Being Christmas

Dear Diary,

Being Christmas,

Have a merry one.
Spend it with those you love –
In person
By phone
Write a letter
Read a book – ink and paper kind!
Much possibilities for everyone next year.




Harlan and Alma had had many a heated discussion over his final arrangements. Harlan being adamant about cremation and refused to change his mind.

Alma couldn’t budge her husband on the matter, even trying to change his mind hours before his death. Nor on the memorial service at the church or any of the other aspects of a funeral service.

Decisions Harlan made after the first diagnosis stood. Choices that Alma was sure would change at each remission and reoccurrence. Even this last time, this very evening, she had broached the subject. Was it only a few days ago she opened her mouth to bring it up. Harlan and raised on fine from the bed and said “Have I once wavered?”

Alma quickly shut her mouth and never asked again.

Thankful TJ hadn’t brought up the pre-arrangements in the room. Alma knew her reprieve from telling the body would be short lived. When she and Harlan had sat with TJ to make them seven years ago, TJ had suggested then that Alma wait to inform the boys at the office. They could come to ‘make arrangements’. Seeing a loved ones signature and notes made about what they wanted, didn’t make the facts any easier, but the direct would take any repercussions on the remaining family negative. It was out of everyone’s hands but the deceased. Some families, he had explained to Harlan went against the wishes of the deceased, but the boys would go along with Harlan’s wishes, he felt sure, even if they disagreed. That had made Harlan even more staunch in his plans.

TJ had warned her, you don’t have to tell everything you know. ‘Let me be the one to tell them. It will be easier for you.’ She sure hoped what he said back then, she had held onto those words all this time.

It’s Possible

Dear Diary,

Looking at what material I have to work with – the undeveloped ideas, has overwhelmed me at times. My negative side finds fault, that side needs to get its own perspective. Finding fault with a plot, character, or scene is useful. Nagging my own-self just wastes time.
This all proves my philosophies are spot on. The reasons maybe small and seem insignificant but in everything we can learn. Sure some lessons have to be repeated in order to comprehend, assess and put to use their wisdom. 2015 has been one of several repetitive learning years – since I am hard headed and resistant to change.
2016 – Possibilities – Opportunities to learn, reviews and improve.


Alma and son leave room.

Leo asks if the remaining son wants to remain or wait outside. “I just wanted to check with TJ about making arrangements, should I call or do we need to set an appointment?” he asked turning to TJ.

“Mr. ____, Why don’t you just call the office in the morning between 10 and noon. Your brother, mom and you can come in tomorrow afternoon. I don’t know what all is on the books for tomorrow, but that should give Miss B time to set things in order.”

“Alright, will do. Thank you Leo, we really appreciate all you did for Dad. TJ, Miss Sam, I will leave you to your business. Thank you all.” A chocking man with a lost look left the room.

“Looks like you have Mr. Harlan ready for us.”

“TJ, they were in the cafeteria eating dinner when he passed. His doctor was covering ER and being a slow night over there, he came up and pronounced him. He went down to the cafeteria to talk to the family and we were able to bath and prepare him for both you and them.”

“Well, that was a blessing. Some don’t see it as that though. “

“No, they don’t” Sam said flatly She wasn’t there when her father passed. But by the the time she arrived at the hospital her mother, was still in the ER and unfortunately conscious. On one hand Sam was able to tell her she loved her, and goodbye, but on the other, she also saw her mother’s last struggling breath, which haunted for a long time. If she could have breathed for her mother she would have. There was a frustration that couldn’t be resolved other than making in up her own mind to let it go.

Leo proceeds to assist the two move the body to the gurney and strip the bed of the linens. Sam’s first time had left her with mixed feelings. Some left over from the night she lost both her parents. Now after working a year, she was less disturbed about the whole process of death and burial. She still stayed away from the mortuary room (?), not having any inclination to work there. It wasn’t only the lack of education and certification, but because tit was when she first came to work with TJ was so close to her parents death. The loos was too soon and the grief was still to fresh and great. At the time she thought the trooper that suggested this job to her was crazy. Or mean. Or both.

Not knowing where else to start, her only tie to the area and her parents was the funeral card from the business suggested to her. Something the trooper hadn’t known at the time.

It’s All About Me!

Dear Diary,


Well, duh! Of course it is! My life is at least.

Tried conventional higher education for the, ooh . . . I’ve lost count the number of times.  It has finally sunk in that it works against my priorities, most of the time.

That does not in any way have diddly to do with its value or place in society.  It is and was designed to education and develop the minds of a much younger person.  Still, the contents are worth at least review; yes, even now.

From age, experiences, which make up wisdom, my perspective has changed.  Something college reminded me can happen. Yes, even new perspectives or deepening of some old ones.

How I use that knowledge may have changed while I was forgetting some things that could be applicable and useful in a different way today —if I can just remember them.

So this year has changed me, for the better, I hope.




THIS IS A ROUGH DRAFT. Keep that in mind, please.
( Set up incomplete- This is while Sam is showering and changing. Exchange in the kitchen between Leo * i have to change that name, TJ, and Margie)
”So we have no vehicle to transport?” Leo’s deep voice was low and as soft as he could make it as he pulled the chair out from the table indicating that T.J. should sit. He pulled the blood pressure cuff across the table and stood waiting for T.J. to take off his jacket.
“Really? We have to do this?”
“Look, you took a fall right? You look like hell. Yeah, I am doing this.”
“Fine. No, we have no vehicle to get him to the treatment center. It’s in the lake now.”
“Thank goodness you are both ok!”, Margie turned from the counter with unbroken eggs in either hand.
“We didn’t have any brakes. I felt them going out the last couple of hills. I tried to slow down. I couldn’t turn into any side road or drive. We had too much speed. I am just thankful Sam jumped when I told her.”
Margie broke the egg in her left hand. Turning quickly to save the yolk and pick the shell out of the batter she was mixing up.
“Margie, you ok?”
“FINE!” hissing and cursing under her breath. Her mind was racing of all the what if’s that could have happened. Not least of all, now the concern of getting her father to his next treatment.
“Margie, can you call Wayne? Tell him to hold up. I have a connection with a shuttle service. They run blood, meds, that kind of thing between facilities. Might be able to come up with a van that can hold a gurney. Let me check TJ out and then I will call.”
“I can call him, I am not doing anything but letting you poke and prod.”
“No, she can step outside, you need to sit right here.”
“Sure, I will be right back”, grabbing her phone off the counter, Margie stepped out onto the back porch. The awning that ran along the back not only gave her shelter from the rain pouring down, but a place to pace as she put the call into Wayne. Her hope was he had’t left the county to come this way. How much time did they have before her brother found their dad, she didn’t know.

My Adulting Resignation

To Whom It May Concern,

I humbly submit my resignation as an adult.  This position has proven too taxing and wearing on my last nerve.  My ability to adult has gone out the window.

I quit.  No, I am not giving two weeks notice. I am gone, and no exiting compensation package is expected or wanted.




Blow Me One Last Kiss,  by Pink from the album Truth About Love released 2012, on RCA label.  Hear on my blog playlist Blog Playlist

Dear Diary,

Sitting here watching Gone With The Wind, watching with an older perspective, I see the story differently.  This morning on the phone to one of my BFFs, we discussed our maturity and growth.

We both had different expectations for this period of our lives.  Now, don’t go assuming we are disgruntled. We aren’t, at least I am pretty sure neither of us are. It is just, different, than the idea we had in mind for ourselves.

Parts of it we both agree, we love. Some parts, not so much. What surprised me, as I related it to her, is that I am being so . . . adult. Maturity, becomes me? WHO THE #%&& KNEW? I am amused. Truly, I am beside myself with laughter.

When did I become a grown up?  A question that I wasn’t alone in asking.  My friend and I chatted on my cell while I shopped up and down the aisles at the grocery store.

Goodbye, my youth. Hello, mature adulthood? No, not quite yet. I am not ready yet.



Dripping wet from the rain, staring at the closed door, Sam heard muffled words on from the other side of the door.  The scent of perfume held her in a trance.
It was a familiar scent.  having been close to it before.  ‘Maybe I did hit my head hard.’
Sam came out of the trance when someone knocked on the door.
“You ok in there,Sam?”, T.J. was again showing fatherly concern.
Sam ran through her memory of being around Margie while waiting for the hot water to flow in the shower and undressed.  She heard a quick knock,  the door open while in the shower, and Margie tell her some dry clothes were on top of the closed toilette seat.
Margie was in the kitchen making breakfast  when Sam came out of the bathroom.  Stepping into the kitchen to help and be near the scent which was brought memories of Sam’s grandmother. The comforting scent she had known all her life associated with love.
Sam’s grandmother wore the scent and only that perfume since Sam arrived. Upon Sam’s arrival as a baby she had been inconsolable, colicky baby.  Or so everyone but her grandmother thought.  She knew Sam’s mom had always worn __________ perfume.  On instinct, her grandmother bough some of it and wore it when she went to give Sam’s adopted mother a break.  Sam settled dow.  Her grandmother put a few drops in the corners of Sam’s crib.  Sam had the first sound sleep in the weeks she had come to her adopted family.

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