spirit that provokes the old “Act your age”. So it is just a number that measures the steps that got me to the who I am.
Ping back to http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/age-old-questions/
From a pretty young age I was taught that birthdays are no big deal. In my picture albums there is one picture from my childhood that was me in front of a cake. I was probably only 7 or 8 years old and the only kids were my cousins that are the same age. I was a shy kid and we moved often with my parents’ job so I did not have many friends and what is the point of having a party without friends. I did have plenty of acquaintances and when I turned 21 decided to have my own party. It was at my dad’s house and it was a fun day and night pool party. There were people there that I haven’t seen in years. Remnants of it even lingered the day after in the ditch around the corner. My lasting memory was the burns on the bottom of my foot after stepping on two cigarette butts.
As I aged the celebrations were less frequent but I could always count on a card from my grandma with a few dollars in it and one from my mom with a $100 bill in it, always saying something like “This is not for paying bills or buying groceries, it’s just for you and just for fun.”
On my 29th birthday then boyfriend decided it would be fun to have a block party on my birthday and I thought it was a neat idea as not many gatherings have that neighborly feel. Little did I know I would be doing all of the cooking for over 100 people that visited that night. We had a pig roast and what seemed like a ton of sides and since it was a birthday I made the half sheet cake Happy Birthday Gibson, my nephew with the birthday the day after mine. We got a permit and blocked the street off like in an old movie. I found myself sitting in the middle of the street talking about nothing special with people that I had seen every day for the last 10 years but probably couldn’t tell you the name of 75% of them. There were some language barriers and the range in age of the guests ended up being 1 to 85 from all parts of the world. We visited until the early morning when everyone wandered home safely on foot and the air was let out of the bounce house. After that night at least to me I felt safer in my home than I ever had in the past and special to have a neighborhood I could be proud to live.
So, the answers to the question of “do I like a book or a bash”? There is a time and place for everything and I would not trade any of my memories in for the hope of something better.
thanks to pingback
It seems that at some point or another most of us get completely infatuated with a place we just happen to visit on our journey through life. It is often a vacation destination such as Disney World that is hands down the place to send a young child into imaginary overload that will last for most of their trip home or at least until they have to take off the ears, or a mini marathon tour of Europe, visiting 20 countries in 10 days where everyone will bring home some trinket to remind them of the crowded bus and tour guide broken record stating “ Take your time quickly” at every stop.
I am the confused one in this category. I want to figure out how to bring my home town with me. When I bought my first house it was one street of newly constructed homes with the location chosen to remain a close distance to an aging relative that wanted to maintain their independence. The neighborhood was a diverse group from the far ends of the spectrum, mostly quiet but respectful. A few years ago we arranged a birthday party and it ended up as a full blown block party, complete with permits to block the street a pig roast and bounce house for the kids. We put fliers on everyone’s door and hoped for the best. Many people that we had seen daily for years but never even spoke to attended with their families. We had ages ranging from 1 to 88 years old and quite a variety of family origins with almost 100 quests. It gave me the opportunity to meet my neighbors. It led to the comeback of the traditional gathering that is all but dead in this day and age. The party lasted well into the early morning but after that we went outside gathered in the street helped one another and found this odd feeling that used to be known as friendly. Just one of those memories that will stay with me forever and maybe even organize it again where ever I end up.
By the way, it was my birthday and I had the chance to get to know my new hubby who cleaned my kitchen for my present because he felt so bad he didn’t get me anything