Friday! Glad you’re here.

.:: Drama
“Be careful what you wish for” is something I have heard time and time again. Yet, regardless of the number of times I hear it, I continue to wish for some things and then get smacked in the face when it happens.

Drama. Drama makes for a good blog week. Drama makes for good postings. People don’t want to read boring. So, yes, I find I wish for exciting weeks – not necessarily drama-filled weeks.

Well, color me smacked. Drama payed a visit this week. Big time. This week, Charlie lost his sandals! Dun dun duuuuunn!!

What? Were you expecting a cat fight of some sort? Hmm. Anyway, while getting ready for day care, Charlie started looking for his shoes; specifically, he was looking for his sandals. “Mommy!” He yelled. “Where are my sandals?”

Now, I love Charlie with all my heart, but this kid loses everything. He is a hoarder and tosser all at the same time. Wanting to sleep with whatever he collected during the day, while simultaneously losing his prized collection from yesterday. “Where is my ruby red?” He asks. What is a ‘ruby red’? It’s a small red reflector, which he picked up off the ground at Suzann’s house. He has slept with it for the past week, except during the nights when he misplaced it moments before bedtime. I digress.

Back to the sandals. “I’m sorry, Charlie.” I said. “When you don’t put your things back where they belong, things get lost. You’ll have to wear another pair of shoes today.”

Charlie’s smile turned to a frown and he began to whimper. Fortunately, he had his ‘ruby red’, so the frown and whimper were short lived. Still, every morning Charlie asked me, “Where are my sandals?” And today, as I took the dirty clothes out of the kids’ laundry basket, I found Charlie’s sandals. Yes, the laundry basket. And, no, I don’t get it either. Ah drama. Thanks for visiting.


A bed filled with a boy’s treats.
All protected between his sheets.

Hey, look what I found, an old box.
I’ll sleep with it and my favorite socks.

Can I sleep with the picture I drew?
What about my paint brush, too?

Oh, I like these rocks I found.
Now under my pillow, safe and sound.


.:: A Blank Canvas
White towels. I’ve noticed white towels are popular in many homes. I’ve also noticed how white towel brighten up just about any and every bathroom. This past summer, I bought white towels to use for the boys after swimming. And once, while washing the white towels, I accidentally included a blue blanket. Okay, okay. I knew I was putting the blue blanket in with the white towels, but the blanket was old – I never dreamed it would still ‘bleed’.

The blanket bled. My white towels were now a bluish white towel. I looked at the towels. I thought, “I wonder what color I’d get if I added a pair of black jeans.” And with that, I started washing my white towels with various colors.

Behold the freedom and fun of having white towels. Sure, you could do your best to keep the towels the whitest and brightest; or, you could wash the white towels with an old blue blanket that still bleeds with every wash. You could wash your white towels as it says on the label, with whites only; or, you could throw in a new red shirt, creating a soft pink colored towel. You could add bleach to your recently colored white towels and bring back the original white color; or you could add a yellow shirt, a black shirt, a red shirt and a blue shirt and create¬† – well, I don’t have a name for that color creation.

White towels: blank canvases waiting to be colored. Go color!


Laundry is an art.
Mixing different colors.
Wash in a rainbow.


.:: Why
Folks ask me all the time, “Lenore,” they begin. “Why do you blog?”

Okay. So, folks don’t ask me that question all the time. In fact, I doubt anyone has asked me. But, this morning, I find I am asking myself, “Why do I blog?” This week has been an interesting week, which began with an ah-ha moment on Sunday, and ended with complete peace and satisfaction. And today, I know, without any doubts, why I blog.

I blog for my family. I blog, because blogging keeps me happy. I blog, because when I am happy I am better able to provide for my family. I blog, because blogging helps keep me sane. I blog, because blogging helps me keep things in perspective. I blog, so I can get thoughts out of my head and off my mind. I blog to vent. I blog to forget. I blog to remember. I blog to show my love and support for my friends, while giving me a chance to appreciate all that surrounds me. I blog to make others laugh. I blog to make others smile. I blog to make others think.

I blog, because I love to write. I blog, because I love to share. I blog, because I want to promote the fund-raising efforts of my friends and family. I blog to promote Angela’s efforts with Team In Training, benefiting the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I blog to promote my friend Elise’s animal rescue organization, Pick of the Litter. I blog to promote Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, and other charitable organizations. I blog, because I want to help those around me. I blog, because I care.

And finally, as I have probably said in previous posts, I blog so others can breathe a sigh of relief and say, “Wow. At least I am not as crazy as she is. My life is pretty good!” You’re welcome.


Blogging is something I love to do.
Writing helps me see things through.

I’m not perfect, and don’t claim to be.
I’m just working on being me.

Sometimes I think I’m funny, too.


Be sure to take care of yourself and others.

You Are What You Seek

Amherst Shore, Nova Scotia by Jill C.

I am taking a risk here. I am going to take the “sharing too much information” to a new level, even for me. Please brace yourself and understand, what you are about to read may cause you to feel awkward and uncomfortable. You may even feel embarrassed for having read what I am about to share. That’s okay with me, because I am writing this for me and no one else. Feeling a little intrigued?

I had an ah-ha moment over the weekend. I realized, you are what you seek. Furthermore, I realized I have a tendency to seek disapproval, perhaps even disrespect. And, I believe I open myself up to receive disapproval and disrespect by placing a target on myself with my open and honest blog.

In past posts, I mentioned that addictions came in all kinds of flavors. Of course, at the time I was referring to ice cream, chips, etc. But lately, as I have been actively seeking negative comments, I realize that not all addictions are food (or even drug) related.

Today, I am calling out an acquaintance, without naming names. This acquaintance and I have met, and we share some of the same friends. Learning s/he was a writer (of sorts), I had hoped to connect with this person and talk about writing. Unfortunately, a connection was not in the cards. Though this person rarely spoke to me directly, s/he did write about me in the world of Twitter; and, this person did not speak kindly.

The point has come when I need to stop obsessing over this person’s negativity. Okay, the point came, went and is now overdue. I need to put aside my curiosity and need for approval, rather disapproval. Though I do not know the reasoning behind the negative things I have seen written about me, I feel the reason I seek out the negativity is due to another type of addiction.

Am I a stalker? I suppose in a ‘Twitter’ kind of way, I am. I think in this day and age, anyone accessing Twitter and following others is technically a stalker. And, I would actively search to see what sorts of Tweets were being sent to this person. So yes, again, I suppose I was a stalker. And well, I need to remember something my husband has told me for years: “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” Updating his statement to accommodate a Twitter society, I’m guessing he would say, “Don’t go looking for Tweets you don’t want to see.”

In addition to being a Twitter stalker, I spent a period of time living the life of an idiot by actively seeking disapproval and hatred. As I said earlier, this person (and some friends of this person) provided the disapproval and hatred by actively writing things about me that were not kind. According to this person, my craziness amused him/her. I suppose I am glad this person found me amusing, though I cannot say the same for this person. Sadly, the words this person typed about me brought me to tears for at least two reasons: 1.) the words hurt and 2.) I was stupid enough to go looking for it.

I assume that by admitting I have actively sought out Tweets by this person, reaffirms his/her belief that I am crazy. So be it. In the beginning, I wanted to meet this person, who I saw as a writer with large following of readers. And, in the end, I met myself, and I started writing again. At times, this experience was painful for me, but I got something positive out of it.

Amherst Shore, Nova Scotia by Jill C.

We live in a world where thoughts can be shared with countless, nameless, faceless people in seconds. Proverbial filters and holding of tongues are no longer. We feel safe hidden behind the keyboard, no censors holding us back. And, as we hide behind our keyboard safe in anonymity, hatred is spewed easily within seconds and runs rampant like a virus. Just like a porcupine raises its’ quills when needing to defend itself, the person called out for being mean, ugly, disrespectful, insensitive or rude is ready to attack. After all, it’s not the person spewing the hate that is wrong, it is the person actively seeking what is being spewed – right? As I said, my open blog makes me an easy target; no fake names, no hiding behind keyboards and no anonymity here.

I suspect, after reading this, you will once again Tweet about how “[expletive] crazy” I am for stalking you. That’s ironic, too. You’ve labeled me a stalker, yet you actively sought out my blog. Interesting. Anyway, carry on with your negative self.¬† I’m done. This was my Carly Simon “You’re so vain” composition. I did not deserve and will no longer seek your disapproval and disrespect. “Buh-bye.”