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About This Author
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First, I'd like to thank StephBee   for the beautiful awardicon I received for this Blog/Diary. Much appreciated.
These are my experiences, adventures, things I like to share, which might be, but not limited to, recipes, healthy living ideas, art, stories, craft work, such as needlework, sewing; wreath making, guitar, homeopathic remedies. Or maybe none of that. Haha
I look forward to seeing what kinds of things you might like to share too.
Please keep it courteous and kind. This is a friendly place.
Update: I decided to change the content rating because of adult subjects.
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The other night I had this dream. As most dreams are rather obscure, this was not much different, yet it definitely had a lot of feeling in it. Surprise, confusion, loss, and more.
I dreamt I was somewhere like in a dusty plain, lots of dirt on the ground, possibly a forest and mountains not too far away. There were no sidewalks. Regardless, I was at least far from home and on what was kind of... hmm, what's the word I'm looking for? Barren land?
When I say far from home, I figured I was still on planet Earth. I just wasn't familiar with my surroundings.
I began to wonder if anyone at home realised I was missing. Maybe at least one person would, and notify the police.
My next thoughts were how did I get there? Where was my car, if I had one? Or did I have one? I couldn't call anyone anyway, because my phone was in my purse and my purse was missing too.
This left me with a very sad feeling. I could be forgotten so soon and so easily. I basically had nothing.
Hopefully, I'd be remembered well, if at all. I didn't even think about how I'd survive with nothing at all. I also didnt remember driving there.
Had my life ended and I didn't know it? I didn't recognize this place. It seemed like the average place you might find in westerns or a movie setting. I wasn't really scared either.
I thought I saw at least one woman, dressed in fine clothing and even a hat. The kind women wore in the old days, even before my time. Someone was with her, maybe a child or a man, both walking about, but they didn't notice me. They went towards a building and disappeared from sight.
I didn't seem to care for some reason.
Light caused my eyes to slowly open,I felt something soft and pillowy beneath me, my mattress below me, and that's when I realised I had only been dreaming.
It's odd that I can remember it so well. Usually, I forget minutes after I start moving around.
* In real life, my oldest son stopped talking to me. March 31st is his birthday and I know he'll be celebrating with other people as usual. As much as I'd like to be with him on his special day, I can't. It's not my choice, it's his. He believes that I make him worry too much.
I guess it don't count how long I worried over him, when he hadn't contacted me in over ten years. I finally had to just pray that he was alive, safe, and doing well. And I was thrilled when I actually did get to see, hug, and love him anyway, except it was a tense hour or more.
Yet, now what? Is this how my life will continue on? I honestly thought otherwise. This is not like breaking up with an ex. This is my blood, my son who I love, raised myself, and gave him a decent start in life.
I watched him grow from handsome tiny infant, then as a toddler, and teenager, still handsome, smart, and good hearted young man, then he left home to a far away place, to find his own way in life. I never thought he'd ever choose to not be a part of mine. It's not easy to have happen, yet we want them to have choices of thier own.
Bless him regardless. I'm at a loss as to what to do. Since nothing I say will help him see this isn't making things better, I will pray and know that at some point in time everything will be fine, if not in this lifetime, then infinity wise.
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At another site a question was asked. What do old people do?
My response: I can't tell you that. Because I don't remember. Jk.
Older people do lots of things that they might not do if they were younger, depending on what it is.
And so, I decided to share an experience tell a story.
One day I was at church, and we church members volunteered to help pack meals to be sent to starving children in the Ukraine. We often help out other churches.
At least thirty people showed up at the church on the next street over from ours. I got to dump in a scoop of dried vegetables in each package. Other members tossed in scoops of rice. Other people added the seasonings, weighed, bagged them, and yet another sealed the package.
During the packaging, my feet started getting cramps in them. I wanted to sit down or walk it off.
But soon we were about to quit anyway.
Next the other church, wanted a group picture. We all went out back and prepared ourselves. Since I'm shorter than most people there, shorter ones need to kneel in the front.
If I get down, it's way harder to get back up, so I bent forward, hands on my knees.
Suddenly, I felt a toot coming on. Oh God, please not now. Hopefully they'd hurry up and take the picture. A small thanks and a prayer was said.
Finally, the picture was taken, and my urge had disappeared like a ninja minute. Whew!
Then the photographer said, "Let's get another one."
But...Oh no! Here came that urge again. I bit my lip. I bent, but looked behind me first and jeez. The second row of people were bent over too. Thier faces were hovering above my derierre at any angle.
Undecided, I wasn't sure which way to be bent without somehow offending somebody.
Finally, desperate to escape, I asked if could I go stand to the side. The photographer said yes. I rushed over there.
I barely saved myself from the wall of shame. I was finally able to breathe a bit easier. How embarrassing would that be if I accidently blew up and killed everybody? That would have been a tad messy.
~~Toots. There it is.
Toots, there it is...
~~shaka laka shaka laka~~
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