tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13709576328879696862024-03-19T04:05:21.634-05:00Now You See MeSharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.comBlogger614125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-71716071276578528032018-09-12T08:56:00.000-05:002018-09-12T08:56:31.123-05:00Morning in the Meadow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I tried. I'm sorry. Take care and God bless.</span></div>
Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-28018717243156433652018-08-24T13:19:00.001-05:002018-08-27T07:14:45.500-05:00Oops! No title, hah!<span style="font-size: large;"> I was watching an old show and surprisingly I saw a familiar face. I believe this is from 2002, yet she hasn't seemed to change. Do you recognize her? Any fans out there?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGS6fRCkwt-po99Un_XNPa1eAafZrdmfdxRakCbmey1_5Aw0m6iL9HTmyFAGCT8OJf8Yc5PkqZsng_yGP4znUNM6oomW2NjYbWdxhoJiMcP4dorIGvbGyS9npTufPJ8qCEhyphenhyphenSJItschSY/s1600/Abby+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGS6fRCkwt-po99Un_XNPa1eAafZrdmfdxRakCbmey1_5Aw0m6iL9HTmyFAGCT8OJf8Yc5PkqZsng_yGP4znUNM6oomW2NjYbWdxhoJiMcP4dorIGvbGyS9npTufPJ8qCEhyphenhyphenSJItschSY/s640/Abby+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I have been trying to take care of me. My left foot and leg is swollen again. Feels a tad like the skin could burst and an alien could emerge. Ugh! I bought some new shoes to accommodate my new size. I'll just get liners, if and when the swelling goes down.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> So, I have spent a lot of my time chilling. Jill has been my 'nurse' so she could keep her eyes on me - and gaze out the window as well. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have a good weekend folks! </span><br />
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Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-63855961590051798692018-08-14T22:39:00.001-05:002018-08-14T22:39:55.221-05:00Happy Birthday!<span style="font-size: large;">DH picked up a pizza on his way home from work and made a stop for a cake. Son, J., was going to come by after his work.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjI7KJFiFrYQPcu8h93W_gBKdw33DsCtQlfXiqm6jFI4eAWlkH1M12SAeJi71dvvuwiC2ifmv7y9mkP8MTPgz39qRG_YQKvW7o97_Mej7wkvm07YFygcbtpYWBvzGT20zzfK7AX4vxERM/s1600/Our+birthday+cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjI7KJFiFrYQPcu8h93W_gBKdw33DsCtQlfXiqm6jFI4eAWlkH1M12SAeJi71dvvuwiC2ifmv7y9mkP8MTPgz39qRG_YQKvW7o97_Mej7wkvm07YFygcbtpYWBvzGT20zzfK7AX4vxERM/s640/Our+birthday+cake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Small party, but sufficient. I ate too much, as usual. Mmmm!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hard to believe my girl, Jill, is nine years old! Her 'gottcha' anniversary is tomorrow. Time goes so fast!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU6JkryKPtk-_NJKoxlzO0zRRur_xXLhGnCd8yuhtiJ6-sm9bPnUWJ21VHCvsp7UBSAwo2smBwzlKegaNduEhnpVcthtk0b4FySGi38tZTvb-gkbxAu217KBuelvJ4uTFMrm2Kojin5MI/s1600/Jilly+081418+9+yr+old.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU6JkryKPtk-_NJKoxlzO0zRRur_xXLhGnCd8yuhtiJ6-sm9bPnUWJ21VHCvsp7UBSAwo2smBwzlKegaNduEhnpVcthtk0b4FySGi38tZTvb-gkbxAu217KBuelvJ4uTFMrm2Kojin5MI/s640/Jilly+081418+9+yr+old.jpg" width="588" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pizza, for me?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-82200016042745572402018-08-10T06:18:00.001-05:002018-08-10T06:18:29.087-05:00Time for bed ...<span style="font-size: large;">I just did my grocery shopping for next week! Yes, me! Actually, I made myself figure out how to shop at home on the comp at Wally World. DH has been bugging me to try it out. Poor guy he's tired of buying groceries and then listening to me complain about how everything he gets is too spicy or salty for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, the whole game used to take him a couple of hours. Tonight, I started at 12:30 and finished a bit after 4:30, that was after I made out the grocery list. I got a bit carried away, but I made sure I ordered some stuff that I like; pistachio pudding, long spaghetti, grape juice, canned tamales, Jiffy mix for muffins and waffles ... He got to the point where he wouldn't use a list(or take one.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Grocery prices have sure gone up since I was pushing the cart. I admit I did get a little carried away, the total was over $125. I was tempted to order a cheese cake to keep in the freezer for occasional indulgence. (I have been known to make one last a week) I didn't order one though, I figured that was pushing my luck - he still has to pick up what he wants for suppers - haha.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm making so many mistakes, I better go to bed. I hope I don't dream about the lemon pie I want to make. (Mix)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have a great day and a wonderful weekend! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">P.S. MMMimi - I can't figure out how I used to comment on your blog. Help! What do I do? </span>Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-65294328911098377862018-08-07T09:24:00.001-05:002018-08-07T09:24:04.010-05:00Hot August<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, it's been over a year now and Jill has finally become an "only" dog, rather than a "lonely" dog. It took long enough, for a while I thought she would continue to act like her second half was missing. I've caught her playing 'Monster in the bed' by herself, growling and rolling around in the bedding the way she did with Jack. She pretty much stays by me, but it's more of a "Hi Mom, give me a scritch," rather than, "I'm lonely." She has decided that the closet is her preferred spot during rainy days. I still haven't sorted all the closet. One of these first days ... Sigh. The vet put Jill on diet dog food. I didn't see it happen, but she is slimmer. Of course, she's more active now, too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, Jill is slimming down and I seem to be going in the opposite direction. I bought a new dress and it looks more like a tent than a dress. Ugh! It looked pretty on the website - then I get it home and it reeked from the dye, so I gave it a wash and the red fabric shrunk, but the yoke and band on the skirt didn't. I can't seem to win ... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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No luck with the tomatoes this year, too wet, too hot. They pretty much burst. We had 4 that were worth anything. Maybe next year ... Even the flowers didn't do as well as expected.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Sorry, I'm not more chatty.</span>Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-7836121734405734162018-07-26T10:06:00.001-05:002018-07-26T10:06:06.804-05:00Old Friends<span style="font-size: large;">I was thinking of an old blogging friend this morning, before blogging we had been pen pals. I never met the dear lady in person, but I felt I knew her and her family. Then she fell off the face of the planet. She often had connection problems, so I didn't think anything of it, at first.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />I tried calling her apartment, no answer - more puzzling as a weeks passed and the phone said it was no longer in service. I stupidly assumed that she had gone to spend the holidays with one of her sons or had moved and was very busy. As time went by with no word, I tried calling her sister's number and one of her sons.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Time marches on. I would think about her and try checking the obits. I couldn't find anything so I figured she was out there, somewhere, happily doing her crafts. Today, I was thinking about her and looked again at the obits. Sadly, she had passed away the day after her last post. Now, I know, now it hurts. It hurts more than thinking she was too busy for me. I feel guilty for even considering that.</span>Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-50976970581423470312018-04-11T11:57:00.003-05:002018-04-11T11:57:49.561-05:00Good Bye for now<span style="font-size: large;">I'm sorry, I just can't keep up. Words cannot express how sorry I am, thinking of what to say has become such a problem for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've enjoyed blogging with you all and wish you all the very best.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hugs, Sharon</span></div>
Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-53087847778199067512018-04-05T09:45:00.000-05:002018-04-05T09:45:00.638-05:00I See Dead People<span style="font-size: large;">Spending a lot of my time watching old TV shows. Finished all of <i>Columbo</i>. I believe he's one of my favorites. He was a good looking fellow when he was younger. I watched an episode of <i>Decoy</i> from 1958 that had Peter Falk in it. He really had a long run, didn't he? Whew, over 40 years.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Kind of off subject, yet not - No One can convince me that the big 'Silver Screen' or television doesn't influence people. Nearly every vice has been glamorized at one time or another. Drinking, smoking, doing drugs, whoring, etc. I believe the violence we see today is the offspring of all the screens in our lives. Just my personal opinion, don't chew my head off. Some people would be bad, no matter what, but ...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">***</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm confused.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Post nasal drip.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Post means after, right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Nasal means nose, right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After the nose.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hmm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The words tell me,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have a runny nose,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not crap in my throat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anti Nasal Drip</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Pre-nasal Drip</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Would be my choice ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Stupid things I think about when I should be going to sleep at night. I am getting to be an old lady. Oh well. </span></div>
Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-64474574275577636362018-03-22T12:11:00.000-05:002018-03-22T12:11:52.906-05:00Old Bones<span style="font-size: large;">Sigh ... I had an odd beginning to my day. I put Jill out for her duties and I spotted a trio of deer across the road. I haven't seen any in quite some time and it was a pleasure to watch them munching on the early spring grasses. I ran (you know I really didn't, it's just a figure of speech, haha) to get my camera. The results are on my header. I know I said a trio, but they didn't stick together enough for a decent shot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The deer didn't pay any attention to Jill's threats, so I sat down in the doorway to watch them for a while. When they finally moved on, I realized that I was stuck on the floor. I guess I am ready for one of those call buttons. I began to crawl to my chair (about 10') when my knees began screaming. I was next to my little roll-top and decided to rest for a bit to revisit the junk on the lower shelves of the desk.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I haven't looked at that old stuff for ages. There is quite a stash of old silver plate that I bought to make rings and other crafts until I found out I didn't have any strength in my hands. So, there they all sit. Useless. Mostly beautiful patterns, but useless ... There are some pieces in the box that someone actually tried to scrape off the silver. Senseless waste of time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">By the time I packed it all up again, crawled to my chair, and made it back to my desk - the clock said 11:15! My whole morning was shot. Time does fly by, doesn't it?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">You can kinda see why I don't get anything done and my blogging has gotten so sketchy. Guess it's just these old bones attached to an old slow butt ...</span>Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-80609050168442151152018-03-11T08:20:00.000-05:002018-03-11T08:20:29.454-05:00Daylight Savings Time<span style="font-size: large;">I really dislike the time changes. Why don't they just go to half past and leave it alone?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Very foggy here this morning. I've been awake, watching it begin at the bottom of the hill, until it engulfed the house. I think it should lift pretty soon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The peaches are blooming, I believe this is way early. The wood have that early spring haze about them. My allergies are already bothering me. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8o0jGwfVGogsV1rv1cjkNhrZIjxyz92K18Yt918qhHOYvYWDWHUa9rJpZMCwPMy2C2KgFNQ6vJAj8KmZclQ8sR6qx3t2Ojl-7QD2QBujXMNLET6Sx1-qKRZcxu4LK8w7gyazetqMrrM/s1600/Spring+again+006+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8o0jGwfVGogsV1rv1cjkNhrZIjxyz92K18Yt918qhHOYvYWDWHUa9rJpZMCwPMy2C2KgFNQ6vJAj8KmZclQ8sR6qx3t2Ojl-7QD2QBujXMNLET6Sx1-qKRZcxu4LK8w7gyazetqMrrM/s640/Spring+again+006+-+Copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Old Pic</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> DH needs to check the chimney, we had a cowbird come in last week. I heard it and looked at Jill. Wish I had the camera ready, she had such a WTH look on her face! J came and rescued the poor thing, it was hitting one window and then another for a couple of hours.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I woke up early. Had a story running through my head. Even though I don't write anymore, I still do story outlines in my head ...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">DH almost through 'shut down' at work. He will soon be looking for another job. There are times when I wish he had a regular job with set days and hours.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There really isn't anything going on. I did buy <i>McMillan and Wife</i>, <i>The Equalizer, </i>and the complete set of <i>Columbo. </i>That should do me for a while. </span>Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-79252566446230101892018-03-01T18:29:00.001-06:002018-03-01T18:29:51.498-06:00March 1st - Spring<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgimLcWmN_3f7ItZIQiqrc0GdfkB5k5F2eI0F7YZH0OG1HAunle1YHB0IAKwOQIsAKpU4TL_sHOk3FiaT2TdKnNSf_RYP1kjT73UTG2YiJ2I20-NIm0RCGqYppXT0_Voqp9oOfGCCAnaTM/s1600/Mar+1+Flowering+crab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="432" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgimLcWmN_3f7ItZIQiqrc0GdfkB5k5F2eI0F7YZH0OG1HAunle1YHB0IAKwOQIsAKpU4TL_sHOk3FiaT2TdKnNSf_RYP1kjT73UTG2YiJ2I20-NIm0RCGqYppXT0_Voqp9oOfGCCAnaTM/s400/Mar+1+Flowering+crab.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Flowering Crab starting to bloom today.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQb6nYw5DhqtkJLfPCkIDoT0NMKsRAXi3uCC_w3kR79aY46aqL94V2Q1CwjHP9I2ex49tt4ACZ5NAawBM834HrY_4oIs46ZhJzlie_yjhbkHb_Ll-1zItMl2YEnjUAlJeSwSow2GG1bbQ/s1600/Mar+1+window+nest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="432" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQb6nYw5DhqtkJLfPCkIDoT0NMKsRAXi3uCC_w3kR79aY46aqL94V2Q1CwjHP9I2ex49tt4ACZ5NAawBM834HrY_4oIs46ZhJzlie_yjhbkHb_Ll-1zItMl2YEnjUAlJeSwSow2GG1bbQ/s400/Mar+1+window+nest.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lousy shot-Window Bird Nest today.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoAqq0U2cpxaqEQ1W7DKoNuNM5P6-M-nkZkstExprxW_l3R-kyWkmWW_suk5D7hXlNyRLCrbvmJ-WjoYF2Dmjy5ov65XNUEN0yjKzE9eqOwbgcjwXvE7TND_aLFiOzibqzA1ChoFEW-0/s1600/neighbors+pears+Mar+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="432" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoAqq0U2cpxaqEQ1W7DKoNuNM5P6-M-nkZkstExprxW_l3R-kyWkmWW_suk5D7hXlNyRLCrbvmJ-WjoYF2Dmjy5ov65XNUEN0yjKzE9eqOwbgcjwXvE7TND_aLFiOzibqzA1ChoFEW-0/s400/neighbors+pears+Mar+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Neighbor's Pear Trees today.</span></td></tr>
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Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-56026889561949287372018-02-26T20:00:00.001-06:002018-02-26T20:00:25.933-06:00Living in the past...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvC_q3hcGE5xFpqkrr-SBRhecPHrBd374QEOELtcxu6c3mR-nEIHy55QIwm7eXUL-tM8PTpPYfgeiU2ipk_dmV-2490gF7l_pcO1aOoJoFtXq3G4-pO-vHKIkA68oSr-llz-gKoahkNRc/s1600/February+movies+n+old+series.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvC_q3hcGE5xFpqkrr-SBRhecPHrBd374QEOELtcxu6c3mR-nEIHy55QIwm7eXUL-tM8PTpPYfgeiU2ipk_dmV-2490gF7l_pcO1aOoJoFtXq3G4-pO-vHKIkA68oSr-llz-gKoahkNRc/s640/February+movies+n+old+series.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">It helps take <i>things</i> off my mind. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm just checking in ... </span>Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-65904256899085047732018-02-13T21:13:00.001-06:002018-02-13T21:13:10.189-06:00Deven<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvblg4jTkQibuNOIxLCCisD6UK2mYIyPwe87sAuGzS3GizepReaNxZU_t0Zh6wgLngSr0j_L0pRxxzNTX0v0KaEWFOrwERWAB62jC5BnphUrFQhBF9-_bJSBzpBiF7y0rM78KPYkfYv1M/s1600/Deven+021218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="370" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvblg4jTkQibuNOIxLCCisD6UK2mYIyPwe87sAuGzS3GizepReaNxZU_t0Zh6wgLngSr0j_L0pRxxzNTX0v0KaEWFOrwERWAB62jC5BnphUrFQhBF9-_bJSBzpBiF7y0rM78KPYkfYv1M/s400/Deven+021218.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My Grandson, Deven.</span></td></tr>
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Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-43464362361978619032018-02-05T15:12:00.000-06:002018-02-05T15:12:07.552-06:00Overlap Overload<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFV9-1NF8q6wY-DDNNPoAk3kUb-L7WodVrT6icU-poqAsJygYVdkA6e39-yBfiJl4YeVKqlnT3zMGsy9trdqshxicm9atReBocmUU637D7bLAETomXz3JDTWZqTJXIQVnaVdL6YT3R4M/s1600/Overlap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="432" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFV9-1NF8q6wY-DDNNPoAk3kUb-L7WodVrT6icU-poqAsJygYVdkA6e39-yBfiJl4YeVKqlnT3zMGsy9trdqshxicm9atReBocmUU637D7bLAETomXz3JDTWZqTJXIQVnaVdL6YT3R4M/s320/Overlap.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Suffering from overlap overload, I cannot keep my thoughts straight. I HAVE to just take a break, I may be back, I may not. At this point, I make no promises ... sorry ...</span><br />Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-34728664544851761132018-01-31T07:24:00.001-06:002018-01-31T07:24:06.184-06:00Wordless Wednesday<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjJ6R07oCZoCULqnhsBUdR7B75jUWaeOHfGTiX-a9HuZVJdvI3sDunubVyItyHLLO_79bVmwyXkjlrVkoBPjDId6h9y-JRTTg-LXf8lJk7Sn1jwpfzVT6ZT-iS6FEdyyKp3lIU-sWscgY/s1600/Super+Moon+013118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjJ6R07oCZoCULqnhsBUdR7B75jUWaeOHfGTiX-a9HuZVJdvI3sDunubVyItyHLLO_79bVmwyXkjlrVkoBPjDId6h9y-JRTTg-LXf8lJk7Sn1jwpfzVT6ZT-iS6FEdyyKp3lIU-sWscgY/s640/Super+Moon+013118.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My big tree was in the way ...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTBD_VPVxEiNLDXGOyQh-ZZTE43iQ6RRa-7yLP7jVDdVlZ4GG3OIKIp7JmlPdHDpOUt1-MW4vjABVTswtPt0jWK5uXHvOWcy047cT4aeg1wFE2mjj5AFEBzEv2c9SIAAH5BM4IFDQv_Y/s1600/Super+Moon+2+013118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTBD_VPVxEiNLDXGOyQh-ZZTE43iQ6RRa-7yLP7jVDdVlZ4GG3OIKIp7JmlPdHDpOUt1-MW4vjABVTswtPt0jWK5uXHvOWcy047cT4aeg1wFE2mjj5AFEBzEv2c9SIAAH5BM4IFDQv_Y/s640/Super+Moon+2+013118.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">It begins ... and later the neighbor's Magnolia tree was in the way</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhWy18wz6i77Tx2K9n55xqdzoUOqtdMw63gVJcNWwEup3zLmuca-xl4jhZb4EwxREPcGr_O6jepegREB-_pBPuKljE1JJ8fXwX7JNfsh7-JMUb0RDMJ2WepJo-oXNl8A02nFvWScPOjI/s1600/Dawn+013118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="500" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhWy18wz6i77Tx2K9n55xqdzoUOqtdMw63gVJcNWwEup3zLmuca-xl4jhZb4EwxREPcGr_O6jepegREB-_pBPuKljE1JJ8fXwX7JNfsh7-JMUb0RDMJ2WepJo-oXNl8A02nFvWScPOjI/s640/Dawn+013118.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dawn before it was half-way eclipsed ...</span></td></tr>
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Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-62527235173143863352018-01-22T20:28:00.001-06:002018-01-22T20:28:18.445-06:00PLease excuse ...<span style="font-size: large;">I ordered this. Not sure why I was disappointed, maybe because it turned out badly,of course she had to die at some time ...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPAYhZ-ttc_aQk4mM70I6i9Zoam206zHZOb3LcYlml6glBT_bGROZmhKC4sOJCDrWp3HjSuGiFhmWxgPWHc47JwG6dI0uzrjAQSkqi4NdgHz6MHAsjRdAFdpfFp6CYaMLcjIL3wtccyq8/s1600/81JCdK3A3PL._SY445_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="314" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPAYhZ-ttc_aQk4mM70I6i9Zoam206zHZOb3LcYlml6glBT_bGROZmhKC4sOJCDrWp3HjSuGiFhmWxgPWHc47JwG6dI0uzrjAQSkqi4NdgHz6MHAsjRdAFdpfFp6CYaMLcjIL3wtccyq8/s640/81JCdK3A3PL._SY445_.jpg" width="450" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> I watch it this morning and went back to bed. Lousy night coughing with the crud. Ready to crawl back under the covers ...</span>Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-37764035053256374352018-01-20T12:01:00.002-06:002018-01-20T12:01:28.511-06:00Old Memories<span style="font-size: large;">I ordered <i>The Rockford Files</i> DVD series from Amazon. Seems it was a bad time. It was supposed to come Wednesday, but as you know, everything road wise had come to a standstill. I got a message, it was going to come Thursday. I also ordered a couple other things. They were supposed to come Wednesday, but due to unforeseen circumstances (they shipped form Chattanooga to Nashville and said oops and returned them to Chattanooga), they were supposed to arrive on Thursday from <u>Nashville</u>. Doh!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thursday - came and went. 'Due to weather or natural disaster' my stuff would arrive on Friday before 8:00 p.m. Well, Friday at 7:26 p.m., the packages came, but DH neglected to let me know. So, there I was at Midnight watching my first (in a very long time) Rockford File. Ah, the memories!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRGukLeV8NRpMc7IuGvGImzi3-7W9JULV5B-kNgXXWjSdRoGzw_K4zJGk9Qbz4UzOs3kZLRFpBDnq_Q0z82050E_ybHpiSDm91M8zJg67kogAbrKKoO27oTF-hx_rdzBPh35VTFpIfZMc/s1600/81hYZe%252B0smL._SY445_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="311" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRGukLeV8NRpMc7IuGvGImzi3-7W9JULV5B-kNgXXWjSdRoGzw_K4zJGk9Qbz4UzOs3kZLRFpBDnq_Q0z82050E_ybHpiSDm91M8zJg67kogAbrKKoO27oTF-hx_rdzBPh35VTFpIfZMc/s640/81hYZe%252B0smL._SY445_.jpg" width="446" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was in love ... with his car!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-63420173411324980032018-01-16T10:45:00.002-06:002018-01-16T10:45:50.633-06:00Pretty<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjie4hkRLCaMopwhjs9AdLNvOAe0hM_XJJhdkUWt1ji1-wd3LaPhP7GkD6RLUZTBCKUYY9WLdhPjvPCSRCLAjM1zbOMNqwO4stOZVSa-TzelVJCy054OeaAUxNuuNRu54sgDOsOR3sX8pw/s1600/snow+1+011618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="400" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjie4hkRLCaMopwhjs9AdLNvOAe0hM_XJJhdkUWt1ji1-wd3LaPhP7GkD6RLUZTBCKUYY9WLdhPjvPCSRCLAjM1zbOMNqwO4stOZVSa-TzelVJCy054OeaAUxNuuNRu54sgDOsOR3sX8pw/s400/snow+1+011618.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tracks out and tracks in a minute later.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The phone <strike>rang</strike>, played that irritating tune through my brain fog.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">DH wanted to know what the weather was doing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Through the blur, told him what I saw. Snow on the road ...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That was 3 hours ago. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I thought he would come home, and at the same time I wondered why he even went in. He didn't. I have no idea what the weather is where he is. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, it was snowing and hasn't stopped yet, now the yard is all white and it just keeps coming. There is NO traffic on the road. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sigh ...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is real pretty, I can say that for sure. </span>Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-43935507314574470502018-01-10T10:52:00.004-06:002018-01-10T10:52:51.035-06:00Wednesday January 10, 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLRZRBI6_BD-kbqXOljhglw11-1X_i9LVyTD9LWZLaFTHIU13dVj6jEAyavRQPHwIwps7Bq2QcQ6hGhA__LOrQ6PQDwSoIwF-z4Zsq2UIbqim6X3xVwz3yleIcPDLvibBMPU8veGb6j0/s1600/Game+010918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="324" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLRZRBI6_BD-kbqXOljhglw11-1X_i9LVyTD9LWZLaFTHIU13dVj6jEAyavRQPHwIwps7Bq2QcQ6hGhA__LOrQ6PQDwSoIwF-z4Zsq2UIbqim6X3xVwz3yleIcPDLvibBMPU8veGb6j0/s400/Game+010918.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">My son helped me with the apps for some games on the tablet. I was hoping to help with my words and cognition. These puzzles are pretty darn hard. I figured I would have to play with the letters - I am out of 'hints'. I'm sure the words are there, but they aren't jumping out and biting me. Ha Ha. Losing words has become a scary proposition and it's getting worse.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't remember why Jill was so mad at me yesterday, but it's the first time she has turned her back on me. (I think)</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I believe she is trying to smile at me. Silly girl!</span></div>
Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-18669648614726771722018-01-07T09:08:00.000-06:002018-01-07T09:08:02.106-06:00Christmas Surprises<span style="font-size: large;">Our son outdid himself again. We are going to have to get a large desk or cabinet for all the stuff! (Or add on a room just for game play) I hope this means he plans on moving closer to us!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> This was only the beginning. There is a PS4, extra controllers, a steering wheel, and I don't know what all. Ever do VR? It is a trip! All of a sudden I had a shark coming right at me! Played a shoot 'em up game and I died, of course. Flying a plane is not simple, haha. You get the gist. I think we are his spoiled children ...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, there was still the chocolates (3 boxes) and other food items, also 3 blueray series. I already watched <i>The Fall</i>. Still have <i>Westworld</i> and <i>Stranger Things.</i> I'm going to pace myself. :-)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">DH gave me a pair of gold drop earrings and a silver necklace (which I had him return) I love the earrings, thought they were too pricey though. I gave him a long cozy robe, pajama pants, and none of your business [wink]. Son asked for and received Nintendo Switch and a game. He says he likes the set-up. </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Have a lovely Sunday (or Monday) and stay comfortable! </span></div>
Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-86356448044730198832018-01-04T11:30:00.000-06:002018-01-04T11:31:15.874-06:00Proof of Life<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLchDtGVuCFerISehldkXbzT-3-SD_fYk5sLbcurkEU6xLKQF4gbvJX3O8V7bglAkw_2X7Wi3waI_SP6p2u-YmkZ6W4FGZkVW3j1o4pUSSx7dHHaP_oPHZ8BVSwiYRQI7c2ZJFjtr-vwQ/s1600/Jill+BL+Xmas+Visit+010218+W.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLchDtGVuCFerISehldkXbzT-3-SD_fYk5sLbcurkEU6xLKQF4gbvJX3O8V7bglAkw_2X7Wi3waI_SP6p2u-YmkZ6W4FGZkVW3j1o4pUSSx7dHHaP_oPHZ8BVSwiYRQI7c2ZJFjtr-vwQ/s640/Jill+BL+Xmas+Visit+010218+W.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jill - January Calendar Girl</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-86343098449572252742017-11-06T07:52:00.001-06:002017-11-06T07:52:30.446-06:00Out of Commission<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLl4q2IcIdFTLvIJXTkz6SIeFOPFaSbSWO1NNIBK2DQmrl-wJ2cRu8lNmyfmmrH7DQK_tlpErPiiOiZq6w0BmZo0ceI-9760BE5OFwWwx9zgmKW8j7tmoXxcvbeeFD8rGbia6POdm6xM/s1600/Blueberry+Bushes+110417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="432" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLl4q2IcIdFTLvIJXTkz6SIeFOPFaSbSWO1NNIBK2DQmrl-wJ2cRu8lNmyfmmrH7DQK_tlpErPiiOiZq6w0BmZo0ceI-9760BE5OFwWwx9zgmKW8j7tmoXxcvbeeFD8rGbia6POdm6xM/s640/Blueberry+Bushes+110417.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Something is wrong,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Back when/if</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I get the bugs out.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Sorry. </span></div>
Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-18089150208108288932017-11-02T09:00:00.000-05:002017-11-02T10:44:23.683-05:00Back to the grind.<span style="font-size: large;">"The Black Widow" is over. It was much condensed and I changed the end to make for a good feeling at the end. All too often, I wanted to be a tad macabre with my stories and usually ended up making them nicer ...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Having a little trouble with Simon. He has decided to be "King of the Castle" and will not allow Tacky on the porch to get her food. As you can see, he has made himself a crow's nest out of the rail planter to watch her better. I didn't see her for a couple of days and I was pretty worried about her and ready to wring his little neck if he had really hurt her. Sigh, I guess I will have to try to re-home him if they can't get along. Found Tacky in the part of the garage where we keep the lawnmower, so she is okay for now. (Whew!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> A happy picture of Jill. Looks like it's time to take her for a tooth cleaning. That smile won't last when she finds out.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> All Souls Day <strike>tomorrow</strike> today. I just finished coloring this, I like it. </span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">On other fronts, DH had appointment with the cardiologist, the girl at the desk called and confirmed the time and date, I had the phone on for him to hear it too. I wrote it down and DH put the info in his phone at the time. So, the day came, he drove like a crazy person to get there in time. I guess butter wouldn't melt in that jane's mouth when she told him as he skidded into the office, "Doctor doesn't see anyone on a Tuesday, your appointment was yesterday." She wanted to reschedule, he told her to call if there was a problem. This was the third time they had a mix-up with the time. A nurse called later and said he was fine.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I had quite a few ripe tomatoes, so I tried my hand at roasting them. The smell here in the house was almost overwhelming. Mmm, that roasting garlic!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We finally had a hard frost. The fig tree leaves are all curled and getting crunchy. Summer is officially over. Sigh ...</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Y'all take care now! </span></div>
Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-40008060224804662652017-11-01T08:00:00.000-05:002017-11-01T08:00:16.346-05:00Black Widow - Conclusion<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">-5-</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">The ride to the hospital gave her
mixed feelings. The unknown made her want to get away and yet she was happy
that the horror was over. Newsmen, cameras, and people pushing a microphone
into her face met the ambulance, and wanting informatio</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">n. At that time, she was
just a survivor of a grisly murder scene. Her father had murdered her mother,
tried to murder her, and then he bludgeoned her uncle to death. When they found
Arnold’s body, the police tried to say she had killed him. Until his autopsy,
they wouldn’t know how she had done it. They put her in a room by herself with
an armed guard stationed at the door. A nurse came into the room to clean her
wounds. She began asking questions, and then she took her picture. Mallory
screamed for the guard, who took the camera away from the nurse. Three days,
she sat in her room alone, and then the guard was gone. Her father had taken
the police on a chase through town, crashing headlong into the bridge supports.
There was another onslaught of doctors, police, and reporters.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">A detective told her that Arnold
had suffered from a heart attack; she was off the hook for his demise. Mallory
had figured that, they could have asked her.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Some paper shuffler found her
marriage records and she was news again.<span style="color: red;"> </span>Many of
the nurses made her feel dirty, as if she had gone along willingly with their
crooked schemes. Some of the nurses stood up for her, feeling pity for the
young girl forced by her parents to marry at such a young age. They questioned
her, time after time, asking who her relatives were, and where they lived. The
funeral had come and gone for her mother before she got out. She didn’t care,
not having any feelings of affection for her. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Once the bruises healed, they moved
her to a different kind of hospital to sort out her mental issues. When the
newsmen tried to talk to her, insinuating that she had participated in the
plans of killing off the old men, she threw things at them or screamed. She
often wished she were back in the basement, by herself. The constant poking and
picking of her brain was as uncomfortable as life had been with Gabriel. Why
couldn’t they just leave her alone?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Of course, this gave the headshrinkers added
fuel for their fires, saying she was apathetic. They said she was antisocial.
She wouldn’t watch television. The shrinks thought it was odd behavior. She
didn’t want to hear the news bulletins about the ‘Black Widow’ anymore. Even
the orderlies were calling her the Black Widow behind her back, though, loud
enough for her to hear. They made jokes about her. She had a roommate, who gave
her a wide berth, staying out of the room whenever possible. Rumors had spread
throughout the hospital about how strange she was. Mallory didn’t have a single
friend and the only visitors she had were police or detectives, to ask more
questions about things she didn’t know. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">One Saturday afternoon, Doctor Kane
summoned her to his office. He told her to sit down, handing her a pill and a glass
of water, which he instructed her to take. Then he started talking about his
flower garden to let the pill begin working.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“Mallory,” he began, “The people who
you thought were your parents... well... they most likely bought you from
someone that took you from your home when you were a toddler. We have no way of
knowing, they may have taken you themselves. The police found your real
identity through your fingerprints at the house; you were finger printed when
you were two.”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“I have different parents? Do you
know where they are?” That was great news she thought. Her heart raced and she
began to feel dizzy. Whatever the pill was that the doctor gave her wasn’t
working too well. The room around her began moving in slow motion, as the
doctor called someone into his office. The door opened slowly and gradually the
doorway filled with a tall, thin man, who wore a hesitant smile. The man said
something to her, but her heart was pounding so loudly and he spoke too softly
to understand what he said. He walked toward her. Mallory slumped down in her
chair as she passed out.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Waking on the sofa in the doctor’s
lounge, Mallory saw the man seated in a chair across the darkened room. He
watched her with sad eyes that looked as if he had been crying.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“They tell me that you go by the
name of Mallory,” he said. “I doubt if you remember me, but I am your father,
and we named you Hope.”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“We... Do I still have a mother?”
she asked.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“Yes, but she thought she would
come at a different time. We aren’t together anymore, I’m sorry.” He looked
overwhelmed with emotion.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“Do you have any pictures?”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“No, I’m sorry, I left in such a
hurry when they called, I didn’t think about it. I called Amy, your mother,
from the airport. You look a lot like her. Can we go for a walk or do you have
to stay in the building?”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“You’ll have to ask Doctor Kane
about the rules. I have never had a real visitor before.”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Her father left the room and
returned with Doctor Kane. He released her for a weekend visit, to see how
everything went. He instructed Mallory to put a change of clothes in a bag to
take along. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Her father looked worried and
embarrassed, as he asked the doctor where an inexpensive motel was. The doctor
was prepared; he had coupons for motels and meals ready, in an envelope in his
pocket. Many of his patients would never see a visitor if it wasn’t for some
kind of compensation. He knew this was not the case in this instance. There was
a motel within walking distance. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“She is ready to be released, if
she has a place to go. I didn’t know you and your wife had divorced until I
called. It’s not an ideal situation. She needs introduction back into society
in a family setting, but you can’t do that. What are her mother’s
circumstances? Does she have a stable home environment for her?”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“I don’t know much about Amy’s life
anymore. She’s married again and has three small children. When I told her that
they found Hope and told her that I was coming up here, it had been a couple of
years since we spoke. I lied to Hope about Amy coming at another time. She didn’t
mention it. I think Hope would be walking into a built-in babysitter position.
I don’t know if that would be good for her or not.”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“I don’t see any information about
her siblings, where are they now?”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“Richie died in the service last
year and Emily is in college. It costs a lot of money these days. I do
appreciate the coupons, thank you.”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“Well, you two enjoy your visit and
I will look further into it. Do you think you are ready to take on the
responsibility?”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“Let’s see how this weekend goes,
but yes, if at all possible I want to take her home.”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Mallory stood in the doorway, mouth
open, unable to speak. She had a brother that died, a sister somewhere off in
college, and a mother with a new family of her own. She cleared her throat. “I’m
ready,” she said quietly, praying silently that she was.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">THE
END</span></span></span></div>
Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1370957632887969686.post-19516591627659039382017-10-31T08:00:00.000-05:002017-10-31T08:00:06.991-05:00Black Widow Part 4<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">-4-</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Standing in front of Judge Brown,
she pleaded with her eyes, trying to get him to pay attention to what they were
doing. Her father poked her in the ribs, whispering mean promises if she said
anything, as he winked at the Judge. She was married to Arnold Vogel, a tall,
skinny man of 70. He put her to work, stacking cord wood, as soon as they
arrived at his log cabin. He ordered her around all day and expected her to
welcome him into the marriage bed with open arms. She fell asleep, but he had
his wedding night anyway. She may as well have been a knothole in a fence. He
took one of his little blue pills every night, even if she was on her monthly,
it made more sheets to wash. He taught her how to use the chainsaw, making yet
another chore for her to do. She missed Joseph with his kind and gentle ways.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Arnold didn’t have a telephone. One
day he clutched his chest and keeled over, she couldn’t call for an ambulance.
She would have to try to figure out how to drive his truck; she had seen him do
it several times. It was up in the woods. Running to get the old pick-up, it
bucked toward the house, but by the time she went back inside the house to get
him, he was already dead. She emptied out his pockets, pulled off his ring, and
packed her big suitcase. The truck jerked down the driveway as she headed for
town, grinding the gears. Freedom was so close. Then the motor made a loud
knocking sound, dying on the road in a dark cloud of smoke. Managing to pull it
over to the side of the road before it quit rolling, she snatched her suitcase
from the back. It was still a ways to the bus stop; her feet would have to get
her there. That was when Uncle Carl caught up with her. The nosy neighbors must
have called the family when she drove noisily out of the yard.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Spending the time in the basement,
had given her a lot of time to think. Without chores to have to concentrate on,
her mind was free to fantasize. Many
delightful scenes played, danced, and frolicked through her head. Her thoughts
of revenge, tickled her fancy. Visualizing her parents, splayed out on the
floor as Arnold had been, made her smile. It was a great thought, but the
mystery was how to make it materialize.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">The telephone rang; her father
answered it, talking quietly so that she wouldn’t hear the conversation. After
he hung up, he talked to her mother, whispering. Then her mother opened the
basement door and just stood there with her hands on her hips, her silhouette
dark against the bright kitchen light.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“We have to go to the lawyer’s
office now, Mallory. He has an opening at two o’clock so you better get up here
and make yourself presentable,” she said.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“What are you going to do, if I
don’t? Are you going to beat me up some more or kill me? Do what you have to
do. I am not going through hell again, to make you rich. That should be my
money, not yours,” she said with an attitude. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Her mother slammed the door; the
plates on the kitchen wall clattered. Then she stomped across the kitchen
floor. The argument that ensued between her parents was loud enough for the
neighbors to hear. The argument stopped after Mallory heard a heavy thud on the
living room floor. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">The door to the basement swung open
hard, banging against the kitchen wall and her father clomped down the stairs.
She stood there waiting, ready to die. He grabbed the neck of her T-shirt and
dragged her up the stairs, as she let herself go limp to become dead weight.
She had no plans on helping him out; it was her only defense. Her father was a
big man, weighing more than twice, what she did. As he pulled her through to
the bathroom, she noticed her mother on the living room floor. Blood was
draining out of her ear and nose. Her mother’s eyes were open and lifeless,
staring into space.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“Wash yourself,” he demanded.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">She stood there, gasping for breath
from him hauling her by her shirt. Her neck was raw. Looking in the bathroom
mirror, she could tell that washing up would not make her look good, let alone
presentable. He stood in the doorway with a crazed look in his eyes. Knowing
that he had come completely unhinged, she now was positive he had chosen to
kill her if she didn’t comply. She hoped that she would give up the ghost
quickly, the way her mother had.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Uncle Carl came into the house, his
heavy footsteps seemed to pause in the living room then he stood behind his
brother.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“What the hell have you done, Ben?”
he asked.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“This little bitch won’t clean
herself up to go get our money!”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Even Carl could see that his
brother had lost touch with reality when he tried to reason with him. She could
tell by the look on his face that the wheels in her uncle’s mind were spinning.
He tried to sound sympathetic, telling her clean up and he would take her into
town. He said that he would put her on the bus as soon as they got their money.
She knew he was lying. Carl didn’t have a compassionate bone in his body. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“No, that’s my money, you didn’t have
to sleep with that slimy old man, I did!” she said, and that was the last thing
she knew until she saw the officer lean over her, to shut off the cold water in
the shower.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“We have a live one in here!” he
shouted.</span></span></span></div>
Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02743921972328074980noreply@blogger.com18