A Little Town Called Urbanna
Ever have a place you’ve visited just stick with you – certain sights and events bringing the place fresh back into focus? As I crossed the sunrise-laden bridge this morning, I was reminded again of a visit a couple of years ago to a little portside town in Virginia – to a little town called Urbanna.
I think about this place every time I see a sunrise. I think about it every time I pass over the river on the way to work. I think about it most every time I lay my eyes on a boat. Sometimes I consider this a burden and wish it to be lifted from me; to regain the ability of forming my own thoughts and memories from such sights. It doesn’t seem meant to be, though – and this morning was no exception.
Urbanna is located on Virginia’s middle peninsula on the Rappahannock River, which eventually spills into the beautiful and majestic Chesapeake Bay. This historic town was originally established as a port for the shipment of tobacco to England. The old tobacco warehouse built in 1766 is listed on the National Register of Historic Places and serves today as the Visitors Center. This warehouse is located on Virginia Street, which ironically enough is one of my favorite streets there.
The town itself is as friendly as the day is long, and the locals seem to go out of their way to please you. They are proud of their towns history and the fact that aside from the annual Oyster Festival which attracts 70,000 each November, Urbanna is still able to maintain that hometown feel. As you walk through town, it’s almost as though nothing at all has changed since the fifties. The in-town drugstore still has a fully-operational diner inside, complete with swivel-seat barstools. Even the streets seem to want to tell you their story as you stroll down them.
X marks my approximate anchor location on Urbanna Creek. ©Google Images
I learned being rocked to sleep by the waves is one of my most favorite things, as well as waking up the next morning to the sunrise over the water. I ended up adapting to that little sailboat so quickly it about made my own head spin. Within a day I’d perfected my way around atop and below the boat – finding out exactly what I could hang onto and what I couldn’t, and what I could swing from and what I couldn’t. 🙂
I was sad to learn of the vineyard I visited closing down in 2010, White Fences Winery and Vineyards. What a nice drive over the bridge where you can see the Rappahannock River merging with the Chesapeake Bay. Unlike some local wineries, White Fences had acres and acres of vineyards to walk. The massive greenery would hold your imagination captive for as long as you would allow it.
The town slogan, as it appears on main page of their very well-put-together website:
“Turn off the main road. Or cruise up the Rappahannock River from the Chesapeake Bay. To the slightly off the beaten track tidewater town of Urbanna,Virginia. Home of Virginia’s official oyster festival, more boats than folks and laid back innkeepers, shopkeepers, chefs and townspeople who’ll help you shuck your stress and slip into an island state of mind.”
Yep… in this case, I’d say the city slogan fits quite well.
In the distance where the sun is hitting, Rappahannock River dances with Chesapeake Bay
The Word
Since my separation and divorce, the word has never passed my lips with regard to myself. I just don’t believe a woman should the first one to speak it, and I have my own personal reasons for feeling that way.
Marriage.
A long long time ago, I did utter it and lived to regret it. I became a prisoner of the word; listening intently to expressions of regret for the next twenty-plus years. ‘The whole thing was your idea”, I was told. Other times, “Your mother might as well have held the shotgun”. Great – my own little shotgun marriage, standing in front of a judge in a courthouse on that hot August day. How lovely. How endearing. How very valued those words made me feel.
In some ways, I think being made aware of this bitter regret only served to make me stronger. I’ve come to the realization the path to real love and commitment will never be found on a one-way street. That the word compromise actually exists for non-selfish reasons. That the amazing feeling of total and complete trust creates an airtight bond that is impenetrable.
I won’t even go so far as to throw out a hint. As far as writing about it, I’m not really concerned with who reads this. I know K doesn’t read my blog – he reminded me of that little factoid just last week. Besides, as dear old Dr. Suess once said…
Those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.
Those darn social networks…
My friend Kim over at What Now? It’s a Matter of Inflection… wrote a very nice post yesterday about how much positive energy she’s gotten out of facebook. Keeping up with friends and family updates on facebook does seem to be of the ‘norm’ nowadays. At the risk of looking like a copycat, I’ve got to run with a prime example that coincides closely with her own post.
I have a rut routine in the morning. First I go straight for my little 7-day container of medicine, pretty much consisting of bp meds and vitamins, scoring either a diet coke or diet Dr. Pepper to down them. Then I’ll grab my iPhone, where I’ll quickly graze facebook and twitter to get any up-to-date news and make sure nobody died (seriously, I’ve found this kind of stuff out on there before). I’ve found I don’t need any rss feed on other news channels, since anything newsworthy will appear on either of these two social networks.
C’mon Bon… what’s your point??
Soooo – I wake up this morning to a facebook post by my 23-year old daughter that reads, “I hate hospitals. Ewwww.” Posted at approximately 0327 hours.
Instant panic. Of course, none of the comments posted afterward allude to what actually happened, which is par for the course. My fingers couldn’t text her fast enough this morning.
Why are you texting her, Bon – why not just call her? This is important, after all!!
Today’s generation of children do not answer their cell phone. Additionally, do not bother leaving them a voicemail. If you do prefer to waste your precious time leaving a voicemail, know that it will sit all alone in it’s inbox for years until tumbleweeds begin to float past it. Our kids today only want a written (short) text which they may respond to AT. THEIR. LEISURE. If you know all this beforehand, it’ll save you a lot of time and trouble. Unfortunately since I’m a first-generation parent of the current generation of kids – I’ve had to learn it all the hard way.
I didn’t receive any reply from my daughter until just now, 1104 hours in the morning. The golden text just arrived telling me she is fine, and it was her friend who had cut his hand wide open. While cutting an apple. At three in the morning. Of course, her phone died while waiting 4 hours in the ER, and since she didn’t go to bed until this morning she couldn’t hear Mum’s text! At least now I can finally sigh very loudly breathe easier knowing that she’s okay. You never stop worrying about your kids. I guess it’ll be the same at any age, 23 or 53.
In closing, I guess Kim and I won’t be closing down our facebook accounts anytime soon! I hope everyone out there enjoys a wonderful weekend. 🙂
Paths
This morning I was reminded of a beloved poem by my friend Shawn over at Happy Publishing. I always like where this particular piece takes me – back to the root of it all, which I so need reminded of from time to time.
Uninstructed
“I am going to send you down to earth,”
Said God to me one day,
“I’m giving you what men call ‘birth’–
Tonight you’ll start away;
I want you there to live with men;
Until I call you back again.”
I trembled as I heard him speak,
Yet I know that I must go;
I felt His hand upon my cheek,
And wished that I might know –
Just what on earth would be my task,
And timidly I dared to ask.
“Tell me before I start away,
What thou would have me do;
What message would you have me say?
When shall my work be through?
That I may serve on earth,
Tell me the purpose of my birth.”
God smiled at me and softly said:
“Oh, you shall find your task.
I want you on life’s path to tread,
So do not stay to ask.
Remember, if your best you do,
That I shall ask no more of you.”
How often, as my work I do,
So commonplace and grim,
I sit and sigh and wish I knew
If I am pleasing Him.
I wonder if, with every test,
I’ve truly tried to do my best.
~Edgar A. Guest
Chillin’ on a Dirt Road
Although I appreciate most genres of music, I’ll admit I’ve grown into a country music kinda girl. My thanks to Keith who keeps me current with other stuff like hip-hop, pop and rock – if it weren’t for him, I’d be stuck on just country for sure.
I love this song. Listening to it puts me in a car pickup on the way to the beach or mountains for a long four-day weekend. Sun’s high in the sky, and it’s mild enough out to have the windows down blowing my hair everywhere. Instead of a beer beside me, there’s an ice-cold diet Coke or diet Dr. Pepper – no DUI for me, thanks.
But when we arrive at the beach/mountains, I’m poppin’ that top. To whoever made this video, you deserve to be at a million hits by now. I tip my hat to you for a fantastic job…
Yeah, I’m chillin’ on a dirt road…
Laid back swervin’ like I’m George Jones.
The Truth
Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to have my Dad over. We cooked out Saturday night and watched a movie afterwards, and the next morning attended service at his church. With it being a 50-mile drive from my home to his church, Keith suggested that him spending the night might make things easier. I can’t express how grateful I was for the opportunity to do this.
I was able to meet Dad’s fellow church members, many of which are elders. Those of us who were early sat on the side pews and conversed amongst each other. I didn’t pay much mind to a kindly gentleman who got up and went back outside, until Dad turned around later and said, “That’s Mr. and Mrs. Q. They can’t take care of each other anymore, and live separately. Every Sunday morning he eagerly waits outside for her to arrive.”
I would estimate Mr. and Mrs. Q to be in their nineties. As I turned around and watched them come ever so slowly down the isle, arm in arm – my heart melted. What I saw wasn’t two elders. I saw a very beautiful couple, each wearing a wide smile. Love radiated outward from them, I mean they actually glowed. It seemed a real-life version of The Notebook, and I found myself wanting to know more about this couple I’d never met.
After church, we went to my great aunt and uncle’s house where they had prepared us a feast for lunch. They recently celebrated 62 years together – not only are they very dear, but very wise. I’d like to give you an example of just how wise.
While seated across the table from them, Uncle N said, “The secret of a long and happy marriage is always telling each other the Truth. No matter what, even if it’s something the other doesn’t want to hear. When you tell them the Truth, it gives them worth. It verifies they are valuable to you.” Aunt D listened intently while nodding her head in complete agreement. Anyone could see how deep in love they still are, even more so, after all these years.
None of us are perfect, for there is but One that is. The trivial things in life are really that – trivial. I see it as black and white, really; the things that actually matter in life are just plain common sense. I believe a couple should respect each other enough to abide by Truth together. I’ve never understood what could be so hard about that.
From the very beginning K and I each made Truth a requirement, not an option. Sure, sometimes it’s going to be something hard to say or hear. Some of these things can and will cause hurt. But if you repeatedly withhold that Truth, deprive a person of it – you’ll see what you have left in the end…
Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
Have you ever felt like running somewhere, anywhere – only to be reminded there’s really nowhere for you to run?
Full moon ahead.
Kinda like being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.
Even as a child, this phrase intrigued me. It seems most logical for me to believe it may have derived from Greek mythology – when Homer’s Odyssey refers to Odysseus being caught between Scylla (a six-headed monster) and Charybdis (a whirlpool).
Full moon alert.
However, I’ve run upon another possible origin that may hold water – pardon the pun – which is the nautical theory. In sailing terminology, the word “Devil” (devill) refers to the seam between the deck planking and the topmost plank of a vessel’s side. This seam had to be watertight, so it required continuous caulking. When a ship was at sea, it sometimes became necessary for a sailor to be suspended over the side or edge to perform this maneuver. Makes perfect sense to me how this might have translated into ‘between the devil and the deep sea’.
Move along, quickly now… full moon out.
All the talk of deep blue seas and moons brings to mind their lovely counterparts – the tides and currents. Thanks to the gravity force between Earth and the Moon, the Moon is ultimately responsible for many of the tides in our Earth’s oceans. During the full and new Moons, the Earth, Moon and Sun are lined up – which produces higher high tides (Spring Tides) and lower low tides. Sorry to bore, but I’ve always found the tides and their reasoning fascinating.
As a child, I remember walking along the beach in my nightgown under the light of a full moon, which I used to call ‘whole’ moon. I’ve written about this night before. I had this clear plastic blue ring which I used to filter the moon to a beautiful bright blue hue. Since then, I’ve never witnessed any setting that matched the beauty of the moonlit beach on that particular night. Even as a child I appreciated it – I stood there mesmerized taking it all in, wishing I never had to leave. Since our vacation house was directly behind me on the beach, my mother allowed me to linger there under her watchful eye. It’s still a strong, magical and precious memory – one I hope I never lose.
I’d still like to run somewhere. Preferably to a desolate beach at low tide, underneath a full moon…
Photobucket.com
Aim for the Moon. If you miss, you may hit a star…
~W. Clement Stone
Ode to a Grown Man
I’d like to eventually have/make more time to spend on reading other’s blogs. It’s something I really enjoy, particularly the ones of those who take their own precious time to comment on mine. With all the stuff I’ve had going on with moving, work and the likes of everything else, my hope is to get settled in soon and do just that – consistently. I’m amazed at the talent that each of you have – whether it be through writing, arts, or a combination of both. It inspires my own desire to do better. I thank each of you for that.
In updating my blog roll tonight, once again I had heavy thoughts of a certain individual in our blogging world. This is someone that I miss very much – known as Grown Man (as self-referred, GM). It’s for this reason I chose to profile Grown Man in this post today. If you’ve never visited his blog, why not hop on over and read a few excerpts. Click the ‘list’ link for more options. I can guarantee you’ll have to break yourself away from it.
Grown Man has not posted since November of 2010. Prior to that, his fairly frequent posts were eloquent, vivacious and packed full of wisdom. Although geared mainly towards the male genre, his content inspired males and females alike. His own hilarity paired with common sense insight on the male psyche made for some darn good reading and entertainment… not to mention education. He remained ever-kind in his replies, to which he always gave. I’ve always been a sucker for that kindness trait. The love he had for his wife was evident, not exactly spelled out – rather something that was apparent between the lines. I deeply respect his writing style.
I do worry about what may have happened to him, at the risk of sounding silly. Did he meet a dreadful fate… or did he abandon it for a chance of a lifetime, moving on to a bigger and better thing? I’ve googled to no avail to find out what might have happened, having noticed his twitter feed has also been abandoned. He had the potential to be HUGE, and was already getting there fast. Over 188K hits with less than 80 entries – this thing grew pretty quick, my friends. It’s obvious by reading the comments on his last post that his readers really miss him.
I’ll continue to have Grown Man appear on my blogroll because I prefer his legacy to live on, even if not ongoing. I agree with one of the last commenters who stated, appropriately: We miss you, Grown Man.
Grown Man’s Blog (or, just click the picture above)
Footnote: Even my Keith enjoyed reading GM’s posts, and he’s not usually into reading blogs unless he’s coerced into reading mine, cough-cough. 🙂
Mouseworks
How I’ve missed my little blog – both reading others and writing them. Things have been extremely busy my way with moving, and I can’t wait to reaccustom myself to a more permanent schedule once again. I thought it would make everything easier having 2+ months to pack, get everything out and clean… but it seems as though I’ve been going back and forth now for way longer than I should! I’m finally convinced doing it all in one day is the way to go.
All weekend we worked over at my place and now, thankfully I can say I’m pretty much done. I still have to get the washer/dryer out to store for my daughter and find a home for my couch. K has worked his rear off the entire time, and cleaning should now be a cinch since the place is now empty! I did happen across a most precious commodity (ahem) for my cat Camille, that made her very very happy.
Meet my mousse! (Mousse because Mademoiselle Camille has always pronounced the word in French.) The Little Girl has been reunited with her long-lost BFF who has been MIA for at least a year and a half. Maybe longer. How old is this thing, you ask? Oh, I realize it looks like it was resurrected from the caveman era. But to Cam… it’s a thing of sheer beauty. A huge basket full of toys is no match for this one item sent straight from Heaven. She’s carrying her baby around again while talking, then dropping it for daddy to play fetch. She is one Happy Girl.
A view of the front of Keith’s. Note: it now comes complete with it’s own set of nightlites located in bottom left window…
I actually went to type a blog out last night, and in addition to all the nerve-wracking hustle and bustle of moving noticed my mouse (MY mouse, one S) was all but operable. I had to go out and purchase another one after work today. I guess I’ve been behind-the-times until now, because I’ve always had a corded mouse. At last I made the ‘jump’ and opted (pardon the pun) for a ‘new improved one’. That is, one that is non-corded.
Left: old one… Right: new-improved (non-corded) one. My hand hardly knows what to do with something so very small in comparison – but I’m finding it ever-functional.
So who gets the points on the cat’s eyes being covered up??
Jigsaw
Recently, a friend of mine posed a question that captured my attention – so much so, that I decided to grab the question by it’s hand and take it for a little walk.
Have you ever worked a puzzle only to find that when the pieces start coming together you start seeing a picture you really don’t want to see?
Why yes B, I have. In my own life, there have been times where I spent much longer on a puzzle than I should have. Times where I tried hard to convince myself there were no missing pieces, or pieces that neither fit nor belonged. An imperfect puzzle, if you will. Admittedly, there were times where I would ‘cheat’, having shaved a bit off here and there in hopes I would make a piece fit. To make the puzzle whole.
Weird as it may sound, starting a brand new puzzle can be a difficult and trying thing. Here you have all these tiny little pieces with no real beginning. Just like anything that’s worth the effort – it requires effort. Slowly, intricately, you embark on a journey of building something whole from a thousand little scattered pieces. You set aside pieces that might match up later, or have a similar color/pattern. You take mental snapshots of different shapes. Slowly, methodically… it begins to form.
Upon completion of an intact puzzle, your patience and perseverance is hopefully rewarded with something pretty or at least pleasurable to look at – not something ugly. So what happens when you work halfway through a puzzle then begin to see something unspeakable taking form? Your first notion might be to push the thought of it away – it simply couldn’t be. You work through a few more pieces, and oh –
Couldn’t be. Hope it’s not…
Maybe the situation’s new to you and you’re shocked. Perhaps you’ve been there before and aren’t. Or, could be you’ve been there before, but you’re still shocked. You may ask yourself, how could something you’ve worked that hard on, invested that much time in – turn out to be a picture of something you don’t want to look at, for whatever reason.
Just a day in the life of a jigsaw.
Stormy nights
After more storms whisked through the south the night before last, the current estimated time of power restoration has been moved from 5pm last night to 5pm tonight. What’s up with the south and all these destructive storms this year? The thunder, lightning, wind and rain of this storm out-did all other storms so far. Even the hailstorm didn’t have these kind of damaging winds and lightning… it only pounded things into oblivion. We’re supposed to get more storms through Tuesday, so I guess it’s time to batten down the hatches.
Thank goodness I still have my apartment, albeit one with no bed. It does still have a/c (a must in the south in May) and cable tv (a must since it was Survivor night and I’ve never missed an episode). With these two amenities calling us, Keith packed up a few things and our spoiled kitty Camille, and met me over at my apartment. He even thought to bring my bp meds – whatta guy that man is. 🙂
I must admit that I was a little sad I’d unknowingly spend my last night in my apartment last Thursday night. We’d decided to carry my bed over on a whim last Sunday, meaning there was no ‘reflection time’ assigned to my last night spent there. This power outage was a hidden blessing. I found it only befitting that I got to spend just one more night there, with both my man and my little animal. So the palette on the floor did just fine.
My friend Shawn over at Happy Publishing posted this today. Although it’s been around a while, it’s a few great reminders of how to make the world a little more livable. I found it more than worthy of a repost.
- Do not contradict people, even if you are sure you are right.
- Do not be inquisitive about the affairs of even your most intimate friend.
- Do not underrate anything because you do not possess it.
- Do not believe all the evil you hear.
- Do not repeat gossip, even if it does interest a crowd.
- Do not jeer at anyone’s religious belief.
- Learn to hide your aches and pains under a pleasant smile; few care whether you have an earache, headache, or rheumatism.
- Learn to attend to your own business – a very important point.
- Do not try to be anything else but a gentleman or a lady; and that means one who has consideration for the whole world, and all races.
~Unknown
The Royal Wedding
Well, the big day has finally arrived! The Royal Wedding will take place in less than 24 hours. I must ask beforehand that you forgive the sarcastic undertone of this post. You see, for the past couple of weeks I’ve heard more than my share of negative comments and opinions about the Royal Wedding – in turn, this has propelled me into smartass-Bon mode (not good). Allow me to elaborate.
The original title of this post was “Asses that attempt to ruin Royal Weddings“. I have since changed it, but still thought it noteworthy. I didn’t change it because I no longer believe negative people to be asses… I changed it because I didn’t want the word to be in the same sentence as Royal Wedding. So there. (Negative people – that means you’re still an ass.)
Additionally, I will make it my mission to overuse the words Royal Wedding in this post. If this offends you, know that I find that awesome. Now, on to more talk about the Royal Wedding. Because I can.
Most of the posts I see are so very redundant. If you’re so bored and ‘over’ the Royal Wedding, must you use your precious time to talk about it? By doing this, aren’t you allowing even more ‘air time’ to the Royal Wedding? Here’s some food for thought: posting comments of how sick you are of the Royal Wedding translates into how very intriguing and appealing it must be to you. If you’re truly sick of the Royal Wedding, why not simply change channels or read on to something else? Or perhaps there’s something deeper going on than meets the eye, other than the Royal Wedding. (Hey, how am I doing on that overuse thing?)
Here’s my comparison: when the college ball games were all going on a few weeks back, that entire series of games seemed to last for about a year. I know for a fact that I’m not the only person who doesn’t follow or care for it. But I absolutely would not post on Twitter, FB, ABC News, etc.: “No one gives a s**t about college basketball!!” It would be ridiculous. Why? Because yes, people do exist that give a s**t about college basketball.
Well, so what? It’s my status or comment, and I’ll post what I want! Isn’t that the purpose of it all? Freedom of speech, baby – take it or leave it. I choose to take it. So back off.
Okay, yeah it IS your comment. As far as freedom of speech, I beg to differ – we do not have anything of the sort here in America. There’s only a handful of things we may blurt out without risk of offense to others. If we do say something inappropriate we get blasted for it, or even worse, sued. Freedom of speech, pfftthh – sore subject with me. I’ll save that for another post to be listed in the category The Angry American. Coming soon to a blog near you.
Okay Bon. So what’s your point? If it’s my post and I can write about what I want, and I want to write about how much I hate all the hype of the Royal Wedding, what the heck IS your point?
Here’s my bottom line. Very rarely do we the people get the opportunity to enjoy anything good on the news. Everything is terrorism, war and soldiers dying, missing people, rape, murder and catastrophic weather events. The Royal Wedding is a bright spot in the midst of a storm – dare I even say it brings a ray of light and hope to many. I realize that women tend to be more susceptible to swoon over a fairytale romance, but I also know of quite a few men who appreciate it too. Not swoon over it, mind you – but appreciate it. Who couldn’t use an extra serving of love?
I guess everyone’s got something to say about something – this just happens to be mine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to enjoy a fantastic Royal Wedding with the haters left scurrying behind me. Cheers!!
31 March
Today is the 90th day of the year, that means there are 275 days left until the end of the year. Can you believe it? I’m a numbers gal, so naturally I found myself analyzing the setup of the date today. 3-31-11, let’s see… to me that translates into three 3’s. That would equal to 9, which divided by 3 is 3. For the 90th day of the year, divide that by 3 and it’s 30. Seems like 3’s are going to dominate today! *clearing throat* Yep, it’s just another day here in the Life of Bon.
I don’t know about the rest of you but here in the southeast, everything has ‘arrived’ a month early – with the big prize being Spring. It started with constant warmer temperatures in early February, then the winds that usually accompany March arrived. In March, the rain that usually accompanies April arrived. People have long since started with their Spring planting, and the new leaves have adorned the trees for weeks now.
Love, and Time
Recently I came across a video that made quite an impression on me, and I’d like to share it with you this morning. Most of you already know that I’m one of the world’s biggest romantics. In fact, I thought I might be the biggest – up until now.
If you haven’t seen this… please take a few quiet minutes and check it out. It’s filled my heart with such joy. The story of Danny and Annie Perasa — how they met, and how they stayed in love for twenty-seven years — continues to inspire those who hear it. You can read more about them here.
And yes, this kind of love is still out there. Amazing.
Surreal
I’m looking so forward to my move, I really am. The emotions that come with this move are high, though – higher than those who would be making that ‘generic’ move from one place to another. To me, the home I currently reside in represents the beginning of a brand new life following a failed marriage of 21 years. This home I’m in – it’s a staple in my life. It might seem weird to most of you, but I actually knew shortly after I moved here that if and when the time came to ever leave, it would be more than emotionally challenging. Of course back then, I couldn’t even imagine there would come a time when I would leave.
But the time is coming. It’s all so surreal. Slowly but surely, I’m gathering everything together.
I ran out of paper towels last night, so I went to fetch an extra roll. I realized it would probably be the last roll of paper towels that I would ever replenish here. The forest beyond me has morphed into my very favorite look… it’s like an artist has taken their tiny brush and dab dab dabbed little hints of green on the ends of all the branches.
All of the forest is flourishing. Each new spring, this continues to represent promise and hope to me. It’s so very beautiful. The deer will make their nightly trek through the woods, on time nearly every night. Soon I’ll hear the nightly hum of boats cruising the lake again, for a short while…
I have to accept the fact these are the last times that I’ll be gazing at this beautiful forest I’ve called my own for 3 years. Honestly, just opening an empty cupboard in the kitchen can make my eyes well up.
It’s surreal. In fact to me, this is the epitome of surreal.
Dreamlets
Sometimes dreams are a blessing, other times they can be a real hindrance. Goodness gracious, they sure were a hindrance last night. It took a while this morning to ‘shake loose’ the lasting impression the combination of them made.
First it was my boyfriend, who was acting weird to say the least. The dream started with him covering for his brother, who was cheating on his wife. I came in his house, and there was this baby in a crib! I asked who the baby was, and was told it belonged to the skank his brother was cheating with. I was so perturbed at this – at both a) the fact that his brother was cheating (totally not something he would ever do) AND b) it was a Saturday night and we now had a baby to watch. As time ellapsed, my boyfriend’s face would morph into that of my ex-husbands, and form that sneer at me. I packed my stuff and went back home without him even trying to stop me.
I then ended up at some restaurant with some woman that I don’t know. I spotted an acquaintance, who just happens to be my ex-husband’s ex (I think) girlfriend. It was her birthday, and she was surrounded by many people who were there to celebrate with her. I went up to say hello, she saw me and smiled – and it appeared to me that she’d been crying. Her gaze then went beyond me, and in walked my ex who had come there to see her. They both stood up and hugged and cried. I remember feeling so very awkward standing there at that moment, and just wanted to melt into the floor.
There’s been a couple of recent happenings that likely, no DID, manifest within my dreams last night. After writing each dream down, I can just about pull and match each issue/incident to the dream/misrepresentation. It feels as though I’ve had no sleep at all… guess I’ll roll the dice once again tonight in hopes of scoring some dreamless sleep.
Reasoning
I believe everything happens for a reason – I’ve always believed that. Sometimes we don’t know why at the time… oftentimes we’ll never know the reason. I still believe it all the same though, and it’s honestly something I’ve never questioned.
I’ve been thinking recently about the people who come in and out of our lives and the directions it takes us. Sometimes these people are new and fresh – sometimes it’s someone from our past. It’s possible that a person can make a re-entrance into your life many years later – with you both taking solace from one another from a certain event. Maybe questions need answering. Perhaps you just need to be heard. Maybe you need validation from each other about something you went through, or of the pain inflicted by a person common in both your lives at the time.
Whatever the case may be, I remain thankful for every individual in my life that has came, went, and made a re-entrance.
Bridge Over Troubled Water
I was talking to my mother last night, and the topic of worry came up. After some discussion as to some things that were bothering me, she asked ‘Where does it get you, really? And what does it accomplish?’ I had no answer.
©www.deviantart.com
I know prayer is the main key when you’re feeling overwhelmed, but I confess it doesn’t always quell the worry inside me. Of course all a person has to do when they feel the weight of the world on their shoulders is look around – for there’s always someone very near who has it a lot worse. It’s not that it makes you feel better – just lets you know that you’re not alone, and that perhaps what you have going on pales in comparison to theirs.
Worry can come from a variety of things. Too many bills, not enough money. A sick relative. Being unemployed. Health problems of your own. Drug or alcohol addiction of yourself or a loved one. Being bullied at school. Being bullied at work. A variety of these or other things can be a constant source of a knotting stomach and intense worry, as well as a variety of other emotions.
A long time ago, when I was just a kid, I found this religious tract somewhere that stated something along the lines of “Why Worry?? Don’t be a smudgepot!!” What was the meaning of this? I have no earthly idea other than saying not to worry, that we should let God handle things in His way. I remember my Mother and Grandmother seemed so impressed that I’d hit on such an integral subject at what appeared to be a much-needed time. I often think about that tract, and wish that I had it now so that I may fully absorb it’s contents. Something tells me the value within it’s pages was priceless.
Sir and Ma’am… please and thank you.
It seems like the days are few and far between now when we hear these words used.
Have you ever been present when someone actually takes offense to being called sir or ma’am? Sometimes a person reacts so strongly that they make you feel like you did something wrong. In my experience, most have been female. A while back I heard a woman react horribly to a young lad for simply being courteous. “I’ll have you know I am not old enough to be a ma’am, young man!” she retorted. The boy looked crushed and didn’t know what to say to her. I’ll never forget how hard it was to resist kicking her teeth in at that very moment. With one swipe of her sharp tongue, she successfully crapped on ten years of respectful upbringing. At the very least, she planted doubt in the method.
I call a female ma’am. I’ll call a gentleman sir. It’s not just a southern thing. Sometimes they’re older than me – sometimes they’re younger. I don’t and won’t ever consider it a slam. You see, to me it’s not about age at all – just plain old respect.
How about the kids today? Okay, not all, just most. At least the ones in my city, USA. GIMMIE!!!! NOW!!!! Hey kid… a please will likely get you that lollipop you’re screaming so loudly for in Cracker Barrel. And not if but when your parent gives in and buys you that thing you’re screaming for – how about a thank you? And whatever happened to excuse me? Excuse me’s come more in the form of an eye-roll nowadays. Yeah, you get my drift – all these words are grossly underused. Sadly enough, manners are simply becoming a thing of the past.
Come to think of it, I think we just might benefit from a Sir/Ma’am/Please/Thank You/Excuse Me University. Starting at Pre-K.
Yes sir. Errr, ma’am…
Life of Bon 
Recent Comments