Liebster Award

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Many thanks to Roguecat at mindstormsandrandomness.wordpress.com for nominating me for this lovely award.  I told her I was tickled fuschia!

And now to answer the questions posed by Roguecat.

  1.  Is there a person in your personal life who hasn’t seen your blog, but you want them to? And why? I actually prefer most of my friends and family not seeing the blog.  I find it freeing and more private.  I prefer getting feedback in the comments and likes sections from people who I don’t know.  They usually can relate to my PTSD issues better as they often have PTSD or other mental health issues.  

2.  What are 5 things or personal items to be found in your bedroom?  First off, would be my journals.  I journal daily about my day, my feelings, my challenges.  I talk to my inner child on these pages.  Another item is a picture of my wonderful son.  I was not born under a lucky star but he has made it all worthwhile and makes me feel lucky.  I also keep a small plate of tiny seashells that we gathered from a beach in Florida one special day.  I touch them and can remember the wind and the waves and the sun and the sand.  On my nightstand you will find a sweet-looking troll in a dress with turquoise hair.  I like to pretend that she is very wise and understands me.  Finally, are my hand lotions — one is lavender, the other pomegranate.  I use them when I am feeling self-destructive.  Smoothing them into my hands and arms and smelling their scents is soothing and comforting. 

3.   What is your favorite novel  or book, and why?  The first one that pops into my mind is Harry Potter — any of the Harry Potter books. They are very special to me because my son and I read them each out loud to each other over many years.  Often, we were going through tough times and reading these books were the bright times. 

4.  What is the one thing you are not good at but you still do anyway, without giving a damn?  It would have to be singing and dancing to my favorite music when I am alone in my home.  I close the blinds, but if the neighbors hear — so be it! 

5.   What would your ideal vacation be like?  I would be walking about Diagon Alley and Hogwarts at Universal in Florida!  Okay, so I am 55 but nevertheless this is my dream!  

6.   What us the one serious political or social issue that you feel strongly about?  The separation of church and state.  Too many people are trying to get the government to legislate their religion’s brand of morality.

7.   What is something you’d want your future self to remember or be reminded of?  The good times sprinkled throughout the bad times.  

8.   Who’s your favorite person in the world and why? That would be my son.  He is very funny, smart and kind.  He brightens and broadens my world.  (He got me to read Crime and Punishment and The Brothers Karamazov.)

And now, for the drum roll please…

I nominate:

Heathershelpers.org

laquemada.org

lynzrealcooking.com

strongroot.wordpress.com

myobt.wordpress.com

thegadabouttown.com

And Now, for my questions…

!.  What has been the most surprising aspect of blogging that you didn’t expect when you first began?

2.  What is or was your favorite comic in the newspapers? Tell why. Or who or what makes you laugh? Tell why.

3.   What book would you like everyone to read? Tell why.

4.    If you could invite one famous person to tea (or beverage of your choice) who would it be and why?

5.   If you knew you would be going to be stranded on a deserted  island, what would you take with you (besides items needed to live and survive)? In other words, what non-essentials would you consider essential?  There is no Wifi.

Directions:

  1.  Link the person who nominated you to your blog post and thank them.
  2.  Answer the questions given to you by the nominator.
  3.  Nominate other bloggers for the award (not more than 11)
  4.  Create questions for your nominees to answer.
  5.  Let the nominees know that they have been nominated by going to their blog and notifying them.

Its a Looney Tunes Week

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I just got home from a really good therapy session.  I have been really blessed to have competent and caring therapists over the past couple of decades.  Decades?  How good can they be if you still need therapy?  Ah, but you don’t know how screwed up I was!  I thought and felt like I was garbage and now I know I am a person of worth.  I felt dirty and low and now I feel clean and can hold my head up. I felt deep shame and now know I did nothing to deserve the abuse I received.  Yes, a few more decades of therapy and I should be as good as new. LOL.  My loved-ones often do not think my therapists are any good because I am not “fixed” yet.  But, I know they have shined a light into the darkest recesses of my heart AND have not looked away or walked away but journeyed with me.  They have listened to my life’s stories that I thought were unspeakable.  And they have witnessed my tears. So, a toast… here’s to all the good therapists!

“Eh…What’s up Doc?”

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I watched Looney Tunes cartoons endlessly growing up.  Bugs Bunny was my role model.  With his New York accent I could readily identify with him — being from Long Island myself.  When I want to laugh, Bugs Bunny is my go-to guy.  His wit, sarcasm and intelligence always save the day.  Whether he is outfoxing Elmer Fudd or Daffy Duck, he is sure to do it in the most amusing way.

He debuted in 1940 in “A Wild Hare” and became a star. He even has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Here are some quotes from the famous hare:

“I knew I shoulda taken that left turn at Albuquerque.”

“Stop steamin’ up my tail! Whatta ya trying to do — wrinkle it?

“Of course you realize, this means war.”

“Gee, ain’t I a stinker?”

And if you ever are having trouble making a decision, ask yourself — “What would Bugs Bunny do?”  It can’t hurt and it just might help!

A Place Inside of Me

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A place not found on any map

It resides inside of me.

My soul it keeps all memories good

under lock and key.

Friendly laughter, loving looks

pages from beloved books

safe from sinister, crafty crooks

And stolen cannot be.

A land I see in my mind’s eye

Full of treasures one can’t buy

Only I alone can see

A place inside of me.

Momma was a Witch

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Momma was a Witch

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Wicked Witch.”

I’ve been blogging on lighter notes lately rather than darker ones.  I’d like to keep it that way. But today’s prompt moved me and it is difficult to write lightly about evil.  I have come face to face with evil in my life and have written about it in older posts (see Parts 1 – 9, Archives: July).

My mother, with each passing year, looked more and more like a witch. In her youth, she was a beauty with porcelain skin, luminous eyes, rose colored lips and thick brunette hair. In black and white photos she looked like an angel. Unlike Dorian Gray (in Oscar Wilde’s book) her sick nature transformed her face from beautiful to ugly during her lifetime.  By the time she reached sixty she looked  exactly like the the comic drawings of Maxine but more witch-like.  She was bug-eyed and her skin craggy with a twisted mouth.

I do her no disservice here.  She aspired to be a witch.  She didn’t drive and would offer to take you places on her broom. She cackled rather than laughed.  She liked to be considered scary — especially to children.  She reveled in bitter and ugly words and talk.  She spoke hatefully of nearly everyone. Our home was her cauldron where she brewed wicked concoctions of all types of abuse.  And she was able to cast spells.  Her most magnificent one was to make our family look normal to the neighbors.  We were made to look like the poster-family of middle class America. Our yard was beautifully manicured and lush with flowers.  We would be seen going to church every Sunday.  My sister and I had the nicest manners.  My parents were seen as friendly and down to earth, sincere people.  My mother appeared as a good mother.  It was a glamour she cast well.  I even believed it at times — when we were outside and she was being charming to the neighbors. I wanted to live in that reality and did while I was playing at my neighborhood friend’s house.  But eventually the street lights came on and it was time to go home.

Her powers diminished as she grew older.   My sister and I left home.  She grew miserable having no one to torture. And she eventually died in a nursing home.  I always wonder which momma did the nurses see —  the good momma or the momma that was a witch?

Laughter — Can We Ever Get Enough?

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In Junior High, I had an English teacher who was very conscientious and had a dry wit.  I believe his name was Mr. Henderson.  One day he made a joke about something — I can’t remember what that was — but the whole class laughed. He was hugely pleased by our response.  I found it funnier than even the rest of the class and continued to laugh till I was crying.  After a few minutes of this, he smiled and said “Okay, let’s get back to the lesson.”  But I wasn’t done.  I continued to laugh. My stomach hurt I was laughing so hard.  He stopped smiling and said “Okay, Sandie, we’ve had our bit of fun — time to get to work.” The rest of the class had quieted down as they felt the tension rising. I could tell he was getting annoyed, but at this point I was in hysterics.  He was getting annoyed at me for laughing at his joke. Then came his punchline — “I’m going to have to give you detention if you do not stop laughing”.   The irony of getting detention for laughing at his joke didn’t escape me and I laughed so hard that I nearly fell out of my chair as I blurted out “Sorry!” He then told me “You have detention!”  My good humor did not diminish even at this proclamation. I, normally one of a teacher’s pets, a goody-two-shoes was getting detention for laughing. I thought my sides would burst. He let me be at this point till I finally became exhausted and quieted down.  At the end of the class I got up and as I walked to the door I looked back at Mr. Henderson.  He looked at me benignly (as was his way) and I gave him a big smile and left the class room.  I went to detention the next day.  He was the detention teacher. He smiled at me as I entered the room and I knew I was forgiven.  I almost started laughing again.