A Girl Named Hope

A while back, one of my readers said he would like to hear about some of my calls when I was running EMS.  We discussed our calls among ourselves, even though we were bound by those pesky HIPPA laws but if the Mayor was transported after a drunk driving accident, it wasn’t like we all didn’t know.

There were calls that bothered me, calls that annoyed me and calls that pissed me off.  I remember them all but I decided to write about one that was incredibly memorable and sad.

In EMS, we have patients we run on regularly and they become known as “frequent flyers.”  We get to know them well and form a sort of bond with them.

This is the story of Hope.

My partner and I got a call for “respiratory distress.”  We got on scene and were led to a back bedroom.  That was the first time I saw Hope.  She was a twenty-six year old girl who weighed 852 pounds.  My partner and I each weighed about a buck fifteen.

Because of her weight, she was bed bound and frequently had difficulty breathing.  She kept apologizing for the “trouble.”  I told her it was no trouble and we were there to help.  I could see the embarrassment in her eyes when she took my hand and said “I’m sorry I’m so fat.”

I don’t know if I ever ran across a patient who had a sweeter disposition than Hope.  Even while she was struggling to breathe, she said “you are so kind and you have such beautiful hair.”

I asked her parents how long she had been having trouble breathing.  They said it had just started and then asked me if they could feed her before we left.  They seemed to be more concerned about her getting to eat than being able to breathe.

Her mama was less than five feet tall and couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds.  Her daddy wasn’t much taller and looked like a toothpick.  Hope was their only child.
Her mama took me aside and said they didn’t want Hope to be hungry.  I told her that the hospital would give her something to eat but we needed to get her there before she got worse.

I knew that we were going to need help getting her to the hospital so I called dispatch and asked for any available crews to come assist.  I also asked them to send the fire department.  I knew she would never fit on our stretcher so I requested that one of the crews bring “Chitty.”

Chitty was our critical care ambulance.  The cab was the size of an eighteen wheeler and the “trailer” was as large by half.  The fire department had a “whale carrier.”  Since it was a coastal city, large marine life would sometimes get stranded and the carrier was how they moved them.  It was the only way we could get Hope out to the ambulance.  We had to remove the standard stretcher mounts and slide her onto the floor.

She was naked, so I used my sense of humor to distract her from the indignity of being eyed and handled while she was being loaded and made sure that she was covered to prevent gawking neighbors from seeing anything.

After we got her loaded, she started crying and said “I don’t want to die.”  I told her she wasn’t going to die on my watch.  She said she had tried to lose weight and wanted to have gastric by-pass surgery but she weighed too much and then started apologizing again.  I told her she had nothing to apologize for.

This was the routine for several months.  I got to know her well and she was such a sweet child.  She was the same age as my youngest daughter.  We talked about music and movies and as soon as I would get her to the hospital, she would always say the same thing.  “I don’t want to die.”

As soon as we got her in the bed, her parents wanted to know when she was going to be fed and again said “we don’t want her to be hungry.”

It was so heartbreaking when her parents talked about wanting her to not be hungry.  Every time she was hospitalized, her parents would sneak buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken into her room.  The nurses finally had to threaten them with loss of visitation rights if they continued.

I was on shift on Christmas Eve and had just dropped off a patient.  I stopped at the nurses’ station to get some paperwork signed and one of them asked if I had heard about Hope.  I said “of course.  I’ve brought her here many times.”
The nurse shook her head and said “no.  Hope died.  She went into cardiac arrest about an hour ago and we couldn’t bring her back.”

She was down the hall in a room but I couldn’t bring myself to go see her.  The nurses said her parents had asked for a few minutes alone with her, which of course, they granted.

When they went in to disconnect the machinery, one of them noticed something trickling from Hopes’ mouth.

While her parents were alone with her, they stuffed her mouth full of candy.  They didn’t want her to be hungry while she was alive and they didn’t want her to be hungry after she died.


Blogger Recognition Award

A big thank you to Stephanie at makingtimeforme for the nomination.  Stephanie is a wonderful blogger who is supportive and encouraging.  She’s quick to promote anothers’ work and delves into the lives of those we may tend to discount…like teenagers.  She posts about her own life, divorce, remarriage and her struggles with being a step-mom. She is gracious with those of us who don’t understand how to do something.  She is always more than willing to help. If  you don’t already follow her, give her a read.  You’ll be glad you did.

The Rules:

1.  Thank the blogger who nominated you.

2.  Write a post and display the award.

3.  Give a brief story on how your blog started.

4.  Give a piece of advice to new bloggers.

5.  Select up to 15 other bloggers you want to give the award to.

6.  Comment on each blog and let them know you nominated them.

How My Blog Started:

I am not sure exactly how my blog started.  The only thing I knew about blogs and WordPress came from my dear friend, who died from a brain tumor and blogged about his fight to survive….and a brave fight it was.  I revisit his blog from time to time, although it is painful.  I still remember this wonderful, intelligent, strong, strapping man who was a true friend.  He would have been the one I turned to for advice on “how to blog”, had he lived.

I think my youngest daughter, probably in an attempt to help ease my grief, suggested that “we” write a blog.  So…I decided to write about the journey of my life….the struggles, the disappointments, the losses and what seems to be a losing battle of recovery.

Advice To New Bloggers:

The one thing I wish I had been more knowledgeable about was how to “tag.”  If you are a new blogger and are as computer illiterate as I was (am), it helps.  As far as content, there are so many bloggers out there with entirely different kinds of posts and they are all wonderful reads.  I would say to write what you want to write.

Follow other bloggers and be supportive.  Comment on their work.  Let them know you read their posts and appreciate them.  You will make some wonderful friends here.  They will become your family…your “band of bloggies.”

Don’t get discouraged if you only have a few followers in the beginning.  Keep writing, if only for yourself.  It can be cathartic.  It can be healing.  It can be the reason you get off of your sofa.

My Nominees:

1.  Tosha Michelle

2.  myworldshattered

3.  A@moylomenterprises

4.  euphoriciraqisinglemom

5.  chloe88blog

6.  Blue Sky

7.  creativerational

8.  shavingshards

9.  RobertGoldstein







Another Leibster Award

liebsterlogo pink

A big thank you to innerramblingsblvd for the nomination!  They are a couple of ghost writers whose work ranges from musical to erotica.  They post lots of videos and the writing is always so meaningful.  They are staunch supporters of their followers and never fail to comment with heartfelt and encouraging responses.  If you don’t already follow them, give them a look.

These are their questions for me:

1.  What was the scariest moment in your life?
I would have to say when I had to meet with a drug dealer in the middle of the woods because the Loser puppet told me to get his computer back and he didn’t care how I did it.  (My son sold it.)

2.  What or who inspires your writing?
My life.

3.  How have you overcome writers’ block?
I just don’t write for a while.

4.  Are you published?  Would you like to be published?
No.  Maybe.

5.  What do you think is your best poem or poetry?
Maybe “A Short Story” but I don’t consider anything I write as being very good.

6.  What is your favorite novel?
I don’t have one.

7.  If you could meet an author, who would you meet?
I’ve met Robert Penn Warren but only because he was one of the Loser puppets’ favorite authors.  Not being a reader, I don’t have an answer.

8.  If you were trapped on an island, what three items would you have?
Water, a compass and a raft.

9.  What is one thing in the world you’d like to change?

10. How long have you been writing?
I’ve been blogging almost a year.

The Rules:

Thank the person who nominated you and post a link to their blog.

Try to include a little promotion for the person who nominated you.

Display the award on your blog post.

Provide 10 random facts about yourself.

Nominate 5-11 bloggers that you feel deserve the award and notify them that they have been nominated.

Ask them to answer ten questions.

Ten Random Facts About Me:

1.  I always wear a gold St. Jude (the patron saint of lost causes) pendant around my neck.

2.  I have no discernible wrinkles on my forehead…a trait I got from my mama.  At eighty, she didn’t
have a single wrinkle on her forehead.

3.  I can raise both of my eyebrows (ala Scarlett O’Hara) alternately.  I used to entertain my
children and they would try and try to do it but none of them have ever been able to.  I have never
met anybody else who could do it either.

4.  When I give up something, I give it up.  I used to drink 3 or 4 pots of coffee every day.  About ten years ago, I decided to stop.  I used to drink 8 or 9 gallons of milk a week.  Three years ago, I decided I was going to stop.  I have never even had a sip since.  I never miss what I give up.  I never have any kind of withdrawal.  It’s another quality that people “admire” and also think makes me “crazy.”  (“Nobody says I’m quitting something and just does it.  That’s crazy.”)

5.  I can tie a knot in a cherry stem with my tongue.

6.  I know a pressure point that can disable or kill you using only my thumb.  (Learned in EMS and no, I will not tell you.)

7.  I despise cooking, although I used to be a pretty good one.  I find the idea right on up there with sticking forks in my eyes.

8.  If I had a choice of a sunny day or a rainy day, I would pick the latter.  I have always loved rainy days.

9.  I have a younger sister who I have only seen five times in the last 61 years.

10. I once worked for the telephone company as an information operator.  Back then, we literally used a phone book to look up numbers.

My questions are the same questions that were asked of me.

Since so many bloggers are award free, I tend to nominate the few who still accept awards.  Also, the Leibster Award is for bloggers with less than 200 followers.  I have surpassed that number (many thanks to my followers) and some of my nominees have, I’m sure but not all have the number posted.

My nominees are:

1.  survivednarc

2.  angelicakidd

3.  creativerational

4.  socialworkerangela

6.  learningtolivelikewater

7.  myworldshattered

8.  painkills2

9.  samlobos

10.  simplyEttad




I have spent so many hours, days, weeks and months….thinking about the loss of my children and I have my regular pity parties, thinking about how things have turned out.

I think about my mama and how she lost her only two boys.  One was dead and the other never had a chance to really live…by any true definition of the word.

In the midst of one of my selfish episodes, I remembered a girl I knew in the late seventies.
Her story has very graphic details, so be warned.

We had just returned to ***** ******** from ****** and I had gone to work for a large insurance company.  I worked in the Assigned Risk department.  That’s where I met and worked with Mary, Carmen and Carol.

This story is about Carol.

Carol was a slight, medium-height girl with long black hair and dark eyes.  She was surprisingly intelligent.  She and her husband of not more than two years lived modestly, even though Carols’ family had money.
She was pregnant with their first child.  She just glowed when she talked about her baby and would giggle and say “Oh, y’all.  I just can’t wait.”
We had formed a bond from the very first day I walked in.  She was constantly begging me to start a business…and always followed it with “you have to get incorporated.”

We all knew that Carol was going to have to have a cesarean section because she had Herpes.  I was clueless about that….then.  Carol didn’t seem to mind that we all knew.  I didn’t know the particulars nor did I ever ask.

Carols’ husband, Paul was a blue-collar worker and his brother, Pete was in training to join the police force.  They were a close family and Pete was at their house all the time.  Sometimes, they would both come to the office to see Carol.  Pete would wear his uniform and we would all swoon because he was very easy on the eyes.

When the time came, Carol had a little girl.  She had secretly wanted and hoped for a little girl all along.  We all sent congratulations and gifts and couldn’t wait for her to bring the baby to the office.

Until she returned to work, we would call her at home almost daily to chat and catch up.  The excitement in her voice said it all.  We were so happy for her.
I knew how precious little girls were.  I had two of my own.

When the baby was a week old, she brought her to see us.  We all took turns holding this beautiful little girl with a head of dark hair and Carols’ dark eyes.

One week later, Loser and I…as usual…had to spend our entire week-end off at his fucking mama and daddys’ house.  When we got back home late Sunday night, I was walking into the house and the phone was ringing.  It was my friend, Lynn.

She said “have you heard about Carol?”  I was confused for a minute and said “what do you mean?”  All I remember Lynn saying was “her baby’s dead.”

I went to work the next day and the mood was solemn.  We had a meeting and the general consensus was that, should Carol return to work, we would just “be there for her.”  If she wanted to talk, we would listen but if she didn’t, we would leave her alone.
Mary and Carmen were crying and could hardly do their jobs.  A young man who worked in a different department (who, for some reason, always found an excuse to come talk to me) wandered over.  He said he was surprised that I wasn’t crying.  He said “I figured you would be falling apart.”  I found his statement curious.

Nobody really had any information.  We just knew that Carols’ baby was dead at two weeks old.

An older woman we called “mama Bert” came over and talked to us.  We all adored her.  She was our “mother figure” which is why we all called her mama.  We talked for a minute when she popped into my office.  I will never forget her words.  She said “you never know.  Something terrible might have been waiting for that little girl down the line and God just decided to take her now.”  She nor I had a clue what happened.  I think maybe silently, we were all thinking SIDS.

Several days later, we found out.  Pete had completed his training and was officially a member of the police department.  He had come over to show off his newly issued 44 Magnum.  He had it out, loading and unloading it.  While he was flaunting his newly acquired expertise, the gun went off.

The rest of the story was told to me by Carol.

She had just fed the baby and was putting her in her crib.  She said, suddenly she felt all this “debris” flying around all over the place.  She looked down and half of her babys’ head was missing.  She said she remembered screaming and Pete came into the room, grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her little head.
Pieces of her babys’ skull and tissue were all over Carols’ face and the walls.  Carol said “why do I remember that?  Why do I remember that the walls were covered with blood?”

The bullet had gone all the way through a wall, bounced off the window sill and into the crib.  It barely missed Carol.

They took the baby to the hospital but there was nothing they could do.  We all went to the funeral and like before, Mary and Carmen were almost inconsolable.  Carol never cried.
Just the two of us were talking after and she said “you know, I think I could deal with this if I hadn’t seen it but I don’t think I will ever get that image out of my head.”

Within months, Carol and Paul split up and were getting divorced.  Paul stopped talking to his brother.  I’m sure there were accusations of blame, whether spoken or not.

Carol moved in with her parents and never returned to work.

I don’t know if Pete was ever formally charged with anything or if it was considered just a tragic accident.
Before I found out, I had been called into the main office and asked the question “does your husband work for the newspaper?”

Now and then, when I’m mentally wallowing on the floor, I try to just stop and think.  I try to be grateful that my children are still here.

I try to remember Carol, whose life at such a young and tender age…in a split second…was changed forever.




For Tony

Today is Memorial Day.  It’s a day to celebrate the veterans who gave their lives in the service of our country.

I have a POW/MIA bracelet from the Vietnam War.  I used to wear it all the time but my wrists are so slim now that it tends to slip off my arm.  My young man (as I call him) never made it back home.  Even though I can’t wear it now, I pick it up every single day and run my fingers over his name.  When I do that….he is remembered.

In the late sixties, I was working and trying to save money to go to college.  A friend I had gone to high school with was dating a young man named Bob.  He was in the army and was on leave.

My friend, Liz, wanted to set me up with her boyfriends’ buddy, Tony.  I wasn’t interested but I agreed with the usual caveats….I’m not doing anything with him….I’m not drinking….and I have to be at home by nine o’clock.

I don’t believe I have ever spoken to anybody about Tony.  He was a  happenstance…an all too brief encounter who left a mark on me.

I met him and he was a striking young man.  He was Italian and was from The Bronx.  He wasn’t very tall but had that olive skin, that jet black hair and those rich, dark, chocolate eyes (like samlobos.)  He had scars on his lip and one on the side of his face.  I could tell that his front teeth were false but those things didn’t detract from his absolute, almost breathtaking beauty.

He was quiet and reserved at first and we found it difficult to carry on a conversation.  He knew that I didn’t want to be there and I sensed that he didn’t really want to be there either.  After a while, I think that understanding ultimately put both of us as at ease.

He once had a girlfriend in New York.  They met in an art class.  Her daddy didn’t approve of him because she was a rich girl and he was from the “poor side of town.”
When he told me about her daddy, he almost defiantly said “I’m going to be famous someday.”

During the next few days, we started “hanging out” together and really enjoyed each other.  There was no intimacy between us and I felt comfortable with him.

It took a while for him to start opening up to me.  He had a sister and they were raised in an orphanage until he was old enough to run away.  His parents had dropped them off when they were young and never came back to get them.  Tony said he remembered getting dressed up every Sunday and sitting in a room, waiting for his parents to come get him….but they never did.

He and Bob were on leave from Vietnam but had not completed their “tours.”  I asked Tony to wear his uniform when we went out and he hesitated.  I thought he looked so handsome but when we were out, I understood why he didn’t want to wear it.  Bob refused to wear his and even bought a wig to wear so people wouldn’t know he was a soldier.  People were cruel and hateful.

Tony didn’t talk about his experiences unless he had been drinking.  One night, he said “I once saw a guy being walked almost the length of a football field.”  I didn’t understand what he meant.  I thought they had captured a soldier and were “walking” him back to their camp.
What he meant was that they were shooting him so many times, he didn’t fall….he was “walking.”

Later, he revealed why he had the scars on his lip and face and why his teeth were false.  He was on patrol and was riding on top of a tank with one of his closest friends.  A child wearing only a diaper came up to the tank.  His friend got down and picked the child up.  When he did, there was an explosion.  Tonys’ friend blew up and his and the childs’ body parts struck Tony in the face.  His front teeth were knocked out and a bone punctured his cheek.

While he was telling me, it was in a soft, almost robotic manner but the underlying pain clearly showed in his face.

He was supposed to go back to “the Nam” as he called it and he didn’t want to go.  He asked me if I would go to Canada with him but I said no.  I told him I would visit New York with him but he said “you’re too naive and you would get killed.”

He knew he had to go back to Vietnam.  He knew he had to finish his tour.  I think he was afraid he would never make it back.

I will never forget the day I went with him to the bus station.  There were no tears.  There was no resistance on his part…just a detectable numbness and a hollow look in his eyes.  I knew that I was going to miss him and part of me wanted to say “let’s go to Canada together.”
I made him promise that he would write to me and I promised that I would write to him.
After our promises, he stood there and looked at me for a few seconds, almost like he was trying to memorize my face.  Then he kissed me.
I was surprised at the butterflies that were trapped in my stomach.  I was surprised that I kissed him back.  It was a soft, tender kiss and for a moment, I was lost in a world of feelings I had never felt before.  He said “I have wanted to do that since the first time I saw you but then, I wanted to do it for the wrong reasons.”

I said “will you be careful?”  He looked at me and said “yes, I will.”  He got on the bus and just before the door closed, like a scene in a movie, he came running off and hugged me.  It felt like goodbye.

I stood and watched the bus until it was out of sight, waving the whole time…wanting him to stay…wanting him to not have to go back to that horrible, senseless war….hoping he would return.

It wasn’t meant to be.  I never saw Tony again.

I have tried to find him but I have never been successful.  I think had he made it back home, there would be some indication.

I hope he’s not over there in some rice paddy…forgotten to the government…forgotten to the parents who never came back for him…forgotten to the girl he was never going to be good enough for.

He may be forgotten to them but he will never be forgotten to me.  I will remember him as long as I live.






Real Neat Blog Award!

woman real neat blog awatrd

A huge thank you to Robert Goldstein for nominating me for the Real Neat Blog Award!  He is a wonderful blogger who walks us through his life with DID.  If you don’t already follow his blog, take a look.  It will enlighten, move and inspire you.  Also, take a look at the breathtaking artwork he displays.


  1.   Put the award logo on your blog.
  2.   Thank the person who nominated you.
  3.   Nominate any number of bloggers you like.
  4.   Let them know you nominated them.
  5.   Answer the questions from the person who nominated you.


Where do most visits from your blog come from?
The United States.

What is your favorite sport?

What has been a special moment for you so far in 2016?
There have been several.  Every time I am nominated for an award and/or receive an
encouraging comment.

What is your favorite quote?
My favorite quote USED to be “God plants no sorrow on limbs too weak to bear.”  NOW my
favorite quote
is “those who don’t know the value of loyalty can never appreciate the cost of betrayal.”

What was your favorite class when still in school?
It would be a toss-up between Science/Biology and English.

Anything you wished to have learned earlier?
How to read people and not trust so completely.

What musical instrument have you tried to play?
I used to play the piano, but only by ear.


  1.  What is the strangest, most unexplainable thing that has ever happened to you?
  2.  A candy bar or a doughnut?
  3.  Would you give mouth to mouth resuscitation to a homeless person?
  4.  What movie could you watch over and over?
  5.  What is something that would be almost impossible for you to give up?
  6.  What is the worst punishment you suffered as a child?
  7.  When was the last time you lied and to whom?  (I hope it wasn’t me.)


Elizabeth Helmich
Etta D.
Whiskey Cat
Tosha Michelle
Isolated girl







The Sunshine Blogger Award!

blinking sunshine award

The Sunshine Blogger Award!

A big thank you to Angelica Kidd for this nomination!  Angelica is a lovely girl who has suffered tremendous abuse and torment.  She writes with such deep emotion and strength and will leave you in awe, wondering how she survived.  If you don’t already follow her, give her blog a visit.  (I believe it’s called “Write On.”)

The rules:

1.  Thank the person who nominated you.

2.  Answer the questions from the person who nominated you.

3.  Nominate other bloggers for this award.

4.  Write the same amount of questions for the bloggers you have nominated.

5.  Notify the bloggers you have nominated.

Questions for me:

1.  What is your favorite thing about blogging?
     My favorite thing is the overwhelming support and encouragement from my fellow bloggies.
I had received
so very little of that in my life and sometimes still, it’s hard for me to wrap my
arms around it but I sure am trying to get used to it!

2.  What is your all time favorite book?
      I’m not a reader.  I have only read one book and that was under pressure from Loser, so I guess
that would be my
favorite.  It was Ambulance Girl.

3.  Do you sleep with your socks on?

4.  In the movie of your life, who would play you?
     Jennifer Lawrence.

5.  What is a favorite pastime that you like to indulge in frequently?
Probably blogging.  All the favorite pastimes I used to indulge in have long since gone away.

6.  What made you laugh this week?
My RBS told me about a conversation between her, her boss and an American Express
representative.  I won’t
divulge the particulars but it was hilarious!

7.  What inspires you to write?
My memories…..my feelings…..my sorrow……my determination to not be a waste.

8.  How did you get started writing?
I don’t remember what prompted me to start writing (although I don’t consider myself a
writer.)  Maybe it
was to keep from dying on my sofa.

9.   How do you stay motivated to write, even when you are feeling uninspired?
      I guess I still need to “bleed” (ala Ernest Hemingway.)

10.  What is your most prized possession and why?
        If it’s a “thing,”  I’d have to say I don’t have one.  Things don’t mean much to me anymore.
Friendships matter.  My bloggies matter.  I guess my friends and my bloggies are my most
prized possessions now.

11.  What is the best advice you’ve ever received in regard to your blogging?
“Keep it up.”

Questions for my nominees:

1.   Have you ever stolen anything?

2.   If you could only eat one vegetable for the rest of your life, which one would it be?

3.   What did you want to be when you grew up?

4.   Do you “picture” what I look like?  If so, describe me.

5.   Who has been the biggest inspiration in your life?

6.   If you couldn’t blog, what would you do?

7.   What do you consider to be an unpardonable sin?

8.   If you could torment anybody, who would you choose and how would you torment them?

9.   What is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you?

10.  What is your middle name?

11.  Who would you take to a deserted island and would you leave them there if you were rescued?

My Nominees:

1.  RobertGoldstein

2.  Savingshards

3.  Creativerational

4.  Survivednarc

5.  Learningtolivelikewater

6.  makingtimeforme

7.  samlobos

8.  donutsplace

9.  Tikeetha T.

10. myworldshattered


Another Leibster Award

bigger crown leibster

A big thank you to Robert Matthew Goldstein for this nomination!


  1. Thank the person who nominated you.
  2. Display the award.
  3. Answer the 10 questions asked about you.
  4. Ask 10 questions from your nominees.
  5. Nominate up to 10 people for the award.
  6. Notify them via social media or a comment on their post.


  1. What do you like most about your blog?
    I like the many friends and support that I have acquired as a result of my blog.
  2. What was your favorite toy as a child?
    Granny gave me a Panda bear.  She kept it at her house, in a plastic bag.  She would only let me play with it now and then.  When I bought my mamas’ house, I found it in the attic.  I took it and I still have it.
  3. If you could change one bad thing about the world, what would it be?
  4. Which historical person inspires you the most?
  5. Who is your favorite author?
    I don’t have one because I don’t read books.
  6. Who is the most positive person in your life?
    There are many and they are equally as positive.
  7. Have you ever met a pathological narcissist?
    Yes, I married one and subsequently became exposed to a family of them.
  8. Is it ever right to lie?
  9. You are out with a co-worker for lunch and she begins to abuse the waitress.  How would you react?
    I would ask her to picture herself, her mama, her sister or her daughter.  We all make mistakes.
  10. If you could change one aspect of U. S. politics, what would it be?
    I would make it a political government of the people, by the people and for the people…the way it was supposed to be.


  1. What is your earliest memory and how old were you?
  2. If you could magically acquire one talent that you don’t have, what would it be?
  3. What five things would you put into a time capsule
  4. Where did you get your name?
  5. What would you like to have put on your tombstone?
  6. If you could witness any event in history, which one would it be?
  7. Are you usually late, early or on time?
  8. Beatles or Rolling Stones?
  9. What was the worst present you ever got?
  10. Have you ever met anybody famous?


  1. makingtimeforme
  2. Lisa T.
  3. writingmywayoutofdepression
  4. Iris Ioana
  5. Persia Karema
  6. bloodandthunder
  7. dataylor43
  8. learningtolivelikewater


I Am Buried Here

I am buried here.

Cars drive by but they don’t know.

Children play around me but they don’t know.

Sometimes people stand on top of me but they don’t know.

I am buried here.

I used to belong to someone.

I used to have value.

How did I get here?

I am buried here.

Why isn’t someone looking for me?

Why doesn’t someone find me?

Am I not worth digging up?

I am buried here.

Maybe I should stay here.

Once I was shiny and new.

Now I am tarnished and old.

I am buried here.

I fell but no one noticed.

I am lost but no one cares.

After all….I am just a penny.

The Seven Day Challenge

7-day-challenge1I was nominated to do the 7 day/7 photo challenge by makingtimeforme.  This wonderful blogger has won multiple awards and each one is richly deserved.  If you haven’t already checked out her blog, please do.  She writes about a variety of things, and includes everybody in her posts.  She is a mom and a prolific writer but still finds the time to be a valued supporter of her many followers.

That being said and the challenge being accepted, I must disappoint.  I have no pictures that I can use for the challenge.  There was never a “family” picture taken which involved me, my children and Loser.  There are many “family” photos on my childrens’ and Losers’ Facebook pages but none of them include me.  They include the drunken grandmother and the WTC which is how it should be because they are now “the family.”

But that is okay.  If I had pictures of all the wonderful blogging friends I have who I now consider my family, I would be blessed beyond riches.