INCONCEIVABLY BLONDE....

Hey everyone!  Yes, I know I've been gone awhile from here--I've neglected my creative inner voice. BUT, I have had some very GOOD REASON.... So, it's my birthday today, so I had to take some time to share what's been going on and to try to get my writing bearings back on track a smidge. Reflecting upon my life, my self, my situation right now, I'm just so dang grateful.  Truly.  What a ride it's been!  I'm owning up to several things now that I'd like to freely share in the hopes of either contributing to the generalizable knowledge base, or to add a voice to my experience that might help or encourage or somehow help others. I'm not perfect, I'm not fake, I'm not holier-than-thou.  I don't pretend to be anything other than authentic, genuine, and sincere.  Period.  Oh, and blonde.  Can't forget that, LOL! I try, I succeed, and sometimes I fail.  OK, lately, I seem to be failing a LOT! Even failure has a silver lining, as it...

This was written back in 1994, the very first time I truly dealt with death of a close loved one--my gran was everything to me at the time--not only was I her and my great grandma's namesake; but she had a way of making me feel like I was the most special thing on the planet.  She had a tradition of making afghans for each of her children, their wives, then her grandchildren, and then great-grandchildren.  She had made me mine the year before.  I went to see her two weeks before she died, and we had planned on my coming up again in a couple of months so she could finally teach me how to crochet so I could begin making afghans for my very own family someday.  Sadly, that never happened. Her death totally crushed me at the time--that was the very first time in my life that I couldn't stop crying...it wouldn't be the last, but at the time I thought it so strange and very intense....Ever since, I have had a very powerful spiritual connection with her, for which I'm prof...

Dedicated to Alana Deringer Segall, friend of my heart and soul, a great hero and mentor and tremendous example who returned to Heaven Friday, June 12, 2015....I love you now and forever.... People act like death is war-- a personal vendetta. And, while I suppose it can be, I disagree. To me, life is much more a mountain to climb, conquer, figure out, wrestle,  and struggle with... battle against, if you will... until that gradual surrender. Death is peace, the reprieve, the calm after the storm that is life.... the pause, the space, the catching of breath...  letting go-- finally-- to be able to  spiritually breathe, see, and feel.... Reality of what's true and honest , when it all comes down to the wire, is so very different than what we like to think. Drink it all in. Slowly. Sipping. Savoring. Line upon line. Here a little, there a little. Though we somehow tend to linger in the middle, meander, muck around and ar...

A sister's love is a funny thing. Not all sweet and peachy-fuzzed. Yet you love your dumb brother who runs crying to Mother-- Why do you love him? Because. A sister's love is a funny thing. It's not loud so all can hear. You've had a bad day. He's broke and can't pay... you quietly put in his hand-- "Here." A sister's love is a funny thing. Doesn't change with the times or the days. You love him still, although you could kill him. Sometimes. But you won't. Always. A sister's love is a funny thing. Sometimes either subtle or proud. Yet nothing can replace that look on his face whenever your eyes first meet in a crowd. A sister's love is a funny thing. Always has been, and always will be. We reserve the right to hug, laugh and fight with our brothers. Eternally. To all the sisters and brothers out there...

National Book Publicist Edna Farley Loses Battle From Cancer Edna Carol Farley, 74, of Fort Lauderdale, passed away Monday, April 4, 2011, at a Hospice in Fort Lauderdale following a brief battle against bladder cancer. One of the foremost book publicists in the nation, she and her husband teamed to create book tours for hundreds of authors for various publishing houses for over 30 years from their Fort Lauderdale home. Indeed, she was a pioneer in the now-accepted work-from-home mode of business while she and her husband parented their two children as they grew to adulthood. Among the authors Mrs. Farley promoted during her long career were Nicholas Sparks, Brad Meltzer, Dr. Wayne W. Dyer, Nelson DeMille, Dominique Lapierre, Dr. Robert Ballard, Flora Rheta Schreiber, Richard Simmons, John Naisbitt, Jean Carper, Sen. Bill Nelson (D-FL), Dr. Earl Mindell, and Hollywood hair stylist Jose Eber to name but a few. She was known by journalists, radio and tv producers and anchors co...

When I was just a little girl at the ripe old age of three, and precocious as can be, I'd spurned rag dolls and girlie things, embraced all things curiosity. I'd sit on the floor at Mom's feet while she was so busy working, talking while typing-- click, click, click! "Would you like to book an interview for So-and-So? I can mail you a press kit today." Tap tap tap, ding! Return. Return.. Well, I went to work myself, (both then at her feet and now) fishing out crumpled carbon paper wads from her dented little trashcan from the 1964-65 World's Fair, smoothing and smearing them all across the floor, always looking to decipher the mysterious type on the page. Slyly, slowly transfering the telltale traces off my hands and onto the walls while she wasn't looking, while trying to figure out with my eager little mind how to go about ever so innocently becoming half as brilliant and amazing as she. After al...

These lines are observations/reflections of my mom from the perspective of me, an involved bystander, broken-hearted....It's one thing to have to come to terms with a disease that's beating your body, from the inside out, killing you....Then, on top of that, at the same time to have to also experience losing your memory, your control--how mind-blowing and excruciatingly painful--for yourself and your family! I can’t imagine the hell she’s suffering, only support, care, cry, observe, ponder, reflect, and pray--always pray. May God be merciful and grant my mother--my beautiful, brilliant, proud, accomplished, vibrant, giving, selfless, loving mother—peace, love, comfort, and meaningful time left with us and spare her the suffering and the torture of being trapped while feeling her body and mind break down.  Lord, please, hold, wrap, and keep her in Thine loving embrace, I'm begging....I pray they find a cure for cancer, and with each passing day my mom lives, I'm praying ...

Hey there!  In the interest of trying to keep a minimum of at least one posting per week, I'm putting something up that I wrote a little over 2 years ago and never posted or circulated before.  Why?  Well, it was something very painful and deeply personal to me, and writing about it was healing/cathartic.  Also, in looking back, I'm simply amazed at the incredible changes that have happened over the the past two years--funny how things change, even in the face of a personal or family crisis.  Needless to say, I don't feel the way now that I did when I wrote this--which is precisely why I now can post this and reflect the change I've experienced in this relationship.  Not easy to do, that--but I'm doing it anyhow.  I'm blessed to have the honor of having the fine mother I do; but no mother is perfect, like no daughter or person is perfect....so I offer this very up-close-and-painfully-personal glimpse into something I'm still healing from. I'd encour...

Am I the only one who has absolutely NO IDEA where the year 2010 went??!!! Seriously, people, it flew by at like MEGA WARP SPEED!!!!! UGH! Massively DISLIKE! Especially since the most beautiful sunset I'd seen in a Looooong time was the VERY LAST ONE of the year!  Take a look at this: Is that GORGEOUS or what??!!  Wow..... Ok, that being said, now, I tried starting off the New Year right-- spent the evening/morning with family and friends--CHECK--errr, well, partially--Mom, Dad, and Brudooski are way over in Houston, while the Hubby and I are over here in SoFLA--so we were kindly enough invited to spend the New Year with Jon and Gilma at their swanky lil' pad down in Midtown, on Biscayne Bay...not bad, not bad at all!! Dress up all velvety-sparkly-painted pretty--CHECK! Did the traditional CHEERS thing--CHECK! Did the traditional KISS the loved one at the stroke of midnight--CHECK--I LOVVVVE this part, gettin to SMOOOCH my man :) Did the traditional watchin...

Packing up leftovers, licking the spoons of their savory sausage-appled-and-sagey stuffed goodness-- Oooh, did you taste this?! Scraping remnants of recipes collected through the years together. Small and simple. Kept it small and simple this year. Enjoyed more easy moments full of food and family. Peaceful. Good.  Car keys tucked into nooks and crannies with time to spare until kickoff, gentle laughs about the gravy stain on your new shirt—oh well. Grab another butter-baked roll to mop it up-- I won’t tell! Fetch me another roll of towels while I let the pans soak-- I’ll just buff up the trays before putting them away for next year. Did you happen to catch the score? Lounging in loaded down lazy-boys remotes slipping as body and mind decide between holding on to their piece of pie or to consciousness-- Hmm, so tempting, so warm…. Quiet dialogue floating amid the TV din. Doorbell—Come in! Make yourself home, grab a cold drink from the fridge and sit ...

Lights out, visitors gone, it’s just you and me, no phone, no TV. Just us girls.   Hush now, don’t worry-- I’m right here, and I’m staying. It’s all right, I won’t leave you. Get some sleep, now. I’ll be here. Let me grab my nail file, trim your nails, file them down just a bit, nice and round, nice and smooth.  Those little things make such a big difference. (We girls understand that.) Trusting me, letting go, letting me take your hand in mine-- Once, strong, quick and nimble… Now, trembling and feeble, weathered and weakened by pain. Rubbing lotion in to massage away the strain of the day. Those beautiful hands-- so elegant and graceful, writing and typing stories, covering glories and events through the years.  Stories I could only imagine…. Those very same hands held us as babies, helped others, cooked, cleaned and worked us into the family we are. Those same hands that wiped tears from my eyes, picked me up when I’d f...