2 months on

there have been a lot of changes in the last two months and you have walked them alongside of me. I have bad grammar and poor spelling and punctuation. I have deep beliefs, I get angry over things I have no control over. I am human.
Last week I just got damn sick and tired of this dialysis. That's all. More sick of it than i was afraid of dying. I have been ill enough to die many times, starting at age 22 with an ovarian tumor of about 35 pounds. To my British friends thats over 2 stone. Death holds little fear for me. I fear pain, but the dying doesn't intimidate me.
When your enemy doesn't fear death, that makes him dangerous. I at times am the enemy because I am so strong-willed. After JIms 50th birthday bash I had a stroke or seizure of some type. Again I lived. I am indestructible, able to live with kidney failure, though chained to a machine.
Anyway. Friday I told Jim i was going to dialysis so he would go to work. I said it point blank, just like that. He heard what he wanted to hear, that I was going to dialysis. Later that day he gets a call from the hospital saying i was refusing treatment and he as surprised. I do not know at what point he quit believing me when i talk. But htat is a topic for another day.
I can't make myself pick up a phone. My Mom and brother have left messages I can't answer. How could I ever make them understand? It will seem dangerous or stupid to them. It seems that way to me. The shrink put me on sertraline, but i know nothing about it. I do not intend to take it for long. Jim promised me 2 thing if I went back, he would drop 100 pounds and quit smoking. He has had chips every day since then, even when he had other options. I think this is a bet i will win.
Lucky me.

Good-bye

People I am taking a blog break. I feel my posting has gone darker than I intended. I was so chuffed to come in here and see how many of you had come back. Thank you.
God bless.

Perfect love casts out fear...

Ok--
here we are back to religion again. In a perfect world I am becoming more like Jesus each day. Letting God root out my bad qualities and replace them with more of his nature. I will always have my basic persona--I believe we get that by age five.
I am not allowed to fear, in fact I am commanded to rejoice in every situation, for this is the will of God for me. Well, some days I wish i was a pagan because I am so full of fear i could spit. Yesterday we had the routine fire drill alarm, as we do every Wednesday without fail. It means nothing other than rehearsal for the impossible. Then after a short time the alarm went off again. I pretty much laughed as I find most mistakes a bit droll.Then the alarm completed its cycle and began another round, and then another. The nurses faces were frozen in smiles, and that smile just about made my heart stop.
Yes indeed there was a fire, and in a lower level than us so the lifts could not be used. I knew of no way on or off our floor as I always use that lift both ways into the ward.
After a few heart stopping minutes, whilst the alarms went on, they said the fireman were coming but a worker had set off the fire alarm with what he working on. The fireman came and searched everywhere but there was no real fire,and it was declared a false alarm. That is the facts of the story, this is how i perceived it.
I knew I was about to die. I knew they would have to take the weakest first off the machines so they would have a fair chance of survival. I am neither weak nor old, so I would be one of the last, as I am ambulatory for the most part. Sister Jenn said there were stairs at the back of our ward-an old Victorian fire escape but that the steps were not that narrow. Have you seen Scottish women's feet? I think they average a size four whilst I am closer to a size 9. As the good renal patient I am , I also had an accident worrying about what never happened. 
Now I have all day to worry about tomorrow, when they think I am going back again. Not this little red duck. Never again. If there are worse ways of dying I can't think of many. Jim will get all irate and try to change my mind, but this fear is crippling. I can't explain how it is to feel you have no real choices. I am not crazy, for once my fears are real. I am not imagining scary men at the end of the road or dreaming of plane crashes. This could actually happen. SO instead of one litre of fluid i must attempt not to drink at all, so that I can avoid needing dialysis. Wish me luck.

European Eagle Owl

Ok--
At the Houston-Killallen fair Jim got to hold an eagle owl. I know, I know, big deal.Well, I didn't know how big a deal it was at the time. Subsequently, I have come to understand that Jim is only alive because the owl couldn't be bothered to kill him. This owl could take a deer, and his talons have enough pressure to crush the deers skull. The beak is formidable, and the eyes are very huge. It is obviously a carnivore, and designed to be a killing machine.
Owls are folk of legend and many attribute owls with wisdom and cunning. I personally know of two people who collect anything owl, but certainly not live ones.
Another lovely characteristic is the golden highlights in his feathers. The only more exotic feathers are on a turkey, but the turkey face is hideous. This owl is altogether as lovely as it is fierce. If you get a chance to hold an owl or a falcon take it.Not in the wild of course, I mean at the falconers.

Monday May 23rd

RAPE IS SEX ANYTIME ONE OR BOTH ADULTS SAY NO--OR ANY SEX WITH A MINOR-PERIOD.

Although I won't name the Tory MP, the following quote is from this politician, who obviously has not a clue about rape, and may actually be guilty of what he is about to describe, as he apparently finds it quite banal."

This publicly paid employee goes on to describe date rape as follows...

He then described "date rape" as being when a woman "voluntarily goes to her boyfriend's apartment, voluntarily goes into the bedroom, voluntarily undresses and gets into bed, perhaps anticipating sex, or naively expecting merely a cuddle.

"But at the last minute she gets cold feet and says 'Stop!' The young man, in the heat of the moment, is unable to restrain himself and carries on.

Now many men resent being attributed with the characteristics of a dog in heat, but this QUOTE BY AN UNENLIGHTENED man implies men simply have no control when aroused.This is absoutely not true.It is also not true for women, and yes some men do say no for various reasons at different times. NO means NO stupid. From any adult, at any time no matter what was suggested or promised earlier. When did getting cold feet become a crime punishable by violation. I also believe both men and women are sometimes strong enough to take what isn't being offered.

Policemen and politicians are quite unfit to protect and to serve if in 2011 the crime of rape is still "winked at" if you were on a date, or if you were dressed a certain way. For example we have all seen on tv how some men enhance their "looks" by putting a sock in their pants and women padding their bra.That makes you arrogant, insecure,or prideful,not a candidate for rape.This really roast my chestnuts that we are still trying to define an ancient crime we all should know is horrific and real. Imagine the repurcussions if after you are raped by someone, your government violates you again by not getting that monster off the streets.Imagine knowing that person is free to come after you again, or to harm another and you can't do a thing about it. Some still don't get it, because although sex is part of rape, itis really about violence. It is being stripped of your power to choose, and the judicial system can make you feel vulnerable again at a time you can least fight back.

This world is not perfect.Crime exists and we must accept it. However having said that, some Neanderthals may point out that some people cry rape after a relationship ends to hold on to a man. Or claim a celebrity attacked them to get whatever reward they feel that may yield.That is just as wrong and if proven, that person should be removed from society as as dangerous a person as any other we would send to jail to try to keep our streets safe.

I am sick and tired of people who have no clue about rape making and enforcing the laws of this nation. I am not suggesting only former rape victims understand, but one must at east have a heart and half of a brain.

If I were someone who made bets,i would say this man will be re-elected. That is the final rape of all.

God bless.

Swan Song

Ok--
I have made friends on FB with someone I will prolly never meet. She is a young Mother of a little guy who was a bit unwell at first, but each year seems so much stronger. Anyways she is starting a new job today, a second one to help out a bit in this economy. She thinks she is nervous, but i think it may be simple exhaustion of a mother of a toddler/homemaker with a job already.
I am not picking on her, but it did give me a lead-off point for our visit today. Why are we nervous? Why when we work hard to get something, then get past everyone you have to to get it, do we doubt ourselves then? Part of it is fear of change, but that is true only in a small part. The simple truth is that we don't believe we deserve nice things to happen to us, or we fear someone may take them from us.
The people hiring in this economy are not stupid. They are not philanthropists, they need help. They search every candidate, looking for the one they feel will help their company grow and prosper.
The enemy at the gates is us. I hope my friend relaxes and enjoys this day. The first day is mainly finding out who everyone is and where everything is. That's about it in a nutshell. NO trap doors, no hidden walls leading to doom, it is just a place you will do hard graft for as little money as they can get away with, then you will go home to your unpaid full-time job as wife and Mother.
I need more confidence myself, so I am thankful for this reminder to me, and I hope I remember this as I go back into the world after a long drawn out period at home after my collapse. I had a nervous meltdown when they moved my dialysis across the road to a new clinic. A simple move, but I just could not do it. On the day my nurse came out and actually walked me in "just to look", of course i would not be moving in. That very day I dialysed with my team. The ironic thing is my friend and my nurse have the same first name, and both were sent to help me remember not to let me get in my own damn way. I am worth whatever blessings are coming to me, and the bad days too, but that is being alive.Alive is good.
God Bless.

A Time to Let Go

Ok--
If it weren't for the death of my Father, I probably would have no relationship with my Mother at all. Whilst Dad was dying that week, my Brother told me a lot of home truths. Since then he has continued to work hard at us being very close. He can advise me without telling me what to do, and loves me even when I don't like his advice. It is his  intervention that brought Mom and I together. I frankly had had enough. However I should tell you that she has and still does very nice things for me. I cannot ever deny that. Also, she is a much better parent than she had.
But let me give you some examples. My Mom is like Judge Judy. If it don't sound right, it isn't true.I have had some opportunities she never had, and so they seemed like something I had made up. Fr example I would not take off my beanie when I was making my Confirmation. I slept in it one night and it got lost in the bedclothes. Finally she came in my room because it was time to leave for church. She sees me in my Confirmation dress, looking for the red beanie. It took her two seconds to tell me I had to lose the dress, and off we left for church. Upon entering church Father Kennedy told the congregation he had asked us to wear the outfits to church to show we were not ashamed of being identified with Christ.
I had bigger worries, i didn't know where my beanie was and the Bishop was coming. No dress on in church would be the least of it. Thankfully when I got home I found the headpiece, and for the most part the rest of the day went ok. Our relationship could be so much more if she only trusted me. If I mess up, ok, who doesn't, but I need a chance to show I can do right first.
Lately I have felt very alone. I do not feel like myself, whatever that means. My smarter half told me to forget everyone else and figure out who I am, and what I want.
Well , who I am is gonna be complicated and he won't be amused. I am someone who wants him to learn to think for himself, especially when I need help around the house. He may rue the day he gave me my independence. I intend to fly with it. We shall see.Remember I haven't actually talked to my Mother yet, and I hope I will be this brave to her face, though I don't feel a need to be unkind. Just firm in regards to me.Here we go, I made God a lot of promises this am in church. Those are the promises I most want to keep. I walked in wanting someone out of my life and left glad they were my friend.
I am so weird, wish me luck. The odd thing is, I think my Mom would support me if I were someone else's kid.
God bless.

Philosophical

Ok--
Good word, eh? I have decided to give up finding the article I lost yesterday, (translated even Jim tried and it is gone).SO perhaps it wasnae meant to be.
For most of this post I am not calling anyone good or bad, nor am I taking sides. I don't care if you are Jewish or Palestinian. I don't care if you are Protestant or Roman Catholic. I don't care if you like Celtic or Rangers.(go Tottenham Hot Spurs) Someone has to stop first, hate, violence and ignorance only breed more of the same. You cannot all be on God's side. Even if you are, don't you want your children to be free of the hate that this world subjected you to? We are not animals and we must not act like them. We are not killing to eat, we are not killing to clothe our family, we are killing some of God's creatures, and they in turn will feel a need to kill us and so on it goes forever ad nauseum.
Israel has a right to exist, deal with it. Palestinians also deserve a home land. Muslims need to take this opportunity in the death of OBL to show what true Muslims believe, and how extremeists are the minority.I grew up in terror of Russians, I met a Russian man as an adult whose daddy had told him Americans eat their children. The internet has made earth an even smaller world, and we need to take a chance so that our kids will be around to enjoy it.
The idyll fairy land I grew up in is gone. Time to put away childish things, and we need to tell the truth, let the chips fall where they may, so that we can begin not "a new world order" but the world as it should be. It is a disgrace how many have to sleep "rough" and claw for enough food to eat. The food is there. We need the will to share it at a fair price.
We may have to give up some rights, we may have to change some ancient borders, we may have to acknowledge that many religions venerate Jerusalem and let it be. My kids may have kids one day, I want their choices to be where to live and what to do for work. I don't want either of my sons sent to fight a war that is unstoppable. I don't want them to have danced on earth 20-some years and get mowed down in their sleep.
There are some people who may deserve to die, OBL was one, Robert Mugabe may be another, Chavez and Castro and the list goes on. These are not for defending their beliefs, they killed because they could. They exterminated people like flies or rats, rather than deal with them. This is not the sectarianism i hate these are just truly evil men. Look at a new born baby and you see the future something of something and you dream big for your kids.Mrs Mugabe did. I do not know what happened as he grew, but no one is born that evil. When hate has no checks and balances, a new Hitler is formed. A new Chavez, and new Hussein.
There is right now enough food , water and medicine to eradicate poverty in our lifetime. As the song goes, forget about the price tag.
"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I/.m not the only one,I hope one day you'll join us, and the world will live as one."
The man who sang those words was gunned down like a dog in the streets. Hmmm...
God bless.

Chicken Soup

Ok--
you will not believe this. I just wrote the best article i ever wrote, and lost it when i was copy and pasting. I hate myself and I am so angry I want to spit.
I need a break and I will try again later.
God bless.

AGM

Ok--
Today is the annual Paisley Rugby  football Clubs AGM. I will be the bad guy as I have asked Jim to let go of one or two activities. I do not know if it was fair, but 3 nights a week plus extra parties was starting to get to me.
It should be called AGN--A general nuisance, jobs no one wants hoisted on people not there. You know, you've been to one of these type meetings before. In the beginning of the year Mark gave a rousing call to arms. The fellas came within a hair of taking it all. In addition, many of the guys pursued independent paths to fitness. It is like what we call cross-training in America.
Some of the guys who were boys when I arrived are husbands and/or daddies now. Some have had to pursue filthy lucre and can't live at the club like when they were lads. Some are looking for something more than BITCH every weekend. SO who will invent the next drinking game?
I remember when drinking a yard was good enough, now this evil brew is prepared for BITCH perhaps the next stage is freebasing battery acid--who knows.
Malky will be setting the tone for the upcoming year, and we will follow with all our hearts. Somehow everything will get done, games will be fought with all our might and maybe this is the year...
good luck fellas enjoy the year end dinner and Presidents game.You sure earned it.
God bless.

You are SO Stupid you stink

Ok--
I have a fantasy wherein I force people to explain the things they have said to me. It won't happen, and it wouldn't really help. I just can't stop these tapes rolling in my head. Loser, stupid, lesbian, the list goes on and on. For many years in school i was called Tank. The point was I was so angry, and I couldn't say why. I stood out enough as a girl with a brain in the 60's without giving them more ammunition. I was th daughter of a cheerleader and an a lady athlete. I sat in a chair.
I didn't like people. I loved books, especially biographies. I dressed like a boy, and didn't wear makeup. I didn't get asked to Prom, nor anywhere else. I did extremely well in school, because that was an arena i could compete in, The math major was unintentional, but i love numbers because numbers have rules. Math has logic, even chaos has its own kind of logic. For the same reason I loved  Mr. Donofrio's class in college on philosophy.Ron Herzmann and Bill Cook team taught a combined History and Language to make a super course for anyone lucky enough to go to enroll in it. I got a four year degree in three years simply because I had no idea of a social life. I didn't trust people enough to make friends.
College was where i wanted to get my Mrs. but i never dated. I had a crush from home but he eventually got tired of my nonsense, and my irrational fears. All the clues were there, but I was raised in a" lets just pretend it didn't happen, Brenda," kind of home. Can't we move on, Brenda? i thought you were a christian Brenda? what would your friends think if they knew you now?
All the clues and signs were there. I was a nothing and everyone pitied me I thought. Finally I realized people are not really mean(most of them)they are just self-aware and can't see the others around them. I wasn't frowned upon, I was hardly even thought about as people go about their daily lives.People are too busy but that is not to be mistaken for dislike, just as I get too busy to notice people around me every day.
The whole world could have probably had a better life with perfect families. But then we would be robots and not people.Flaws make love more real because people don't have to be kind to us, they choose to or choose not to.
Life is too short to hide in a book.Even if I am the writer. Life is short, and it is meant to be lived. Squeezed like toothpaste,try to  gargle new experiences like mouth wash. Spit out what you don't like, and go on with your day.
If you never believe anything else i say, believe this. YOU have a story, even if you need someone else's help to tell it. Stop those negative tapes running in your head. Paint, draw of do carpentry but find an outlet. I think we were all put n this earth to be artists. Do what your find to do. Don't dream of being a ballerina if you don't have feet. Find what you were created to craft. For me it is words. For Dan it is paper with colors. For Iain it is designing beautiful guitars. What is it for you?Don't listen to what people say you should do,only, but also dream a bit of what you want to do.
Tell your story in wax or marble or bronze or food or planes, truly the world awaits.
The world will step aside to let pass a man who knows where he is going. I did not write that, and I don't remember where i first saw it, but i believe it with my whole heart.
Are we human or are we dancers? Interesting song and good question, as for me I just came here to dance.
The life you want is there if you are brave enough to lead it.
God bless.

Celtic relief

Sadly there is no ok for this posting
Rangers may have won , but Celtics manager is still alive. I don't like either team now, but isn't it sad when the better joy is losing, but you really won cause you survived the worst fans in the world.
Something must be done, and not after someone loses their home, life or dignity.
Rangers shame is on your win, and it doesn't belong to you. But why didn't you go on the news(tv and radio) and absolutely condemn these actions. Refuse to play until the police arrest these people.And to all teams, if a fan acts up, simply ban him. What would you give in exchange for a mans life? and what if innocent others are in the path of destruction this evil unleashes?Yes it will cost revenue, but if the game became safe again more families might attend because they love the game.


Shame on Soccer officials who don't take this seriously, why do they exist if they are impotent? Managers are sacked for failure, so maybe if we re-organize with people who love the game...just sayin'.
God bless.

Pastor Dan

Ok--
Today is Pastor Dan's 60th birthday. I know most of you have no clue who I am referring to, but this is why. Yesterday I hurt someone i really love cause I used him as my subject in what i thought was a funny connotation. I ruined what could and should have been a great Saturday for us. So this person is from my way past, when i was more young and foolish. I am no longer young.
I do not want to gush on about him, except to say when God gives him a message for you (whether Pastor realizes it or not) you had better listen.It means things are brewing and if you want a part, you better get prepared. Anything Pastor Dan does is "bathed in prayer", which means he makes sure it is not his wish, but Gods demand.
My favorite sermon he ever did was "Give me $1.62 of Jesus" meaning i want all the benefits but none of the responsibilities of following the Christ. I also used to wear a pin to tease him that said, "how much can i get away with and still go to heaven."
In short I played with God--wanting the healing and the good and fun fellowshippy bits, but not wanting to have to hard times and to do necessary changes. I wanted the love, but wanted to treasure and nurture hate in my heart for every man on earth, because I had no way of knowing the rejection was not about my looks (which i believed) but all to do with the poison Ii was spreading with my evil thoughts and words. 
Pastor Dan loved me. His wife Sharon loved me.They gently showed me that there might be a life outside of Camden. They showed me it wasn't fair to believe God was the same kind of man i had known on earth. They showed me I had a purpose and it was ok to be a real woman. With so many family members around, it was hard to show the new me I was becoming through the renewing of my mind. I would be the person God wanted me to be when i could devote my whole heart to the person God saw in me. Sharon was real, and I saw I could mess up and whilst people didn't like what I did, they could still love who I was.
Camden is a tough place, especially if you are not "from there". Not everyone liked him, but not everyone liked any minister in any church in Camden, I had to learn not to take it personally. 
Also before we get to carried away over a birthday, I will tell you, sometimes the great man was wrong. I know this because he never could convince me I was ever wrong. It was hard for me cause I had been raised Roman Catholic and now I was trying to be a good Wesleyan. Pastor Dan taught me to forget all that and just follow Jesus.
I lost touch with this family and through the miracle that is Facebook I found them again. We do not talk every day. I hail him when I need him. He is fine with his family, and his Jesus. 
What a legacy to everyone he meets. They can say as the old hymn goes,"I've just seen Jesus".
In a sin-sick world that demands proof of God within the confines of their senses, the change in me should well point the way. We are all beggars showing other beggars where to find bread. Pastor Dan is one of the Master Bakers of the staff of life. Jesus gave him the recipe personally. Not one batch has been rejected.
Isn't that just like his Jesus?
God bless.

How it is made

Ok--
If Jim watches one more episode of How its made I will kill myself. Even though factual, the speaker is boring in the extreme. Frankly, I don't care how deodorant is made, as long as you all wear it. I got up super early and made him a nice breakfast, as s there he sits. I think he would feel like a cannibal eating potatoes as he is a couch one.
The Fair is today so I wanted to take it a little easy, but this is ridiculous.
On a happier note when Jim announced when his holiday is this year I asked him if I could book some time on Skye.I have never been to the Islands and my name is Lewis after all. Of course within a week he came home with the place already to be booked. I am happy to get to go where I really wanted as we have not had a holiday since my attack at his 50th birthday party. I need to get away from the house, the dialysis, and the humdrum repetitive lonely life i live now.
So off we will go, and he will get the sat nav all excited, he loves Joanna Lumley or Homers' voice when it directs him in traffic. When we pass a fast food rest stop it calls out as Homer "where's the beef". Really-every time.
Be careful what you wish for, now he is watching Formula one racing--lap after lap after lap. I want to go out just to get away from the tv, the ironing never caught up, and my own thoughts.Wish me luck.
God bless.

1 Corinthians Chpt 2 VS 3-5 (KJV)

And I was with you in weakness, and in fear, and


in much trembling.

And my speech and my preaching [was] not with


 enticing words of man's wisdom, but in


demonstration of the Spirit and of power:

That your faith should not stand in the wisdom 


of men, but in the power of God

The fair at Carrick Centre-Houston

Ok--
some joke, eh? once i am well enough to sit at a keyboard, the blogging system is down for repairs. Two days i couldn't speak to my dumplinks. Did you join another blog? did you stand out in the rain raising a fist to God screaming "why?" did you ever even notice?
I wish i were as famous as i am in my own mind. I actually fretted with all these words and nowhere to go. Thanks for checking back again. I am not unwell, the blog would not let me in.
Tomorrow (Saturday) is the Houston-Killallen fair. I go every year, as I am the self-proclaimed Queen of the Bouncy Castle. I spend a portion of a Saturday afternoon watching children defy gravity. I watch them hand me tickets and then go blissfully to wherever their imaginations can support their dreams. This is not their mamas house so there a few rules. You must remove your shoes and you must watch out for the little ones who may land on you as they are not that steady to begin with on concrete.
They smile and they play nice and yes, sadly, one child manages to try to land on his head in his "dismount", so every year someone gives me a heart attack with his bravado.
This fayre is so much fun. You see people who haven't been out since the last fayre, and you know you won't see them again till next years fete, but the soccer league could learn from this day. People from every church in the Gryffe valley seem to easily mix with those who never attend anywhere. There is a tea with lovely cakes, a bbq for the men and ice cream for children of all ages.
My personal favorite is the plant stand, where clippings and plants are sold for a pittance. I also get a supply of rhubarb as Jim  loves this vegetable.
For the penny pinchers there is a jumble sale. My old man got a digital camera for four pounds(oops I almost said dollars). Being frugal AND  nosy i give myself time for that room too. Jack at some point stops by and you can tell he is juggling 100 balls at once in his head. Is this my church? No, but these are my people. Some of the kids recognize me now even though they haven't a scooby what my name is. The teens mourn longingly for the days when they could get in to the castle. They want to be adults, but they still want to do the things they really like. It is one of lifes first cruel lessons. The whole world caters to midgets. You can be too old before your teens. Life is not fair. About 5 pm the annual tragedy returns. A man  
starts deflating our fun house. It dies a slow death, and I go back to my humdrum life.
Until next May rolls around.
God bless.

When love is Real

Ok--
well if not OK, at least closer to normal again. My words are not fully restored, but i can form cohesive thoughts again past, "where is Jim with my drink?".
Want to know a secret? I don't love him totally every day. In fact for three rugby Saturdays in a row I hated him. I am sad to report that the days when he raced home to see me seem over. I know he loves me cause he takes care of me, but sometimes we don't like each other. I can live with that, you know why?
Jim himself taught me that marriage is a bit of a roll. The ups and downs aren't fatal even if they hurt. People fight, and my wish that this marriage be different than the last one nearly wrecked us. For the first time in my life, I trust the man I live with AND I feel safe. We fight to be heard, but not to be the winner. Once I even admitted I was wrong,(but i was mistaken), and i have had to live with that.
For the first time a bully isn't saying to me, "this is my house, adjust or move out."
When Jim refused to get me a cat he said it was that his son had allergies. What i heard was, this is a temporary arrangement , don't get comfortable. When we brought Molly home, I knew he was planning on me being around long term. I breathe better now.
When love is real you will break each others hearts and expectations and that is human, the trick is to find a road back to center. He needs to help out more around the house, and I need to quit name calling when i feel threatened to prove i am not afraid of him. I need to quirt being afraid of him, too, but that would take more consistencies on both our parts. Meanwhile there are some rare moments of bliss, a lot fewer tears, and less drama.
In short we are growing old together, waiting for the grands to be born, and trying to make peace with the world.
Yes I am in love, with my eyes wide open this time, homesick as hell, not for a place, but a family that knows how to have fun. I need my brother, cousins, Aunties and life long friends. I want one more afternoon with my Dad, and I need to let go of the past cause it is hurting my present. Camden is gone, the one I loved, and the memories are keeping me unhappy and unable to make new memories.
My love is real, and the one who loves me is real, and that is enough.
God bless.

Confused of Linwood.

Well things are definitely not ok--
Is there nothing left that is sacred or honorable?
All politicians do what they have to to get re-elected.
Children are no longer safe in their own homes.
I am no longer as proud of my home nation as I always was.
My home town is shutting down and giving up, the mills work you to death and cast you aside.
People live in the richest nation on earth and can't afford decent health care and meds.
The Tories are pushing us toward american medical practices by looking to farm out NHS contracts to the lowest bidder, as if that is a guarantee of value per pound.
Nick Clegg finally found his cajones too late for us or him.
The royal wedding was not enough of a distraction.
Even the unstoppable Harden Furniture is in trouble, I thought they were bullet proof, they need Gordon Babcock back. He ran a tight ship but there were jobs and work.
I have lost my ability to make lighthearted words today, and i will be back soon when i can look on the bright side of life, promise.
One thing that is eternally true, God loves us. Even on our bad days.
I hope things are looking up for you and yours.
God bless.

Site down for repairs

Ok--
SO much for my resolve to write a blog daily. I have been sick as a dog since Friday. It started with King Prawn Chow Mein and ended up with the inability to raise my head off my pillow for more than time to eat and take meds.
I have to go out today because it is dialysis day and the site has nurses assigned to it. I don't think it was food poisoning, but maybe the food was too rich or the quantity was too much for me.
The thing I am most disappointed in was I missed  church.It is a new place to me, and I am still trying to get to know them. Yes, of course it is only a building and you can worship anywhere, but I tend to go maverick kamikaze when not accountable to anyone.Yes even now.Fifty-three years old and still a rebel.
Whilst I was out of commission i started to follow my good friend Dwayne's commentary on a picture of his mama he posted for Mother's Day. Looking back it seems I have always had friends who  were Pastors. When I met Dwayne I had no idea he would be a Pastor, but there you go. God uses the willing. 
If I wasn't afraid of losing their friendship I would tell you some of the adventures they have had in the last year. God says he never gives us more than we can stand, but Durand's must be particularly strong as their house is a sanctuary that an in-law tried to burn down.
I jokingly said I want to play Dwayne in the movie, but I am too short, and not just physically. I don't have that big and bold spirit or trust in God that all will be well. I look for trouble when things are going well. Once when they lived on Preston Hill my at the time forever love called to dump me. I remember saying "Dave I have no more weapons to use." Dwayne with his typical good humor handed me a weapon. If i can laugh , I can breathe. 
Sue walked me through a bit of my Dad's insanity when i used her kitchen for two whole days cooking for Dad's surprise 50th birthday party. Mom told me not to, so did Billy, but i knew if i did this right Dad would finally see I was worth the attention I craved from him. That day I felt I had better tell him as people would be arriving. He went mental. He made me call everyone and cancel. I had enough chili and food for a year. Sue kept me from eating it all and shooting myself. It was finally clear. Dad just didn't want anything but Mom. Case closed. Thank God for Sue and Dwayne and I don't think I am the only one who God sent them in their marriage. Their home is a refuge.WWJD is practiced there as a regular way of life. I miss them every day.
SO for Mother's Day i have blogged about a man. Typical me. I really didn't want to go near the Mother topic. I am unwell. That's my story and I am sticking to it.
Hope Mother's Day was everything you hoped for. Blessings to you single Moms, and special blessings to those who wanted to be Mommys with all their heart and were unable. My grandma gave me this piece of advice and she had nine children,"if you don't have them to laugh with, you son't have them to cry with!"You are right, it doesn't help.her daughter said "I had two kids and that was two too many". I hate Mothers Day on so many levels, and i admit it is just plain jealousy.
God bless.

Preston Hill

Ok--
here we go again. I live near Glasgow, Scotland, one of the most metropolitan addresses I have ever lived in. Like when I said I went to  Rochester to college. I actually went to Geneseo, and for one reason only. I went there because it was as small as Camden, my home town. I need neighbors, and I don't mean the kind you grunt hello to as you get in your car each day. Let me explain what I mean. I hope you know people like this in your own life.
Mrs Price, our neighbor on Liberty Street, is my first neighbor. I do not know if I even met her, but she was vital to my family. One day my toddler brother fell on a mug and cut himself badly. My Mom absolutely flipped out. In those days you had to get the operators attention to make a call, and my Dad was in McConnellsville at work. Finally somehow Mom remembered there was a nurse next door helping to care for the Prices and she ran right out the door. Shortly Mr Price came over, got me dressed and sat with me until my Father came. I am sure I babbled about little girl things, but he was patient and kind. That is one kind of good neighbor my family had.
The next neighbor was Mrs Manchester. She lived on one side of our house and Arsenio (Sam)Gratch lived on the other. Mrs Manchester was about a thousand years old when we moved on Preston Hill as a young family. We were gone all day at work and school so she kept watch if a strange car should appear in our driveway. She (her family) had originally owned Preston Hill from her house to the Tates I think up the hill. Parcels got sold and we all got homes. She even sold my Father another piece of land to make his property square. My Dad did little errands for her around the house and she rewarded him with baked goods. My Dad had a sweet tooth and he was very happy with the arrangement. I enjoyed her as a neighbor because Mr Gratch would pretend to flirt with her, and she thoroughly enjoyed putting him in his place. Eventually Mrs Manchester moved across the road to her daughters and we hardly ever saw her after that. I think Mrs Manchester was one of the first people I loved that I had no blood relations with. I had so many Uncles, cousins and etc. that until I went to school I never made friends outside my family. My kindergarten class had my cousin Barbie, and our Uncle David. David was Grams last baby and Barbie and I were our mamas' first. We were all due at the same time, but Aunt Barb slipped off a porch on ice and Barbie came into this world very premature. We Reeds are a hearty lot, and Barbie survives to this day.She was born in January, and David and I came out in April, two days apart. Maybe Barbie was meant to come in the day between us, but we will never know now.
Anna and Lloyd Watkin are next. They lived across from us on Durr Ave. They had a bit of garden on their tiny lot, and they grew flowers and veg and we were allowed to touch them. They spent hours trying to teach us how things grow, and I think they were instrumental with my Dads obsessively large garden after Mom left. Anyhow they were never one to shoo you away, and they had lots of time for us as children. People moved on and off the hill, but they, like Mrs Manchester, were constants. Kids need that, that kind of stability.
Here are just a few names I can recall from the 15 years or so I lived on Preston Hill. Durr Ave was the Brando's, Littlers, and Yerdons. For a short time when we first moved in, Doc Mellon and his family were at the base of Preston Hill across from Camden Wire where the Kinney Drugs is now. Snyder's lived on the first bend, and also had a farm higher on Preston Hill.A butcher named Frank lived where Curries lived next. Mary Currie taught me how to make bread, and peanut brittle. Mary was a good friend when i was a teen.
One family was from the Air Force Base-well I mean their father was stationed there, and the MacGregor's lived in what became Luke Haley's' house. The Macs had a lot of kids and as I recall I was in love with one of them as much as a 7 year old can be. In truth I loved them all, because something was always going at their house. I can even remember their Father bringing home a parachute to show us how they packed them. They were cool and when they left I wanted to go too.
Another large family was the Grinnells', The Spellicys', Baisters and some more people who lived just up the road but I just cant recall their names.
Mrs Collins was the bus driver who got us all to school, and did we make her earn her pay. Thanks Mrs Collins and, well i am sorry. Like I thought of my parents at the time I didn't think of you as human, just my transportation to school.
I hope you had good neighbors like this when you grew up, kids can never have too many people around who care about them. Now i know my neighbors names, but we live in a high rise, and we all pretty much keep to ourselves. Sad, but life as we made it. Our old house has strangers living in it now, and for the first time I don't know the people who walk around our house. I like the think Dad is in his garden though, remembering his adventure with the twin albino Billy goats. Their escape and the eating of Julies flowers led me to believe they would be goats head soup, but she was too kind.IN his last days Dad found Julie and she helped him put his life back together. She could literally stand toe-to -toe for hours in the garden, planning and dreaming over the new Burpee seed books, and she also baked. I think my Dad was in love. The hardest part of a relationship after a divorce is the kids from the previous marriage. For my part I am sorry. If I had known Dad would go so young maybe I would have been a nicer person.Maybe not. I don't live with regrets, I move on. Ahhh I am homesick for Preston Hill with my folks still together and Billy home every night. Impossible now except in my dreams. I wish my kids knew the blessings of a large family, but I try to tell my stories and bring everyone back to life for a just a few magic moments in time.
God bless.

Forest Park

Ok--
In Camden, NY, our forefathers and foremothers put aside a bit of land for a park that we almost all have enjoyed at least once. In my case initially it was for family reunions for the Reeds, but as a young adult I would drive there when I needed some privacy. It was cool and green and shady as the song goes...and you could really think there.
Then for a time my Dad handled cleanup and reservations for the pavilions. There were trails and a foot bridge you could fish off of. Only one time did my Dad take me fishing in Forest Park. He had gotten up early and got a bunch of night crawlers(fishing worms to you city folk). He had tied them in a knot of themselves. I refused to bait my own hook, so he placed the worms in my big safe hands. Or so he thought, as when I looked down and saw all those heads I simply dropped the ball into Mad River. Some fish got a heckuva meal that night, and i got my Dad's contemptuous look.
I am just not wired to be a boy, sorry. The Brazies', Reeds' and Conleys' were the cousins I most looked forward to seeing at these reunions. There was nearly a bajillion of us when everyone came. We went home tired, dirty, and happy. My favorite pavilion was the Lady Slipper, but I can remember sleeping out in Harden Woods with my girl scout troop. I hope I never lose these memories, and I hope the Park is always there for the children of all ages of Camden.
It is where three rivers meet--and I long to visit once more.
God bless.

Cackleberry Castle

Ok--
for those of you blessed enough to grow up in Central NY you already know what a cackleberry is, and you went to the castle probably with your class at school or with your family before Halloween became a dirty word. I may stretch this blog over more than one day cause there is so much to remember. Each of you has your own special memory of your favorite part. Some lived for Milliman's fudge, some liked the cider, some loved the hayrides, some loved the whole Will farm. Mrs Will was the school home economics teacher and she took the whole month of October off school because this was a thriving business until November 1. Not only did they make money and hire a lot of youth workers, there scholarships and an end of the year party when everyone were rested(maybe in the summer who knows?) Each age group had different memories. I can see my Dad picking up our pumpkin to carry to the car to carve at home. Their were live animals to pet, and children everywhere.
Yes there was even a talking pumpkin who could answer all the questions a young halloweener might be troubled by. The great pumpkin knew everything, and had been around for hundreds of Halloweens and gave good advice. There were huge pumpkin totem poles lit to show the way at night, and as I became too old for some aspects of the farm, I still enjoyed the wonder of seeing a child who was visiting for the first time. for the whole side yard was full of pumpkins you could bring home of every shape and size pumpkins can grow to--even gourds!It wasn't designed so much to be scary as to be a fun afternoon or evening in a safe place. 
I wish I had the chance to take my boys to the castle, but alas, thanks to the federal and state laws eventually they got coded out. It just became too much paperwork and hassle for the amount of time they could set aside. Popcorn balls and candy apples now are just tired store bought things that you don't know the recipe that they used (meaning chemicals) or how old they are.I apologize to the many merchants who made stuff you lived for and then couldn't get for a whole nother year. My memory is not what it should be. The Will family Castle  is deeply missed.
By the way, figure out what a cackleberry is yet? thats right, they began with a roadside stand selling eggs and such. Weren't they clever? and if you lived on Preston Hill you knew the directions to the farm cause many times cars stopped and sang out,"is this the way to the pumpkin farm?" oh yes it is. Go the top of Preston hill and turn right, just keep going you can't miss it. In a pre-PlayStation world this was rare and precious,and we used our imagination to go to a magical world for a short time. Beauteous!thanks for the memories Will family and friends.
God bless .

Tinkerbell

Ok--
I have a fairly new friend I call Tinkerbell. I was in a chat room I frequent and she told me she was going to kill herself. She had been on the phone talking to a mutual friend, and she was serious. Tink is one of the chirpiest people I know. She talks and prays with me all the time and I always feel better for talking to her. However, she has a chemical imbalance in her brain that can suddenly lunge her into a deep depression. 
Also, I am not a therapist of any kind. What do you say? Of course you start with the obvious, go to a Dr. You tell you are praying for her, and you really do want her to live. The simple truth is, I don't want her to kill herself for more than the obvious, "well you will go to hell" Although that might make sense later, it is not helpful when she wants to die. I want her to live for a selfish reason. I need her. I love her and her company makes a difference n my long lonely days. Is that awful? maybe, but it is honest. I used to tell myself she didn't really want to die, but see she is not thinking rationally when the chemicals are out of whack, so I don't know if she is capable, but I KNOW she is serious. I treat her very seriously, and i am not ashamed to beg her for her life.
I am not sure that is enough of a reason for her to stay, but at  least now I will not have the regret of not telling her I loved her. It really is out of my hands now. I have to live with that.
I wanna say this again...
 SUICIDE is a  PERMANENT SOLUTION to a TEMPORARY PROBLEM.
Pray for Tinkerbell, God knows who she is, and spare a word for us all.
God Bless.

Scared spitless

Ok--
I think I have had a fight with almost everyone I know in the last 4 days. I could not believe some of the stupid things people were saying or implying about America. Then I remembered some advice I got once, from a trusted source. If everyone seems wrong except you, is it possible you are the butt head (language cleaned up here for general consumption). I also referred to someone I don't know as a piece of similar anatomy. That is not me. I am no prude, but I don't usually talk like that in anger. 
I asked for a scripture to show that I was right and they were wrong. I wanted to thump people with my Bible, in a way to show even God was on my side.
Here is the conclusion I reached, right or wrong. I tell people I came to Scotland to marry Jim, and that is half the truth. I kept hoping he would come to NY as I had strong family and friend connections.
Then came 9/11, and fro me everything changed. I have always been a fraidy cat all my life, but it was for the consequences of things I had done myself. Now I had a whole religion that hated me for geographical reasons, and I didn't even know who "they" were. I can't t ell you the things previously rational people were thinking and doing. It was like the Y2K thing all over again. People bought Spam and bottled water. People bought guns and rifles and very big dogs. In short, people were afraid. 
Then I came here, and the Glasgow airport thing happened, and I began to feel like a bit of a jinx. Just when i had convinced myself that Osama Bin Ladin must be dead, Monday morning i woke up feeling sick. I just assumed it was a dialysis thing as the nice weather had lead me to drink more than my daily liter allowed.
I think I do not handle anxiety well, and that's a judgement on me cause as a Christian we are instructed to rejoice always,and never to fear, as that implies we do not have perfect faith in our God. How is that for guilt? and I am never one to run from shame either.
 So there is no excuse for my fears except they are not irrational for once. There really is a giant in the land, and we do look like grasshoppers to them.
Now the conspiracy theories begin again, and many are saying my government lies to me daily and that that is the nature of governments, and that I do not even want to know what they are hiding from me. I give up. I think i am gonna retire from politics. At the very least I am gonna take a break, because my answer to fear is to respond in anger.
I liked it better when I thought we were the greatest nation on earth.  That was the America I was raised to believe in, and though my Dad died in 1996, he was already saying people were freer in Russia than America. He was disillusioned with his homeland a bit. He had always gone to work and paid his taxes and expected something of loyalty back from Washington. I don't trust them really to say it is day or night. I doubt them in principle. I am not proud of that, but it is my truth, and i have to live with that.
God bless.

It is time now

Ok--
I got quite a lot of response from my blog yesterday. It is my goal to start conversations but it was not my intention to become so angry at what I read. One friend even compared this with when we shot Hitler, so not everyone has their facts straight, including me. In matters of national pride I get defensive, and if I crossed the line I apologize, not for my blog, but my responses to comments on the blog
Now for something completely off the wall.
In private talks a theme keeps coming up. It is the dissolution of some families, and for reasons I frankly don't understand. I know Mother's Day is coming Sunday, (In America) and for most of you this is a great time to thank your Mom for all she did so unselfishly whilst you were growing up.
For some people, growing up was not that pollyannaistic. Let's be honest, some mothers are insane. For too long we have excused it with they learnt that behavior as a child. Well, I am different than my family in good and bad ways.The point is a good parent will teach you how to make your own choices and to be accountable for them.
I do not understand mercy killings, or honor killings, or whatever they are called now. I call it murder. Why in 2011 do people still get ostracized for who they marry? Why do families write you off when as a new bride or groom you need guidance more than ever? It is hard to be married, so many just live together to avoid the hassles of breaking up. Marriage takes commitment cause I will tell you a secret, you do not love your spouse every day. Not at that breathless can't live without them type of emotion.I also can tell you that you can love someone and hate them for a day. I am divorced and I think the reason is I had too high expectations of myself and the man. This time around I breathe and I let him breathe. Yes I get dramatically angry,but maybe that is because I need to blow off steam sometimes.
If your brother married someone you can't stand, if your cousin got in a little trouble as a young adult,  if you find out your parents have feet of clay, forgive them. Home is where when you go there,they have to take you in is an old adage and it is true. I cannot think of many situations more scary than being afraid and having no where to turn. Some people are toxic, and i don't mean the beaters and verbal haters, I mean good people who say unforgivable things sometimes. Like me. Like you. If you see someone stumbling, help them get home, even if only in their mind. Then teach them to forgive themselves. We all need hope. Some may even need a reason to put that needle or bottle down, and some have abused their families by stealing to support their habits. I am nit saying to be a doormat, but at least give them one chance before you write them off. I've needed a second chance with my children, and so I have to be prepared to stand by loving them as adults now they go out and make their own choices.DO I have to like the choices? No I have to love the choice maker. My greatest contribution is the promise if they fall, they can come home and regroup. Marrying outside your faith, social class, parents wishes, etc. is a rite of passage, and remember love grows where it wants. So many things in life happen we can't prevent, don't make home unwelcome hostile territory for someone who is drowning.
Please lets not bury one more gay child who can't meet your standards and you think let you down, think of how long they will be gone for. Please let's not bury one more artistic child in a job he will hate because you are afraid he can't support himself. He may fail, and the status quo life is always there, but some people make it. Someone was the Mom of Picasso. Someone else was Hitlers Mom. In the end we make our own choices, but lets launch them as bravely as we can.
Sometimes we all feel like a motherless child, a mighty long way from home, as the old song goes. Find someone who mothered you and give them a hug Sunday.
God bless.

Good-bye Bin Ladin

Ok--
if I were 100% honest, I would admit i thought Osama was dead already. There, I said it. You will have to forgive what seems like blood lust to some, but i will not lose one minutes sleep over this assassination. I would still be a housewife in NY if that man had been any kind of humanitarian, but alas, he was pond scum, and funded stagnant pools of hate over a religion i didn't understand in 2001. I have many Muslim friends in Scotland and I observe them to be exactly like me except they are not Christian , nor do they wish to be.
I can live with that, frankly it is none of my business who they love, worship or read about as long as they don't interfere with my beliefs. I also would feel no need to try to convert them to my faith. Let each man be fully convinced in his own mind the Bible says.
Anyway, Osama was not a good Muslim, he was a war criminal on a scale of Bush and Blair. Some idiots on FB are already starting conspiracy theories, and I know it is hard to believe he is dead. No country wanted the body, because they want no pa/rt of the retaliation America may have coming. So be it
Perhaps these events will convince the majority of law-abiding Muslim citizens to side with those who oppose Taliban and al-Qaeda, not because they hate Muslims, but because terrorism must be minimalized or no one is safe, anywhere.
Just because 10 years have passed, this is no less painful than the Lockerbie bombing that horrible Christmas. That attack on Lockerbie was just as much as surprise to them as 9/11 was to most Americans, just 9/11 was on a much larger scale. If you are not American , you may not understand our unabashed relief at todays news.
Tomorrow I will join you in contemplating our imminent demise, but today I will rejoice. I will add a hallelujah.
Some times the good guys win.
God bless.

Joseph Reed and Edward Reed

Ok--
I had two Uncles on both my parents sides that I lost before their time. Today I will talk about the Reeds, the Delarm's will wait for another day. Both of these men were very young and they both died in car crashes. Joseph Reed was home on leave and due to go to Korea, or possibly back to Korea.I was not yet in Kindergarten so my facts are more what I was told. My Mother comes from a very expressive family, and so she was not prepared for how well her in-laws handled the details and the funeral. Reeds back then had trouble expressing deep emotions, or they are stoic to the nth degree.
The one thing they did do which I think was enlightened was they set up the Joseph Reed Memorial scholarship for the Ideal Senior, and the senior students themselves pick the recipient. That I am afraid is the sum total of all I can remember being told of him.
Edward Reed was another matter.I have vivid memories of him, although they are from a child's eye view. I would like to take some of our time together today to share them with you.
First of all he married Sheila Burgey. She is the only one I know that called him Eddie or Edward. To everyone I knew he was Bug. They all had nick-names, Grandpa was Biscuit, Uncle Don was Jake, etc., etc,and although I don't know the stories of the nicknames, I know my Uncle.
When he died, he had two beautiful little girls, Pattie Sue and Debbie. He also had a daughter on the way, Tammy, and she was born after his death and never got to meet him. I felt lucky to know him. At one point Uncle Bug and Aunt Sheila lived next door to Grandma and Grandpa which was across the street from us. I can remember that house had a front porch, but family went the length of the porch to a private  door that led to a kitchen. I remember one day Mom sent me to answer the door  and guess who was there? A huge man with a Jack-o-lantern head, and it was lit!!. I screamed, (and knowing me cried) but it turned out to be Uncle Bug coming to bring me a carved pumpkin. I thought he was perfect. I loved him.
I can remember one morning whilst we were sitting in the kitchen eating cereal, Uncle Bug came over and was trying to teach me jumping jacks. The problem was, our ceiling was too low, and he was very tall. Yup, his head dented our ceiling. Well, the boys were all scared of their brother Bill, so home they went. A few mornings later, same kitchen, same bowl of cereal, Mom. Billy and  I were huddled around the breakfast table and the ceiling collapsed all around us, except for directly over the kitchen table. Lathe and plaster and dirt everywhere, but we were OK. There are other stories of collapsing ceilings, but I want to focus on a person today, we can revisit those topics later, if you are still interested.
the last story I have heard but do not remember is the day he died.The phrase is we  lost him, but it was who were lost. We lost him sounds like we were careless and misplaced him.. If I have been told properly and remember right, Uncle Bug had been in a body cast for something I can't remember. He was in a convertible with and between two of his best friends. They were driving in the upper Preston Hill area (abouts) and as they came over a hill, came upon children playing in the road. A little too sharply they swerved to miss the children, and the two buddies had door handles to hang onto but Uncle Bug was ejected.The two other men barely had a scratch despite the car rolling, Uncle Bug died. For some reason I do not know, my Dad came upon the scene. I can honestly tell you, despite the prompting I gave him (not realizing how cruel it was to ask my Dad to feel anything), he never discussed that day or the car accident his younger brother Joe had had. My Dad had a policy of the less said the better, and he said almost nothing at all. On any topic, ever, unless it was trivia. I can remember as my Dad lay dying after the stroke, I became  begging people if anyone had ever heard him say anything nice about me. Although they assured me he loved me, no one could recall an actual mention of the fact. The beautiful children Uncle Bug left behind will never have to worry about that. Their Father loved life and everyone in it. Did he get into scrapes, you bet (remember the afore mentioned body cast), but he made living on Liberty Street a bit more fun. He made life more fun, he was fun. My Aunt Sheila did something right, because she has three beautiful daughters who are assets to the community. They are as good inside as they are pretty. They love their little families they made, and include people maybe not related by blood, but adopted into their hearts. In short they are the best of both their parents good attributes, and I am proud to be related to them, I only wish I had been older so I would have more things to share with them. They deserve to know all about their Daddy.We all do. It is as basic a need as air.
God bless you , whoever your Daddy was.