TO MEMORIES

Memories. They halt me in my tracks at times. My mind reels as the vivid pictures are displayed. Sometimes my heart pounds frantically as more and more images play inside my brain. They choose the moments they appear most of the time. Perhaps there is a trigger that has been pulled to set them off, but I must not always be aware of it. Other times I can easily identify the catalyst.

On one of the walls along my staircase are framed photographs. I see them countless times each day. Yet, occasionally it is as if I am seeing them for the first time. One such photograph is of my husband, his two brothers, and his parents. It is a tremendous picture of the five of them. The setting is an outdoor one. Taken in their backyard. I descend the steps, glance toward the photo, and I am jarred. I stop. Stare at it. For there are now only four left in his family. His mother passed away in 2001. How can that be? Was it the swiftness of her passing that makes it not seem true? Is she happy now? Is she watching over her husband and boys and grandchildren?

A bit farther down the steps is a picture of my family. My parents, me, my sisters, our husbands, my kids, and all of my nieces and nephews. Again, it was photographed outside. But not in anyone's backyard. It was at the nursing home. A sofa from the lounge had been taken from inside and placed in front of some lovely trees and bushes. Daddy had been wheeled out there and then lifted onto the couch. His legs were moved and positioned in a natural-looking pose. Mom is next to him. The rest of us are gathered closely. Some standing, some kneeling, some sitting. I am behind my father. My hands are holding onto his once-strong shoulders. That photograph paralyzes me sometimes. It mesmerizes me. I see so much more than just the figures in the picture. I see a lifetime of memories. I see the story behind why it had to be taken at that facility. I know the beautiful man on that floral sofa is no longer here. It is real, but it is unreal.

Another framed picture makes me smile widely. It is of my two children, hubby, and me. The kids are wee ones. I look at their very young faces, and I am transported back into a time of Legos, dolls, tricycles, storybooks, tiny voices, giggles, and pure innocence. I chuckle noting how young hubby and I are. I always think it is time for a new family portrait to be taken to hang alongside that one.

Mom wants to go to lunch today. At her request, all four of us girls are going with her. It is to a restaurant that holds memories galore for each one of us and one which we have gone to for years. It is also the place that prepares my favorite wedding soup. Mom wants to raise our glasses in a toast to the fond memories the place holds for us. The laughter. The happiness. The closeness. The warmth.

The restaurant is being demolished within the next month or so. It is a massive two-story structure, and it does have much wasted space. In its place will be a small strip mall. The restaurant will be rebuilt and located in that mall, but significantly downsized. It will not feel the same. The renovation will take away the familiarity of it. Gone will be the private dining rooms where we had all gathered for celebrations of birthdays and New Year's Eves and "just because" occasions. Gone will be the specific booths where Mom and Dad dined together at least once a week. It is far more than "only a restaurant" to us. But...

We will make new memories there.

"A smile happens in a flash, but its memory can last a lifetime." ~Unknown

THE FLOWERS

Fifteen students were seated at large tables that had been arranged in a U-shape in the classroom. At the front of the class stood the teacher beside his desk. In the very center of this large room was a table. Atop it was a crystal vase filled with colorful flowers of different varieties. Around the bottom of the vase, a linen cloth had been carefully draped. The students awaited the instructions from the teacher.

He spoke to them. His directions were simple. He told the students to paint what they saw on that table centered in the room. The paintings had to be completed by the end of the class. There were no questions asked by those in attendance. The only sounds were the rustlings of watercolor paints being retrieved from art bags, water bowls being filled, pencils scratching the surface of the watercolor paper, the tapping of paintbrushes against the rim of the bowls, an occasional murmuring from some of the would-be artists.

Just shy of two hours later, the instructor approached a student and raised her painting to show the others. It was a lovely painting. The flowers sprang from the paper in vibrant colors. The glass vase clearly showed the water it held, as well as the stems of the flowers. The white linen cloth with its folds was depicted nicely.

He moved to the next student. His painting was held up to the class. Interesting. His flowers were painted in muted colors. The linen not white but a soft shade of blue. The stems of the flowers could barely be seen inside the vase, just a blur of the palest of greens.

The teacher continued his trek around the room holding up each of the students' paintings for all to see. Odd. There was not a single painting among the fifteen that was alike.How could that be? Puzzled expressions settled on the faces of the painters.

The last painting having been displayed, the teacher returned to his desk. He asked the class what all of the paintings had in common. One person said they were all paintings of the vase of flowers. The teacher nodded. "What else was alike?" he asked. Noticeable shifting occurred at that time, because it was a real stretch to find anything similar other than the subject matter of the paintings.

When no answer was forthcoming, the teacher spoke. The paintings were all alike in that they were different. And what would cause that to be the case? There would be different levels of painting skill among the artists, and their abilities would show. Shadows from the light would be in different places according to the spot where the students viewed the vase. Some people may have had an aversion to a particular color or flower and chose to downplay or even remove its presence from the vase. Some saw the flowers through their minds' eyes in an abstract way, while others saw a more realistic view. Some are stubborn and only wish to paint their own way. Some have a fondness for bright colors, while others prefer pastel shades. The more the teacher spoke, the more reasons for the differences were mentioned by the students.

The teacher summed it up by saying that each individual had his/her own unique vision of that lone vase of flowers. They put their pencils and brushes to their paper and sketched then painted what they saw. Because of each person's preferences, abilities, placement in the room, previous instructions from former teachers, likes and dislikes, personality traits, choices, preconceived ideas, the result was fifteen completely different paintings of the same object. And none were "wrong."

Fascinating to me when that occurred.

Now, apply that to the people around you. What are they seeing? What are you seeing? I would venture to say that no one is seeing the same thing. They might think they are, but they each have their own version of it. Small differences, large differences...but differences nevertheless. You simply cannot take away the individuality of people and expect them to see things in an identical way. You can try, but you will fail. All that we have experienced in our lives colors how we view everything. Since no one has had the exact same life as anyone else, how can they see through anyone else's eyes? We can attempt and perhaps succeed in some small part, but it eventually comes back to what you, yourself, see. Some people need glasses. Others have keen vision. And the only thing you can maybe agree on is that no one is really wrong. It is all about perception and what life experiences we put into our perception.

"There are always flowers for those who want to see them." ~Henri Matisse

PIECES OF MY TIME

We had some snow. I love it. January should have snow where I live. While it fluttered down to the ground, I got a fire going in the fireplace. Ahhhh. I have no intention of putting it out until the temperatures rise outside and the snow disappears. The hubby's eyebrows will most likely lift when he receives the gas bill, but I do not care. And he knows I do not.

Mom is having her surgery on February 6. It is not a difficult procedure. A common one, in fact. It is not without risk, and it is those risks that make me squirm and fret. But, maybe it will be enough to see to it that her heart no longer plunges to dangerously infrequent beats while she is asleep. And do not ever let anyone tell you that losing someone you love does not cause a heart to break. Her heart was fine until Daddy passed away. Then, it broke. How could I be convinced otherwise? Do not even try. Emotions can wreak their destruction on our bodies as surely as they can also bring us tremendous joy and glowing health.

My big mouth and my always-present big ideas may have done me in. Last quarter, I took a watercolor class. I have taken classes from this same gentleman numerous times. At the end of the quarter, I said to him, "Hey, how about for winter quarter having one of our assignments be painting a doorway?" He thought that was a good idea. Tuesday nite was the first nite of the winter session. What is one of our painting projects? A DOORWAY! At first I was excited that he recalled my wish. Now that I have been scouring the Internet and my own photographs to find a doorway I want to paint, I am thinking I should have kept my mouth shut. ::long sigh:: I cannot find what I want. I have looked at thousands of doors. None are catching my fancy. As of this moment, I am leaning toward one of the following two: my own front door or the door of a chapel on E. Delaware Street in Chicago. I am perched on the steps in front of it, but I can easily get rid of THAT image. ::laugh:: Class was fun, and two of my three sisters take it with me. We went out afterward and had our usual good time.

Speaking of my sisters. Today I ordered them Christmas presents. Uh huh. CHRISTMAS. We always give something as a "side gift" to each other...strictly a personal item, in addition to the regular gifts. Well, I fell in love with a Waterford Crystal Lismore square ring holder. I need something like that for myself. Instead of ordering just one, I ordered four. I know all of them could use one, too. Smart money says that once I receive the package in February, my sisters will get their Christmas gift right then. I get too excited to wait. And to wait for ten months to give it to them? Not gonna happen.

I had a chance to exercise some measure of skill writing the words that will go on a permanent bronze wall plaque honoring my father. I am the family's designated writer, so I was put in charge of that task. It took me some time to think just what I thought should be on there and how it should be worded. I am happy with the results. Instead of having it only be a recitation of facts easily found in other places, I made sure to include the parts of the man that do not go into record books. His kindness. Compassion. Intelligence. Humor. Loyalty. Integrity. And those are the most important parts of a life lived. He would be pleased with my words. My family is.

I got to see how red my daughter's boyfriend's face can turn. I think it might have been ALMOST as red as my own. I did not know he was here at the house, and I came out of a room wearing only a tank top and string bikini panties. Guess who I bumped into? Enough said.

Have I ever mentioned that being in my forties is probably one of the best and worst times of my life?

"We all live with the objective of being happy; our lives are all different and yet the same." ~Anne Frank

THAT'S LIFE

Today has been a day that has brought me huge smiles as well as huge concern. Days like this happen sometimes. I found out my mother requires surgery. I hurt for her. She is afraid, and I can understand her fear. I will do all I can to help her, be with her, and anything I possibly can to ensure that her pre- and post-operation times are calm ones.

On the bright side, one of my most favorite online friends~and one I have known for over two years~had joyous news she told me this morning. This woman knows me practically inside out, and I love her to pieces. To hear her happy voice telling me her boyfriend asked her to marry him thrilled me. He even had the ring selected! To you, dear Kim, again I offer my most heartfelt congratulations. It is your time to shine.

To another friend I spoke to later on in the day, thank you for a wonderful conversation. I enjoyed it immensely. ::smile::

I do not really want to write a new entry today. The highs and the low of the day have just been recorded above. So, I am reposting an entry I had in my old journal. The date I wrote it is March 28, 2005. I hope some of you find it a worthwhile post to read.

THAT'S LIFE (REPOST)

"Life is drawing without an eraser." Oh my! I came across that line while viewing a breathtakingly beautiful slide presentation. And as occasionally happens, it is a quote which instantly captivated me. In its simplicity, it speaks volumes. I know I will always remember it.

And so, I spent some time thinking about it. I thought of how accurately it describes our lives. We are each given a huge blank piece of paper and an ink pen, and we sketch our own life pictures.

Some of us have sweet drawings from our youth on our paper. Our childhoods were wonderful ones, and we put the ink to the paper and recreated the images of joy we experienced. For others, that portion of the paper is blurred or depicts unpleasant scenes~reflections of harsh or sad childhoods.

But, we roll up our paper and grab our pen and stumble into young adulthood carrying them with us. We draw frantically during that time of life. Sometimes the ink spills onto our paper leaving ugly dark blotches. We attempt to fix them but to no avail. The ink is permanent. We then work around them and try to be a bit more careful while drawing our pictures. We learned something by being careless with the ink, and we hope we do not again make that same mistake. There are an amazing number of life events we need to record at that stage of our lives. That part of the picture is filled with countless contrasting images representing those years. Scenes of hopefulness, frustration, energy, heartbreak, enthusiasm, confusion, happiness, optimism, and delusion all occupy that section of the paper. All sketched in ink. Permanent.

We finally sit down and study what we have drawn, hoping to glean some valuable information from the varying pictures. We wish some of the scenes could be erased, but we know it is impossible. Some people will shout that it is not fair we were given ink instead of a pencil to record our lives. Others will quietly take note of the permanence of the pictures and make sure some of the ugly pictures and spills they themselves caused do not reoccur.

We stride along...our works of life tucked under our arms and pens in hands. We are maturing. Perhaps our drawings are becoming increasingly more complex, more intricate. We may spend more time creating the pictures. We are careful with that ink, because we learned what happens when we are not. We want to create only beauty and soothing scenes. Unfortunately, if we are to accurately portray our lives, we must include everything. We reluctantly draw the events which made us hurt deep inside. The times we felt shattered. The ones that made us angry. The ones which embarrass us.

We pause at length and look at our work. Some of us see that even with the spills, the horrid images, and the painful scenes, there is a definite sense of balance between those and the ones which cause us to rejoice and our hearts to swell. They will feel a sense of satisfaction as they view their lives on paper. Some will be unable to see anythingon their paper except the ugliness. They will rebel once more about how unfair it is. Outsiders peek at their pictures and see some lovely images amidst the ink splatters and unpleasant scenes. They will wonder why the creators cannot see around those ink blobs and unattractive depictions. They may also wonder why there are so many spills. Surely they learned that ink needs to be handled with care, didn't they?

Unroll your paper and take a good look at it. Study it. Follow it in order from your early youth up until today. What do you see on your paper? Have you been messy working with the ink? Have you not yet fully realized that there is no eraser available? Are you still bemoaning the requirement of the use of ink? Do you see scenes which make you smile? Are you creating more of those scenes each day? And when you come across the ones which tear apart your heart, are you also seeing the happy images that surround them? We may not get to erase what we have drawn, but we are all given the same opportunity to learn the permanence of the ink.

Today's quote:

"Many of life's circumstances are created by three basic choices: the disciplines you choose to keep; the people you choose to be with; and, the laws you choose to obey." ~Charles Millhuff

FANTASY FAERIES

Fantasy Faeries is what I am calling this painting o'mine. ::giggle:: Silly looking picture, isn't it? It is what the goofy little kid in me MADE me paint. She is so bossy.

I told you about my inner child pushing and shoving her way to the surface in a previous entry. I must admit that I have had a blast painting this. It is so far removed from the way I usually attempt to paint. The idea for it came from a children's art book, for cryin' out loud!

Needless to say, I do not consider this a painting to hang in my living room. But, I will frame it and find a little spot for it somewhere. Why? Because it depicts me and my three sisters. My eldest sister is the blue faerie, the next sister is the yellow/orange faerie, I am the red/purple one, and the youngest is green. 1, 2, 3, 4. I intentionally gave myself kind of a wicked face. ::grin::

Note how each of the faeries is connected to another one through the thin strands of paint. That represents the ties we sisters have to each other...our closeness. And we are a tremendously close family. THAT'S why this painting will be matted and framed and hung in my home.

Best thing of all? While I was working on this, I could completely forget the worries I currently have. Once I was seated at my drawing table, those upsetting thoughts perished. Yep, the little brat inside of me made sure I got a respite from stress. She needs to come around more often.

"Painting is just another way of keeping a diary." ~Pablo Picasso

GETTING TO KNOW ME TAG

The always nice Sassy has a game of tag going in her journal (Sassy's Second Word). She asked those wishing to play to join in. And because she is so sweet, I will play it, too! By the way, I am unsure why I chose the above graphic. I am tired, I have not used a tongue in here on previous entries, and tongues can be very good things. Uh huh. Hey, try to ask a question or answer one without using your tongue. ::thinking that last explanation worked::

There are seven questions, and four answers are requested for each one.

1. Four jobs you have had in your life:

~Cashier and pharmacy tech in a pharmacy, also handled the daily billing (begrudgingly because it forced me to remain cooped up in a small room, and I preferred being with the customers).

~Secretary for the Department of Natural Resources (met my hubby there!)

~Secretary at City Hall (I loooooved this job!)

~Librarian and secretary for the local school district on a part-time basis whenever there was a need for a substitute (enjoyed this immensely, and my kids were thrilled when I would work at their schools).

2. Four movies you would watch over and over:

~Camelot

~It's A Wonderful Life

~The Little Mermaid

~The Santa Clause

(I do not like watching the same movies repeatedly, so there would have to be a good long time span between viewings.)

3. Four places you have lived:

~I have always lived in my home state

4. Four TV shows you love to watch:

~College basketball

~College football

~Golf tournaments...especially if my to-die-for-hottie is playing (Retief Goosen)

~Championship sporting events

(In case there may be a question about my gender after seeing the above answers, the answer is I am most definitely female. I simply dislike TV shows for the most part.)

5. Four places you have been on vacation:

~Hawaii...can you say heaven on earth?

~California...Monterey, Carmel, and San Francisco (beautiful, beautiful, and beautiful)

~Canada...Niagara Falls, of course, and Toronto (you could literally eat off the clean streets there!)

~Chicago...my beloved home away from home

~Florida, Georgia, Tennessee, Missouri, New York, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Nevada, Indiana, Kentucky, North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, West Virginia, Washington DC (that should make up for my TV show answers)

6. Four foods you love to eat:

~Beef tenderloin

~Wedding soup (but only by one particular restaurant...and my own version of it)

~Twice-baked potatoes

~Lobster with oodles of melted better laced with garlic

7. Four places you would rather be right now:

~Truthfully? Right now I want to be exactly where I am here at home. Much is going on, both good and not-so-good things. This is where I need to be, and I would not and will not leave until I am certain my mother has her health issues resolved well enough so I can have peace of mind to go on a trip.

I will not tag anyone. If any of you decide to play along, please drop your link here or email it to me. I would love to see your responses!

"To every answer you can find a new question." ~Yiddish Proverb

THE MAGICIAN

The majority of my journal entries are written following the same pattern. First, I have a topic in mind, and I write whatever it is I wish to say about it. Next, I find or create a graphic that seems to go well with the words. Finally, I seek out a quotation that is fitting and appropriate.

There are occasional times when steps two and three are reversed. Very rarely is step one ever not the first step. There are countless beautiful images which would probably fuel my writing, but for some reason, I do not seem to try it that way. Maybe I should.

This is one of those rare occasions when I came across the graphic first, and I am writing my words next. Simone's images can cause that to happen! I have tooted her horn before in this journal. How she can perfect and add those special touches that make her creations so outstanding is beyond me. A gift she has, no doubt.

The Magician is the title of this Simone's Creations image. Simple title. Not so simple thoughts it incites.

Is there a magician who performs his magic on all of us? Some of us? Do we have to ask for him to cast his spells? Or does he choose to do so on his own? And are these magic acts of his always for the sake of good, or are there also ones that can do harm?

To me, this depicts no Las Vegas magician sawing people in half or making bodies levitate. Nor does it seem to depict someone who wishes to hurt others. What I see is a wise man studying his books of magic, further committing to memory the various spells he might need to use. He sits there by candlelight, leading me to believe he has been busy all day and is now taking some time at nite to refine his skills.

Odd, though, one of the most striking things about this entire picture is the key in the upper left corner. It is not the focal point of the image. Not at all. Yet, it holds the most significance in my mind. It represents the key to the magic. ALL of the magic.

You see, I think we were given the key to finding the magic. We can go through life and wish for this and wish for that. But unless we look for it ourselves and allow ourselves to see it when it is right there before us, we will forever be wondering why our lives are bland and colorless. The key can open the door to the rich colors that can brighten our worlds.

The magic IS everywhere. There may be other terms used to describe it, however. Nature provides magic every single day, does it not? We are not told that the falling rain or snow is the result of magic or that the rainbow has appeared because of magic. The stars in the skies, the reliable rotation of the earth, the descent of the sun, and the ascent of the moon all have lengthy explanations attached to their presence. And the "M" word is not anywhere to be found.

When your fingertips touch those of another and an electrical spark is felt by both people, isn't that magic? If your heart leaps when you are with someone you care about, what do you make of that? And what of the miracle of a child born? Scientifically, we all know how and why that happens. Does it make it any less magical? Not to me, it doesn't.

The list is endless. We are completely surrounded by The Magician's spells. We only need to open our eyes, our minds, and our hearts to see, smell, taste, touch, and feel them. Use that key each and every one of us has been given.

Oh, I forgot. The Magician has a name...it is God.

"The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper." ~Eden Phillpotts

MY INNER CHILD

My inner child pushed aside the other parts of me and burst through to my surface. Goodness, she was not at all dainty about it, either! She showed up with an enchanting giggle and a desire to be noticed. Her timing is impeccable.

I am tickled she decided to make her appearance right now. Her arrival was somewhat circuitous. As I sit here pondering what made her decide to push and shove until I noticed her, I am donning a genuine smile on my face. I think I have determined what gave her the initial nudge she required.

During December, we (along with some church choir members) adopted a family for Christmas through the Salvation Army (they are a true blessing to all in need). Our assigned family, known only by a number, consisted of a mother and four children~three girls and a boy. Each child completed a form stating what items they would love to have from Santa. The mother filled out no form...requesting nothing. The forms were typed by the Salvation Army, and shoe and clothing sizes and the children's ages were listed. At the bottom was the space for each child to write the special goodies they hoped to receive. I was instantly taken by their selections. They each asked for books! And none asked for more than two presents. Of course, that made me want to spoil them with an extravaganza of gifts.

It was the little boy who captured my attention. He loves art. He loves to draw and do all kinds of artwork. In my mind, I pictured a sensitive soul. I knew I would have no difficulty supplying him with gifts that would let him pursue his artistic interest.

With the four lists in hand, I immediately went to Amazon.com and purchased the books the three little girls wanted...and additional ones by their favorite authors. During my hunt for the "right" art instructional books for the little boy, I came across one that seemed so perfect. Reviews of it indicated that many school art teachers even refer to it when instructing their students. Bingo! I ordered it along with other art books. There. All four of them would be receiving the books they desired and more.

It was my daughter who went shopping with another choir member to choose the remaining gifts. I did tell her to be sure she bought art supplies for the little boy to complement the books I had chosen for him. They did a beautiful job of seeing to it that each child received clothing, shoes, and toys. As I had also advised, they bought the mother a gift certificate. There was no way I wanted her to be forgotten on Christmas Day!

The books arrived in the mail. I unpacked them and made sure all were the correct ones. I was thrilled to find the order was exact. It was during that time that I thumbed through one of the art books. I was struck by the techniques this book depicted. It was a FUN art book. I scampered off to the computer, and I promptly ordered that very same book for ME. It came via our trusty United States Postal Service, and I placed it on the shelf above my computer. Forgotten for the time being.

The holidays came and went. Restlessness settled inside me, and I could not seem to rid myself of it. And in the same day, two things occurred that whispered to my inner child that her time to reveal her presence was at hand.

First, I spoke on the phone to my human guardian angel. I wrote about her in a previous entry called ANGEL O'MINE. She lives in Massachusetts, so seeing her is not an easy chore. We laughed a lot~the woman is an absolute riot. She was preparing to take a much-needed vacation to Antigua. Then suddenly, she said to me that I need change in my life. She said I need variety to reboot my spirit. I was a bit surprised (although I should not have been, since she always gets an exact read on me), because I had not indicated anything felt amiss in my world. The conversation ended later with my wishes for her to have a fun but relaxing trip.

The second whisper occurred as evening approached. That familiar restlessness returned. I was unsure what to do...what I wanted to do. It was then that I plucked the new art book from the shelf and looked through it page by page. My eyes grew wider and wider, and my brain was spinning. This book is basic art instruction. But with those basics, I began to think of ways I could take the techniques and make them mine. Put my imprint on them. Create art that is unique. That I own in some way.

I grew very excited while my brain buzzed. I needed to buy this and that. I would have to find such and such. Oh, good...I already have those. My hubby was positively darling listening to my animated babblings, and he fled the house to buy me one of the critical items I needed to create the first of the projects I have chosen to try. I felt like a little kid bubbling with enthusiasm.

And that is where I am right now. Little Bedazzzled1 is in the foreground. I intend to honor her presence by embracing her to the best of my ability. Maybe she is the one who is in charge of rebooting my spirit, and I have neglected her for too long. We shall see!

"Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air~explode softly~and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth~boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn't go cheap, either~not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination." ~Robert Fulghum

THE SEVEN WONDERS

Once upon a time (last year!) I had a different journal. I loved it. It was my very first online journal. I needed it. Writing was good for my soul. I could release my thoughts and feelings instead of keeping them tucked inside of me. And for about ten months, it was the perfect place for me to do so. For reasons that no longer matter, I closed that journal and began this one. It was probably the wisest change I have made in a long time. Because through this Bedazzled journal, I have come to know those of you whose compassion, intelligence, humor, decency, and kindness are overwhelming.

I kept all of my writings from that other journal. I have a big, thick notebook full of my entries. I was thumbing through it the other day, and I decided to occasionally post an entry from that journal in this one. Maybe the entry is not my favorite. Or maybe it is not even very good. But for some reason or another, it appeals to me. Such is the case with this one. I hope you enjoy it, and it gives you pause for thought.

"Most of us can easily name the Seven Wonders of the World. And they are wondrous, indeed. They leave us in awe of their beauty, their design, their timelessness. Some leave us puzzling over how they were constructed. Some are so very old, no one can ascertain just how they were built. All that is known with absolute certainty is that a great amount of time and number of workers helped create them. The "newer" Wonders have plans left behind detailing their creation. Whatever the case, these Seven never cease to amaze onlookers. People travel from all around the world for the opportunity to gaze upon them. And rightly so; they are visions to behold. Each one is etched into the minds of those fortunate enough to be in their presence. But...

Are there not additional Wonders? Other "things" equally staggering and stunning? Perhaps even more so? I have received the following email numerous times over the years, and it always makes me pause and think. It puts things in proper perspective for me just in case I have "forgotten." It goes as follows:

A group of students were asked to list what they thought were the present Seven Wonders of the World. Though there were some disagreements, the following received the most votes: 1) Egypt's Great Pyramids; 2) the Taj Mahal; 3) the Grand Canyon; 4) the Panama Canal; 5) the Empire State Building; 6) St. Peter's Basilica; and 7) the Great Wall of China. While gathering the votes, the teacher noted that one student had not yet finished her paper. She asked the girl if she was having trouble coming up with a list. The girl replied, 'Yes, a little. I couldn't quite make up my mind because there were so many.' The teacher said, 'Well, tell us what you have, and maybe we can help.' The girl hesitated, then read, 'I think the Seven Wonders of the World are: 1) to see; 2) to hear; 3) to touch; 4) to taste; 5) to feel; 6) to laugh; and 7) to love.' The room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

We do not always think about THOSE wonders, do we? We believe we have to travel far and wide to experience the grand and the majestic. We bring along our cameras to record the time we spend at those sights. We revel in the glory of those precious minutes. We roam around taking in everything about them that we can absorb. If we are with others, we all point to this and that and chatter enthusiastically about what is before us. We reach out and hold onto the arms of our traveling companions. We feel the power and intensity of the sights. At the end of a long day spent exploring and filling our minds full of memories, we retreat to our hotel rooms for a nice meal, and then we curl in our beds for lovemaking or just the comfort of a lover's arms. Those traveling alone drift off into a deep and contented sleep recalling the events of the day. The trip over, we return home and regale those we know and love with the tales of our adventures. We bring out the movies and pictures to share with them; allowing them to glimpse the Wonders man created. We talk and laugh. There are always amusing anecdotes to tell about something that occurred during the trip. It is a warm get-together with those with whom we are close.

Now, think about this. Take away your ability to see. Take away your hearing. Remove your sense of touch and taste. Lose your capacity to feel, laugh, and love. Then return to St. Peter's Basilica. It is a whole different adventure, isn't it? You have no one with you, because you have no capability to feel and to love. Therefore, you are alone. Without your sight you cannot appreciate the magnificence of Michelangelo's fabulous Pieta or any of the other marble carvings and the ornate structures both inside and outside of the Basilica. You cannot see the hordes of people whose mouths are agape while staring at the incredible sights. Nor can you hear the many hushed whispers or the exclamations of awe erupting from the mouths of onlookers. Return to your hotel and go to the restaurant located inside it. Order your meal. Are you enjoying that chateaubriand and glass of cabernet sauvignon? Of course not, for you can neither savor their aroma nor taste their richness. Time to proceed to your room to go to sleep. Pull back that bedspread and feel the softness of the sheets and their coolness to your touch. But you cannot feel that, can you? You have no sense of touch. The trip over, you return to your empty home. A home devoid of love. Empty of friends and family. No one throwing arms around you to welcome you back home. No kisses placed on your lips and cheeks. No one with whom to share your experiences. But, there is this question to be answered...

Did you really HAVE any experiences?

I believe that student definitely listed the most wondrous Seven Wonders of the World for all of time."

"From wonder into wonder existence opens." ~Lao Tzu

I'M SLOWLY LOSING IT!

This entry serves absolutely no purpose except to entertain me. It cracks me up. I am exhausted, and yet I have been sitting here laughing at this picture. I had to put it in this journal. Please, read the previous entry. It has some substance!

Have a happy day and be sure to start it off with your own special brew of Shut the Fuck Up served to anyone who pisses you off.

IF YOU WANT TO MAKE GOD LAUGH

These lovely photographs were taken in Costa Rica. Beautiful, aren't they? What a place it is! Hubby had said we were going to go there. I was to choose the hotel where we would stay. After some serious hunting, I found the PERFECT and most romantic place. Glorious sums it up just right. I had to withhold making the actual reservations, because we were unsure when we could time this long-awaited trip.

I need to back up a bit first. When my son's girlfriend was in her junior year of college, she lived in Costa Rica for a few months as part of a study program. She loved it. As soon as she graduated and after much deliberation, she accepted a one-year teaching position in Costa Rica. Only one year. After that year is over, her plans are to return home to obtain her Master's degree. She left in June. I have missed her a tremendous amount. I love her to pieces, and emails and phone calls are no replacement for being with her in person.

Back to the present. Hubby and I were thrilled to be going to Costa Rica. Not only would we get to see our son's girlfriend, we could also have that second honeymoon we wanted. Yay! I had it all figured out. Where we were going to stay, what places we would visit, how much use our hotel suite would get ::grin::...everything except the date. December looked like a promising month to take this trip; however, son's little lady said she was trying to work it out so she could fly back home for Christmas. I hardly wanted to be out of the country when she would finally be back IN the country, so I decided December was a bad time to plan on THE BIG TRIP.

Instead, hubby scheduled a nice little family ski trip to Seven Springs to begin two days after Christmas. Ahhhh, I was looking forward to a post-holiday getaway. Long story short, there was no one available to look after our dog who had just had her left eye removed, the stitches were still in, and she was adorned in one of those charming lampshades around her head to prevent her from scratching that eye. Desperate phone calls to find someone who could spend a bulk of time with the poor thing resulted in no luck. Yours truly stayed home with her. Yep, poochie, me, and her bazillion medicines alone in the house while my hubby and kids were off having fun. I was here sadly watching a blind (her remaining eye is blind) and disoriented dog bashing into every object in our house. (That really was extremely upsetting to me. I realize it is "just a dog" to some people. But to ME, she is part of the family. I hated her suffering so.) It was not a fun time for me, and I did not feel as though I was truly alone with no worries. In fact, I was horribly stressed out during that time and unable to pursue any of the activities I would normally do if given the opportunity to be alone.

Oh well. Costa Rica could wait until the other winter or spring months. I had no problem with that. I kept pulling up the hotel site on the computer and gazing at the plush rooms in MY hotel. It was going to be soooooo fun there. I needed to get on the ball and set a date.

The family returned from their vacation. I began to discuss with hubby specific times we might want to go to Costa Rica. Oops. "Didn't I tell you I scheduled a ski trip to Montana for then?" said my forgetful husband. Uh, no. Then maybe we could go during such-and-such? "Oh, I can't. I am going to North Carolina with my brothers and father. I know I told you that." Uh, no. This went on and on until I felt my shoulders sag clear down to my ankles. Every time that looked good to me was not acceptable. Work demands, previous plans, and the like thwarted my hopes. June looked good to him. Nice. June is when our son's girlfriend will be BACK here. (She never was able to get back for Christmas.) And we are supposed to be going to Chicago with another couple for the King Tut exhibit in June or July.

I think I shall scream. And the only person I have to blame is myself. I wanted to find the perfect time. I should know by now that perfection rarely exists.

I guess I need to check the typical weather in Costa Rica for late summer. Looks like then is my best bet. ::sigh::

Oh! There IS a huge positive in all of this. The above photographs? They were taken by my son. He flew to Costa Rica on October 31 to ask his girlfriend to marry him and slip a stunning engagement ring on her finger (which he has had since September). She said YES, by the way! I LOVED when she and I talked on the phone later during his trip, and we spent the first two minutes just screaming and laughing with excitement. They are both so dang precious together. She was caught totally by surprise when he proposed! I LOVE IT!

Anyway, I am pretending those pictures were taken by me during the rare times hubby and I ventured out of our hotel suite. Uh huh. We had a great time there. Yep, we did.

Talk about living vicariously through one's children. Geez.

"If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your future plans." ~Woody Allen

THE BATTLE FOR THE ME PLACE

There is a beautiful Georgian townhouse that is mere minutes away from where I live. I cannot pass it without slowing down or coming to a complete stop and taking in its gorgeous exterior. It is flawless. The grounds are even immaculately groomed. I have fallen in love with it. Not just because of its appearance, but also because of what it represents to me. It could be my ME place.

My entire family knows I am in a constant state of lust when it comes to that townhouse. They know I have even checked into the price of it. I have seen the floor plans of it. My kids laugh when they are with me in the car and I spot it. I always say, "There's my other home." They are also aware it is to be just for me to live in on occasions.

"Why would you want a place that is all your own? Is there some reason you want to be away from me and the kids? Am I getting on your nerves? Is something wrong?"

And therein lies part of the problem of having a ME place. I am a wife and mother who does, in fact, love the three of them an enormous amount. For my husband to fret that he is doing something that he perceives as driving me away from him upsets me terribly.

"No, you are doing nothing wrong at all. I love you. I always want to be married to you. Sometimes I crave a quiet place free of any and all distractions. A place where the phone does not ring constantly. A place where music is streaming through the rooms instead of the sounds of televisions. A place that is filled with only the furniture and decorations I choose to be in it. A place where I have a large room devoted exclusively to the many arts and crafts that enable me to enjoy creating. A place that remains spotless. A sanctuary just for me."

He nods his head. He can understand those wants and needs of mine. We discuss the possible benefits of buying a second home. An investment of sorts. Since I have no intention of living there except for occasional days when the world around me seems to be crushing my skull, there is the issue of how we can justify purchasing that scrumptious townhouse. It would remain vacant far more often than it would be lived in.

"What is the matter with you? Why in the world do you want to escape from your husband and kids to be by yourself? What if one day you find them all gone and you really ARE all alone? How are you going to feel about those days you scampered off to your little ME place? Are you going to wish you had spent those precious hours with your husband and children instead? Shame on you."

Those are the thoughts I have as a wife and mother. I feel selfish when I think about myself before my family. The feeling of guilt is enormous. My brain can sort it out and logically tell me there is nothing wrong with wanting a respite from the hectic and sometimes chaotic atmosphere that can be found in my home. The guilt is heaped on me not by family members, but by myself. No one has the ability to make me feel horribly guilty about anything the way I can. I become my own worst enemy.

"Hubby takes his vacations with his buddies whenever he feels like it. Fishing trips, ski trips, golf trips, trips to visit good friends with his good friends. Hasn't he gone to the Super Bowl, the Final Four, the Fiesta Bowl all without me? Does he feel bad when he does that? Not to my knowledge. He calls from wherever he is and says he misses me, but that he is having a good time."

So why does my desire to infrequently spend time away from the center of my world cause me to be consumed by the feeling that I am not a good mother and wife? Aren't I always here for them? Who is the first person they each come to when they have worries? Haven't I navigated the icy perils of the road to come rushing to the scene when my son's car hit a patch of ice and veered into a telephone pole while my father was unconscious in the hospital's ICU and hubby was out of the state at the Final Four? When my daughter fell and hit her head on an end table at a birthday party, wasn't I the one who took her to get stitches? Who did the school call when my children became ill and were in the nurse's office? When hubby was tearing down our deck and a board slammed into his face, didn't I rush to his side and tend to the cut before taking him for an x-ray and sutures? Who willingly and gladly types or even composes work documents for him? How many meals have I prepared for all of them? How many rooms have I cleaned and kept tidied? Who has given the beloved family dog her insulin shots twice a day for five years? How many Christmases have I made special in so many ways for all of them? Who hid the Easter baskets and eggs? Who joins hubby at the social functions he must attend? Who held his father's hand tightly in hers to soothe him at the funeral of his mother? And who gives him the physical love as well as emotional love on a daily basis? Who never goes to sleep without saying prayers for our children and for him? But the guilt for wanting that ME place still weighs heavily on my mind. My opponent in this battle for the ME place? Myself, of course.

"I see the kitchen counters are now covered with dishes and a stack of mail. The doorbell has rung and a friend of my daughter's is here. The television in the family room is blaring. My son has deposited a pile of dirty laundry from the just-home-from-his-vacation in the family room, mere steps away from the laundry room. The living room is full of Christmas presents yet to be hauled off to the various rooms of the house. Hubby has asked me if I would help him write the opening prayer for a church dinner and planning meeting that is tonite. My daughter is frustrated and fussing that she is being taught how to give the dog her insulin injections in case a time arises when I am not home. My mother has phoned to see if I can still take her to her two appointments with her cardiologist this week."

For now, I will envision myself ensconced in that lovely townhouse. Settling into a comfortable, overstuffed chair with my feet tucked beneath me. My ears filled with music that calms my body and mind. Alone. Just for a short time. Inside my ME place.

"I love people. I love my family, my children...but inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that's where you renew your springs that never dry up." ~Pearl S. Buck

WEEP NOT FOR THE MEMORIES

MRS. DJ

From at least one previous entry, I have made it abundantly clear that I adore music. I would much rather hear the sounds of it as opposed to that of a television. I cannot think of a single day I have had in recent times that did not include listening to music. I am passionate about it. I am also tenacious. I will hunt down songs like a hunter his prey. If I only know a single line of a song I happened to hear in a store, on the radio, or from someone I know who mentions a song he/she heard and liked but have no idea who sang it or its title, I become crazed until I can locate the song. ::Blessing the online resources available to me to complete these tasks, even if it still takes me hours and hours::

Okay, so there it is. I am a music slut. Maryanne will tell you I am also a tag slut and slutty in other ways. ::grin:: She would be right. Anyway, each time I sit at this computer, I pull up my songs. I have several thousand on here. Yet, I go through periods of time when I play many of the same ones over and over. I never know which ones will be the songs du jour. What I end up selecting seems to match my mood. Or I realize by my selections that I am feeling a certain way, since the songs all have lyrics or sounds that express similar sentiments.

I decided I would categorize some of the songs I have on here. While some may fit into more than one category, I put them in the one it represents the most to me. Actually, I think this is interesting (probably only to me ::smile::) to do. Needless to say, there are a bazillion songs I could place in each one, but I am going strictly by what is stored in just one folder on this computer. This is only a sprinkling of music I have. If you would like me to send you any of these songs, just leave a comment or email specifying which you want. I will happily send them. I am easy that way. Hush, Maryanne.

HAPPY: Ain't Life Grand by Widespread Panic, Stray Cat Strut by The Stray Cats, Livin' La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin, Alive by P.O.D., Cracklin' Rosie by Neil Diamond, Misty Mountain Hop by Led Zep, The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell, Dance Naked by John Mellencamp, Dancing In The Streets by Jagger and Bowie, She Bop by Cyndi Lauper, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper, Auberge by Chris Rea, The Lusty Month Of May by Vanessa Redgrave from Camelot, Here For The Party by Gretchen Wilson, Love Shack by B52s

ROMANTIC: Always by Bon Jovi, She's Always A Woman by Billy Joel, I Don't Know Much by Ronstadt and Neville, I'm Not In Love by 10CC, When A Man Loves A Woman by Percy Sledge, Moondance by Van Morrison, Love Song by Tesla, I Love You by Sarah McLachlan, Someone Like You by Sissel, The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face by Roberta Flack, Amazed by Lonestar, How Can I Tell You by Cat Stevens, Unbound by Robbie Robertson

DROP YOU TO YOUR KNEES ROMANTIC: Seduces Me by Celine Dion, When You Say You Love Me by Josh Groban, The Last Dance by Gino Vannelli, I Go Crazy by Paul Davis, I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight by Cutting Crew, There For Me by Sarah Brightman and Jose Cura, The Dolphins Cry by Live, I Want To Know What Love Is by Foreigner, If Ever I Would Leave You from Camelot

SEXY: Sex by Berlin, Deeper and Deeper by Barry White, Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye, You Shook Me All Night by AC/DC, Let Me Put My Love Into You by AC/DC, Butterfly by Crazy Town, Freak Me by Silk, Erotica by Madonna, Dirty Diana by Michael Jackson, Kiss You All Over by Exile, Women by Def Leppard, Body Weak by Babyface, A Man And A Woman by U2, Blood Sugar Sex Magic by Red Hot Chili Peppers, Bump and Grind by R. Kelly, Turn Me On by Norah Jones, Hot In Here by Nelly, Twisted by Keith Sweat

RAW/EXPLICIT: (Ashamed to admit just how many of these I have. Okay, I lie. I love it.) La La by Ashley Simpson, In Public by Kelis, Rough Sex by Lords of Acid, Wet Dream by Lords of Acid, Closer by Nine Inch Nails, Darling Nikki by Prince, Wait (The Whisper Song) by Ying Yang Twins, Don't Cha by The Pussycat Dolls, Gin and Juice by Snoop Doggy Dog, Pu**y Control by Prince, Gett Off by Prince, I Wanna Lick You (What's Your Fantasy) by Ludacris

HOPEFUL: Imagine by John Lennon, You Raise Me Up by Josh Groban, The Prayer by Bocelli and Dion, I Hope You Dance by Leann Womack, Turn The Beat Around by Gloria Estefan, Bring Me To Life by Evanescence, What A Wonderful World by Eva Cassidy, Can You Take Me Higher by Damn Yankees, A Matter Of Trust by Billy Joel

SAD: Whiskey Lullabye by Paisley and Krause, Good Morning Heartache by Billie Holliday, So Far Away by Staind, Last Kiss by Pearl Jam, In The End by Linkin Park, Vincent by Don McLean, Don't Cry by Guns 'N Roses, Iris by Goo Goo Dolls, The Dance by Garth Brooks, The Rose by Bette Midler, Keep Me In Your Heart For Awhile by Warren Zevon, Live Like You Were Dying by Tim McGraw, 100 Years by Five For Fighting, Could It Be Any Harder by The Calling, Soldier Side by System Of A Down, Live This Life by Big & Rich, A Tout Le Monde by Megadeth, Dance With My Father by Luther Vandross

SOOTHING: Return To Serenity by Testament, Just My Imagination by The Temptations, Run For The Roses by Dan Fogelberg, Blessed by Elton John, Silent Lucidity by Queensryche, Ave Maria by Pavarotti, Angels We Have Heard On High by Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Mozart's Piano Concerto #21, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, You'll Never Walk Alone by The Three Tenors, Chopin's Nocturne for piano and violin, Norwegian Wood by The Beatles

FUNNY/FUN: Just Lose It by Eminem, Back Door Santa by Clarence Carter (thanks Lord Of Butter), Friends In Low Places by Garth Brooks, I Want A Boob Job For Christmas by Bob Rivers, It's Raining Men by Weather Girls, F*** Her Gently by Tenacious D, Figured You Out by Nickelback

DANCE: Shakin' by Eddie Money, Word Up by Cameo, Yeah by Usher, Bounce by Sarah Connor, She Drives Me Crazy by Fine Young Cannibals, Mr. Jones by Counting Crows, Smooth by Santana and Rob Thomas, Click Click Boom by Saliva, Bloodletting by Concrete Blonde

ANGRY: Du Hast by Rammstein, Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine, What It's Like by Everlast

HAUNTING/BITTERSWEET: Twilight Zone by Golden Earring, Fur Elise by Beethoven, Ave Adore by Smashing Pumpkins, Save Me by Shinedown, .45 by Shinedown, Broken by Seether, Prayer For The Dying by Seal, Send Me An Angel by Scorpions, Chance by Savatage, Lonely Days by The Bee Gees, One Is The Loneliest Number by Three Dog Night, Lunatic Fringe by Red Rider, If I Close My Eyes Forever by Ozzy Osbourne & Lita Ford, Don't Speak by No Doubt, Hurt by Johnny Cash, If You Could Read My Mind by Gordon Lightfoot, Seventeen by Joni Mitchell, Fade Into You by Mazzy Star, Nothing Else Matters by Metallica, Fortress Around Your Heart by Sting, Pilate's Dream from Jesus Christ Superstar

CLASSICS: Dream On by Aerosmith, Nights In White Satin by The Moody Blues, Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay by Otis Redding, Dust In The Wind by Kansas, Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix, Don't Fear The Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult, Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf, Another Brick In The Wall by Pink Floyd, Crazy by Patsy Cline, Cemetery Gates by Pantera, The Unforgiven by Metallica, Welcome To The Jungle by Guns 'N Roses, Space Oddity by David Bowie, Simple Kind Of Man by Lynard Skynyrd, Unforgettable by Nat King Cole, My Way by Frank Sinatra, You're So Vain by Carly Simon, Georgia On My Mind by Ray Charles

I stopped. There is no way on God's green earth that I can choose just a few to categorize. To leave out songs and various artists seems wrong to me. I surely cannot list ALL of the music I have. Each song I have brings something to me in some form or another. And I reach for them when the spirit moves me. I like it that way.

Maybe there is a song I listed, and it brought up sweet memories for you. Or maybe it just reminded you of another time or place in your life. Whichever it may be, music did leave an imprint on you. Just as it does to me. There is a power it holds over us, even though we are not always conscious of it.

"Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul." ~Plato

BAGGAGE

Ahhh, a fresh beginning. It began at the stroke of midnite. January 1, 2006 had officially arrived. Among smooches, hugs, laughter, and sips of champagne, the opportunity to make this brand new year one to remember for all time burst into the party. I am always particularly pleased watching the ball drop in Times Square when I am in an atmosphere full of hope, love, and optimism. And that is exactly where I found myself!

It is foolish to think that anyone can permanently stow away their "baggage" just because a clock moves to a specific time. After all, we ARE who we are~in part~due to our baggage. It has shaped us into the person we face in the mirror on a daily basis.

Instead of succumbing to an annual list of resolutions, isn't it better to take a look at the baggage you have accumulated? Bring it all out. Take a good look at all that is displayed. Sort through the pile. Three sizes of bags in varying amounts are there: small, medium, and large.

Start with the small bags. Take a gander at what is inside those. I bet there are some items that can be thrown out. Small enough to make you wonder why you ever held onto them in the first place. Yes, definitely tossable. Remove them from your pile. Surprised to find that all of the small bags are in the trash can? Already there is a sense of a load lightened.

Now, look at what lays in front of you. Hmmm. There are some medium-sized bags. Those require a bit more thought before opting to do anything with them. Open those bags; peer inside at the contents. Oops, maybe you accidentally stuffed some small items in them. Inconsequential items that mean absolutely nothing in life's big picture. Out they can go. Off to the trash with them. See one or two "iffy" things in them? Aren't quite sure if they should be saved or pitched? Hang onto them a while longer. You will know soon enough if they are worth keeping. Having done that, you can probably place the contents of ALL of those medium bags inside just ONE. You tidied up a fair amount, didn't you?

Oh, but there are the large bags awaiting your inspection. It is intimidating to see them lurking next to that lone middle-sized bag. Some people have many, many of these giant suitcases. Some have only one or two. Matters not the count. What matters is what you had decided was significant enough to place inside of them. You may not want to rush going through them. In fact, it is best not to attempt to do it quickly. These large cases have been carried with us wherever we have gone. Wherever we have lived. Some of the bags are quite battered and scuffed. Others are still in mint condition. But, they do take up a lot of space. And they are heavy to haul.

It is those bags that will help us reach where we want and need to be. When you are ready, open up one of them. Did you see something that made you terribly angry? If so, hurl it away from you. Shout at it. Stomp on it. Get the anger out of your system. Realize that what is done is done. If there is no way to change what caused your anger, why keep it? Whether or not what it is happens to be fair or unfair makes little difference if the end result is always anger. It drags you down. It makes your life journey take longer because of the overwhelming load. DISCARD IT. It belongs in the trash.

Peek inside another large bag. Are tears flooding your eyes when you spot something that is particularly painful to see? Take a moment to breathe deeply. Ask yourself why it is so painful. Did somebody hurt you...intentionally or unintentionally? Can you rationalize that pain and realize that the person maybe acted a certain way because it was the only way they knew how to act? If you cannot or choose not to try to fix it, do you think it is possible to UNDERSTAND it now? If so, place it inside that medium-sized bag you have, or perhaps you may even find it worth discarding. What about the things that cause you to sob mercilessly? Sad things that also encompass love? Love is not to be thrown away. Ever. Good, sad, or bad endings, love brought something positive and special at least for a time. Me? I would hold onto it. When the time felt right, I might place it inside the medium bag. If it brought me much happiness, I would never want to completely get rid of it. But, I would probably loosen my hold on it.

If all goes well with your purging, you should see only one large bag and one medium-sized bag. Both should have space left inside them. It is not so difficult to travel with just two cases, is it? Throughout the year, periodically set them down and go through them again. You may find yourself readjusting the contents. You might even see a few things ready to take to the dumpster. And your baggage will keep on getting lighter and lighter until one day everything fits inside one suitcase.

We all need to have ONE place to store our troubles, sorrows, burdens. They are ours. We own them. Totally eliminating them would rid us of a part of who we are as individuals. If they are not things that make us undesirable people, then we should keep them. They remind us of who we are and where we have been. It is in the selection of those woes we choose to keep that we can find our own peace. Understanding them is the key.

"Simplicity is making the journey of this life with just baggage enough." ~Charles Dudley Warner

(Graphic by Simone)