Skip to main content

It's all fun and games untill someone loses a cell phone

Ah yes. Such fun.

I drove up to Seattle to take my Dad to lunch. We ate haute cuisine at the Northgate Mall. Ally and Ash had Kidd Valley of course.

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Then we visited my sister for awhile and I tried to do some work on my laptop while I was there but the system I was piggy backing on wasn't strong enough to send files and I had to shut my system down. We played at Paramount Park, and then at Carkeek Park. This was the park of my high school youth. I stood there in the middle of the big green field and I swear if I squinted I could see Ben, John, Kevin, Carin and I running around, laughing and playing frisbee.

So I called my best friend Carin, who has mysteriously gone from a Pacific Northwest girl, to a desert dwelling suburban mom. I sat here.....

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

and as I watched the sunset, we reminisced about the fun we'd had, and how odd it was to be standing where I was, with my son who is now the age I was when this was my park.

Melancholy.... and some sadness. It's a strange feeling to look back across the years to the person I was, and see the person I've become.

Meanwhile, the children played. There's a huge slide inside a Chinook Salmon there. Ally climbed in and mugged for me.

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

They all played on the teeter totter together.

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

As I was driving out of the park my son realized his phone was missing. We went back and retraced every step. No phone.

Suddenly all my calm and relaxation went out the window and I spent the next half hour on the phone with Verizon, explaining things to them, having them explain to me how the phone that was lost had gone over our minutes by, oh, 1400 minutes.

Guess who has a whopping phone bill? Yeah. Great end to the day.


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)