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I'll Get You

Monday, August 17, 2015

I'll rev the engine, bring my bike to a speed where angels can easily take over and help me soar into the Heavens to see the child.

I can see him climb aboard with a gigantic smile, and we'll fly with the current made by creations of our Savior.

I'll see you soon lil' one. You'll know me instantly, for I'll be holding the extra X and the O I placed in your tiny, lifeless hands just before you were lowered into your earthly resting spot.

Looking forward My Angel,

Much love,



He Got My Mind Off Of It

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Several days ago I was stung a gazillion times by swarm of aggressive wasps that pretty much put my ass out of commission for several days.

I'll write about that when the swelling is gone from my hands and typing will be easier. This is the first day I felt better so I grabbed the kid, stuck him on the back of my pink Harley and off we went.

The kid really wanted to go so he made mommy poached eggs and pancakes


Ready to roll

"Hey, it's a Harley."

This is more the kid's speed right now

He'll be riding ONE day

"What? You actually let me wear a little kid's helmet?" 


Ok folks time for steroids, lidocaine, ice, and feet up.

Later, xoxoxo


A Father's Wisdom

Sunday, August 2, 2015


I walked into the room I had built for my mom years before. The Saltillo tiles beneath my feet were cool and smooth. I pulled back the teal and cream-colored quilt, the Egyptian cotton sheets, and slipped beneath them.

It was one of those nights when thoughts prevailed and sleep was elusive. With my head on the pillows, and the blankets pulled up around me, I took in the beauty that had been meant for my mother.

I studied the chocolate colored ceiling and the light powder pink walls that surrounded most of the room. The alcove, built for the plush king sized bed, is also chocolate.

On each side of the alcove are massive light cream-colored built-in bookshelves filled with various items, from the move, that had yet to find a home to call their own.  In front of the built-ins are crystal chandeliers, and the built up baseboard that finished off the look of the room is about ten inches tall and intricate.

To the left is the closet with double solid cherry wood doors adorned with crystal knobs. They are the doors of days of old with five horizontal panels engraved in the beautifully stained wood.

To the right is the window with dark teal, velvet panels that pooled gracefully on the floor. In between the richness of the velvet hang handmade silk panels of a lighter shade of teal, embroidered with chocolate. They flow from an oil rubbed bronze rod with ornate finials at the ends.

In the corner, beside the massive, granite-topped dresser, is a plush chair. It, too, is another shade of velvety teal with raised, light brown designs. I couldn’t make out the design in the darkness that filled the room, the same darkness that filled my mind.

The large, flat screen television was on, but I was lost in far away thoughts, and near in others.

Who knew when I designed the ornate living quarters for Mom years before that she would be killed and I would be living in what had been meant for her.

I felt her presence, and my Father’s, with me as my mind drifted here and there. I thought of how material items had filled my life in the attempt to run from the emptiness I had felt for years, and the harshly spoken words which, not only I, but several of the children, had endured for far too long.

I wondered why it had taken me so long to leave the situation I had been in, and it was fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of being unworthy, fear of even making true friends.

But I had finally gained the strength from within; possibly from the talks I had with my father after mom was killed and before he died.

I can still hear his words ringing in my ears, “Teri, I don’t like the way I hear you spoken to, I don’t like the way I see you treated, I didn’t like seeing you manipulated when you came to see us, and the tears you shed when plans that had been agreed upon were tossed aside, your family was tossed aside, and most of all you’re tossed aside, you walk on eggshells. Pain pierced my soul to watch you in such anguish. Teri, all that I’ve seen in the last few years are not signs of a healthy relationship. You need to think of what your future holds. Take these words of your father and think on them, just as I will ask your brother to do, for he is in the same situation, only reversed. I don’t like seeing my children mistreated. You’re not the only ones suffering; my grandchildren are as well, and as a result your mother and I have been. The decision is not mine to make, but rather yours to reflect upon, but my choice is that you seriously think of your future, what I see in it is not good. I cannot take seeing more tears of pain and uncertainty fall from your eyes.”

I was awake most of last night replaying the talks I had with my father for those 13 months we had alone together after Mom was killed. How, I wondered, could he see what I could not?

Now I know, he had lived them through us, my brother and me. A parent feels what their child feels, and is astute enough to see what their child cannot, will not see.

In his grief over losing my mother he was free to speak, he longed to speak for he knew his time was near and the words he had inside needed to be spoken. He felt an urgent need to tell me what he saw, not only with my marriage, but with my brother’s as well. He was right, he always was and I was too stubborn, as I always had been, or more aptly, too afraid, to recognize the signs myself.  

Thank you Dad for your wisdom. It’s what has carried me this far, and I know it will not be in vain. The words of your wisdom will help me soar, will guide me through space and time, only this time you will be piloting me instead of the jets you flew all of your life. Your most important task, as you put it, was to make sure I was happy, my brother was happy, and that I was safe.

Dad, I am finally safe. My mental state will come around in time, and the “conditioning,” as you put it, will become a thing of the past, and I will use it to help guide others in the same situation.

Daddy, I thank you for your pearls of wisdom, and your strength to tell me. I’m sorry it took me so long to see what you were referring to, but I did. I did before I knew cognitively, my body and heart knew something was wrong, my mind, however, took more time.

I love you now, I loved you then, and I feel your guidance, and you were right, I have to endure those that don’t, won’t, understand, for the journey is not theirs to understand, only mine. 

With love and respect, your daughter,


I Miss You

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

I miss the way we'd go for coffee and spend hours talking.
I miss the way you would tell me things no one else knew.
I miss the sparkle in your eyes as you told things you were passionate about.
I miss the way you laughed at your own jokes until you cried.
I miss how you removed your glasses to wipe the falling tears from laughter.
I miss the way you looked at me.
I miss how proud of me you were.
I miss sitting doing nothing, just knowing you were near.
I miss how much I meant to you.
I miss your wisdom.
I miss your sense of humor.
I miss sitting on the back porch talking about any, and every, thing.
I miss your blue eyes looking at mine.
I miss how you warned me.
I miss how you listened to me, even when I rambled.
I miss how you heard me, you really heard me.
I miss how you told me what you saw, even though I didn't at the time. 
I miss how you gave me hope when there was no hope. 
I miss you telling me you loved me.
I miss you Daddy, and I always will. 


I Was Told It Was Impossible

Sunday, July 19, 2015

I was told it was impossible, but as you can see, it wasn't at all, not in the least.

All it took was a few hours, a bit of work, thought, team effort, and about $10.00.

Here it is, it's amazing, and we love it!

Let's begin!

Sizing it up.
The Pup approves
Joshua died
One rock at a time, one brick at a time.
Now for the travertine
Like a puzzle
A little direction. Joshua was so helpful!
filling the cracks and finishing up the puzzle
See, I helped
Sweeping in the sand
Final touches
We have fire!
Martini loves it!
Beautiful perfection for under $10.00

Perfect for the party this summer, and wonderful evening memories of summer nights in the North West with a fire, blankets, great company, and marshmallows.




Thursday, July 16, 2015

Last night was bike/taco night at a local biker bar. It's been a hangout for me for years on Wednesday nights, even though I don't ever drink and ride.

Last year I had people come up and tell me the changes they had noticed in me, all for the better. That was cool, and surprising that people actually noticed things I hadn't.

However, last night was an amazing night. It began rather slowly. I was thinking the night was going to be a bust, but I was wrong.

A man I know, and have known from the bar for years, talked to me for quite awhile. He told me things he had witnessed over the years. He also spoke with my boyfriend for quite some time. Afterward he made a point of telling me, several times, how impressed he was with my guy, the way he treated me, and how happy he was to see the oppression had been lifted from my life. I had no idea he had been watching my situation for all those years, but he had.

Then another long time friend, I hadn't seen in a long time, came in and we talked and had such fun horsing around and I didn't have to worry about how it was perceived, or what would happen afterward.

As if all that wasn't enough, a man I had been searching for since moving back was suddenly there when I turned around. His beautiful wife was with him. I was overjoyed.

I stood there with jaw dropped as I stared into those sparkling blue eyes of his. I had posted all over Facebook, and other social media sites, and told everyone at the Harley dealership, to give him and his wife my number if they saw him. He was one of the first I wanted to introduce my boyfriend to. I knew they would love each other.

They have so much in common, long silver pony tails, great attitudes, hard core bikers, and a genuineness not found in many. Before I saw him I found out he was very ill, terminal, and hadn't been around much, so to see him and his wife was a total surprise. Then I found out he and my boyfriend had already been talking about my friend's new toy. A "Slingshot." Neither had any idea who the other one was. It was a true gift from God. 

New friends, old friends, the freedom to be myself and talk to people, and having an amazing man by my side supporting me all the way was truly a blessing from above.

I've found the biker culture to be one of the most caring, compassionate, and honest group of people I've ever been involved with.

What I learned last night was that they all had my back, and had for years. I just never knew how closely they had been watching out for me.

Bronson, Joy, and their new Slingshot!


The guy totally stole my photo shoot!

Corner feet



Life or Crimson Pools?

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

She felt the organ, the size of a closed fist, beating deeply within her body, her spirit, her being.

Her thoughts took her back in time to the Egyptians that therorized the heart was the seat of the soul, thoughts, and emotion.

Her's had once been tightly closed, as a fist, but was opening slowly, cautiously, and fearfully.

Though the emptiness had been filling, there were still stabbing pains emanating from the organ she had so closely guarded.

At times she she sensed the trickling of ruby colored beads oozing from the still open wounds.  They slowly moved down her beating heart and changed their paths with every breath she took, each fluttering movement of her chest.

She wondered about their final destination. Would they come together, nourish the organ that had been bound in barbed wire, feed it, and allow it to fully open, and experience life the way her Creator had intended?

Or would they find their way into a crimson pool on the floor draining, not only life sustaining nourishment, but her soul as well?

She hoped, dreamed, and wished for the former, but continued to fear the latter.


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