habla ingles, por favor…gracious senor

NO HABLA ESPANOL. Gracious por su preferencia…un momento, por favor…
And that is about the extent of my ability to carry a conversation in spanish. Yesterday seemed to be my day to have Mexican…or…spanish speaking customers. Lots of them. I can tell you I don’t speak spanish, order a beer (or three), tell you that you are beautiful, tell you I love you, tell you to go away, ask if you would like to dance or talk about the beautiful moon or your beautiful eyes or the smooth cool water AND I can call you my friend. Other than that, for this Cajun woman, it’s broken cajun french…je’mapell Riccie. Parle vu francais? No? SSaaaight. I do English anyway.

I suppose I should come clean and write out that my very first real kiss was with a Mexican from San Antonio. Of course, it happened eons ago…I was only 13 years old. He was 16 or 17–much too old for me—but so incredibly cute. He listened to me. To me! He didn’t just toss my ideas aside…he let me stretch my imagination and went along for the ride. Besides, he was incredibly cute with his dark curly hair and caramel colored skin. Sheesh…I haven’t thought about him in ages. ‘Summer love.’ I got to spend a lot of time with him over the summer and never saw him again. We did write to each other….for about three years. Tons of letters. But the age difference was just too great at that time. I wonder what he’s doing now…and I hope he’s happy. I loved it when he went into ‘Spanish mode’. Hell, he could have been cursing me out for all I knew. All I knew was that it sounded wonderful and he looked happy when he spoke it. LOL memories…
Of course, as fun as that was to reminisce about, I sorta hope today that I deal with people who HABLA INGLES!

Playing with matches

Note to Brian- Here’s a little Riccie 101…or 411…Sometimes I repeatedly walk into a cement wall, bashing my head, over and over again. Everyone I know can see me walking into the wall. I can see that I’m walking into the wall. My friends warn me repeatedly about walking into the wall. Somehow, though, my eyes do not see it and my ears do not hear the warnings. And I do not feel the pain until I am bleeding almost uncontrollably. When I finally start to feel the pain and recognize that I am walking into that wall again, I still continue to rake myself over the coals for my tiny brain not registering earlier that I am yet again walking into that wall. I’m still learning. I can now say with confidence that the times I ‘walk into the wall’ are getting fewer and farther between. I am human, though. I am also much more forgiving of myself these days when I can recognize my destructive habits. And, NO. Playing the dutiful wife did not include ‘those’ types of benefits.
I’ve been thinking on an off today about life after this worldly life.
Ever since I can remember I’ve always had a fascination with fire. It would mesmerize me. The house I grew up in had a fireplace. Fireplaces are purely decorative down here, and my grandmother insisted on having one, so she added a room to her house just so she could have one. I can remember firing it up in July just to play with and watch the fire. My grandmother would nearly have a heart attack when she’d catch me. It didn’t take me long to figure out if I wanted to play with the fireplace I had to wait until she was out of the house. (I won’t go into all of the dangers associated with this. All I can say is…I was a kid.) So I settled for playing with candles in the living room. The living room was a rarely used room in the house. I always wondered why my grandmother had such a room and why it was called a living room when no one lived in it and she would have a cow if anyone sat on any of the furniture in there. It was one of my ‘hiding places’ when I was a kid because no one was supposed to ever be in there. I’d take mom’s matches and a few candles and sit behind the couch. It’s a wonder that I didn’t burn the frakkin house down. In the beginning I would just look at them because I was too scared to strike the match. My fear outweighed my fascination, so I’d just play with the matches and the candles. One day I got up the courage to strike the match. It took me a few tries (I still hate matchbooks to this day-give me a BOX of matches any day) but I finally got it. My fascination had overrun my fear. So what was the first thing I did? When I actually got a fire from striking the match, I turned right around and lit the whole matchbook. Nuts, I know. I watched the matchsticks burn all the way down and kept it in my hand until I couldn’t tolerate the burn anymore. Of course, I dropped the burning matchbook on the carpet where it left a nice spot of evidence of my foolishness. Thank goodness it was behind the couch. My grandmother never moved her furniture. In fact, her couch was still in the same place in the same living room the day she died. Lets see…she built the house in ‘73…and died in ‘95. No, she didn’t believe in redecorating.
Once I had the courage to light the match once…that was it. Now I was bold enough to light the candles and play with them. And that I did. I would drop the melting wax on my skin. I would put my fingers in the fire just to see how much pain I could tolerate. (I’m weak. It wasn’t much. But the hot wax left a few scars. ) I would burn papers from the candlelight. It blew me away…how fast a sheet of loose leaf paper would burn into nothing. I burned paper, small pieces of food, parts of toys, my hair…I think I stuck a small piece of just about everything in the house into that flame.
I remember learning in some elementary science class somewhere that matter cannot be destroyed. This information twisted my tiny brain. I would think about my ‘playtime’ with the matches and the candles and all of the things I sent up in smoke. I didn’t believe the teacher at first. Of course, I was much too shy and afraid of confrontation at that time, so I didn’t raise my hand to question. Fortunately for me, one of my classmates, who seemed to have the same problem I was having with this information, did raise his hand and argued with the teacher. While I didn’t buy the explanation at the time (I have since become enlightened) I spit it right back at her at test-time. Once I was taught that, I always thought about it when I was around fire.
And in a big way, it helps me to understand the concept of my soul. I am Riccie, a child of God, in this temporary packaging called my human body. I suppose, in a way, when I die, it will be like going through the fire. My physical body will disappear, but my soul will remain. It cannot be destroyed. I have days, like today, when I really chew on this concept, and wonder what I will be like once I go through that. No, I’m not in much of a hurry to go. There are still things I would like to accomplish down here. Knowing and understanding that matter cannot be destroyed, even though I know my soul, my essence, is not merely matter, gives me comfort. Trusting and believing in my Lord gives me even greater comfort.

Not my will, but Thy will be done.

Christmas Dinner

Yesterday I was blessed with so much food and the ability to enjoy it I almost didn’t know what to do with myself! I don’t remember the last time I was able to eat with no problem at all. Of course, I’m paying for it this morning, but…it was sooooooooo worth it.
Kim and I did most of the cooking. It ended up being only me, Kim, and Mandy for dinner. Ashley and her family went over to Josh’s side of the family. Everyone wanted to see Matt, and I certainly understand that. I was truly blessed by having them over for nearly two days. I made the most wonderful pumkin pie and a pecan pie. I really didn’t want to slice a piece out because I thought they came out so pretty. No, I’m not bragging on myself. It’s just that, well, I know my way around the kitchen, and when things turn out really well, it makes me happy.
When Kim and I were done with the cooking, we looked at the spread we had and just laughed. We’d made enough food for thirty people! But that’s the way Cajuns are. When we start cooking we just don’t know when to stop. Kim says, ‘That’s ok, Mom. Plenty of leftovers.’ Yep. I won’t be doing any cooking for a while…maybe not until New Years Day
Ash and I talked for a bit late last night after she’d gotten home. I wanted to make sure she was doing ok after her ‘mini vacation’ in the emergency room Christmas Eve. Yes, she’s doing fine, and a little embarrassed. I smoothed her ruffled feathers…hey…you just didn’t know. When I told her about the ridiculous amount of food Kim and I had whipped up she wanted to come home right away. It was really, really late, though. So I’ll see her today. And I know she’ll be starving. Everytime she comes to my home, the very first thing she does is make a beeline to my refridgerator. Why is that? I guess I’ll always be associated with food. Gee. That’s comforting. Ash says it’s because I have all the ‘good stuff’ she can’t afford. Hmm… I think it’s just pure habit.
Christmas Eve and Christmas day brought me some unusual gifts this year. Despite all of the craziness, I am quite content overall. Yep. Quite content. And I am really looking forward to 2007.

Christmas Eve, 2006 style

Christmas Eve this year was a bit unusual for me, to say the least. Saturday Ash, Josh, and Matt spent the entire day with me, Kim, and Mandy. It was tiring but fun. Saturday night found Ash and her new family still at my home. She and Josh decided to order pizza really late at night. Since my stomach is a little uncooperative at times, I passed on the pizza, but started to wonder what time they would decide to get home. After all, the next day was Christmas Eve, and they were going to TBC services with me. I asked her late in the night if they were still going, and she answered with a resounding YES, as long as I was still willing to go to midnight mass with them. I had no problem with that. Around midnight or so they fell asleep on my living room floor, all three of them, near the Christmas tree, just as Ashley did so long ago when she was a little girl. I didn’t have the heart to wake them. So I pulled out some pillows and blankets and covered them, then went to bed.
So we get up Christmas Eve morning. Ash, Josh, and Matt were still fast asleep by the tree, so I made a pot of coffee and debated with myself over what time to wake them up. There were some last minute things that had to picked up at the store (like there always are, no matter how hard I try to make it not so), so I bundled up and went out since there was no one else to go. When I got back they were stirring about. I thought it was kinda nice to have them over, to be honest. But I was also very glad it wasn’t me that had spent the night on the floor. My back would have been killing me.
At the last minute Kim and Mandy decided against going to TBC with me. I was a bit disappointed, but, that’s okay. I knew they really wanted to go to midnight mass. So me, Ash, Josh, and Matt went to TBC.
Dennis, my pastor, has been de-commercializing Christmas in his messages for the last couple of weeks. I have never been to a non-Catholic service for Christmas, and this one was a real treat for me. We got there exactly on time (I swear, Ashley is going to be late for her own funeral…but I held my tongue. We got there. That was the point.) Of course, when you get to church right on time you have to squeeze through the crowd to find a place to sit. I usually sit in the middle, which was, of course, packed up with people. The only place that had room was right in the front. We sat four rows away from front and center stage. That was an experience. The very first thing that struck me was the fact that the little Christmas tree was no longer on the stage. In fact, the only decoration up there was a manger-style crib with a cross next to it. It was quite striking. Kevin led us into several beautiful Christmas songs, and I sorta sideways watched Ashley’s reaction. She seemed pleased. Josh was baptized Catholic but raised Baptist. He felt quite at home. When Dennis got up there to deliver the message he had my full and undivided attention. He talked about the important stuff…not to get all caught up in the commercialism. Matt stayed on my lap for pretty much the whole time. Dennis also had Ashley’s undivided attention. Little Matt…there is something about him and going to church with me. Towards the end of the message, Matt let out this huge burp again, just like he did when I took him to St. Anne’s with me. Only this time Matt is eight months old and can burp like nobodies business. The entire row in front of me turned around at the same time when he did that, and I know I was as red as a beet. Even Dennis looked over my way. I shot a look over at Ashley, who was horrified, and Josh was laughing. WHAT IS IT WITH MATT AND GOING TO CHURCH??!! Josh and I had a conversation about that later. Anyhow. The services ended by candlelight and Dennis leading us with the uncut version of ‘Silent Night’. It was beautiful. Our candles were the only light in the church. The weather outside has been cold and rainy…I think it just added to the atmosphere. It was a powerful experience for me. So much so, I found that I was crying and didn’t realize it. I was holding Matt and singing to him with my candle in the other hand. Matt gently rubbed my cheek as he listened to me sing. His eyes were so big and serious…it was as if he knew the power of this moment for me. I found it a little difficult to keep my composure. But I did. Even though Kim and Mandy bailed out at the last minute, it was so worth having Ash and her family there. We had a nice long conversation on the way home over Dennis, his message, and my church.
Little did I know this was only the beginning of my Christmas 2006 odyssey. When we got back home, my kid’s dad was there. He wanted to speak with me. Okay, sure. It’s Christmas. I can be civil. If it took every last nerve in my body, I would be civil. Well, his sister was having this huge shindig over at her home as she does every year, and his mom and dad were going to be there and would I please go along with him and play the dutiful wife? Huh? His sister is aware of the ‘issues’ we have, but his parents aren’t. And he isn’t about to enlighten them. And they are getting on in years. And we get along fairly well. And I just don’t think it is my place to tell them what I really think of their son. And so I found myself being talked into going. And so we loaded up the Expedition, complete with Ash and her new family, and began the forty minute trek to his sister’s home. Thank goodness there was no video recorder in my truck. That is one experience I am so glad to be done with. He actually had the nerve to ask me if I would wear my wedding ring. If I would have known then what I know now, I would have left him on the side of the road. But, alas. Ignorance is bliss.
Ashley began to complain about her stomach during the ride there. Ashley never complains about anything hurting. Period. Nothing. So it was quite surprising to me when she mentioned a couple of times that her stomach wasn’t ‘feeling well’. In Ashley terms, this means dire pain. And we were being civil…no arguments on the way over there. I decided to keep my civil manner, but was distracted by how I was going to handle seeing my inlaws again. And how his sister was going to react to me. She never thought I was a good choice for her brother, but through the years we made peace with each other and had a fairly decent relationship. When it comes down to blood, though, Cajuns will stick with their own no matter what. And, in the end, I am an outsider, even though I am the mother of his kids. By the time we got to her house, Ashley was nearly doubled over. But she wasn’t complaining. I helped her to the bathroom and she stayed in there for quite a while. I found myself living a classic scene from the book of ‘How Not to Do Christmas.’ Why in the hell I let myself be talked into going along with this foolishness, I don’t know. But it is the holidays. And I respect his parents.
After about forty minutes of strained chit chat (he at least had the decency to stay out of the same room as me). It went down in typical Cajun style. The men went outside to discuss whatever important matters they discuss out there, freezing ass cold as it was, and the women gathered round the kitchen table to discuss matters important to women. My sister-in-law had the decency steer the conversation clear of anything having to do with her brother’s marriage, and for that I was grateful. Then she announces that her daughter is planning to get married. On New Year’s Eve. This year. Her daughter, who is barely 18 years old, who is sporting a huge rock on the third finger of her left hand. The ink is still drying on her high school diploma. The person she has chosen to marry is 29 years old, has a kid, and had been through a ‘couple of relationships.’ I didn’t touch that one. My heart went out to her as I realized she had her own set of serious problems to deal with…which is why she left me and the state of my marriage out of the spotlight.
Queue Ashley after about forty minutes of this pretend conversation for me. She was in extreme pain, had tossed up everything she had eaten since yesterday, and was asking to be brought to the emergency room. I was rocked by this. So Josh and I bundle up Ashley, get her to my truck, and get to my hometown emergency room. Her side was hurting and she was afraid it was her appendix.
This is where I spent Christmas Eve night. From about six thirty to almost midnight. Doc thought it may be her appendix as well, and she had several tests done, including a pregnancy test (she wasn’t worried), a sonogram, and a CAT scan. Good grief. She began to feel better about halfway through, doc told her she was pretty dehydrated (Geez, don’t they tell everyone that?) which I think is the standard reason they give for sticking than blasted IV in your arm. After all of this commotion, we find out that it’s just an extraordinary case of gas. Hey, I’ve been dropped to my knees with that. Ashley had never experienced that before and thought something was really wrong. I’m a little peeved that it took the doctor all evening to figure that out…but…hey. It got me out of that wretched little affair over at the in-laws.
When Ashley started feeling a bit better in the emergency room we had a nice long conversation. She is really angry with her dad and wanted to talk to me about it, but was unsure of how to approach me with it. (I wonder how much this has to do with where she ended up Christmas Eve night). Very briefly, what she wanted to talk to me about was her father’s IMing habits. She’d used his computer not too long ago. She logged in under his id…and while she was online, she got a few ‘interesting but distubing’ IM’s. I won’t go into them here…but, let’s just say…it was interesting. Ashley should be a lawyer. She let strung this person along for a little bit then slammed her with a few choice insults. Which caused a chain of reactions that we are still dealing with. Geez. I am glad that I changed all of my passwords long ago to something atypical of what I normally use. Not that I worry about such things, though.
Wow. I’ve just realized how much I have written. Enough about my Christmas Eve. It started out beautifully. And ended up…strange…weird…odd…I’m still scratching my head…
By the way…does this need to be said?…we never made it to midnight mass…

The most wonderful time of the year…

Yeah, right.
Anyway. I took a vacation day yesterday. I ended up spending it with my girls and Matt doing lots of last minute Christmas shopping. Of course, that was a thrill a minute. I just love trotting around stores filled with anxious, irritated people in search of ‘the perfect gift’.
I learned something yesterday. It’s actually fun to run around with my girls. We had lunch at the Olive Garden and chitchatted like a bunch of old ladies. Matt charmed all of the females in the restaurant, but got a little fussy towards the end. My lap seemed to be the only one that would quiet him down. Hmmm…brings back lots of memories! It was so much fun, and a bit strange, to be doing my last minute shopping with my girls who are growing up all too fast and no grumbling husband in tow. New, but strange.
Our last stop in the mall was JC Penney’s. At this point, Matt had his fill of this shopping business, and decided to make his irritation know to me, my girls, and everyone else in the store. Squalling babies are old hat to me. Ashley is still wet behind the ears in the ‘mom’ department, though, and was having trouble quieting Matt down. It’s times like these when I question myself as to how much assistance I should offer. I mean, she’s got to learn…but I have so much experience I can share! I said nothing and held back, deciding to wait until she asked for help. But she was getting more and more frustrated, and Matt was getting worse. I finally thought to myself ‘the hell with it’ and bargained with myself that I would accept any ‘noise’ she would throw my way for stepping in. I scooped Matt up out of her arms, propped him up on my left shoulder and proceeded to pat his back and murmur sweet nothings in his ear to calm him down. Exactly as I did for Ashley all those years ago. He was fast asleep within five minutes. Ashley didn’t say a word to me, but I could see the thanks in her eyes. That’s what moms do. Later, as I was dropping her off at her apartment, Matt started again, but we all knew it was because he was just plain tuckered out. And I got to do something I’ve waited a LONG, LONG time for. I kissed Matt, handed him to Ashley, and told her, “Sweetie, you’re going to be fine.” And I got to go HOME, leaving the crying baby behind!!!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday Season to all who pass this way. As we approach the end of this crazy year that has been 2006, I am reminding myself of all of the blessings I have. I have gone through many ‘transitions’ this year and will probably continue to do so for a bit. It still amazes me that anyone even bothers to stop by to read my little scratchings, but yall do, and I want you guys to know how much I appreciate each one of you. I have no idea what 2007 has in store for me. But I do know that I look forward to finding out. And I will always treasure each one of my friends here in blogville.

Oh, My!!

 

Message from Santa

Dear Friends,

  I have been watching you very closely to see if you have been good this year and since you have I will be telling my elves to make some goodies for me to leave under your tree at Christmas.
I was going to bring you all gifts from the 12 days of Christmas, but we had a little problem.  The 12 fiddlers fiddling have all come down with VD from fiddling with the 10 ladies dancing, the 11 lords leaping have knocked up the 8 maids a-milking, and the 9 pipers piping have been arrested for doing weird things to the 
7 swans a-swimming.  The 6 geese a-laying, 4 calling birds, 3 French hens, 2 turtle doves and the partridge in a pear tree have me up to my sled runners in bird shit.
On top of all this!  Mrs. Claus is going through menopause, 8 of my reindeer are in heat, the elves have joined the gay liberation and some people who can’t read a calendar have scheduled Christmas for the 5th of January.  Maybe next year I will be able to get my shit together and bring you the things you want.  This year I suggest you get your asses down to Walmart before everything is gone.

Love,

Santa    

Last night

Okay. So I get home late last night, as usual, and find a bouquet of red roses on my doorstep. My first instinct was to throw them in the garbage pail. They were red. Deep, deep red…almost black. Cream is my absolute favorite color in roses. Yellow will do in a pinch, but I love cream-colored roses.
He knows that.
And there were nine of them. Nine! What an oddball number! No dozen roses for me…no rhyme or reason for that number (at least, none that I can figure). Has nothing to do with our years together…nothing to do with anything at all! Nine. Strange.
So I bring them in the house and settle them in a vase. All the while, my thoughts are on overdrive. Why do ‘friends’ insist on relaying information to me that I absolutely do not want to know????!!! I swear. I’m going to jam my fingers in my ears, roll my eyes up, and sing “Shout to the Lord” at the top of my lungs the next time I get even a hint that someone is going to drop a little gossip on me.
So I find out yesterday afternoon that she has taken leave from her job.
She. Has. Taken. Leave.
Where is she?
I haven’t paid much attention to anything else lately other than Kim and Mandy. Kim is doing better. That is such a relief. My tummy decided to start acting up yesterday. No wonder. But it’s tolerable.
She’s taken leave. What is he going to do?
Why am I even thinking about this????!!!!!! Lord help me please to drive these thoughts from my head. I am utterly ridiculous. I have become a classic case of “I don’t want him but I don’t want anyone else to want him, either.” What the frak is up with that??!!! STOP THINKING SO MUCH!!!!!!
Last night I had to take some ’script stuff to make me sleep. Otherwise I would have been up all night. I followed it with two glasses of red wine. Before I get yelled at, I KNOW. Believe me, I know.
But I sure slept like a rock.
I’m going bury myself with work now.
Sigh….

December 18

Riccie: Happy Anniversary, Richelle!
Richelle: Awe, crap. I was hoping no one would remember that.
Riccie: I’m sorry to hear that. It sounds like things are still rocky.
Richelle: Uhmm…yeah…that would be a pleasant way to put it.
Riccie: That’s too bad. Wedding anniversaries should be happy days filled with happy memories.
Richelle: Not to mention the one night I was guaranteed to get some even if this day fell during the middle of the week.
Riccie: (turning red) Uhhh….
Richelle: That’s okay. I’m pretty blunt about my feelings.
Riccie: (clearing her throat) Well…I do hope this day goes well for you anyway.
Richelle: Oh, I think it will. I’m coming off of a fantastic weekend, and I’ve got a ton of work ahead of me. Doesn’t really leave me any time to think of that catastrophic failure of a relationship.
Riccie: What about him? How does he feel about the state of his marriage?
Richelle: Who gives a rat’s ass? How does he feel? Please. I am positive that the importance of this date will completely pass by him…he will not give it a second thought. He never has. I am the one, in years past, who made sure to drop hints, who made sure the children were elsewhere for the night, who lit the candles and cooked the special dinners, who got the sexy little ’something more comfortable’ for him to slip off of me, who filled our bed with rose petals just because, who always made myself willing and available to him.
Riccie: And you’re saying you never got anything in return?
Richelle: No. I can’t say that.
Riccie: And…?
Richelle: It’s just not there anymore. Does that make me a terrible person?
Riccie: No. It doesn’t. I know, better than anyone else, that you have tried, tried, and tried again. So what are you going to do about this? You’ve been living in relationship limbo for over a year now.
Richelle: Well. You know we decided to give this relationship the year 2006. You know we agreed on that late last year.
Riccie: I’m know that. I was there, remember? But you have had a tremendous amount of change to deal with in your life this past year. And, Richelle, you aren’t the only one. He has had to deal with these changes as well.
Richelle: That’s fair. But these things should have pulled us closer together in the end-I feel. Instead, all of these things have ripped us further apart.
Riccie: You’ve done a lot of changing yourself. I would dare say you’re not even the same person you were a mere year ago. How would you expect him to deal with that? You’ve spread your wings a bit and have been doing some flying on your own. He’s always been there to take care of you. Now you are able to show him that you can be independent. How do you think he is supposed to feel about that? As much changing as you have gone through, he also has gone through it. The distressing part is that you both didn’t do it together, as you both should have.
Richelle: I’m tired of beating myself up over the fact that I made vows in front of God in His home with this man.
Riccie: I know…I know. I’m not trying to get on you for that. Try to toughen up on that point, Richelle. God is a forgiving God. He knows your heart.
Richelle: Yeah, I know that. But it still stings like Hell.
Riccie: Look, Richelle. I want you to go forth and have a wonderful day. I know you. You will think of that special day so long ago. Focus on that, focus on the positive memories. You do have a lot of them.
Richelle: I think I can do that.
Riccie: No thinking about it-do it. And once this year is done, we are going to sit down and have a serious talk about where you are going with this relationship. It is time for you to either break some chains or re-establish your commitment.
Richelle: Ouch. I though I was the blunt one here.
Riccie: You know damn well what I am saying and what I mean.
Richelle: Yeah. I know. I know all too well.
Riccie: Have yourself a great day, Richelle. And smile. It makes your face look good!

Looking for the weekend

I’m in complaint mode right now.
I’m tired of dealing with sickness. I’m tired of dealing with ‘his’ tirades. I’m tired of my dog jumping all over me only looking for something to eat when I get home. I’m tired of seeing the blasted ‘check engine’ light on in my truck…because I know I do not have time right now to get it to the shop. Stupid pollution sensors. I’m extremely tired of driving home in fog so thick that I can’t see three feet in front of me. (Life in Louisiana. I am a serious accident on the road looking to happen right now. I hate driving in fog. I’ve lost a couple of really good friends that way.) I’m exhausted thinking about the kids being out of school for Christmas vacation.
I am just one big frakking complaint at the moment.
If I were a different type of person…today is one of those days where I would frak work, dress up (or down) really provocatively, find myself a boy-toy, book a room for the day, and live out one hell of a fantasy.
Of course, then I’d have to live with myself.
Which is why I just keep it deep within my brain. And stick to complaining about life at the moment.
It’s getting better.

Not my will, but Thy will be done.

14/12/2006

I wrote the quote, but forgot to jot down the author…so…whoever wrote this one…thanks!

Live like you care
Laugh like you don’t
Dream like you expect them to come true…