Daily Archives: March 1, 2008

Bedtime Stories have arrived

I was the lucky winner in one of Susan’s February draws. My booty arrived on Thursday and is sitting gently bedside. Sadly, I’ll be reading silently tonight.  I skimmed it briefly and me thinks it will bring lots to smile about. I’ll be back to let you know all about it. Thanks Susan and UPS.

The boys and I visited the Museum today. Headed out in a snow storm, against my better judgement. We enjoyed the Polar Bear exhibit, igloo, the Trace Fossils Mystery and, of course, Gus, Gus the Gopher Tortoise. Having worked at the museum for two years, it was nice to be back and I ran into some former colleagues. The Trace Fossils Mystery exhibit reminded me of my friend Deb, the Curator of Geology at the Museum. Deb and Zoom looked after Mandy this summer and she adapted Mandy into new routines that I thought were unreachable. A woman of many talents, whom I’m very grateful to. Hope you’re doing well Deb! I think of you often.

After the gift shop, we headed for home. I put our packages in the front seat along with my purse and keys. For some reason, when I closed the door, it locked. So, here we are, fort knox for a car and driving snow accumulating fast. Fortunately, my cell phone was in my pocket so a quick call to Dad set the wheels in motion, so to speak. An hour and a half later, we were on our way, gingerly making our way home. We did fine until we reached the driveway. I skidded coming in so thought I would try again, and again, and again. Then backwards, and again and again. Finally, I parked it just shy of the street. “The first one was the best Mom,” KD piped. “I know honey and I’m sorry for swearing so much.”

I’ve said it before:  sometimes your ex can still be your best friend…and today proved it once again.



Screaming wildly at the night
Silently my voice ripples
Only the soul feels my pain
Only the darkness sees me

Lost hunting, wondering
Prey falls before me
Lapping up the hope
Giving way to hunger

Yesterday tickles the old soul
Replaying dreams forgotten 
Lives lived a thousand times
To harvest this moment