SIX WEIRD THINGS ABOUT ME?

Okay, she did it to me. (Vicki AKA Junebugg) !After picking my brain about her non-normal tendencies, she turns it on me...........oh well.....here goes. I consider myself perfectly normal. Just wanted that off my chest before I began. Compared to Sis, my life is dull as dishwater..............dirty, dingy dishwater.

SIX WEIRD THINGS ABOUT DONNA

1. I am a voracious reader, I read anything and everything that doesn't move too fast to grab....... from encyclopedias and dictionaries to the Bible, I have perused over every piece of written maunscript in my house and thousands beyond it's doors. I make a point to read several chapters each and every day, whether it is the latest bodice ripper or an often used and dog-earred cookbook. Keeps my brain active and my vocabulary above the national par.

2. I can and do document my family lineage back to the Mayflower, long, dead Cherokee Indians and the South of Wales. Genealogy saved my sanity at a time when I was about to reach the limits of my endurance. It gave me a focus, a reason to get up every day. It brought me closer to my parents and introduced me to unknown relatives the countyside over.

Lord, this is tough......spilling all my quirks and folliables to the world.....

3. HMMMMMMMM.........I have been married to one man since I was 16.....had sex with only one man ever..............which isn't all that uncommon. But given my age............48........apparently it is uncommon. Do I think I missed anything? Definitely. Would I choose another? Doubtful. Taken enough off the one I have. End of story. CAn one be a born again virgin?

4. For all my life, I suffered from the "Doormat Syndrone". You know, the one who always gave in in any argument, was chastised like a bad puppy for wetting the floor and had no self esteem due to constant put downs and be-littlings. No more. I haven't made it totally free, but Donna the doormat is gone forever. Emancipation is a wonderful thing.

5. Okay, now the kinky stuff..............I have a fascination with wood,the textures and patterns of the grain ...... even the smell. I love to rub my hand down a highly sanded piece of lumber, feeling the smoothness beneath my palm ..... there is something almost sensuous about it.

6. Depressions almost killed me. I nearly died because a so-called specialist couldn't diagnose the problem. Near death changes a person in many ways. It, apparenly, made me mean. I flat refuse to give in to this terrible affliction. It guides my actions every day, I guard my feelings and reactions to people, I refuse to let them close enough to hurt me if I can. Sometimes not caring is the best protection there is. I refuse to let the negative actions and pain caused by others effect me anymore.

The Reflection of a Year

A year ago today we lost our Dad. The past year for me has been a journey of discovery in many ways. The past year for me has been a time of quiet reflection, a time gather my memories of family, of harmony and the fellowship of love. Aside from the grief and feeling of loss it has brought serious contemplation of the importance of family, the necessity of unassailable caring for one another and the need to resolve differences and reach a level of unimpeachable understanding between us all. And it isn’t always easy to accomplish. Dad was, and in many ways still is, the King of our Mountain, the Emperor of his Realm and the stalwart port in the storm. His passing didn’t change that for me, with the exception that he is physically no longer among us. He has became the voice of my conscience, the imp whispering in my ear with sometimes less than tactful suggestions for dealing with the stresses and problems of day to day life. I have learned to curb my anger and guard my tongue, to think twice before I act and ALWAYS, ALWAYS to think of how someone will hear what I am saying.
While I am not happy Dad is gone from us, I am content that he is where he wanted to be. Don’t get me wrong, I miss him terribly, his irreverent humor, his quick wit and his domineering ways, which, at times, drove us to desperation. I still expect the telephone to ring with his demand (notice I didn’t say request - - he seldom asked but expected it anyway) for assistance at anything from digging a post hole to burying a dead dog. I listen for the sound of a heavy truck in my driveway, horn blaring loudly, filled with the command for your presence at the side window of his pick-up. An old country ballad on the radio makes me smile and tap my foot in time to the music, where before I shed tears. I love the sensation of walking where his boots trod for so many years, seeing with my eyes what he loved so deeply about the land, broad pastures and the dense woods surrounding our home. I can touch his tools and almost see the sweat glistening on his brow as he labored to complete an everyday task. It’s a feeling of peace, of quiet faith that all will be well in the future. It gives me hope that we five sisters can resolve the accumulation of nearly fifty years of marriage….. trash and treasure, without blood loss, without alienation and, most of all, without remorse or further pain.