top of page



It’s nearly 2:30 a.m. I am mad at myself. I treated my mom like doo today. I didn’t mean to. I just don’t know how to communicate with her. At all. Enough said. Or not enough said. I can’t even think how to begin to enjoy her company. I love her. She is my mom. Love is just built in with some people and that includes moms. How come I can’t ever seem to give her the benefit of the doubt, the grace, I try to give other people? Will keep trying. It’s all that can be done.

Need to go sit quietly and just be still for awhile instead of running around like a headless chicken.

In happier news, I finally, finally was paid for a freelance job I completed some time ago. Check in the mail along with copies of the work for my portfolio. So hooray for that! I have to make time to read a short story by James Joyce. The Turn of the Screw. Bean says she wants my take on it because it was a bit confusing. I think it’s supposed to be elusive, though, and left to interpretation, from the summary I read of it so far. In the morning, church. I am glad. I feel empty and full at the same time. Like I need all the bad to be erased and to be refilled with all things good. Can’t think of a better place than church for that. Need to go sit quietly and just be still for awhile instead of running around like a headless chicken.

Our Christmas tree is all red this year. Red lights. Red ornaments. Red star. Red. The living room now glows, all warm in this redness. Green surely wouldn’t have the same feeling. Nor blue.

Ice on the roads tonight. Slipped here and there all the way home just awhile ago. And my nose is cold. Hate that. Time to crawl into bed. Got a new blanket. Need another one even, I think. Still cold. Need to think. Or maybe just sleep instead. Ever feel like you think too much? Are happy and then begin looking and analyzing what could go wrong? Old habit of mine. Long left behind now rearing its ugly head. All because of some dumbness that I read. Not even dumbness really. Just feelings someone is allowed to have concerning another. Still, it is not fun to find that someone else could get in the way of what I hope is mine. Mine. Le sigh.


bottom of page