Skip to main content

Christmas Cards and Weather Pictures

First of all, it's nearly Christmas. I just thought I'd put that out there for any of you that may have missed the bell ringers with their red cauldrons standing outside of most stores, the houses blazing away in a technicolor race to see who can waste the most wattage in your subdivision, and the arrival of red and green envelopes in your mail box with Christmas cards tucked away inside.

Don't expect to get one from me before Santa squeezes down your chimmeny to drop off your exhorbitant credit card balance sheets gifts.

It's not that I'm not going to send them out. I will. I think that perhaps I will be calling then New Year's Cards instead this year. So, and here's the biggie, if any of you would like to receive a New Year's Card from moi, would you kindly send me an email with your snail mail addy?

Also, one of my pictures of The Great Truck Crushing Tree has landed on the news here, where there are still thousands and thousands without power. The picture is here if you wish to see the beastie.

I may be scarce for a few days. No, it's not because I'll be out shopping. I haven't even begun that tedious chore. It's because my sis-in-law has flown in from Dallas to spend the week with us. Ho Ho Ho! Let the chocolate consumption begin! Wheeeeeeee!


  1. oh holy guacamole, pam, your DAD.
    i cannot believe how badly seattle got hammered. i've been watching the news and worrying about you all. i am glad and relieved (thought not as much as you, eh?) that you have power and escaped untree'd.
    top tip!
    have Burning Buffalo Chaos start one of his random vegetable fires and heat up your home with those stale celery stalks and flabby carrots!
    so relieved!

  2. Thanks FN. We surely did get hammered and there are still thousdands without power. It's Kuh-razy!


Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…



Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
(all rights reserved)