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 One writer's journey |
 She sat down at her old wooden desk, pen at the ready. Her thoughts raced. What shall I write today? Tilting her head to the side, a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth before enveloping her delicate face. The purple ink began to fill the once blank sheet, each stroke a labor of pure joy as the words flowed from her mind, her heart, her very soul.  My Dreams... to write of romance and endless love to love without boundaries to learn from past mistakes to laugh with all my heart to be the woman I am meant to be  TODAY... I will reach for the stars Will not give up Will give all that I have Dare to dream the impossible dream For anything in this life is possible    <---I am blown away by this    |
| You know, I've always known medical insurance was a scam. But I swear, how insanely big of a racket it is, definitely is eye opening. For the torn ligament in my finger, I wear two, what they tetm, buddy bands, little velcro straps that keep my pinky and ring finger snug together. I think it's been about eight weeks now. With the weather hitting 100 degrees lately, the bands get sweaty, and icky, and I hate them! Plus, they get stretched out as my fingers shrink from the swelling going down. Imagine my surprise when the bill arrives for two bands, to the tune of $80  .The fact that my insurance covered half of that boggles my damn mind. I needed extras and bought six of them off Amazon for less than $7. Someone seriously needs to tell me why I need to fork over another $40 dollars to cover those disgusting mark up. It is absolutely ridiculous. Writing this on my phone just reminded me that I have to call my insurance for a bill, for an office and Doctor that I've never been to. This ought to be a fun conversation! Tagging Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ  StephBee   |
| Thursday is garbage night. I gather the garbage, toss it into the bins, and usually drag it to the curb while hubby cuts the lawn. I admit I was lazy yesterday and took my sweet time. I finally grabbed the two bags to go out, and out to the garage, opened the side door, pushed the bin from the wall, and flipped the lid back. It's normal, I don't even think about it. I go back into the garbage, grab the first bag, toss it in, and then Hissss, growl, hissssss. "Holy shit," I scream, flip the lid back closed and take a few steps back. I admit I was shocked to see a racoon in my damn garbage. And I must have looked like an insane person as I rushed the backyard to grab hubby, who wasn't in the backyard. Now I had to trek back to the front yard, which meant passing the bin. I find him in front, heading to the garage to put the tractor away. I start waving my arms, yelling, "There's a raccoon in the garbage. I can see that he's unsure whether I'm messing around with him or not. So, hubby's idea of figuring it out is to drive the tractor into the side of the bin and see what happens.  I got nothing. All I know is, that animal scared the shit out of me. I didn't have to take the bin to the curb. And somehow, that raccoon escaped with the entire bag of garbage by morning. Tagging: StephBee Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ |
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Now, any feeders I have are taken away at the end of August. 
MAD indeed! I know how you feel, Vertigo-wise. I've had it for years. When peeps call me a dizzy dame, it's for real. 
