Thursday, August 17, 2017

The header excuse

I've tried to get the header photo changed from the sunlight trees in the park to the kids underneath the trees at Dickson Azalea Park. I couldn't get it to change no matter what I did, so I got mad and wouldn't try anymore.

Tonight I was committed to fixing it. Finally figured out that I was signed into the wrong Google email account and Blogger couldn't "find" my blog. #invisibleme

I fixed the header photo after I got the right email connected. Easy as pie, just like it used to be.

I'm sure nobody saw this coming (lmao), but I'm blaming my lack of blogging on the fact that I was annoyed that I couldn't change the photo.

Let's see how long it is before I post again. HA!

P.S. I added a Rune of the Day widget to the main page. It's fun to play with. Enjoy!

Monday, June 12, 2017

Pulse: After One Year

It's now been a year since the terrorist attack at the Pulse nightclub. I live only a few blocks from there, but until this past Saturday, I'd never gone to the actual place. I wasn't prepared for how emotional I would be. I looked at the art that's been created. I scrutinized the individual memorials and noticed that most of the candles were burning despite the wind from an impending thunderstorm. Nearly everything on the grounds displayed powerful words: significant, disturbing, inspiring, heartbreaking. I wanted to sit down on the concrete and just be there, but I was afraid people would think it was weird or scary. Instead, I did what I do and took photos. Most of them are from the Pulse site, but a few are from around town.

The original sign--still standing strong.

Yes, ALL of your neighbors.

Street art

This sign is in a neighbor's yard. I asked her where she
got it, and she said that her whole subdivision put their
money together and had these specially made.
Her house is for sale, and when she sells it,
she promised to give it to me.

While I was driving around looking for signs, I saw this
memorial. A little brass plaque said it was dedicated to 
the 49 people of Pulse. I can't wait to swap books
with people. Books bring us together.

This is the CVS Pharmacy at Orange Ave. and Michgan St. in 
downtown Orlando. They've displayed this sign since the 
day the tragedy happened. It's never come down even
if the tree branches block it a little bit. I shop there 
as often as I can specifically because of that.

--Gardening is life--

So many places to donate blood! Big Red Buses are
out and ready to accept the gift of life.

I felt differently when I left than when I arrived. This place is definitely sacred ground.

#Pulse #orlando #rainbow #love #hearts #words #united #hatewillneverwin #bigredbus #whodoyoudonatefor #littlefreelibrary #dedicatedtoPulse49 #neverforgotten #doves #angels #family #lovedones #friends #faith #community #tolerance #evolve #orlandostrong #orlandounited #togetherasone #loveisloveislove #weareallthesame #rememberthis

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Suicide Awareness

I've seen this all over social media and wanted to share it everywhere I can.

National Suicide Prevention 800 273 8255 It's ok to not be ok. It's ok to call. PLEASE call. Know this: you are worth it.

Monday, December 5, 2016

Caroline is 14.  As in FOURTEEN.  Catorce.  Quatorze. Vierzehn. Ceathair déag.  Kat òz.  ʻUmikumāhā.  Feljätoista.  Quattuordecim.  Fjorten.  Ceithir-deug.  Erbatax.  Czternaście.  Eziyishumi Nane. Ondört.

Yes, of course, 14 translations of 14.  Hoping that'll enable me to wrap my head around 'dat.

Pictures of my precious girl:

My favorite because it's SO her:

Wish I could speak fourteen different languages to tell her how much she is loved! She is scary smart, beautiful, funny, and sassy. I'm proud of the person she's becoming. 🌟😍

Languages represented above:
Italian and Portuguese (same word)
Haitian Creole
Scottish Gaelic

[Yes, this was backdated. Apologies for the necessary cheating.]

Monday, October 10, 2016


My firstborn is having his 16th birthday today. Christ, I feel old.

I love him so much! He is handsome, smart, funny, healthy, and STILL has the most tender heart of anybody I've ever known.

I posted the best shots on Facebook and some of these might be repeats, but as always, the bloopers go on the blog.

These came out better than I thought. 


I trust all angels are sleeping with my birthday boy tonight.


Monday, October 3, 2016

Vintage Paper Arts

I love finding vintage and/or historical postcards when I visit places. Here are two that I found intriguing.

Wenn jeder Wechsel den Glücklichen schreckt,
Mit solch einem Wechsel da ging es;
Denn immer noch macht einem schönen effect
Solch ein liebender Wechsel des Ringes.


If any change scares lucky
With such a change as it went;
For still makes a nice effect
Such a loving exchange of rings.

Principauté de Monaco
Le Palais du Prince


Monaco Principality
The Prince's Palace

I don't have a lot of confidence in Google Translate after putting together this post. At least on the first one. Also, I don't like editing my post 30 times to get the spacing right. At first post it was triple spaced, and the words underneath the pictures keeps typing off into the right till it drops off the edge of the blog. I'm not exaggerating. Thirty (30) times.

I'm off to find out if Mercury is in retrograde. Ha. 

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Politics and the Post Office

One of the bummers about moving is changing my voting address. This leads to an inordinate amount of political post cards and flyers, as well as typical junk mail.  I feel bad for mail carriers who are required to deliver items that are junk mail and they know that a lot of it gets thrown away with disdain. I'd love it if they'd ditch mine, but then everybody would want special services.

One mailman in particular gets ultra offended that Zing barks incessantly at him.  I told him it was the mail truck, not the person, because he barks at every mail truck.  Postal worker was unconvinced.

I wonder if anybody has ever actually read the flyers and cards. I haven't, and I don't. Into the recycle bin they go.....

Friday, September 30, 2016

Flowers by other names

This plant isn't an African violet. It's an Episcia, also known as the flame violet, trailing violet, or chocolate soldier plant. The grower calls it Daphne's Choice.

I didn't even know there was such a plant as "trailing" violets. I searched for yellow violet, this one came up, I saw the bloom from the front, and added that bad boy to the cart. When I got it, I thought one of bloom stalks was broken during shipping. I Googled images of Episcia and realized the stalk was not broken--it's a runner that will branch out and attach to the soil. Because that's what they do! This is one of the few times that skipping over the full product description has worked out well for me.

The pink and white one is a chimera, and the adorable miniature one’s name is Blue Blazes. It looked blue on the website, but in real life and in my pics, it has beautiful blooms that are purple.

I also bought a pink bromeliad.

Hope you enjoy my flowers!

Tuesday, September 27, 2016


I'm sitting at my desk. I'm alt + tabbing between 3 pages and my solitaire game.

It's all good unless you haven't written ANYthing in any form except to write in greeting cards. No tanka poetry, no haiku, no non-fiction, no fiction. Wait, though, it's occurring to me that I've written a lot of lists: grocery, stuff to Google, weekend projects. Whoo-hoo.

The thing is this. I'm reluctant to reread the sections I was working on because I don't have the slightest motivation to write the parts that need to come after. I may or may not be avoiding getting back to work on it anyway because that inner voice has been saying, "Just forget about it, it's not good enough anyway!" I acknowledge this is an obstacle I can conquer, so I need to force it for a while until it becomes natural. It's one of the hardest things this writer has to do.

Updating my status is writing, so I'ma get back to it. 

Monday, August 8, 2016

GoodReads newsletter

Another great poem seen on the GoodReads email newsletter.

Coal Town 

Birds don't stop in this town.
I see them fly past, black peppering
blue, going someplace. I've given up
dreaming wings. This town
will know my bones. Condoms
sell well in Joe's corner store—boredom breeds
but breeding's a trap, a twitch in the smile
of those steel-eyed shrews
who linger late after church.
I walked half a day, out past the salt flats,
after they closed the movie house down. Smoked
the joint she'd brought back from college
when she returned to bury my dad.
I remember how pale her fingers lay
across my father's hands—
coal miner's hands, tarred like his lungs;
like this town. 

Click for additional info:  GoodReads Poetry Group