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Growing up in the 80's

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I was born in 1976. Some of my siblings last night, on the family page, went wild with history that was going on at their time of birth. It was interesting. I googled my own but got distracted with remembering the 80's and 90's. The parts of living in a little girls mind without the history lesson, that is... Sunday mornings. Tight braids and hair balls. Unbearably tight braids that made my eyes water. I'd go to the mirror to make sure my eyes weren't squinting. Thick cotton socks stuffed inside black shiny buckle shoes. The buckles were  often stretched out on the shoes, so that they buckled loosely at best. And the hair balls also had lost their elasticity. The Dress...double knit polyester, green with big purple flowers. Hot and scratchy. Jelly shoes and moon boots. If you know, you know. Tights that hung low in the crotch. No such thing as leggings. Big glasses. Didn't care. Could finally see actual blades of grass and leaves on trees. Barefoot, mowing lawn. Gre...
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Writing Inspirational and Preachy or Writing Novels

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I keep being asked when I am going to write my book. It's my own fault...I blabbered about it so many times through out the years.  Years. Yes, it has been years. I am approaching 50 rapidly. And still have not written this book. I think because I have too many ideas and the main passion in my head to write about, which is family and home and marriage and relationships, well, it's just been too intense and special. And I want to protect and respect the people in my life and their journey. So to write openly and honestly and passionately about those things sometimes is just too too much. Too much exposure. Too much risk. Too much rawness and real. I am finding as I grow in age and hopefully in wisdom, that most people are not willing to know or be known. People in general find going deep and being personal a lot like getting a tooth pulled. Nobody wants to admit pain or trials or even pure joy and blessings.  It seems to be a kind of cover. And a little too much bluffing and pr...
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Seek Pray Rest

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Recently while traveling through Montana we stopped at a rest area and happened to witness an older lady trip and fall backward on the concrete. Just minutes before, she had cheerily greeted me and we made conversation about the lovely day. I noticed then her shuffling walk and swollen ankles and almost asked her if I could take the garbage to the bin she was obviously headed for, but didn't because she seemed of an independent nature and if our roles had been reversed I would have wanted that respect. While I was in the restroom, I heard a cry of pain and instantly knew she had gone down. Thankfully, Bruce was by her side in seconds and also her retired nurse husband, so she was in good hands. Getting her off the ground was not easy but between the expertise of her husband's experience and Bruce's they soon had her up on her feet. However, something was not right because she felt she couldn't walk or move forward. She kept going forward toward the ground. ...
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