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Sunset on Lake Union

My girl Alli likes to go for drives in the evening. It's either to get out of the house or to see how fast she can drain my gas tank.

After we barbecued some burgers this evening, she gave me 'the look'. That hopeful puppy dog look that I'm loathe to deny. Since we hadn't had time on Monday for Family Home Evening, we decided to have it tonight. On the go.

So off we went. Generally she likes to go at night in the dark, but as summer is on the horizon it's staying lighter later. We talked Daddy into going with us, though he probably should have stayed home and gone to bed. He has to get up so early---but he had the best time out of all of us I think. We went to the park on south Lake Union. It's been there for awhile, we've just never gotten around to visiting.

Alli and Ash by the pond.
Lance says that people run their little remote controlled boats on this pond. No one was using it while we were there. The park was pretty big and boasted the occasional pile of Canadian Goose Poop. I kept reminding the girls to watch where they were walking. This is important.

Lance and Ashley on the Bridge.
There is a bridge there that crosses a portion of the lake. One part of the bridge is wooden planking, the other part is a metal grate. While walking on the grate you can look down at the water below you. This is not something I enjoy. It gives me serious case of the guillermos. :::shudder:::

Looking a little south and west you can see the Space Needle from the park. As we walked over the bridge and then walked further down towards the lake I kept reminding the girls to watch where they were walking. Gooey Goose Guck was pretty much everywhere.

Ashley should have heeded my warnings. Unfortunately she was wearing sandals and well, lets just say she needed a foot bath when we returned home.


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A Poem to an Abusive Man

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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
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I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
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You had to control things
Determined you would
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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
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