As we were leaving the drive in we needed to moose 🫎
As if that were enough! We also trained ourselves. Engine to caboose:
The day was dang near perfect for me. 9/10. Jen had a 7/10 day because we rode in the car, got food, and went swimming. I’m either easily pleased or I need to up my expectations! Jen said she was bored today.
Hokey Jalapeno! The night of the 30th was shredded by my inability to sleep because I was so danged excited, my client kept calling me then hanging up for two hours, and the torture of last minute pack it or you’ll forget it type of things. If you’re an ADHD person like me, last minute is the best time for us because it forces focus. It is for me anyway.
DAY ONE
However, 7 AM rolled around on the 31st leaving me no choice but to load up the suitcase I packed last minute with the cleanest clothes I could find that were weather appropriate. I pulled into Madam President’s driveway exactly at 8AM. We loaded up, said see ya, and drove north.
As we sat at the stoplight to turn north on I-75, Jen the Bestie captured our start into the wild.
The Welcome Center just over the Kentucky State Line. It appears there used to be a large golden horse on an empty base, but all that’s left is this little fella. We look like cartoon charicatures of ourselves in this one.
Obligatory awesome. That’s Jen.
This my version of keeping the baby quiet.I really appreciated the spirit of the day. The frivolity of youth in the hands of ridiculous wisdom of an aging Mare.
The skyline peeled off the steep grade like it was a curious city. It asked the question of me, “What could you give to contribute to the welfare of this city?”
Then it forced me to sit in a poorly designed parking lot that went from four lanes, down to three, down to two, down to one.
The first of the reductions, I dawdled a bit getting over safely into the next lane for the first one, but I quickly figured out that the earlier the better, but granted grace to a few people who just learned the same lesson. By the third one, My Abide was struggling. We were all on the same road, just trying not to be there. I granted grace to a swastikkkar and a white honda. The fourth and final reduction, I decided I just wanted to get where I’m going.
A short cab box truck decided to be a last minute Lucy. He started easing over into the lane I was using. I blew my horn continuing with my resolution. He had to slide behind me. I’m pretty sure an entire flock of that pretty middle bird were flying past my window like arrows that couldn’t find their mark.
Pure Michigan is their welcome sign.
I enjoyed the weather reports for the most common destinations found in Michigan proper. This picture was hard to capture. I’m just a bit shorter than Jen. I was on my tiptoes to her flat-footed. We were about to laugh so hard we were crying real tears of joy. We didn’t know.
My Mom, Linda, and my dad, Dave, are the testament to our arrival safely at their home. Andiamo’s Pizza is freaking top hat.
DAY TWO
This is my favorite shop when I visit my Rents. They even have doggo sundaes. Of course I got one for my boyfriend.
I like that this picture shows sweet and salty at the same time.
The Rents and my boyfriend awaiting their treats.
They all said Sis. Every last one of them. Today I’m William and Jen is Laura according to our coke options.
If you want to hear more about the story behind the title, let me know in the comments. I’ll tell you the story that gets the most requests in a 48 hour timeline. The possible topic titles are:
As dawn breaks tomorrow morning, I will be heading north with my bestie in tow. We’ll be staying with my “Rents”* for a couple of days, then heading up to St. Ignace, MI where we will catch a ferry over to Mackinac Island for the Lilac Festival. We’ve got a mighty trip planned, but, as with all things in my life, I’m just going to Abide.
I plan on taking you with me, so if there’s something that catches my fancy, be prepared to learn, experience, and share this incredible vacay (First in five years that wasn’t for work!)
*”Rents” is short for paRents
Bob returned home after 6 months of being gone. He’s in such a good mood I had to scrape him off the ceiling with a spatula. My Beastie and I moved everything out of his apartment and back to his house.
Mocha enjoyed a pup cup today with deep passion.
In other news, last year I asked to do an art installation in the local park frequented by people who walk, run, stroll, etc. on the paths. The city said no, they don’t allow any kind of signs along that pathway in the park.
I sent them samples of the signs I wanted to place. Like “If you’re here, you’re awesome!” “You’re amazing!” “Keep going, you’ve got this!” “You are loved.” But they still said no. That irritated me enough that I made and gave out over 300 1” buttons that said, “Be L❤️ve”.
Although that sated my thirst for a bit, I wondered if I was thinking too small. Turns out, I was!
As part of the Stewardship drive at my church, anyone who pledged for the year got:
I designed them with a bit of editing and encouragement from my Bestie (Jen Stark suggested Live Joy) and input from Lóre Stevens (Create). Now, those signs will be all over my city all because I was told No. HA! Each one a stake of rebellion and I’m bursting with joy!
Music is an original piece called “October Moons” by Alicia Menninga. She wrote it for me.
You can get it here:
Dreamscapes Album: October Moons
Or the entire album can be found here:
Gravity quit working
My feet now never touch the ground
It’s as if I’ve fallen for the Red Bull ads
To the earth no longer bound
Their being is confectionery
I am colliding with the bliss
Drawn from still and stationary
To a yearning restless kiss
I have been absent for quite a while. I’ve set down some of my volunteer work. I’ve spent a lot of time being. Sometimes busy, sometimes not, but primarily I’ve been focusing on building the life I want to live; the one I enjoy and relish so dearly.
In the next month or so, I’ll be picking up my roots that are over five years deep and moving down the road a spell to take care of a human who, at this point, requires stupidvision with a dash of management. It’s scary to think I won’t have my safe haven anymore, but it’s thrilling to explore the world from different perspectives.
This is a big deal in my life, but not in the world. Most people probably won’t even notice my change of address. I will. Most people won’t even think twice about my new living situation. I will. I’ve determined that the risk is worth the outcome. I will do this. It will be good. I’m already happy.
Transition from one phase to another is a challenge, but change is as sure as death and taxes. I’m embracing this new direction with the fervor of devotion to myself.
Thank you for your patience.
The we is my friend/client Bob. He was a bit reluctant to go, but he quickly learned that people he’s known forever were in attendance. He and I had pizza, soda, birthday cake, and quite a few laughs.
Steven was absolutely charming as always. I was so glad I got to spend time with him outside of church. I wore the snazzy jacket he made which made people gush, then gasp in disbelief when I told them who made it. I think both of our egos were well stroked.
The reason I mentioned the suicidal hotdog is because of this:
My people were all there. It was delightful fun. The music was quite a mix from several decades. Trivia was to be played later in the evening but Bob and I went back to his house so he could shower and do his evening routine.
I’ve been staying with him since last Thursday morning when Covid hit where he was staying. This has pros and cons, my being here. I miss my solitude, but I love the adventures we’re having. He’s funny, smart (although he commonly talks badly about himself which irritates me), and, like me, has the humor of a 12-year-old. I’m okay with that.
You are so very loved. I am so very loved. Fuck the world’s bullshit. Love is ALWAYS the answer.
“I don’t have the personality to be God.” I stated to nobody in particular. “I just can’t bring myself to allow others to worship their perception of me.”
I have found myself on the top of a pedestal. I’m not really certain when that happened, but when I’ve heard others talk about me, whether to my face or behind my back, I found myself precariously perched on top.
I consider myself a good human, not a good person. A good person isn’t allowed to make mistakes, trash relationships that no longer work, or draw boundaries around what is good for them. A human, on the other hand, is perfektly within their rights to do any, all, or none of those.
I’m embarrassed when people call me an angel. I know how often I roll my eyes or mutter under my breath while I’m doing something for another human who probably can’t do what I can as well. I feel negativity, but I allow it to pass unless it’s harming me or someone I love. I’m emotionally fly by the seat of my pants. I give because I enjoy the feeling I get when I do. But, in spite of that, it’s harder for me to feel joy when doing something for myself (at this time.)
I can’t tell you the last time I laid one of my beloved paintbrushes to a canvas to create. Yes, I’ve been writing which is cathartic in getting my thoughts out, but painting is coloring in the emotions that are overwhelming. It focuses them in a different way than words can. It allows me to express emotions without self-criticism or judgement which I tend to do in words.
When I write, everything has to be in order. Everything has to make sense to myself and for others. Every idea that pops into my head is best written down so I remember what is important to me, what my goals are, and how I’m going to do what makes me happy.
Art, in any of it’s forms, is a way for me to run around emotionally naked. It encourages me to let go of the control I think I need in the written word. With colors, forms, shapes, patterns, etc., I can bring the darkest, the most joyous, the mundane to a life that is visible. It allows me to fight my demons in public without holding onto them any longer. I miss that.
Yet, here I sit typing away as if this is the only way I can be “seen”, when at the beginning of this writing, I talked about the pedestal I’m perched upon. I want to jump off of that pedestal and spread my emotional wings again. The euphoria I feel when I do that is worth it. I’m making time as we speak to allow space for something so crucial to my well being.
I don’t have the personality to be God, but I have the hands of a creator that are longing to spring anew.
I am a shepherd without any sheep
I am a reaper who does not reap
I am a mute, your secrets I keep
I am the lullaby to sing you to sleep
I am the shadow that does not creep
I am a leviathan up from the deep
I am the mountain with a rocky face steep
I am the vessel your burdens to heap
I am the tears that no longer weep
I am the life who causes no grief
I am the toddler who grants you no peace
I am the medicine that brings you relief
I am the bearer of your disbelief
An Independent Nondiscriminatory Platform With No Religious, Political, Financial, or Social Affiliations - FOUNDED 2014
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
Hosanna High Community Burial Project
True wealth is the wealth of the soul
ईशा वास्यम् इदं सर्वम्
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Psychology, Mind over matter
Life as an American poet of excellence
Epic fantasy & military sci-fi author.
Making Space for Dreams
binge thinking and other things in life
Mare Martell 