Sometimes it’s a gentle breeze...

I have been feeling my mama...

sometimes standing right next to me.

I was in the garage and I smelled her perfume...

I snapped my head around but she wasn’t there.

I was hoping she was.

Standing there...  All young and pretty

and healthy and happy...and living

a life different than the one she had.

one door shuts and another one opens

or so they say.

I know that she’s in a better place.

and her tears are dried gently with

a loving hand 

as i wish mine were right now.

There is nothing in the world that prepares you

for losing your  mama.  Even when you know

it’s the right thing and the natural thing...

and something we all must go through.

I’m waiting for things  to get better...I can’t seem

to make it through a day without crying...and I’m

grouchy and short tempered...and I miss her so.

And I don’t know what normal is anymore...

when a gentle breeze blows I feel her and I

feel her soft mama hand stroke my cheek and

dry my tears and make it all better.

And I long for childhood days of carefree flight and fancy free

happiness.  And running swiftly across the sand of Lake Michigan

chasing gulls and laughing and yelling at the top of my lungs

while breathing that briny air and then hearing mama calling us in to a supper

of her extraordinary fried chicken and hearing dad’s change jingle  in his

pockets while coming up the drive after a long day at the plant.  

We grow up when our parents die and the childhood days

are a faded memory that will never return and I can’t go back

and I really wish I could.

she was there with me from my first heartbeat

miss you mom.your baby.

The Crazy LA River

We had one heck of a storm the other day.

It rained buckets in the early morning...

so unusual for us at this time of the year.

 I live about 5 blocks from the L.A. River,

which is kind of a river but basically they

have turned it into a big concrete ditch.

Normally it flows very gently,

but when it rains a lot it gets pretty crazy.

We get every cigarette butt, Styrofoam cup,

and baby diaper that all the not so nice

people throw away in not so polite places

floating down this river which leads into

the Pacific Ocean.  

No wonder they have that giant mess in the

ocean near Japan.  

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch.

yikes.

Two times the size of Texas.

90% plastic.

In some areas over 90 feet deep!

scary.

You can see from this picture that the water doesn’t

have too far to go before it reaches the top. 

This is from only an hour or so of rain.

Thank you all for your kind messages, emails, phone calls,

cards, flowers and presents after my mom’s passing.

I am coming around.   It’s easier because I know my

mom needed to go...she was suffering and now she is finally

at rest.

Your friendship and caring has meant so much to me.  xxc

my latest Etsy Favorite.

Etsy is just filled with so many talented people.

You see things you just don’t see anywhere else.

Take these little hats for example.

reindeer hat

dinosaur hat!  love this one!!

pumpkin hat

pumpkin patch hat

I never get tired of looking at these pictures...

so darn adorable.  I just laugh out loud.

and what a good sport her cat is..

You can find more of these kitty hats on

Scooter knits

Happy Birthday to me from Sooty.

Imagine if you will Sooty playing Happy Birthday

to me on his xylophone.

Today I am 59 years old.   My mother always

told me to lie about my age. 

I never was very good at listening to her.

Saying the rosary is like chanting a mantra

over and over again...

it keeps the mind focused..

and helps you to stop thinking so much and ruminating

on the negative stuff the clogs your head.

My Grandma Braeger said the rosary constantly.

maybe I can be full of grace if I keep at it.

I stumble and fall over and over again.

I get back up over and over again...

only to stumble once more.

Happy September! 

In Irene’s Path...

cream city brick in Princeton, Wisconsin...

To all those in the path of this horrible storm...

while waiting for things to calm down

I am thinking of you and praying 

for all of those who are suffering...

my little problems are nothing 

compared to what you are going through.

It’s hot here.

too hot and I don’t care for it much.

but I am safe and secure.

I’m going to quit complaining today.

I’m so good at complaining.

Bellyaching my father use to call it.

It’s a life long habit that I need to

control and cut out.

So hang in there friends on the coast...

Stay safe.

Think Positive...it’s all we’ve got.

earrings by Beatnheart on Etsy

Today is going to be great.

all things are possible

i am wonderful

 loving,

 kind

and considerate.

 full of spirit

 and of joy.

Instead of letting things get me down

and responding in a negative way...

Today, I want to live like it’s my last day.

I’m eating ice cream.

Beatn down heart

and the old door shuts one last time

Just a tiny little pin prick of light...shining in her dim and clouded eyes.  Recognition?  Does she

remember me?   The baby girl she had so long ago, held for countless hours, lost sleep over..Now

I am a mere shadow.   I saw Cindy on TV she told my brother.   And after the first visit, she never

asked for me again.   She didn’t remember me coming there in the flesh, holding her in my arms, whispering in her ear..it’s gonna be alright Ma.    But is it?   This is where the elderly end up...after all those years of struggle and pain and heartache and abuse and suffering and laughing and crying.   Oh yes.  Crying.

Years and years and buckets of tears and rivers of tears flowing endlessly out of those cloudy eyes.  And

now?  Now what?    All those years of saving and sacrificing and not spending a penny on the nice things..the money saved so carefully...the sacrifices made for what?  Adult diapers and a tiny hospital bed in a stifling, airless room with the noises and wails of others...suffering equally.

            The woman who never shared a secret with anyone is now living among strangers where there
are no secrets.   All the dirty laundry is aired out right there in front of everyone.
Partners in wheelchairs and walkers.  Roomates.   Wailing like infants in a maternity ward.   Get me
out of here.   No longer able to walk...talk...think clearly or think at all...back to crawling and crying
and wearing diapers.

  91 years is a long time to live.   Sometimes too long a time to live and in the case of my mother the tears
and agony and wishing for things better carries on still.   I’m still on my knees...I’m still praying for
something better... for the pain to end for her...and us.