I love words. My words. Your words. Our words. And powerful, is there anything as powerful as the written word? I currently blog on I Tripped Over a Stone... the stone being Fibromyalgia Syndrome that I have had for a little over 20 years. But Stone in the Road is going to be a collection of... Continue Reading →
Most of us, at one time or another, has said the phrase ‘why-didn’t-I-think-of-that’ ? Well here are some useful hacks that will help you save time, get organized and work more efficiently in your kitchen. If while scrolling down, you happen to see something you had thought about before…let me know. I love feedback. Save […]... Continue Reading →
I’ve met a lot of pricks in my time but you, sir, are a fucking cactus! ~Unknown Some months ago, I explained my Seagull Theory, or How Not to Be a Shit, as a reflective contemplation on the behaviors of others with the purpose of learning how not to take the proverbial shit on one’s […]... Continue Reading →
Pain–Has an Element of Blank–
It cannot recollect
When it begun–or if it were
A day when it was not–
It has no Future–but itself–
Its Infinite contain
Its Past–enlightened to perceive
New Periods–of Pain.
I like Dickinson’s metaphor for pain as an “element of blank.” Pain isn’t anything we can quantify or point to and see “here is pain.” Pain is unlike any other state of being. It is not of or for anything. It just is. I like Dickinson’s description of the blankness that is pain. We want to wake from pain, to leave it behind us, but we can’t. Pain becomes a part of us. Pain changes us. Pain has no future but itself, like Dickinson writes.
I wanted to show you how you can turn a plain jane table into an amazing (I think) conversation piece. If you are need of a table, and you saw this table at a thrift store, would you buy it? Would it be something you would love to restore? Well, that is what I thought! […]... Continue Reading →
Eight or nine years ago, my uncle gave me my very first tomato plant — and some horse manure to go along with it. Little did I know that little gift was going to give me a passion for something that I never had the slightest bit of interest in prior to that time. When I was a teenager, we had a garden but I’d do anything I could to get out of working in it. Thankfully, I had a part-time job, so my brothers got stuck helping out in the garden and I was able to escape that drudgery. Fast forward…..well, let’s not worry about how many years….and I was driving home with a tomato plant and a bag of horse poop in the car….
That first tomato plant ignited my love for gardening and now I can’t wait to get my hands in the dirt each Spring. There’s…
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The tune of his favorite song loops hypnotically
through images of a perfect midnight snack.
Feeling an incessant growl from deep inside,
he taps his belly rhythmically with his thumbs,
ruminating over the contents of his refrigerator.
His taste buds quiver with anticipation.
Satisfy the craving.
Contemplating whispers from a city that creeps
with venom on the tattered pavement outside his window,
concealing secrets that thrive on the skin of a sling blade,
he traces circles gently across the expanse of his stomach.
His thoughts are piqued by the silence that settles
like an omen on his fingertips.
Stroke with love only.
When he feels unsteady, balancing on the precipice
of sanity, loneliness sneaking under his skin,
he holds onto his stable center with both hands.
His pulse leaves echoes of determination on his wrists
as he reaches into the back of his throat to find his voice.
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The Balkans is often referred to as a barrel of gunpowder because of its constant tensions and turbulence, which is something you inherit from your parents, like high cholesterol, and something you leave behind when you kick the bucket. Unless you learn to swim in its tempestuous waters, you stand a higher chance of drowning. If you are from down there, rest assured you’ll live in times of disorder, commotion and unrest, no matter what generation you belong to.
We were sitting in a jet, cruising at some 30,000 ft (9,145 m) somewhere above the coastal mountains of a better tomorrow when we began to shake, rattle and roll again. For a brief moment, it smelled of hope. It seemed as if someone had turned off the engine and let us glide down gently onto the runway. However, a short period of peace and quiet after the 1996-1997 protests was…
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No matter how much pain we are in or how exhausted we are, we manage to bounce-back. via How to Be Resilient with Fibromyalgia — My Inspired Fibro Life
Only a couple months ago I begrudgingly wrote about an awareness month ~ Limb Loss Awareness in April ~ and I recall thinking (and writing) that I could perpetually go from one month to the next banging my proverbial gong and demanding attention for whatever condition was represented in that month. As I said then, […]... Continue Reading →