coming home…

As it is and always will be…

My heart coming home.

Anam Cara.

I am always awed, touched, humbled by the depth and intensity of our hearts together.

We hugged and cried and laughed and kissed and reminisced and talked and promised and bathed and ate and drank and loved and slept in our very own private, blissful bubble the entire weekend.

For the first time in a month since quitting smoking, I slept. Peaceably. All night.  It’s how I always sleep with him. Safe. Cocooned. Tucked away where nothing can hurt me. Where nothing else exists for me, but he and I.

Love you madly. Don’t let me go. Keep me safe.

Time and time again. For all time.

I am grateful.

I am Love.

I am Loved.

I have no claim on calling him boyfriend, or lover, or beloved. I have no right…

But I do. Whispered on the wind.  Beloved.

Because he is, and always will be…








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…and other stuff goin’ on…

When my phone blew up at 5:30 am from clients expressing their sympathy and wanting to know what happened, well I could only offer a very confused….???…in return.

Check your email and call me after you wake up, they said.

An email from the CEO of my company dated that morning at 2:34am said, I’m so sorry, but we’re done. Effective last Friday at CoB, we closed the doors. Please feel free to work with your clients. 

Well, that’s what they told employees.

We’re pausing operations is what they emailed the clients.


It took less than a few hours to contact my clients and come to an agreement where they would pay me the entire fee they were paying the company to keep my services and not have a major disruption to their businesses.  And so entrepreneurship is born out of a default.

By noon that day we had over 400 former employees gathered together on FB furiously trying to connect stranded clients with their former help, madly writing contracts, debating cost structures, finding timekeeping and invoicing software, setting up paypal accounts…you name it, we were doing it.

Between the shock, anger, wondering what to do with company equipment and if we would be paid for our last weeks of work or the unused paid vacation time and insurance questions….we pulled out collective acts together to make lemonade.

It’s been almost a month now and I’m just getting ready to invoice my clients.  It feels good. It feels even better to see a $12/hr raise. Taxes and expenses aside. I’m easily making 50% more.

It’s interesting to see how the universe conspires to give us what we need with the opportunities at exactly the right time for us to use.

The very next day, in a lighthearted text to my Anam Cara wishing him a Happy Birthday, he asked if we could catch-up later in the afternoon.  I wasn’t surprised.  We did some healing back in March. After an almost 2 hour phone conversation…..I have never, ever, in the almot 10 years we’ve know each other had much more than a 20-ish minute phone comversation….we are making plans to reconnect.  It’s a cycle with us. It’s what we need to do.

I had a bit off an ephipany later.  I’ve always maintained that I’m not a threat to anyone. Hell I don’t understand jealousy most of the time.  I don’t want the same things she wants.

We’ve been doing this for nearly 10 years now. Sometimes the time apart is longer than others, but ultimately we circle back around and pick it up again.  I’m not some woman he dated for a few months, or even a year and remained friends.  Hell, it would be easier to accept me as an ex of nearly 1o years who had an amicable split.  But that’s not it.

We rhythmically come back together time after time, after time, after time. We’re not ex’s and never will be…

Fuck…I’m the biggest threat I know……

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crazy business

She vomited her distress from the car door into the garage, thru the hall, twice around the kitchen and all over the house before she settled down to vomit on the couch.

I don’t care if she is his wife, girl friend, submissive or in this case, his slave.  Domestic violence is just that.  Domestic violence.

They got into a verbal sparring match, and he gave her a bloody nose.

She’s adamant it was all her fault. She bears the entire responsibility for him not being able to walk away.

All is forgiven.

Not my business.

But when he came over the other night and reached in to give me a hug, I pressed myself into the chair, not wanting to be touched.

He lost his hug privileges. He’s lost my respect.

She never had mine. But no one deserves being hit. No one.




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What Magic is This?


They have fireflies here in TX.

Who knew?

Check out The Firefly Experience — AMAZING!


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How much?

How much self-reflection is enough and how is too much? Could it be yet another tool we overuse from the procrastination toolbox….?

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pondering the authenticity buzzword

…genuine, real, bona fide, not fake or counterfeit, reliable, trustworthy, credible…

… being true to one’s own personality, spirit, or character, despite external pressures…

Authentic is Real. Real is, at the end of the day, when you are lying in the dark shadows of your world, being able to sleep with yourself.

Sooooo…..aren’t we “real” and “authentic” all the time?

Are we “unreal”, “fake”, and “inauthentic” when we are being a shit, as opposed to being nice?

When did being authentic mean only what we believe to be most desirable.

For me, I feel like I am being 100% authentic no matter my mood or my actions…no matter how they are perceived by myself or others….





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The “You Can’t Drive No More” talk

with your aging parents.

My Dad had a minor accident this morning in the car. *sighs*

Not sure what happened because the story varied from what he told me and what he told my Mom.

All I know is that it was him, the Subie, a motorcycle and the man who was sitting on his bike. The Subie has a scratch, the bike has a scratch and the man landed away from the bike. I think. Maybe.

Since they both drove to another location before they called the police….I will presume this isn’t a big deal.  Unless you are 83 and probably shouldn’t be driving with two pairs of reading glasses to see because he doesn’t want to be bothered to go to the eye doc for a regular Rx.

I just hope this talk isn’t mine to voice……because I think he would drive anyway….

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Hill Country, TX

Uneventful flight, thank goodness. I’m ok with flying, airport navigation and the never ending security hassles from wearing a push-up underwire bra and having piercings.  Body scanners are really a PITA.  Not my favorite way to spend the day, but it doesn’t cause any major anxiety or anything either.

Visiting my folks again this year.  At least there will be a bit of time to relax and just sit on the back porch without dogs, cats, parties, incessant chatter and a feeling like I need to hide myself away in my room for some peace and quiet.

No one here does their laundry at 3am or takes a shower in the adjoining bath at 2am.

My favorite Great Aunt and my Favoritest Cousin in the entire world will be here next week, for a week *doing the happy dance*

My brother and nephew are scheduled to drop in, too.





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35 years and counting

Glad we both made it unscathed-relatively speaking.

Tomorrow is my oldest sons 35th birthday so I went to Denver today to spend some time with him, my Darling DIL and the Grandbabies. Good day. Lots of Grandma’s treat Ice Cream. Well in this case it was frozen yogurt.

Pictures in the park since both babies have a birthday within days of each other at the end of the month, and Grandma made lasagna for supper.

If you’ve been here any length of time, you know I rarely (if ever) post pictures of myself or of my family.

Gran’ma and the Babies.  Makes me giggle, because they are both blue-eyed, redheads.












Nolan (3) on the left with Gran’ma holding Haley (1) who has had just about enough for the day.


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R.I.P King of the Blues

Fortunate to have seen such a gifted guitar master and poet so many times.  Solo, or with other bands, large or more intimate venues really didn’t matter because he had a way of speaking to the audience as if each one of us was in a room with him and only him…

Two of my favorites….



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Stepping back in here on a more permanent basis

The past few years here has taken a turn I feel is less than…changed in a way I don’t like or can’t appreciate, and don’t exactly know what to do with it because it’s different now…and I’m not at all sure how to fill the bucket or make the wind blow…

There is a Ted talk with Elizabeth Gilbert where she speaks about the creative process and an interview with poet Ruth Stone:

And she said it was like a thunderous train of air. And it would come barreling down at her over the landscape. And she felt it coming, because it would shake the earth under her feet. She knew that she had only one thing to do at that point, and that was to, in her words, “run like hell.” And she would run like hell to the house and she would be getting chased by this poem, and the whole deal was that she had to get to a piece of paper and a pencil fast enough so that when it thundered through her, she could collect it and grab it on the page. So, she’s running to the house and she’s looking for the paper and the poem passes through her, and she grabs a pencil just as it’s going through her, and then she said, it was like she would reach out with her other hand and she would catch it.

So when I heard that I was like — that’s uncanny, that’s exactly what my creative process is like.

It’s like the wind stopped flowing across the prairie and there is nothing to grab on to…




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Where have you gone

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio,
Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you.

Pondering heroes of today with a national and global viewpoint.

Do we even have them? Do we need them?

Not that I think there aren’t heroes….firefighters, police, 1st responders, nurses and doctors and the like…..or those who, under some circumstance, act with bravery and perform heroic acts. It happens every hour, every day, across the globe. Even our parents/siblings/relatives/friends can fit this role on a more personal level.

There are certainly many I admire for their vision, changes which better society as a whole, spiritual guidance, or those fighting wrongs in the world.

Have our biggest heroes been a product of (past) nationalism at a time where we all needed a boost, something to look to, some hope?

Were Newton, Einstein, and Tesla ever heroes?

What about Churchill, Ford, or Earhart? Lennon, Barry Bonds, or King, Jr?

Are Malala or Pope Francis modern day heroes?

Is there some criteria we use to define a Hero on a national or global scale?

Are the heroes of today it nothing but heroic illusions and adornment of the rich and famous?

What’s that you say, Mrs. Robinson.
Jolting Joe has left and gone away,


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actually showing up is most of the issue

Not where I want to be but getting better….

Finding the world in the smallness of a grain of sand
And holding infinities in the palm of your hand
And Heaven’s realms in the seedlings of this tiny flower
And eternities in the space of a single hour

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it’s never ok

to engage in body shaming.

I don’t care who you are or who you are pointing at.

You simply cannot take others down in some misguided effort to cover your perceived imperfections.  Sad that we even have those perceptions at all…


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The problem with communication is that we are more often taught how to speak, but not taught how to really listen.

We make it all about us when it really isn’t…

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