Idgie...a very good dog.

Linking up to........






In the cold winter of 1993, daughter Leslie called me up one day and says, "mom, i just found a stray dog on the street. She's cold and hungry and her feet are iced up. She needs a home."

I had been wanting to get another dog, it  had been since 1987 that i had been without a four legged friend.
So, off i went, to meet this stray that needed a home. As soon as i walked in the door she was in my heart. She was dirty and thin, shivering with fear and ready to be loved. She came right to me and laid her head on my knee, heaved a big sigh and closed her eyes. I guess she had found her home, her safe place.
She was just over a year old, had just been fixed, her incision was healed but a bit red. I took her in to the vet, he looked her over and told me she was in good shape except for being too thin and needing to be cleaned up. She had been abused and treated badly by whoever had had her, and she was quite timid.

She never did learn to trust many men...it took her about 3 weeks to let my Old Guy get close and pet her. She followed me everywhere, even to the bathroom. At first, i let her go in with me, she was so clingy and afraid of me being out of her sight, but eventually she got better and would lay outside the bathroom door and wait for me.

She was smart and beautiful and my good friend. In 2007 she was un-able to get to her feet anymore, and her eyes begged me for help.... so i took her in and held her as she went to sleep for the last time.
She was my sweet Idgie and i miss her.

Velma.

In November of last year, my dear friend, Velma, died of lung cancer. She was miles away from me and so i wasn't able to be with her. In fact, we hadn't seen each other in almost a year. My heart was broken.
In the 63 years i  have been alive, Velma was the only friend i had who was loyal and true and real. She was my friend for 28 years.
The first 8 years of our friendship we saw each other almost every day, unless she was off on a trip somewhere. The next 7 years we lived in different towns, and so i only saw her a few times a year, usually at the airport as she was changing planes coming or going. The next 13 years i only saw her every 3 or 4 years as she was passing through on her way to somewhere, or on her way home.
But, there were letters. A lot of letters. We wrote long letters, some that i sent her were 12-13 pages long. We talked about everything, the state of the world, men, love, life, and we shared each other's dreams and nightmares.
There was one period, in 2006, when suddenly she stopped writing. Months went by without a letter or a call, then it was a year. I wrote and called, but received no answer. I was getting very worried, when she finally called. She had found out she had COPD and had had a breakdown of sorts. The head doctor she was seeing told her to not call or talk to any of her friends until she leveled out, that to do so would cause her more stress. So, she suffered this breakdown alone. Scared and lonely and sad. Alone. I wanted to murder that so called doctor.
Yesterday, i got this big manila envelope in the mail. It was from Velma's daughter. She had sent the letters i had written to her mother over the years. There is still another envelope coming.
Velma kept each and every one of my letters and cards. Thats a lot of letters full of a lot of words.
I had kept hers too, but it seems so amazing to me that she kept mine.
And she even made notes in some of the margins. She circled some of my words. And under-lined some of the things i said. She read them over and over.
My friend, Velma.
I miss her.

We had some good times being silly together.

Our Darlin' Daisy

This is going out to ... to the Little Red House for...  Mosaic Monday


Sweet Daisy. She has been with us almost 11 years now. She's beginning to show her age, especially around her eyes.
She is a long-hair chihuahua my daughter, Blue brought to me to take care of, and she never took her back.
Daisy has given me much more than i have given her. She gives me purpose when there seems to be none. She gives me reason, when reason seems to have flown away. She gives me quiet when my mind is screaming at me. She gives me softness when all around me seems hard and sharp and painful.
She is my little love.

Just We Two

This linked up to Little Red House for           ....come on over.....



Here we are, my Old Guy and i......

Morning Glories

I'm sending this to..............



come see all the wonderful posts by all the wonderful people who are there.

I love morning glories.
My Old Guy knows this.
There is one little patch of wild morning glories that lives out in the yard. Just a small patch.
Now, the Old Guy, he has a thing about grass... it has to be short. He also has a thing about
weeds... they have to be gone.
But, more than that, he has a thing about me... he loves me... and so, he leaves that little patch of
morning glories alone. He mows around it, even though that means a few extra backing ups and forwards to turn the mower around.
This little bit of sweetness he gives me is more important than any expensive thing he could ever buy for me.

Mama

I would like you to meet my mama. She was beautiful.  Her name was Lucille Rachel.
She was born in 1915 to a Scottish mother and a Lenni- Lenape (Delaware) indian.
She worked hard all her life, mostly in the food industry and raising 5 children. She married my
father with hopes and dreams of a life of romance and love. She got hard work and a drunken cheat instead.
She did the best she could with what she had. What more could anyone do?
I wasn't very close to my mama. I was the last born, by the time i came she was tired and her dreams were gone.  I don't remember ever being hugged, i don't remember her ever saying she loved me.
But, she was my mama, and i loved her.
She died in 1982 of COPD. She had been a smoker for many years and it killed her.

I miss her.