We all share our stories, our thoughts and our fingerprints with a blog. None are the same. This one started with breast cancer. And we all have reasons why one post gets done and another shoved aside. This has been a hectic time, but not for my blog. Life just happens.

All through June, I struggled with yard work in 95 degree heat. Then I got the flu. That got better but turned into a five day migraine. <sigh>  Anyone miss me? Ha! I doubt if even religious followers do on account of everyone is simply too busy into their own worlds. That’s not a gripe, but observation of how people are. Being 60 gives me a bit of patient know how. To be more tolerant of why we do things, what makes us tick. I don’t have the big clever answers. But it’s a relief to take life more with a grain of salt than always being in such a rush to know NOW. Now is not usually comforting. Time does not stop or change for anyone. Nobody escapes TIME.

Now as I’m on the last leg of my recon, I’m waiting for the last surgery. Seems the fat or at least part of it from the last fat graft either died or was absorbed into my body and I’m a bit lopsided again. It feels really weird to say, wish I hadn’t lost the five pounds I lost in the toilet. I had the flu, you get the drift. So I’m hiding behind the calendar, waiting, filling my days with everything I can think of within the scope of my waking hours so my impatience doesn’t make a bitch out of me. Soon I’ll be too sore again to hop outa bed, but I’ll religiously make my morning coffee while my dogs dive under each bush with the raccoon scent from last night.

It’s the last leg of my surgeries and only welcome to be done, and back in the saddle, as my neighbor says. She is always praying for me. Maybe her prayers free me to pray for someone else besides myself to be DONE? Only God knows. That sounds more cynical than I meant. I’m sure some can tell I’m really wingin’ it this time, no editing, right off my noggin. I haven’t published many of the (my memoir) book Diaries, but this is how they happened. Usually a night time brainchild that I couldn’t put to bed any more than a lively 4 year old. And now it’s time for lights out.

My dogs are snuggled at my feet, the fan is humming and the firecrackers are silent. Sleep tight, sweet dreams….


like the 4 year old

Pretty pose

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