Ode To Those I Love, Part IV

Today is my sisters 40th birthday. She was born on December 7th, 1968 in Altadena, CA. She was the first grandchild and the perfect baby. Not to mention beautiful with those big blue eyes and long dark eyelashes. She was given the name Tammy Marie by my parents. She doesn’t like her first name, and I have to agree, by itself, it’s rather 60’s-ish. But to my ears, hearing her called Tammy Marie has always been pretty. As a little one, I was never able to say Tammy, so she became Sissy and the name stuck. As recently as a week ago, I referred to her as Tammy and was reprimanded. To me she will forever be Sissy. Like the Baldwin Sisters from Walton’s Mountain. Two old women, calling each other by their childhood nicknames.

She spent the first 4 years, 3 months & 16 days of her life on her own. Then I came into the world and she became so much more than just a big sister. I was her baby. It is because of her that my name isn’t Bridgette or something equally dated to the early 70’s. She choose to give me her middle name because she wanted us to share it. From the day I was born, I was her biggest fan and she was my everything.

We spent the first part of lives as one word, TammyAndMichelle or TheGirls. We were frequently dressed alike in handmade dresses or blouses. It wasn’t unusual for our hair to be cut the same either. We were usually given the same gifts and always a matching set of Barbies. I suppose the idea was to eliminate arguing. I don’t recall fighting with each other when we were very little, but once she entered middle school & high school, there was a lot of bickering. Not ones to stay mad at each other, it never took long for us to be friends again. As adults we are individuals but still as close as sisters can be. We no longer intentially dress alike or have the same hair style. Now when we bicker it's usually only Minnie Mouse tones and followed by quite a bit of laughter. We are still at times given the same gift by our grandparents. Some things never change.

I cannot adequately relate my love of her here. Words seem meaningless. I’m grateful she understands my heart and how much I do love her. She has been my greatest defender, my best friend, my biggest adversary, my parent, my sister. If God gave me the choice I would still pick her as my sister. She is beautiful and kind. Intelligent and funny. When I’m having a bad day, a phone call from her can pick me up. She lives several hundred miles away yet still, my Lovey loves her like another mom. She amazes me. She is an incredible mother. Her children never doubt that they are truly loved. She makes time for each one every day. Whether its five minutes or several hours, they all get a moment when they are the only thing she focuses on. I know she doubts this, but I see it. This sister of mine manages to raise her children, home school them, run a business, help her husband with running his business, helps our grandparents with their needs, lends a hand to anyone in need, all at the same time. Only occasionally do I see all of this affect her. She keeps it together and keeps all at peace. She lives a life full of grace and remembers each day to praise God for it all.

When I was little, maybe 4 or 5, Sissy would read Winnie The Pooh to me. It is because of this that one will always remind me of the other. Pooh said something to Christopher Robin once that sums up perfectly what I’ve been trying to say: “If you live to be 100, I hope I live to be 100 minus 1 day, so I never have to live without you.”

I love you my sweet Sissy. Happy Birthday!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Desert Storm
Originally uploaded by ms4jah

Happy Thanksgiving! I know, I’m a few days early but we’re on the road tomorrow morning to Warner Springs for a cold & rainy holiday. One of the many things I’m thankful for. The coming days will be filled with cooking & family. There’s so many of us that the list of things I’m thankful for often goes unspoken. So with two more days to go, here are a few of those many, many blessings….

I am thankful for…
My family-California & beyond
My old friend Ferris coming back into my life
My job and the simple fact that I still have one
The weather finally cooling off for a chilly Thanksgiving
That it will rain this week and the burnt earth will begin to heal
That on Thanksgiving Day we will have a lovely meal made from scratch by loving hands

With that, I wish you a beautiful holiday.

For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food,
For love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Trying to find peace....

I’m currently a bit overwhelmed with worry. I think most of us are. It seems everyone I know is facing some sort of crisis. My sweet brother in law is a financial advisor and deals with it everyday. I’ve been comforted by the fact (as told to me by my Sissy) that many of the appointments he’s gone on have started off about money, but have ended up being time spent in discussion of faith and comfort that God will provide. Today, my loved ones & I have roofs over our heads. Food in our stomachs. Clothes on our backs. If tomorrow we don’t, we are not alone and will care for one another. That is enough.
Times are changing and as they say, our true selves will be revealed in how we handle the hardships and change.

I recently created a playlist for myself on iTunes. I love it. It’s a little bit political, but not entirely. If, like me, you listen to the beauty of the music combined with the lyrics, you’ll see what I mean. It shows my frustration & hope at the same time. Music can soothe the weary heart. I just spent the last 30 minutes slyly trying to figure out how to post it here through imeem with no luck at all. So, it’s up to you. I’ll give you the playlist. If you want to hear the music itself, head on over to iTunes or wherever you listen to music & create it your self. Enjoy.

God’s Gonna Cut You Down-Johnny Cash
In The News-Kris Kristofferson
One-U2
Instant Karma-John Lennon
This is Our Country-John Mellancamp
Mercy Now-Mary Gauthier
No More-The Blind Boys of Alabama
The Times They Are A Changin’-Bob Dylan
Rich Mans War-Steve Earle
White House Blues-Charlie Poole
We Can’t Make It Here-James McMurtry
What Ever Happened To Peace On Earth-Willie Nelson & Friends
I Hope-The Dixie Chicks
What’s Going On-Marvin Gaye
This Land Is Your Land-Woody Guthrie
A Change is Gonna Come-Sam Cooke
Waiting On The World To Change-John Mayer
Cherry Bomb-John Mellancamp
Real Bad News-Aimee Mann

Cupcake Rationalization

hostess cupcake ttv
Originally uploaded by lifelovepaper

I was on the phone with my sister last night. At one point she started to give me a really hard time (big sister type of hard time) for eating a Twix bar. A Halloween sized Twix bar. She remembers me saying that I don’t like cheap chocolate. Really, I don’t. It’s kind of waxy and very sugary. BUT-who can resist Halloween sized chocolate? Not me. So anyway, later in the conversation I hear the sound of plastic and ask what she’s doing. What does she say but, “Eating a Hostess Cupcake.” Eating a Hostess Cupcake. Uh-huh. That’s better than eating a Halloween snack size Twix bar. I say this exact thing to her. She, my big sister, a grown woman who home schools her children, runs a business and a household, justifies it by saying “It’s not a real cupcake, it’s mostly air”.

(Pausing while you read that again-go ahead I’ll wait while you stop laughing & catch your breath.)

My only question is….does it say that on the nutritional information label?

Yummy brownies

I've had this recipe for S'More Brownies for about a month now but never got around to making them. (Photo to the side is from the Food Network website. We ate them too quickly to bother with photography. CHOCOLATE PEOPLE! ) So, this weekend, when the opportunity came up to spend the day with Ferris and her girls I decided it was time.

Oh my goodness were they yummy! The 7 year old was told to take her plate out to the porch for fear of ooey gooey marshmallow getting all over the carpet. As we sat silently eating our afternoon treat we hear from outside "THESE ARE SO GOOD", quickly followed by an impish appearance at the front door, complete with marshmallow dripping down her chin "THESE ARE SO GOOD!" Please click on the photo to be taken to the recipe on www.FoodTv.com. Full disclosure...I did not make the scratch brownies included in the recipe. I used a boxed brownie mix. Maybe next time...for now I was looking for fast and crowd pleasing.

Earlier in they day I made two pans of the graham cracker crust. One for Ferris & her family, the other for mine. As I left the house I mentioned to my husband that he could make the brownie part if he felt like it. Fully expecting to come home to a still empty graham cracker crust. USC was on TV after all. I was pleasantly surprised when I came home to find that he did make the brownie part. All I needed to do was toast the marshmallows. Ferris & I had done this part earlier without a hitch. We had warm golden toasted goodness. No such luck later. I turned on the broiler. I slid the pan in the oven. I called my grandmother. As I sat talking to her about my recipe for Apple Pecan Cheesecake I detected the unmistakable smell of burning sugar. A quick "hold on!" as I threw the phone down and ran to the kitchen. The marshmallows were hugely swollen and a very crisp, very dusty black. I had no choice but to laugh. I grabbed my biggest spoon and scraped away all the char, leaving a shiny marshmallowy glaze on my husbands brownies. We ate them anyway.

Dinner

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Originally uploaded by bbratsthoughts

Made hash from left over roast beef tonight. I think I enjoy this part of a roast more than I enjoy it the first night. The carrots carmelize. The potatoes brown and crisp. Comfort food at it's best.

Grace Stikes Again

I've mentioned before that my nickname growing up was Grace (one of the many nicknames anyway). Well. This weekend, she stuck her foot out and tripped me up again.

We were visiting family yesterday. The terrain was not my own. Lovey & I were horsing around as we often do. - Now, before I describe this "horsing around" we were doing, please know that nothing is done viciously or with anger, we are laughing the entire time, and for the most part, it is done softly with intent of messing with the other person, not hurting them. There is rarely pain & apologies and giggles are passed when there is.- SO...This game we play usually starts with one of us very lightly kicking the other one in the calf or the rear end. Or lightly finger slapping the other one in the arm or again, the leg. Sometimes there is poking in the arm or stomach. All it takes is one touch and we're both off giggling and smacking each other. My husband HATES it when we do this. He says it's because he knows one of us will end up hurt. But, that rarely happens. I think it's because he's more than a little jealous. He's one of those "doesn't play well with others" kind of fellows. He does play too hard and someone does get hurt when he gets involved.

As we were playing, Lovey got a good smack on my leg. We had an audience and had them all laughing. Because this smack was loud (but not painful) he took off running outside. This caused everyone-mostly men-to make chicken sounds. Again, just teasing , he was laughing & smiling the whole time. While he taunted me from outside the screen door, I warned "Just you wait...I know where you sleep!" A few minutes later, he braved the indoors and stood talking to his uncle. I crept up behind him, kicked him softly in the rear end and took off.

This is when I learned a very important safety tip. Never wear Crocs while running on thick piled carpet. The rubber sticks and you just don't get the speed or control you need. I turned the corner, the toe of my shoe caught on the carpet, my knee buckled underneath me. I looked forward and saw only the corner of the wall. Quickly, I stuck out my arms so they would grab it first rather than my head crashing into the corner. My hands made it, my arms grasped it, I made it to the wall without injury. This was not done gracefully. I was literally hugging the wall while my legs were bent at strange angles, both feet stuck in place because of that darn rubber shoe. As I giggled, I slid down the wall, hit the floor, rolled over and started laughing. My sweet Lovey knew I wasn't hurt so he too laughed to the point of falling to the floor. My wonderful sister in law watched all of this in a panic. All I could hear above the laughter was her calling my husbands name over & over, sure I had seriously injured myself.

I did scrape my knee, and I do have a large bump on my wrist, but the fun was more than worth it. As I stood in my own kitchen later, my husband examining my slightly swollen wrist, he said "I knew someone would get hurt." I just smiled and went for the facts. My boy is 14. He doesn't let me kiss him. He will only on the rarest of occasions let me hug him. But he will play with me. If I get a little banged up in the process, then so be it. Years from now neither of us will remember the sting of a finger slap but we will remember the laughter.

Proud Parent

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Originally uploaded by bbratsthoughts

Lovey has been going to "school" his entire life. I've always worked outside the home so he's always had to get up early, pack up his necessities in his backpack and head out the door. The necessities used to be his stuffed Eeyore and Winnie The Pooh blanket. Now it's 50 pounds of books and binders.

While he is a very smart boy, sitting down and listening to a teacher has never been his strong suit. He'd rather take his own time, learn it in his own way. It was the same when learning to write his name as it is learning algebra. The ability is there, but never the drive. He knows things about our history and science that no one has ever taught him, he just knows somehow. I frequently say to him "Why can't you use this power for good?"

The middle school years were extremely difficult (not quite an accurate description-there are not words to describe how painful and heartbreaking they were). Early on, The Mayor & I would help Lovey with his homework. We worked hard on staying involved in what was due and when. We felt that without our push he just wouldn't do the work. This "help" as we saw it, almost always ended in battles & tears. His sensitive nature thought we were picking on him and putting too much pressure on him. After a year and a half of this struggle we stopped helping. We stopped pushing. Clearly the amount of pressure Lovey was feeling wasn't doing anyone any good. No more than "did you finish your homework" crossed our lips. We made the choice that living peacefully together was much more important than whether his homework was done. Was this the right choice? I don't know. Lovey spent so much energy lying to us about whether or not the work was done that his guilt ended up in the same battles and tears. He has always been the type of boy that would "tattle" on himself. If he has done something bad or wrong, he feels it deeply and is often harder on himself than we could ever be. In the end, our choice to not pressure him only resulted in his guilty feelings overwhelming him.

We finally sought help in dealing with his feelings about himself and towards us. Help with how we were handling the situation. Most of our Wednesday night therapy sessions ended uncomfortably. With either me crying, The Mayor angry & hurt, or Lovey silent and withholding. But it's been good for all of us in the long run.

Along with our Wednesday nights, I have spent countless hours in prayer for Lovey. Asking God to be with him. To bring him peace. To allow him focus and understanding towards what he needs to do. Pleading with Him to wrap his loving arms around my boy and protect him from the dangers facing his teenage years.

At then end of his 8th grade year, Lovey was failing 3 classes. Not just the detested algebra, but science & language too. Because of teachers that could see his potential he was given the chance to focus on catching up. He worked diligently during those few months and improved all of those F's up to C's. Without pressuring him, I simply said "Lovey, think of what you could have accomplished had you put in just put in a fraction of that hard work during the year." Normally, he would have protested. Blamed everyone but himself while internally feeling like a failure. I braced myself for the argument that would surely come my way, but it didn't. He just said "I know Mom".

The summer months flew by. On occasion we would talk about the coming change of high school. We would gently tell him that it would be much harder than middle school and that it would require a lot more effort on his part. In the past, these types of conversations would lead to a fight, but not once over the summer did we argue over it. Each time it was discussed he would say "I know. I'm going to try hard this year." Words are easy, it's the actions that tell the story. As September approached I wanted desperately to believe his words. It's a terrible feeling to distrust your child. But all of the fights and lies in the past kept me from being able to trust his words. I continued my prayers, begging for Gods guidance and help with the child I love so fiercely.

The first day of school arrived. In an effort to keep a calm in the house I didn't make a fuss. I didn't take the day off from work. I tried to make it like any other day. When I arrived home from work, Lovey jumped right in to telling me about his day. Talking about his teachers and who he thought he would like & dislike. He gave me the papers I needed right away. He asked for my help in getting the new list of supplies still needed. I sat at the table soaking it all in. Never in his previous 9 years of school had he come home with that much enthusiasm. Never had he volunteered information about his day. Inside I was screaming & jumping for joy. Outside, I smiled and listened. I covered his books while he talked & talked. I helped put together his binders while he laughed telling me he was too nervous to eat lunch that day.

I went to bed that night thankful to God for the joy and peace he had given sweet Lovey. I was eternally grateful for that one day of an enthusiastic student. It's been a week and while the excited nervous energy is gone, the enthusiasm towards the work seems to have stayed. Two nights went by with no homework. A familiar line of "I did it at school" were heard. The doubt crept back into my mind. So I asked. I told Lovey I wanted to believe him, that I did believe, but I needed to see the homework he said he had done. This too would normally cause a huge fight. To my great relief, it didn't. He didn't comment. Didn't argue. He got his book and showed me the work.

There will continue to be a bit of doubt and a need for Lovey to earn back my trust, but I'm taking each day one at a time. The last week was so incredible. I know there will still be bumps in the road, but a huge part of my heart believes that the worst is behind us. I am always proud of Lovey for all that he is and the beauty of his mind and heart. But today, I get to proud of him as a student too. My heart sings with thanks and joy.

Go Bulldogs!

Bulldog
Originally uploaded by k.love

Just got back from my sons high school orientation meeting. The principal is inspiring and driven. The assistant principals seem to be serious, dedicated and fun. I've come away inspired by their talks. Not only is this a huge scary milestone sort of of change, but it's also a chance to change in a good way.

Lovey has seen the importance of applying his incredible brain power to school and seems really dedicated to becoming a better student. He also said that he's thinking of joining the golf team. I can't tell you how much this will please not only his father, but his grandfather & uncles. In typical 14 year old fashion, there isn't a lot of umph behind the voice, but the enthusiasm of the words was a joy to hear.

Here's to new adventures and new beginings!

Sunday Morning Tresspassing

This weekend my family went to Warner Springs, what could be considered the ancestral home of my husbands family. His grandparents started going there and built a house overlooking the valley well over 50 years ago. The house was sold, sadly, a few years ago. However, at the same time a long missed sister moved back to Southern California and was fortunate to purchase an amazing house in the same neighborhood. We love driving down to visit them for long weekends of food, laughter and love.

This weekend would be no exception. All of the remaining siblings with the exception of one, headed to Warners to honor the birthday and passing of their mother who died 20 years ago. Friday and Saturday passed with the typical relaxation and enjoyment. Golf, swimming, catching a few moments of the Olympics, playing games.

Sunday, however, was a different story. Just this week, my husband and I were talking about how he and his siblings are "rule breakers". They don't break the law (anymore), but the rules for most people simply don't apply. My theory is that coming from such a large family, they think differently about rules that the rest of the world. They say, "What are they going to do, arrest us all?"

When Mom died per her request, her ashes were to be spread at the observatory that can be viewed from the patio of their grandparents pink house in Warner Springs. This would allow all of her children to be able to see her resting spot from the house that they loved, and they feel, it would allow her to keep and eye on them.

Sounds simple enough, drive an hour to the observatory, use one of the hiking trails, and scatter the ashes to the wind. Sure, simple for most people, but not this group. Not only is spreading ashes in a public place like this not permitted, but they strayed from the path, into restricted areas of the observatory so that they could see the road leading to the pink house. This was no small feat considering the number of people involved.

Sunday morning, just after 6am, we planned to follow the rules. We were going to park in the parking lot, hike in, have a picnic breakfast and say a few words of remembrance. After a beautiful drive up high in the mountains, we arrived at the observatory to find it closed until 9am. No matter, we parked our cars (in between two no parking signs mind you) and decided to take the hiking trail. Then we remembered...rattle snakes....probably not a good idea to go tramping through dense brush in the early morning hours of a warm summer day. The sisters turned toward the gate, ignored the large "Authorized Personnel Only" sign and started walking. Every fork in the road, we took the "No Entry" path. This is a large observatory, used by the local, state, and federal government. Just on the other side of the observatory lies a large military base. Not to mention that we were trespassing through mountain areas during a time of high fire danger. Were we really making the right choices?

Upon arriving at one of the smaller domes, they decided that this was the place. Sister J quickly said a few words, Brother B talked of missing his mother on this, her birthday. We held hands and shared the brief sadness. Then, realizing that the opening hour was approaching we dashed back to the "No Parking" zone hoping our cars would still be there.

During the walk back, a large utility truck turned a corner and headed towards us. We all thought that we were caught. We drew a collective breath, all hung our heads and kept walking. My guilty mind thinking..we're going to be arrested! We're all together so who will come bail us out? The truck passed us by of course. No surprise to my husband and his siblings. We made it out of the observatory safely and thankfully our cars remained where we had left them. No tow truck, not so much as a ticket. How do they get away with it?

As we said goodbye and headed back down the mountain, I thought I heard the laughter of a mother at her sweetly misbehaved children.

Where Have I Been

Seriously? Where have I been? Why has it been nearly two years since my last post? I never intended it to be my last. Never made a conscience effort to stop blogging. It just slipped past me.

My sweet Lovey is now 14 and starts high school in September. See how much he has changed! We're all a little bit nervous about this next big step. I have faith though, that together we will make it though.


I'm still living in Southern California. While my dreams of moving to Idaho have certainly not died, I have gained patience. I'm at ease with being where we are now because I know it won't be forever.


I'm still at the same job, although with the mortgage industry being what it is, my job is day to day. It's stressful but I'm trying hard to remain upbeat about the whole thing. So many people have lost their jobs, including friends, that I'm thankful to still have a paycheck and insurance.

My Sissy, who also has not blogged in quite some time, has finally opened her store. A physical location, not just a website. The store is lovely and suits her to a T. I'm so very proud of her. Not everyone gets to realize there dreams in this life and she has.

My niece and nephews are as beautiful as ever. Growing every day. Each call I make to them leaves me in awe at how quickly time passes. Sweet Minnie is 10! She's such a grown up girl now. I miss her being little. Magoo too is growing up. He's such a sweet and caring boy. Monkey is no longer a baby, which is so very sad but also wonderful.

I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful family.

Now, onto the blog-of-it. I think my mission needs to change with the blog. I have finally decided that I need to "find my bliss" so to speak. I need to use the gifts given to me. I am talented and creative and my aim is to start creating and share those creations here. Wish me luck.

Signing off until next time.....

Saturday night photo...

Finally..I was able to upload this picture from our dinner out on Saturday night. Not a very good picture of me, but a good one of Chas (before shaving off his beard & mustache).

The other pictures are even worse so I won't be sharing them. And that's that.

Lovey's look

I was talking on the phone to my sister earlier this evening. (Not unusal.) Lovey was giving her such a LOOK for keeping me busy and away from proof-reading his spooky story that is due tomorrow. This is it. There was a lot of dancing around associated with the look. Not an very flattering photo, I know, but funny none the less.

I woke up with a stranger!

Ohmygosh! This morning I woke up to a stranger. For over 20 years my husband Chas has had a mustache. I've never NEVER seen him without one. Other than in pictures of course. I've known him for 14 years and he's had a beard for most of that time. For the last year or so, my neighbor Irish & I have been teasing, gently prodding him into shaving it off. Just to see what he looked like. He always laughed and said no. I truly never believed he would do it. But this morning, while I lay sleeping. He did.

I was deep asleep. I felt him kiss my cheek but was so asleep it just barely woke me. Then I heard him say "You didn't notice anything different?"

"What?" I said, somewhat grogily. I opened my eyes and this is what I saw...

I was shocked I tell you. Shocked! I cannot believe how different he looks with out the facial hair. He looks like his brother Flash! It's a about 2 hours later and I'm still shocked by it. Both that he actually did it, and how he looks. He's had the mustache so very long that his upper lip is white from lack of exposure to the sunlight. Now that's funny. He walked into our neighborhood Starbucks this morning and the girls behind the counter (who know him well, he's there every day) couldn't believe their eyes. Lovey spent the night at a friends house. He is going to flip out when he sees his dad! For a man who likes to be the center of attention, he sure has a full week ahead of himself.

Now, onto the events of last evening, the country club dinner following the 3 day golf tournament Chas participated in. Even after wonderful suggestions to which dress I should wear to this "classy casual" event, I choose to go a different route. Mostly because both dresses presented a clea*age problem. The V neck line dipped a wee bit further than I'm comfortable with and adding a lacy camisole underneath to help the problem, just didn't look right with either dress. So, being that casual was part of the dress code for the night, I wore a typical work outfit for me. Gray flannel dress capries, a sheer black crinkle blouse with black camisole underneath & my favorite stack heeled mary janes. I was comfortable and looked nice. We had Irish take some pictures but they really didn't turn out all that well. My husband & I felt that I looked a lot better in person than the photos showed. My hair was curled & shiny, my make-up was just right, and this is something I rarely say, I thought I looked pretty. (I've tried about 4 times now to upload a picture, blogger says it's done, but it never appears.)

It was a beautiful evening last night. Just the right temperature, and a breath taking harvest moon. Our host, the man that invited Chas to play the tournament with him, didn't show up to dinner so we really didn't know anyone. Chas knew a few people, but just from playing golf with them. So we ate dinner, had some dessert and went home. Not a very exciting evening, but that's alright.

Some photos to share.

Not much to say. Just wanted to post some pictures taken with my new camera. I haven't figured out all of the bells & whistles yet so they aren't great. But..I thought I'd share anyway.


This is my cat Brother. I'm really not a crazy cat lady I just thought this picture turned out really good. His eyes look a little weird, but I like it. He's a beautiful cat. He really is that shiny. He's named Brother because when we adopted him, we also adopted his sister. Lovey, who was only 5 at the time, named them Brother & Sister.

Lovey & I played hookey on Friday and went to Disneyland. We have season passes so it's easy to just go without spending an arm & a leg. We had a really good time. It wasn't very crowded. He was tired of my taking pictures of him by this point so I took a "self portrait" instead. He's trying to make a weird face. Anything to not smile in a picture. I usually really really dislike pictures of myself, but this one isn't so bad. . Although the hair is looking a bit strange. That's what happens after going on Splash Mountain, and sitting in the front. We were both a little soggy & frizzy for the rest of the day.

And here's my lovey. This was just about the last picture I got out of him for the day. He was glad we went and so was I. We always have fun when we go to Disneyland just the two of us. We rode almost all of our favorite rides and just, hung out together.

This picture is actually from August, but I like it and it shows how long his hair was before I finally convinced him to cut it off. It wasn't being taken care of the way it should be, so he didn't have much of a choice. This was just another day where he and I were being goofy. Took about 6 pictures before I could get him to smile at all.

Well, that's about it. Like I said, nothing much to say. Just wanted to share some pictures since I haven't in quite a while. Ta for now.

Long Distance Phone Calls & Rambling Converstaions.

You know those Master Card commercials? The ones where they show a scene, name a price and so on and so on until they end with "Priceless"? Well that about sums up most of my conversations with my sister.

Our long distance bill is, needless to say, high. I do not have a single person in my immediate family that lives in the same state. Not one. Even my husbands family, save one sister, all live out of the area. But who cares! I have to talk to my sister.

Tonight was one of those calls full of everything and nothing. In 20 short minutes we squeezed in complete nutty-ness, serious talk about my nephews and their special needs, not to mention my sons. We discussed the beauty of her children and the rapid growing up of mine. We talked about dinner. Several times.

You see, when calling my sisters house, it is impossible to have a simple, uninterrupted conversation. There is always one little one or another asking a question, doing something cute, or getting in trouble. There have been countless conversations, serious ones, interrupted mid sentence, mid word with "Mr Magoo Middle Name Last Name I said NO!" "Monkey get down from there!" "Missie not now I'm on the phone with Tantie!" "Have an M&M/Donut/Cookie/Granola bar".

This is not a complaint. I love these moments. They make me feel like I'm there. There are times when she's talking away to me and I'm just listening to the little voices in the background. And those moments when one of them wants to talk to me? Well, I just melt right through the phone.

Tonight was one of the typical nights. The differences in our lifestyles was quite evident. She in the midst of making dinner for 3 hungry sprites. Me, just getting home from a long day in the cubicle and rushing to get ready to start my 2nd job. With all of the distractions she must have asked me 3 times what I was making for dinner after we had a somewhat funny discussion about what I was making already. Finally I make a joke about it and what came out of her was "Ahhh Sooo". That did it. I laughed so I hard I ended up drooling. Gross I know, but really I was over-multi tasking and something had to let loose. I had the small cordless phone (the size of a cell phone-what was I thinking when I bought that thing!) crooked between my shoulder and ear slipping with each small movement, talking away, putting my way too long hair into a pony tail, taking off my long pants worn to work, digging through the clean laundry looking for a clean pair of shorts because as I mentioned yesterday the Santa Ana's are here making for a very warm evening and my son has shut all of the windows in the house because he is somehow, impossibly cold, and finally pulling them on, then pulling them up because they are old an too big, but perfect. Now I'm sweating too because I'm hot and trying to balance too many things (not to mention putting together the longest run on sentence EVER). Like I said, something had to give. Finally I said "Someday we are going to have a nice civilized conversation on the phone, just you and me". No one between the ages of 12 & 3 would be allowed to speak, look at or be in the same room. No men between 38 (I think that's how old G is) and 44 either. Just me and my lovely sister. Having a polite conversation. But really, what fun would that be. Not much.

So we get into a conversation about a person we know (okay..kim..you) and she's telling me about some similarities they share. Then we get into personalities and how I'm emotional. Not necessarily in a bad way. I've come a long way in the last few years. They're just easily accessible. Like while watching Greys Anatomy the other night. I have seen Season 2. I know how it ends. I have it on DVD. I know how it ends. I've seen the ending more than 4 or 5 times. I KNOW how it ends. But every time, never fails. I cry. No, not cry. I weep! So while watching the season premier the other night, every time Izzie appears I start again. Can't control it. Just keep crying. Then getting irritated with my self because I'm crying and can't see what's happening. It's the same thing while on the phone with Idaho. I can jump between laughing so hard the before mentioned drooling incident happens, then I'm stressed & worried about something happening or not happening there. Then laughing again because she asked me AGAIN what I was making for dinner. Ahhh Sooo.

What am I going to make for dinner anyway?

1st day of 7th Grade for Lovey

I just read my sisters last few posts and it confirmed why I don't do this more often. She has such an amazing story to tell and a beautiful way of telling it. I have much less excitement in my life. So the pauses between my stories get longer and longer. Maybe now that Summer is over, I'll have more to say. That's not to imply that I have nothing to say...I always do. But often consider, is this the right forum for all my thoughts? Hmm.

Today was my Lovey's 1st day of 7th grade. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! He is so grown up. He's that age where he almost doesn't need my anymore. Oh..I know he does, but he's old enough to act like he doesn't need me, but not old enough to realize that it's really okay to still need your mom. He woke up early today, with no prodding from me or his Dad. He set his alarm clock on his own last night. Didn't even hit the snooze button when it went off, blaring some song I don't know. (I hit it at least 5 or 6 times everyday, who gets out of bed right away? How is that even possible?). He got dressed without a word from me, made breakfast..even brushed his hair without being asked. Now, this may not seem like much, but for Lovey...it's huge. He is an "only child" (really don't like that phrase, need to come up with something else) and relies very heavily on me to do things for him. I suppose because he is my only one, I don't mind doing for him. Don't get me wrong, the boy is expected to do for himself and take care of himself, and usually does. But the big things, like remembering to set the alarm clock etc., for that he relies on me to remind him. Then gets irritated with me when I do. But if I don't remind him, somehow I'm still the bad guy. Ahh, the joys of pre-teendom. But I digress...

As I drove my Lovey to school this morning (it's a very short trip, but too long and too up hill to tackle so early in the morning) it was impossible not to think of his first day of Kindergarten. It wasn't as huge and momentous day as it is for some children. Simply because, sadly, I have always had to work outside the home and Lovey started going to day care before he was 1. So the routine of get up, get ready, get going was new to him. He had attended a wonderful preschool just a block from our home that was structured very much like Kindergarten so the routine was even normal for him. I was very excited. His teacher Ms. B still holds a very special place in our hearts and has been the very best teacher Lovey has ever had. He was so little. Still with chubby cheeks. His serious blue eyes taking it all in. I remember him not wanting to let go of my hand for a while, then after taking it all in, studying it all, he let go and took his place on the carpet. Still keeping an eye on me (and my beautiful sister, who at this point, was almost interchangeable with me in his eyes).

Each year would be the same, I would walk him to class, stay with him for a little while and then go, after I was sure he was comfortable. Somewhere around 4th grade, he didn't want me to stay anymore. He never asked me not to, but we, as always, understood each other. Sometime last year, it became impossible for him to give me a kiss or hug goodbye. I might still get the occassional "I love you" but physical contact? Are you crazy? Out of the question. Today, when I dropped him off....I barely got a good bye. It made me a bit sad...but's really okay. I understand.

I know how my Lovey approaches situations, and how he acts when nervous or unsure. It's not different than that first day of Kindergarten. He becomes silent. He studies the situation and evaluates the risks before jumping in. He is cautious. A trait that makes his father a bit crazy. I know that before he feels comfortable with a situation that it's best not to talk to him or bother him. He deals with discipline and serious discussions the same. This is something I've only just accepted. While I always understood his approach to new situations, for some reason it took until this summer to realize he approaches just about everything that way. If he gets in trouble for something, he may get angry at first, something I attribute to having a mother with a similarly short fuse, and the hormonal imbalance of being 12. But when all is said and done, he will sit quietly for a while, then when he has fully processed it all, he will come to me with a hug or a joke..or something to let me know he gets it.

Lovey has had some emotional years and more than likely will have several more in the future. We will not always get along as well as we are right now. I'm not going to stop giving him hugs or encouraging him when he wants to hide or telling him how much I love him. This will undoubtedly drive him crazy on the outside, but I know on the inside it means something to him.

The other night, my husband and I were being, well to put it simply...a couple of dorks. Just being goofy. Lovey said "I think I must be adopted." We all laughed and my husband and I looked at him..."Son," my husband said "You might be able to deny you came from me, but look at your mother, you can't deny you belong to her." Then came the discussion of the same legs, the same feet and hands. The same eyes and nose. Other than the hair color we do look a lot a like. But really, it's so much more than that. We are so similar. I love him so very much that love is not a big enough word.

Today, when he comes home from school, he won't have much to say at first, but as the evening moves on I'll hear more and more about his day, his new teacher and old friends. It will come out slowly, as if testing the waters for our reactions. Then it will all come flooding out in one fast and furious now deep voiced wave. I can't wait.

A deep dark secret

I have a deep dark secret. I just don’t think I can hold it in any longer. I have to confess, get it out there in the open. That’s the first step to healing, right?

Here it is.

I’m ready.

Just have to say it out loud (or in the great blogdom).

Ready?

I am….


Just….


As much as ……

I’m really …..

Okay…I’ll just say it. I’m just as much of a perfectionist as my sister is. Sure, I love to tease her about it. Down right make fun of her sometimes. Like just a few weeks ago as she set the table for dinner. Using my grandmother’s old dishes that have a chicken in the middle. Every plate had to be turned the right ray so the chicken wasn’t upside down. She did this, not me. Just to mess with her brain, I turned the chicken around. It gave me a little joy to know that it was driving her crazy. And once…I found her and my tiny lovey, he couldn’t have been more than three, organizing his Legos by color!

But really, I’m not much different. As I played Rumikub with my husband the other night….all of the tiles were in the same color order. Number runs on the left, suit runs on the right. But that’s not all. My CD’s are alphabetized. My closet is organized by color. From dark to light, sleeveless to long sleeve. Short skirts to long pants. Sweaters too, stacked according to color. The list of my perfectionist- organizing ways goes on and on. I’m a “Monica” too. And to be honest, now that Lovey is 12 and has greatly increased the number of Legos in the house, I too have organized them by color.

Is there really anything wrong with this? It’s easy to work with things when they are organized. Easier to work out the thought process. Isn’t it? It’s not that I can’t be spontaneous or a rebel like my sister (http://timefortwittering.blogspot.com/). Who lists the things she is thankful for WITHOUT putting them in order (except for today that is, she just couldn’t help herself).

If you were to walk into my house, you would never know that I’m like this. There is the usual disarray that comes with living with a man and a boy. Not to mention two cats. I can accept their general sloppiness. I’ve whipped them into shape about as much as one woman can. When their manly ways get to be a bit too much for my structured, tidy way of thinking I can slip away in fantasy to my “White Couch World.”

This is a world with no cat hair on the furniture, no dirty smelly tennis shoes left right where they were taken off. Where I no longer answer to Mom or Miche or any of my other names. A place where I can sit in my big comfy overstuffed white chair and read a magazine. Where the book shelves are overflowing with wonderful stories waiting to be enjoyed (all organized by genre, size & author of course). Where there is a giant pantry filled with everything a girl could possibly want for making anything her heart desires. This too perfectly organized. All dry goods in glass jars with metal lids. Canned goods neatly stacked and arranged by food type. The spices all in alphabetical order. A kitchen where the silverware is lined up perfectly with nary a stray spoon in the fork slot. There is a giant porch with a hammock and porch swing where’s there’s always a frosty pitcher & glass of ice cold lemonade. The glass sitting on a coaster-no rings in this perfect world! A bedroom where the bed is always made. A bathroom where the mat is always dry, the towels always hung up and no toothpaste on the mirror. (How does that happen by the way? I don’t have that problem when I brush my teeth, so how do the boys?) A linen closet filled to the bursting with the softest, fluffiest towels and sheets and blankets (oh my). All neatly folded. All in their place. What a lovely dream.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the men I live with. For the cats too. I really don’t mind so much when they get a little out of control. It’s easy enough to fix, and I’d rather have fun with them, than nag them about cleaning up after themselves. But there are times when my White Couch World seems the dreamiest place to be. The boys are there with me, they’re just tidier, that’s all. Oh…and Sissy is there too. Helping to keep things just right.

Ode To Those I Love Part III

The month of May entered our lives with grief and sadness. It seemed to be going out that way too. On Friday night I said goodbye to Kimo Kitty. Breaking the last bit of my tender heart. Sometime earlier in the week I had decided that he was it. We had another cat at home (Brother Boy, who I haven't really been fair too. He's a good cat. Actually very sweet. He just doesn't speak English or really know how to interact with humans.) and I just didn't want another one. I was through with pets for a while. When Lovey asked if we were going to get another cat I answered with an emphatic NO. I had made it quite clear to Chas & Lovey that Brother was more than enough and to not...even...ask!

It was Memorial Day weekend. Hot. Sad. Nothing could make me happy. That Sunday, Chas joined his regular group for his weekly round of golf. It was his first time to play after loosing Flash. The men he plays with are his true friends. They were all there for Chas at the memorial service. I am grateful for them. For the sake of Lovey, I tried to make it as normal a day as possible. We woke early. I finished my chores. We went to the market. I was hoping to bar-b-que with our neighbors, and maybe play some dominos. Some bit of routine. As I pulled in the driveway and parked, Chas came skipping out the door. (Let me tell you...my husband does not skip. He's a mans man. He does not wear his emotions on his sleeve. So to see him skip was something-especially in our current state of saddness). At the same moment, our neighbor Egg came skipping around the fence to my car. He's not a "skipper" either. So frankly, I was shocked. Why were these two men so excited to see me come home from the market? I was suspcious.

Chas joyfully says "We got you something!". This did not ease my suspicion. Chas is not one to spontaneously get me anything. And if Egg was involved either it was some sort of practical joke or something that was really for them under the cover of being for me. I cautiously walked into the house. What I found did not make me as happy as these too skipping excited man-boys. Hiding under a chair was this dirty thing that I could only guess was some sort of kitten. I turned around to the trouble makers and said "NO." However, when together, these two are no dummies. They knew if Lovey saw it, then we would have to keep it. Being smarter than them, I again said "NO" this time looking directly at Lovey. "You keep it." I said to Egg.

Apparently Egg & Lovey had discussed their presentation. Both know me quite well and know how to push my buttons. Both were familar with how Kimo entered my life and they were going to take full advantage of my weakness for the unloved.

They arrived at the golf course early in the morning as they normally do. One of their foursome had found kitten roaming around. He had also found a shoe box with some air holes poked in it nearby. Apparently someone had abandoned the poor thing in the park next to the golf course. The kitten was terrified and had hidden in the engine block of their friends car (a Lexus, this is important later). After several attempts to get it out, and their tee time fast approaching they finally gave up. Hoping that the cat would stay put until they were done. Well she did. Egg & Chas decided to bring her home. Hoping that either Egg's girlfriend Irish or I would want to keep it.

As they were telling me this story I sat staring at that tiny thing. She was a mess. It was clear that she was very young. Her eyes must have just opened. They were wide and glassy. Still a little blue. She was so dirty that she looked to be grey with black spots instead of the creamy white with cow dots that she is. She was literally covered in fleas. She had an absece on one ear. Whoever had choosen to abandon here hadn't been taking very good care of her.

Egg & Irish are cat people. At the time they had a very mean white Persian & a Bengal. Neither of them open to welcoming another cat into the house. It didn't seem as if this dirty little fur ball would be living next door. Between Irish & I we gave her about 4 baths and managed to get all of the dirt off and most of the fleas. A few heavy doeses of flea repelent and they seemed to dropping off quickly. There she sat, on our neighbors patio table. Wet, scrawney and just plain sad looking. Lovey & Irish starting naming her. Big mistake. If you name, you keep it. They decided that since she was found in a Lexus, she should be named Lexi. Reluctantly I agreed to keep her with us until we could get her to the vet's office and give her up for adoption. Wouldn't you know it, I called first thing Tuesday morning and they couldn't see her for a week. As it turns out, that was just the length of time she needed to make me hers.

Somehow Lexi knew that I was the most resistent to keeping her. Somehow she knew that it was I that finally allowed her to stay. She would creep up and sneak into my lap then flop as if all the bones in her body were gone, and quickly fall asleep purring. She would follow me around the house "talking" to me all the way. It wasn't long before she snuck into my heart. Now, she truly is my cat.


She is somewhat afraid of Chas and his big voice and rough hands. But if he's sitting still it's his warm lap she uses to nap. She is nervous around Lovey and his quick twelve year old body & ever growing feet, but sneaks into his bed at night to snuggle with him. I am her companion. She still follows me wherever I go. Chit-chatting about her day. We carry on conversations about whatever is on my mind. In the midst of packing to go where ever it is I'm going she never fails to start carrying things away or to crawl into the suitcase in an attempt to stop me from going. She loves it when I cook. She'll sit on the kitchen stool and yell at me until I pick her up to show her what I'm working on. She doesn't like "people food", she isn't interested in eating what I'm fixing, she just wants to know what is so important that it's taking attention away from her. When I take a shower she sits on the edge of the tub between the shower curtain & liner, fascinated by the water. Her legs seem to be made of springs. If there is a spider or moth in the house she become obsessed with it. More than once we have found her jumping at least four feet up a wall in attempt to catch watever flying thing she thinks she sees. Once, she jumped up on the cabinet holding the TV, then on top of the TV, then to the ceiling, only to slide all the way down the wall. She is quite the entertainer. She loves to play fetch, but only with me.


We live in a village in the foothills of the San Gabriel mountains. It is not unusual to see coyotes or other wild life. For this reason we decided that Lexi would be an indoor cat (as is Brother). She loves to stare out the windows & watch the world. She is terrified of going out into it though. Once Egg's Bengal cat was sitting on a chair on our porch, hissing and growling at Lexi through the screen. Between the two of them, they hit the screen just right and it popped off. She fell out the window hanging on to the edge for dear life (she would have only fallen about a foot into the chair, no harm would have been done). She could not scramble to get back into the house fast enough. She spent the rest of the day hiding under the bed.

Today has become what we call our Lexiversary. When I say to to her "It's our Lexiversay!" She meows and shakes her head, then rubs against me. I think she is thankful too, for being rescued by us. While Lexi Dot (as she has come to be known) will never fill the void left by Flash and Kimo, she has done so much to ease the pain. She entertains and loves us. She is a tiny angel sent to ease our suffering.

An Ode to those I love

I have decided something. (When I say this or "I have an idea" to my sister or husband it's usually greeted with something like "uh oh". In this case, as in most cases, that is not a fair response. They do it just to drive me crazy.)

I have decided that the people I love should be told so NOW. Not tomorrow. Not when it's too late, but now. Not that they don't already know how much I love them. For the most part, I think they do. But what they don't know...What they haven't heard...Is my Ode To Them. I realized through spending time here that I use the word love frequently. The thing is....I mean it when I say it. I'm usually referring to a specific person. I failed when it came to my fathers death. I let my fear get the best of me and I didn't take the chance to let him know how much I loved him. I'm not sure he knew. I let the chance pass me again with my sweet brother in law. Although, I'm fairly sure he knew. So here it is. Here I will begin my Odes to those I love.


I am choosing to start this process with the events of May 2004 and the loss of two souls that I truly cherished. Everything changed that year. In my home...We are still recovering. Or rather, trying to learn to live with the changes.




Flash....
Flash was born in May 1961. 11 months & 20 days behind one brother and 12 months 29 days before another. Both of them blue eyed blonds and both with a wild streak. Here was Flash with his thick dark hair and hazel eyes and a gentle spirit. (One more brother would come a year later-the gifted son that no one could compete with.)
He was born sick. He couldn't breath. He spent most of his early childhood in and out of hospitals. Always with a wrong diagnosis and never with a cure. At one point he even lived in a home for people with tuberculosis. No one could figure out what was wrong with this little boy. They knew he had asthma, but also that there was something much much more serious happening. Sometime in his late teens they decided it was a bronchial disease, but still didn't have it quite right.

Even though Flash spent most of his years fighting to breathe he never let it slow him down. He had older sisters doting on him and his brothers to keep up with. If they could ride their skateboards up and down the Hollywood Hills, so could he. If they could hike to the Hollywood sign and be mischievous, so could he. If they could sneak into the backyards of the rich and famous for some wall rides in an empty pool, so could he. He might have been a bit slower, maybe he couldn't spin as fast as they could, but he could do anything his brothers did. They were his best friends. Especially Chas. Because Flash had spent so much time away from school he was a year behind, that meant he was in the same grade as Chas. He was his shadow. They went everywhere together and did everything together.

He carried this spirit of can-do into his adult life. He joined the Army. Hiding just how bad his lungs were. He was discharged a few weeks into boot camp after they found out how bad he was. But he gave it the effort and that's all that mattered. He met a girl and had a huge wedding. They lived in a cute little house then a cute little apartment. She gave up on him when she realized that she couldn't spend her life taking care of him-they separated. I think it broke his heart. He moved to Colorado to start a new life, only to find out that the air was too thin for his frail lungs to take. He came home. He moved in with Chas, me, and his new baby nephew, Lovey. He saw his wife again only two or three times. All the while, waiting for her to file for divorce. He just couldn't bring himself to be the one. Being the coward she was, she waited until the last possible moment to finally divorce him. Just in time to remove herself from any legal responsibility.

As John grew older, his lungs continued to get worse. He would wake up in the middle of the night unable to breathe with blood in his lungs. Finally, FINALLY, the right doctor was found and Flash was correctly diagnosed. But the prognosis wasn't good. His lungs were failing fast, quickly turning to scar tissue, unable to expand, unable to breathe for him. He was quickly put on the transplant list. A few years went by before he got the call..Then it was a false alarm. But somehow, a few weeks later, the call did come. They had a set of lungs for him, all he had to do was get to USC Hospital fast. Chas rushed him to the hospital and that night Flash had a double lung transplant. Yes...Both of his dying lungs were removed and replaced with fresh and healthy lungs.

Recovery was a long and difficult process. The body doesn't want to accept what doesn't belong there. He was given endless bottles of medication. Because of all of the drugs, he became a diabetic. A side effect of transplants. More medication to take. He was finally able to come home and lived with one of his sisters for a few months. He then found a tiny little studio apartment in the village he loved. A short walking distance to Chas' house and below the hiking trail where he enjoyed walking his sisters dog. These hikes helped strengthen his spirit and his lungs. Little did we know that he was lifting the spirits of other people on the same hiking path.

Another few years went by and Flash seemed to be doing well. He had moments of physical weakness, and a few scares. But all in all, he seemed to be doing fine. He even took part in the Transplant Olympics in Florida. He dated, took care of himself. Golfed and hiked. Spent time with his nieces and nephews, and parents. Then, in the summer of 2003 he came down with a cold. He was checked into the hospital. From that point on...He was in and out of the hospital. Never really making it back to where he was before. At first it was the aspergilous (sp). Then chronic rejection, then full rejection. The new year began with Flash spending more and more time in the hospital. Each time was that much harder to see him go in. More than once he called us in the wee hours of the morning, or late at night to drive him to LA. All of us knew what was happening, but we were terrified to say it out loud. After Easter, in 2004, Flash entered the hospital for the last time. He wasn't breathing. He almost lost his fight for life in the emergency room. He was put on a ventilator and heavily sedated to keep him from fighting the very machine that was keeping him alive.

A few days later the doctor asked to meet with the whole family. Six of us were there that day-all of us that were closest to Flash..Those of us that took care of him. We were told that he would never be able to come off of the ventilator. That he would never be able to breath on his own, or be taken off of the sedation. They told us that he would have to spend his life in a home. We were asked to make a decision. It shocked me then, and does now, how casually this was discussed. It's not that the doctor wasn't caring, he was. It was just so matter of fact. As if the decision we were being asked to make was not one to end a life, but to switch off a light. The air was heavy. As if the weight of our un-wept tears hung from the walls. I will never forget the way my father in law looked that day. In that one hour..That one moment, all the light from him was gone. Somehow, as terrible as it seems, the decision was simple to make. There was no disagreement, there was very little discussion.

Flash, who loved to be outdoors. To golf, and hike. To play with his nieces and nephews. To play cards with his dad. This beautiful man that was so willing to share everything he had -which wasn't much-with anyone who needed it, would never be able to stand in the sunshine again. He would never be able to play a slow game of dominos. He would never again laugh with Lovey. He would never again be the one to give me a hug or just come over to talk to me when I was feeling overwhelmed. Living on a ventilator in a hospital was not an option. It was not the life he was meant to live.

We choose to wait a week before we made the final decision. It was out blind hope that a miracle would happen. That he would breathe again on his own. I knew, we all knew, that it was time to let go. My heart, my brain, my everything told me that it was time to say goodbye. He was already gone.

The day before his birthday, May 4th 2004. Chas & I, two of my sisters in law, and Flash's best friend came to be with him. The clinical part was done quickly. Truly a simple flip of a switch. We held his hand. We shared stories. We laughed and we cried. We watched him go. We let him go.

Shortly after his death, we learned of the lives he touched. One woman he met on the hiking path told us of his encouragement. She was overweight and hiking for exercise. Everytime he saw her, he would smile and tell her how great she looked. She never knew he was sick. She said that his smile, and his generous, unselfish, anonymous support of stranger helped her to carry on. The outpouring of love for Flash and the unending tales of his kindess carried us though. He was the kindest man I have ever known.

Flash was so much a part of our daily life. I spent time with, or spoke to him everyday. I cooked for him almost every night. His absence is felt everyday. I cry thinking of him. Not for him...It's selfishness. I cry for my loss. For his families. I weep for all of the time the Lovey will not be able to share with him. For all of the domino games he won't beat me out of. I know that he is in a better place. He is with the mother and brother he lost. He is happy. He can breathe.

to be continued....