tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45804527421263220272024-03-05T00:19:34.502-05:00Z.M. DreamerJust call me Zee, my family does!ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-87523394050670165332015-12-07T13:37:00.003-05:002015-12-07T13:37:59.264-05:00Special Place
<br />
<div class="APA" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<u><strong>Special Place<o:p></o:p></strong></u></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Shopping carts, cars
start<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Smell of pavement, hot
and black<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
This is where I free my
mind<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
When my calmness is out
of whack<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Old people, young
people<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Children running amuck<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
This is where I free my
mind<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
When everything gets
stuck<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Windshield, steering
wheel,<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
These views I can see<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
This is where I free my
mind<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
When I can no longer
see<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Children cry, people
sigh<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
These things I can hear<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
This is where I free my
mind<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
When I am in need of
cheer<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Parking lot, parking
spot,<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
This is where I am,<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
This is where I free my
mind,<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Anytime that I can.<o:p></o:p></div>
ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-55618458207763654102015-12-07T13:36:00.005-05:002015-12-07T13:36:58.764-05:00The Return
<br />
<div class="APA" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
The Return<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
The thoughts bring
sighs, wonderful and calm<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Cold heart vanishes,
warmth replaces<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
The countdown starts,
arrival to come<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Memories of love, time,
and places<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
The time draws near,
wired but collective<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Familiar face appears, eyes
seek eyes<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Knowledge of the past,
remembrance flows<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Warmth and light,
replace dark skies<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Misery dissolves,
hearts beat in sync<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Thick fog dissipates,
night slithers away<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Wounds heal and hearts
sing, two souls complete<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
A wholeness engulfs, no
longer gray<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Knowledge of an end,
does not flicker<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
Tomorrow heeds gloom,
love will be gone<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
But for this day,
today, after many alone<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="APA" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
This day feels whole,
feels like home.<o:p></o:p></div>
ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-42509780712988761402015-06-03T11:09:00.001-04:002015-06-03T11:11:20.303-04:00The Swing<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I pumped my legs in and out, in and out, going high and higher on
the swing. The warm, fall wind blew my
stringy, blonde hair forwards and backwards.
I felt like an angel flying high on the wind. I looked up at the sky, as I swung higher,
back and forth. I drowned out the noises
of the other kids on the playground by the wind rushing back and forth past my
ears. I had no worries at this moment; just
random thoughts that kids have.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A sharp sudden pain in my back jarred me back into reality. I looked around and realized that the bully
of the class had hit me smack dab in the middle of my back with a crab soccer
ball. This ball is three foot in diameter and the hard hit almost knocked me
off the swing. I drug my feet on the
ground to get control and stop the swing before I fell off. I was sure I had a bruise, the size of a
watermelon, on my back because it burned as if a hornet had stung me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The bully pointed and laughed at me. “My turn!” the bully said, “Get off now!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I retreated the swing in hopes the bully left me alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Hey! Get back here!” the
bully yelled. “Get back here now and
throw that ball and let me kick it as I swing, and you can keep getting it and
doing it again until I tell you to stop!”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My memories of the bully attacking another girl in the bathroom
popped into my head, so I did as I was told.
I timed the swinging motion of the bully and throw the ball at just the
right time in order for it to reach her feet so she could kick it. After she kicked it far away, I ran to
retrieve it and do it all over again.
Other kids on the playground watched us from a distance because they did
not want to be next. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“I need to go to the bathroom,” I told the bully, because I really
did have to pee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“No, you have to wait until I tell you that you can go
or I will punch you,” replied as she was swinging back and forth. “Throw it again!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The teacher came over and watched as we supposedly played. The bully gave me a fierce look that told me
not to say a word to the teacher. I
obliged. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I <i>really</i> had to pee. This time I did not time it right and the
ball did not hit her feet. In horror, I
watched as it hit her smack dab in the forehead. Her head bobbled just a bit and she had this
mean look on her face. She tried to hide
it because the teacher was there, but it took a lot of effort. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I laughed. I could not help
it, I just laughed. That was the first
time I had ever seen someone get hit in the head with a crab soccer ball. It was also the very first time that the
bully could not do anything about it. I
knew I would probably get it later, but I laughed. I heard laughter all around me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I looked around and all of the other kids
were laughing too. I mean <i>all</i> of them. I laughed so hard that tears streamed down my
face. I laughed so hard that I had to squat
down to keep my belly muscles from hurting.
BIG mistake. As soon as I
squatted, I peed. Moreover, no, this was
not a little pee; this was one of those pees that lasted for a whole three
minutes! I thought if I could put my
legs closer together that nobody would notice.
I was wrong there too. I had
cotton pants on, so the pee streamed straight through them and puddled on the
ground as if I was naked. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I looked
around, still laughing, still crying and the focus was on me. The kids were not laughing anymore, they were
all looking at me with shocked faces. I
just sat. I was already wet, so I sat
right down. Right there in the puddle of
pee. Right there in my own embarrassing
moment. I would forever be known as the
‘Eighth-Grade Wetter’. </span>ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-45466226936409714422015-05-21T17:57:00.001-04:002016-05-08T09:02:59.355-04:00Mama's Robe<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Mama died. She died when I
was nine-years-old. My dad woke me up on
Christmas morning with the phrase, “Your mom died.” Those three words changed my life forever. Those were the only words he said to me, and
then he left me in my bed to cry. She
was sick. She had been sick a long
time. I was angry, sad, and lost all at
the same time. I no longer had a
mama. I had brothers and sisters, and a
dad…but no mama. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Why did it have to be on Christmas morning of all times? I should have woke up to gifts and Christmas
breakfast, but that did not happen. Instead,
I woke up to death. I woke up to my
older sister going through my mama’s stuff to find my mama’s last dress she
would ever wear. I was in mama’s room. I saw my sister put mama’s wig in a bag along
with the dress. My mama would not have
wanted people to see her without her hair.
I saw mama’s robe, so I picked it up and smelled it. I inhaled her scent deeply as if it would
bring her home. I did not want anyone to
see me cry. I held my tears. I snuck my mama’s robe into my room and laid
with it. I rubbed my face in it and
inhaled again. My mama was gone, but I
still had her robe. I wrapped myself in
it and cuddled in it as if she was holding me in her arms tight. The tears now flowed freely. I wanted to stay right there, in that robe,
in my mama’s smell forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Memories of my mama flowed into my mind along with my tears. Like the many times I told her, “I love you
four!” and she would reply, “But I love you even more!” I snuggled deeper into that robe and kept
whispering, “I love you four mama….I love you four.” I wanted her to reply more than anything, but
all I got was tear-filled silence. I did
not want to get up. I did not want to go
into the other room to face the truth. I
wanted to be with my mama. I felt if I
stayed in the robe, then it all was just a dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I could hear the others in the living room going about the
business of making funeral arrangements.
I could hear my dad on the phone.
He was telling people what time my mom would be ‘viewable’. That was such a bad word. Viewable.
I hated every single word I heard.
My sister knocked at my door and told me it was time to get ready. I had laid in my bed a very long time even
though it felt like only a few minutes.
I did not want to leave the robe.
I hid the robe under my mattress.
I was not going to let anyone take it from me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My sister got me ready for the funeral. She brushed my tangled hair so hard I thought
it was going to fall out. “Mama would
want you to look nice,” she said. I did
not want to look nice. I wanted to go
back to my bed with my mama’s robe. My
sister made me wear an ugly dress and stupid shoes too. My mama would have never made me wear that
stuff. I was tempted to tell my sister
that she was not my mama and could not tell me what to wear, but I did
not. I knew I would get in trouble if I
did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I hated the funeral. I
hated seeing my mama laying there like that.
She looked like she was asleep, but I knew she was not. I did not want to look at her anymore because
that was not my mama. So I looked
everywhere else instead. I hated having
to sit in the front pew with my dad. I
hated that the preacher looked at me with sad eyes. I did not need pity. I did not like people looking at me. I hated that my teacher was a couple of pews
behind me. My life was not her business
and I was mad at her for being here. It
was not her mama-it was mine. I hated
that my aunt walked up to the casket, cried aloud in front of everyone, and
then passed out in the floor. I hated that
everyone ran to my aunt to make sure she was ok. I hated it all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I looked at my mama again.
I really looked at her this time.
All of the hate that I had inside melted away and was replaced with
sorrow. I did not hate anyone...or anything. I was angry because my mama was laying up there all dead and everyone was staring at her. I did not like anyone seeing my mama like this. This was not how she wanted people to see her. Tears welled up in my eyes but I
knew I had to be quiet. I looked back up there at my mama. She was laying
in white fabric and I guess it did somehow make her look like an angel. A sleeping angel. My poor mama. She was "my" angel mama now. </span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I
would never see my mama again. I would never get to have her hold me again either. I could feel tears trickle down my face. I did not wipe them away. She deserved my tears. My mama was my life. She took such good care of me. She always fixed my hair the best, always
dressed me the nicest, and always held me when I needed her. She always stayed with me when I was sick. I remember the cool washcloths she used to put on my forehead when I had fevers. She deserved my tears now...and she definitely deserved to be
an angel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My mama had a hard life.
She had ten children. She was wore
out. I remember seeing her in the
hospital before she died. She was no
longer white, but a grayish color...and her eyes were not hers. They looked different somehow. They were sad, painful eyes. I laid with my mama in that hospital bed for a whole minute before the nurse came in and told my dad that children were not allowed on the floor and that I had to leave. That was the last time I saw my mama before she died. My mama deserved to not be in pain
anymore. My mama looked peaceful in that
casket. She no longer had pain. I had tears, but she had no pain. I think
that was a good trade. My tears for her
pain. My mama no longer hurt. She no longer cried with pain, she was at
peace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">When we came home, I went straight to my room and took out my mama's robe. I took off that ugly dress and wrapped myself all up in that robe. I laid down in my bed, all snuggled up in that sweet pink and white cloth and I cried. I cried for my mama. I cried for her pain. I cried for my pain. I tried to remember everything I could about her because I was afraid I would forget her because she was all gone now. I thought and thought and remembered. I kept remembering until I could no longer think. Then I slept....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">A little over 31 years has passed since that day. </span><span style="font-size: large;">The robe is long since gone. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I can still remember the day you became an
angel as though it were yesterday.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I
thought I had lost my mama forever, but I have not. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">As I have grown into a woman, I have realized
that I see my mama in the mirror each day.</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">I also see my mama when I look at my brothers and sisters.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I see part of my mama in each of my
children.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="APA">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">My mama is the reason I became a nurse. I can remember my daddy took me to the
hospital once to visit when my mama when she was sick. I remember how she looked, but the most
important thing I remembered about that trip was the nurse who barged into the
room and said I was not allowed to be there.
She told my dad that I had to leave at once. I was not allowed to see my mama because I
was a child, and children were not allowed to visit patients. I looked at my mama one last time and vowed
in my mind that if I ever became a nurse, I would not be like that. I would actually care about my patients and
their families. <br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I am a nurse now mama! I
treat all of my patients and their families with care. If a child wants to lay with their mama in
the hospital bed, I grab them a pillow and welcome them. I treat all of my patients with respect and care. I have helped many of my patients get better. I have also comforted some of them, and their families, as they transitioned into angels just like you. You would be so proud of me mama! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-26971679914851038832015-05-21T13:28:00.001-04:002015-05-21T13:28:20.661-04:00In five years, I have accomplished many things.It has been five years since I have last posted. A lot of things can happen in five years. I started and finished college! I graduated with an associate's degree in nursing in 2013. Then, I worked as a nurse while studying for my bachelor's degree. I completed that two weeks ago. I now have my BSN at the age of 40. <br />
<br />
The one thing I learned about nursing school is that there was absolutely no time for anything else. I am not kidding. Sometimes, there was not enough time to even sleep. You see, nurses must know everything there is to know about health and disease. That way, we understand why physicians order tests, labs, and medications. We also need to know every class of drug, their uses, side effects, and drug interactions because it is our job to assess for these things. All of this vast information was crammed into two years of studying. That is a lot of information to absorb, so yeah, there was no time for anything else, even writing. Unless you count many, many research papers on evidence-based practice. Which, I will not get into at this moment because I never want to have to do those again. <br />
<br />
The thing about college is that it broadened my knowledge. I had so many different stories I wanted to write before college, but I just did not have enough knowledge of the subjects in order to complete them. I now have some of that knowledge. During my bachelor's degree program, I chose electives in writing. Those were my favorite classes. I have many short stories I have written in those classes. I will post a few at a later time.<br />
<br />
I am just glad to be back in the writing saddle again!<br />
<br />
<br />ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-15053995072451724332010-09-14T13:14:00.001-04:002010-09-14T13:17:11.031-04:00I am the Chosen One<b><u>I am the Chosen One</u></b><br />
<br />
I work just as hard as everyone else out there,<br />
I am a child that you will find really rare.<br />
I will stand tall, and I will not drone.<br />
I watch as others are rewarded while I sit alone.<br />
<br />
'You, you, you, (skip me), you and you!'<br />
That's what is said, and it feels so cruel.<br />
I don't know what I did that was so wrong,<br />
To be left out of every game, but I remain strong.<br />
<br />
I don't complain, I sit and see,<br />
Everyone else is called but me.<br />
My hopes grow big at every game,<br />
I just await the sound of my name.<br />
<br />
I sit, and wait, and wait some more,<br />
We are winning big by that score,<br />
Would it hurt to put me in, just one single time,<br />
I may not show it, but inside I am crying.<br />
<br />
My insides hurt, but I sit here with a smile,<br />
I would like to play, if just for a little while.<br />
Players sitting on each side of me are picked,<br />
Each time this happens, I feel like I've just been kicked.<br />
<br />
I'm a hard worker, I do what I'm asked,<br />
Every single thing, every little task.<br />
Just give me a minute or even a second to shine,<br />
I won't let you down, I will do just fine.<br />
<br />
I thought I was placed on the team for a reason,<br />
I've sit on this bench this whole season.<br />
It's not a joke, I feel like it's cruel,<br />
For me not to play because of some silly unknown rule.<br />
<br />
I am a senior, and this is my last year,<br />
You will see everyone in gym stand and cheer,<br />
On senior night when my name is called,<br />
'I' will stand with pride, and I will not fall.<br />
<br />
Even though, throughout each and every game that I've not been called for,<br />
I hurt like heck as I walk out that gym door.<br />
Because no matter what, my attitude is hopeful and my mouth doesn't run,<br />
And maybe that's the reason, God made me the chosen one.<br />
<br />
Yes, God has placed me in this position for a reason,<br />
I am to grow and learn something or another this season.<br />
Even if 'I' am never played, or put out there,<br />
This year I've learned that nothing in life is fair.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*This blog is dedicated to my daughter and to all of the other kids who are benched due to some silly reason or another. <br />
<br />
Sometimes, life isn't fair, but God is fair. He will see to it that we are all rewarded for our good deeds. God will also open the eyes of others. If one door closes, them God will open another door just for you. Don't ever give up! You are the only one who can choose your path in life. Don't let anyone else choose it for you.ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-20396057010057133722010-05-16T22:26:00.000-04:002010-05-16T22:26:48.181-04:00Another Struggling Soul.This is a true story of one young man's struggle with life. I will call him Bear.<br />
<br />
Bear lived with his family, had a part-time job, a car, and a fiance that he'd do anything for. Money was tight for him and he struggled to make his car and insurance payments.He and his fiance decided to move away to a bigger city in hopes of better jobs and a new life together. Things were still pretty tough there, but their love seemed to get them through some of the worst situations.<br />
<br />
After a while, their love seemed to fail and they parted ways. Bear came back home so that he could be with his family and friends, but he had no place to stay or a job to pay any bills. He went job hunting during the day and slept in his car at night. He felt so lost and alone. Every night he prayed for some sort of light to shine his way. He went through all sorts of emotions. He didn't understand why bad things happened to him. He felt like he was being punished for some reason or another. He felt as though he was in a dark void, and those were his actual words to me.<br />
<br />
After a couple of weeks of searching, he finally found a part time job, but still had no place to lay his head at night. He would park his car anywhere that he could whether it be in a parking garage, or beside the road and sleep all cramped up in it. Sometimes he would sleep at work if a certain supervisor was there. He would stay with friends or family some nights, but most of his nights were in that car, alone and in the dark.<br />
<br />
Throughout this whole process, I tried my best to give him words of hope and encouragement. I just knew he would be okay. I kept telling him that there is a reason for every single thing that happens. We may or may not find out the reasons for what happens, but eventually we go down the path that we were meant to go. <br />
<br />
He disappeared from my communications with him. I was worried that something bad may have happened. I tried getting up with him on several occasions, just to make sure he was okay. I had a bad feeling that he may have left this life due to his struggling to make it. I was wrong. I received a message that he finally got up with some family in another city, and is now attending college. I am so very proud of him!<br />
<br />
-no matter what happens in life, things do change.ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-13475229282051212932010-05-12T08:57:00.001-04:002010-05-12T09:06:58.681-04:00One Man's Survival*Billy is a man who lives alone. His small house is falling apart. The roof is slanted and looks like it will topple off any day now. There are big cracks and holes on the outside walls. If there were any paint on the outside, it has long since peeled away. The weeds and grass grow tall enough in the Spring and Summer that the house is barely discernible. There is no electricity or running water hooked to the house. In the wintertime a kerosene heater is used for heat. <br />
<br />
Billy is an older guy, in his early seventies, and he is very skinny and sort of tall. He walks to the store and back (2 miles away) several times a day wearing the same old work pants, a button up shirt, and a round-rimmed floppy hat (like Charles Engles's hat). You will see him walking along side the road, no matter what the weather: hot, cold, rain, snow, or sleet. He will band a shopping bag over his hat to help protect himself during inclement weather.<br />
<br />
Any time that he is in the store along side me, I'll ask how he is doing. A couple of years ago I found out he is a Veteran of the war. He told me that he had just gotten back from the V.A. hospital. The V.A. hospital is in another state and he walked all the way there and back. I asked about his family and he told me that his wife and child were killed in a car accident a very long time ago. He also told me that he claimed the workers at the grocery store and the gas-n-go as his family now.<br />
<br />
This man, who fought in the war and then lost his family in a tragic accident, has survived many years without the comforts that most of us have. He doesn't seem to need electricity, running water, a nice house to live in, or a vehicle to drive. He has stated that all he needed to survive were his feet and his faith. <br />
<br />
If this man can live life without all of the comforts that most of us have, then why do we complain about the small things?<br />
<br />
*the name has been changed.ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-52647564093819845442010-05-10T08:02:00.001-04:002010-05-10T08:10:09.294-04:00Coincidence or God's Work?Another boy in his early twenties in my very small town, committed suicide last week. This makes two of my nephew's friends who have done so in less than a year. I am saddened by this, and I worry about how my nephew is holding up.<br />
<br />
The day after his death I received the following Twitter message from @triciagoyer, "Thanks for the follow! So if you could do anything and know it would succeed, what would it be?"<br />
<br />
I thought about it and replied, "I would build a center for suicidal teens. I would teach them love and show them how proud I am of what they can achieve through dedication."<br />
<br />
Now, mind you, I didn't know who triciagoyer was at the time, I did know she was an author that I was interested in or I wouldn't be following her, and I felt pretty good that she sent a message to me in the first place. <br />
<br />
The next message I received from her was, "That's a GREAT goal! Have you checked out the book Life, In Spite of Me?"<br />
<br />
I did a little Googling and saw that the book was based on a girl's suicide attempt and that she amazingly survived. I replied back, "Sounds like a very good book. I will be ordering it today. Thanks!"<br />
<br />
I ordered the E-version of the book through B&N and halfway through the book, I ordered the hard cover edition through Amazon as it touched me so much and I wanted to share the book with a few people I knew. <br />
<br />
After reading the book, I discovered that @triciagoyer actually wrote the book with Kristen Jane Anderson. <br />
I also received a reply, "The book just released May 4. I was honored to have written it!"<br />
<br />
I would recommend everyone who knows anyone contemplating suicide to not only get professional help for them, but to also gift this book to them.<br />
<br />
Now, the thing that gets to me is this: I had no idea that @triciagoyer had written this book when I sent her the reply pertaining to suicide. Coincidence? I don't think so. God works in mysterious and wonderful ways! <br />
<br />
If anyone out there is contemplating suicide...don't. Life has its ups and downs, we all know that. There are many of us who have been through lots of issues. There is great joy to be found in life. You just need to know where to look for it. If you can't find it, if you are truly that lost, then you need to ask someone for help. There is no shame in needing help to find your way in this world. You can have anything you need just by looking for it, and working for it. <br />
<br />
The next couple of blogs will follow a couple of people that I know who struggled to find their way in life. They lost everything, and yet they still survive. Please come back this week and read their stories.<br />
<br />
-Anything is possible.ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-17148267573785924732010-05-07T08:46:00.000-04:002010-05-07T08:46:27.847-04:00Auction for Flood VictimsThere are some awesome auctions going on right <a href="http://dothewritethingfornashville.blogspot.com/">here</a> to help the flood victims in middle Tennessee. Included in these auctions are signed books, critiques, phone calls, and other cool stuff from authors, writers, editors and other cool people! Anyone interested in participating and winning some awesome stuff while helping flood victims, please visit <a href="http://dothewritethingfornashville.blogspot.com/">http://dothewritethingfornashville.blogspot.com/</a>ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-2526600437545860472010-04-29T10:42:00.000-04:002010-04-29T10:42:56.997-04:00Goal of WritingIn order to write, you need to have a goal. I'm not talking about word count goal, or anything like that. I mean a long-term goal. Why are you writing? Answer that question, and you will figure out what your goal is. If you don't aim toward your goal, you will get sidetracked and complicate the simple things.<br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: yellow;">Today's unusual word and definition: </span><b>logorrhea</b><i> log-uh-RI-uh, n</i> an excessive flow of words, prolixityZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-77463387716465536222010-04-21T10:48:00.000-04:002010-04-21T10:48:43.074-04:00A Note to SelfA fellow blogger/writer posted this link on her blog <a href="http://www.givesmehope.com/">http://www.givesmehope.com/</a> I was wondering if there was any good left in the world after seeing all of the bad things in the news.ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-67366017580830982852010-04-20T08:19:00.000-04:002010-04-20T08:19:54.321-04:00The True Life Accounts of Z.M. DreamerTrue Story: Being the seeker in hide & seek is not fun when while you are hiding your eyes and counting, the hiders actually leave the premises to go play ball a mile away.<br />
<br />
True Story: If you jump from a 10 foot ledge into a coal pile and let your knees bend and give out under the force of the jump, 2 black eyes will appear.<br />
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True Story: No matter what my dad says, I was never lost in a heating duct.<br />
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True Story: If your mama tells you not to leave toys in the car while shopping because they could get stolen, listen to her because it does happen.<br />
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True Story: Doing flip flops on the A-frame roof of the garage when you are 6 years old is NOT safe, no matter what your older brother tells you.<br />
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True Story: Placing explosives in a drilled water well inside a well house WILL forcibly blow the roof off of the well house and make it land 50 feet away, not to mention the whoop of the explosives will make your ears ring for a week.<br />
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True Story: Nobody really knows how old my dad except me and a few other people because the mining industry wouldn't hire 40-year-olds years ago. There is truth in discrimination.<br />
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True Story: My mama couldn't think of a name for me when I was born, so since I was the last child of 13, she picked the last name from the baby book. Living in the 80's with the name of Zita was pretty rough. However, I recently found out that my birthday is officially Saint Zita's Day. Imagine that!<br />
<br />
True Story: When you are 5 years old, never trust your older brothers. When they dare you to go to the altar when the preacher is calling out for sinners and say they will follow you up, they are lying, IN A CHURCH! You WILL be preached at very loudly and your mama will have an embarrassing look on her face for a long time and you will never forget it and your brothers will deny the dare completely.<br />
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True Story: Real outhouses may look cool from a distance, but they aren't at all cool when you actually have to use one.<br />
<br />
True Story: Riding in the bucket of an en-loader (like a bulldozer with a bucket instead of a blade), is actually pretty cool! Until your dad, who is driving it, tells you to hang on and tries to dump you out.<br />
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More to come later.....ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-61314903079820757652010-02-04T12:16:00.000-05:002010-02-04T12:16:39.530-05:00Searching for a BookI am searching for a book. I do not know the title or author of it. It is a small children's book. The age range is probably 4-6 and it was a picture book with words. The story is set in the dark with several different animals. Throughout the book, one animal at a time is introduced, following the animal before it. I do remember the cat went sneaky, sneaky, sneaky. <br />
<br />
I am thinking it has the word night, moon, or something to that effect in the title. I have searched for hours through B&N and Amazon and haven't been able to find it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
If anyone has any idea of the name of this book, I would greatly appreciate it.ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-8973123708698715302010-01-29T09:43:00.000-05:002010-01-29T09:43:53.915-05:00I Am a Writer After All!Over the past year or so, I've forgotten how to write. Well, not really forgotten, I just got lost a little bit. I used to write whatever came from my imagination, no matter what it was, as long as it laid out the story. My way of writing changed because I researched the art of writing. I read posts, blogs, how-to websites, and all of that good stuff. It actually made me doubt my writing. Don't get me wrong, there is a lot of great information out there and most of it helped me, but it also made me a different writer. Now, every time I write a sentence, all of that information constantly buzzes through my mind and I doubt everything that I write. I keep thinking that I need more details, or I shouldn't use that word but another synonym of the word. I even got to the point that I thought I couldn't write at all. I was confused. <br />
<br />
I know that I am not grammatically correct at times. I can't come up with great synonyms like others can, and I don't know these huge-long words. But, I know simple words. Everyone knows simple words, so I don't understand what the problem would be if I never used a thesaurus while writing. If my readers can understand what I mean, then why would I have to change the way I write, as long it worked and the story captured them?<br />
<br />
This morning, with the help of a blog by <a href="http://authorsunion.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-to-do.html">Jeff King </a>and a blog by <a href="http://www.billycoffey.com/2010/01/writing-naked/">Billy Coffey</a>, I realized that I am a writer. I just have to bring the writer in me back out and throw away the negative me.ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-37572074242112316692010-01-27T08:50:00.001-05:002010-01-27T08:51:56.628-05:00Conquering Another Challenge<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I realize that I am always stressing over my writing. I question everything that I write. Sometimes I write a sentence, and then re-read it thinking it needed to be changed. So, I change it, and then change it, and then change it….and it goes on like that until I have many versions of the same sentence. No wonder it’s taking me forever to get through this ms. <br />
<br />
I know that I’m supposed to write a rough draft first and then go over it all again, but I just can’t seem to do that. I know that the first sentence below would have worked, but I changed it over and over because I thought that I could make it better. I want to be a better writer! I guess that is why I do these things. But, from this day forward, I will do a rough draft and revise later. <br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>1. The space under the shrub would have been a great hiding place, if only the ground wasn't frozen. He would endure it as long as they were still out there looking for him.<o:p></o:p></i><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>2. His body protested the frozen ground under the shrub. He had to stay put as long as they were still out there.<o:p></o:p></i><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>3. Since they were still out there, his body would have to suffer the frozen ground under the shrub.<o:p></o:p></i><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>4. His hiding place on the cold ground under the bush would have to suffice, since they were still out there.<o:p></o:p></i><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>5. The bush was the best hiding place he could find. The only problem was that he had to lay on the frozen ground in order to stay hidden.</i><br />
</div><br />
I ended up going with the last sentence. All I wanted to convey was that this guy had to hide on the frozen ground under a bush. It actually took me rewriting the sentence more than five times to get there. I didn't post all of them because I didn't want people to think I was nuts.<br />
<br />
I have faith and I will conquer my issue<i>.<br />
</i>ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-9775632563392162522010-01-22T22:47:00.004-05:002010-01-22T23:06:00.846-05:00Some Interesting HashtagsOver the past couple of days, two hashtags on Twitter have attracted my attention. The first one is #storystarters. There have been a couple of tweets on this hashtag that I really wanted to know how the rest of the story would end. The application that I use with Twitter is TweetDeck. I have several columns that I keep on there at all times and #storystarters has inherited its own column.<br />
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The second hashtag is #thingsishouldnotseeinaquery. @colleenlindsay posted some great stuff through this hashtag that I will try not to do. I follow @colleenlindsay, not only because she is a literary agent, but because she tells it how it is and she does make me chuckle. When I started tweeting through TweetDeck, I made a column labeled 'Favs'. This column has a few choice tweeters (including @colleenlindsay) who grabbed my attention with their inspiring tweets.<br />
<br />
The hashtags that I posted above were placed at the end of sentences. Searching for these hashtags requires no period at the end of them. <br />
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It's Friday night and the weekend is just starting, so have a great weekend!ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-65923572052440665972010-01-21T14:45:00.000-05:002010-01-21T14:45:43.339-05:00My World of WritingEvery blog that I have written so far has been about my family. Without the love and support of my family, I would not be me. <br />
<br />
I got to thinking about why someone would want to read my blogs. They probably wouldn't. They have their own family, and mine is probably not much different than anyone else's. <br />
<br />
Today, I thought I would go ahead and explain a little about me and my journey into the world of writing.<br />
<br />
I have several beginning stories/manuscripts on my computer, and one that is almost complete. You see, I have a very hyper mind. That's the only way I can describe it. My mind will jump from one thing to another in a split second. I try to focus on one certain thing at a time, but sometimes, it's really hard to do.<br />
<br />
I can be writing on a manuscript when my main character meets another character. Then my mind starts coming up with plot for the secondary character for a completely different manuscript. Then I get all screwed up. So, I have to stop writing completely in order to refocus my mind.<br />
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Today was a good day. I kept my focus and wrote for a few hours without having to stop. I am proud of myself for being able to stay where I needed to be.ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-32876113038497482862010-01-19T09:06:00.009-05:002010-01-19T12:43:32.496-05:00Snowstorm<span style="font-family: courier new;">The weather forecast had predicted a large amount of snow to fall the night of December 18th. Of course, they have said that we would get snow many other times and then we would end up getting a flurry or two, but never the snow that they predict. The last snowstorm that we received happened a very long time ago, therefore we neglected to listen to the warnings this time.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">The snow started falling soon after the bus dropped the kids off at home. When I looked out of the window, the biggest snowflakes I had ever seen were falling. They were huge, I means absolutely enormous! They were the size of my thumbnail. I knew then, that I was wrong not to listen to the warnings.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">Within a couple of hours, trees were falling everywhere, weighted down by the snow. We lost power and telephone services by 8 o’clock that evening. I stood on my front porch listening to the silence; the only sounds I heard were the cracks and crashes made by the falling trees. I have never experienced these noises in my life. The snow continued to fall heavily all night.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">We had a fire going in the fireplace and few candles that first night. I didn’t like the dark. I’m not scared of the dark mind you, it was the silence. I am used to noise and chaos constantly in my life, as those of you with children can understand. Actually, it really wasn’t the silence that bothered me; it was the ringing in my ears that took the place of silence that got to me.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">That night, we piled mattresses in front of the fireplace in the living room to sleep on. We hung sheets and blankets around the doorways to block off this room. The following morning we all woke up chilled to the bone as the fire went out some time during the night. I looked out of the window and saw everything covered in sparkly white. I rebuilt the fire and used an old tin percolator I found in the cabinet to make coffee. The kids huddled under the blankets until the cold air in the room warmed up to a tolerable level.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">My husband walked through the deep snow up to the old building and brought down the kerosene heater and a few camping items we had stored up there. I found some batteries and put them in the radio. The newscast told of power outages all over the area, and that some of the major roads were closed.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">We decided to get out the 4-wheeler (a.k.a. the ATV) and ride around the hollow and see how much damage the snowstorm caused. We didn’t get very far at all as there were trees down everywhere. We saw the electrical line, cable line, and telephone line lying in the road for at least ½ a mile. We knew then that we wouldn’t have any of those services for a very long while, as those companies would work on the city lines first and we’d come last.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">We heard a newscast on the radio stating that the emergency management service was giving out kerosene to those who needed it, at a couple of fire departments. We were stuck though, with no way out and only a couple of gallons of kerosene to do us. We decided to only use it if we really needed it, (which ended up being the following morning as it was so cold that we could see our breaths in the house.)</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">My husband got together with a couple of neighbors on their 4-wheelers and headed out with chainsaws to cut the trees out of the road. One of the neighbors had a tree fall on his house and they also removed that one. It was an all day job to clear the road out of the hollow. The hollow itself is more than a mile long, so it was a rough job considering there were trees everywhere.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">With the road cleared, some of them could finally get out of the hollow in their 4 wheel drives to make kerosene and supply runs. Of course, my family was one of the unlucky few who did not have a 4-wheel drive and had to depend upon rides from others. It was okay though, at a time like this, they all pulled together and helped one another.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">Our power was restored on December the 28th, phone on January 2nd, and cable/internet on January 9th. Our Christmas was a dark one, but fun. We played board games (Apples to Apples being the funnest) and read books to keep us occupied. My fifteen-year-old daughter actually read ‘Deep Storm’ by Lincoln Child.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">I would like to say that the hotels did raise their prices during this time. I think it was wrong to do this, to take advantage of people during a hard time. I live in a town that has 80% poverty level and any business that takes advantage of people has no conscience, and that's all I am going to say about that.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">I like living on a hollow (a.k.a. holler) and knowing all of my neighbors. I love the mountains and all of the beauty that comes with them. Most of all, I love my family. The power outage has brought us closer together and I am thankful for that part of it.</span>ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-83870268256065884662009-09-04T08:27:00.006-04:002009-09-11T09:24:25.093-04:00It is Just Funny, and Cute.The following are excerpts of my life. Enjoy.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Son's Love<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /></div>"I love you Mom," my three-year-old son told me as I tucked him into bed.<br />"I love you more!" I replied.<br />"Well, I love you more-ther," he comes back at me.<br />I chuckled at his youthfulness and said, "I love you more than the sun sweetheart." I went to the door and turned back and looked at my precious boy before I turned out the light. He laid there all snuggled in his blanket and grinned at me.<br />"What's so funny?" I asked him.<br />"Mom, I just love you more than a lottery ticket, that's all," he giggled.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Birds and the Bees<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">On the way home from school one day my twelve-year-old daughter looked at me and said, "Mom, the teacher at school said that if you have sex you can get pregnant. Is this true? Is this really how babies get in a mom's belly?"<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh, crap!</span> I thought to myself.<br />"Well sweetheart, it is true. When a mommy and daddy want to have a baby, sex is involved."<br />"So, you and daddy had sex each time you got pregnant?" she asked.<br />"Yes," I said, "I became pregnant by having sex."<br /><br />A few days later I had to carpool my daughter and her friend's home from volleyball practice. From the backseat I heard, "Well, my Mom had sex three times and yours only had sex once since you are an only child," my daughter told her friend in what sounded like a proud tone.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Daughterly Love<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span>"I was here first!" my teenage daughter #1 shouted from the bathroom<br />"Yeah, but you've been in here for an hour," teenage daughter #2 retorted.<br />"That's only because I want to look pretty for school!" teenage daughter #1 came back at her.<br />"Well, seeing as how it takes you all day in the bathroom to look all pretty, you must be pretty ugly!" teenage daughter #2 yelled.<br />A moment before I made it to the bathroom door to settle the argument I heard teenage daughter #1 shout, "Well, your mom's uglier!"<br />"Ummm, hello? I'm standing right here and for your information I am the mother to both of you," I said.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">On the Porch<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span>Teenage daughter #1 and I were sitting on the porch swing talking about school. It was the first time we really were able to just sit and talk without any interruptions in a long time. My son was playing a game on the computer in the living room, and teenage daughter #2 was in the bathroom singing.<br />We sat there just chatting for oh, about ten minutes before the house door opened and teenage daughter #2 poked her head out. She looked as if we were up to something and she had been left out.<br />"What are <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">you</span> doing out here?" she asked accusingly. She looked from me to her sister then back to me again.<br />Teenage daughter #1 sat forward in the swing and put the same accusing look on her face and said, "Well, what are you doing in <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">there</span>?"<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div></div><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div></div><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div></div>ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-8892087639846454722009-08-19T10:21:00.002-04:002009-08-19T11:30:12.499-04:00I Have Never Been on a Train.My morning routine consists of getting my children up and ready for school, driving them down to the bus stop, and then I return home to a cup of coffee and to my computer to check my email, messages, and of course Twitter. <br /><br />At first, I really had no clue as to what Twitter was used for. One of my daughters has a Twitter account, so being a concerned mother I established my own Twitter account and followed her to make sure it was safe. I then realized after a day or two what Twitter was and how it worked. I added some people, some people added me, and then I started tweeting and reading tweets. <br /><br />I like reading about what people are doing, especially those who are traveling. You see, I have never been on a train, subway, plane, taxi, or a bus. So, I like reading about those who travel in these ways. It is like an adventure for me. I don't have the foggiest idea of how to transfer between planes, or how to hail a taxi other than what I've seen on the television. I have no idea what a layover is. One day I will find out and it will be my very own adventure.<br /><br />With that said, I may never have used those types of transportation before, but I have rode on a mine car that went back into a deep dark mines. I have also ridden a goat on accident (don't ever listen to your older brother who insists you sit on the goat to hold it down while he milks it). When I was a child, I even rode a tree. Sure did! My friend's brother tied a rope to the top of this tree, pulled the top of the tree down toward the ground and when it was low enough, I got right on there and held on with my life when he let go. I was flinged back and forth for just a few seconds, but it sure was fun! <br /><br />Let's see, hmmm, I also rode on the back of a car hood down a snowy hill, used it as a sleigh. It was dangerous though, because one time there were a bunch of us piled on it and someone fell off and had to get stitches. Needless to say, the adults made us stop riding on it after that. We kind of sneaked and did it anyways though.<br /><br />I rode a spaceship when I was six! My brother made it for me out of a cardboard box. He even drew controls and buttons on the wall of it with crayons! I would climb inside and he would close the flaps. He would do the countdown and when it was time to blast off, he would shake that box as if I truly were flying high into the sky!<br /><br />I have never been on a train, subway, plane, taxi, or a bus. However, I have ridden a goat, mine car, spaceship (even though it was pretend), and a car hood among other things. What have you ridden?ZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4580452742126322027.post-67538528332666789222009-08-11T13:37:00.001-04:002009-08-11T13:37:44.875-04:00The Start of the School YearAs a mother to three children, two teenage girls and an eight-year-old boy, I am mentally exhausted before the start of the school year. Shopping for clothes, school supplies, and other necessities is at the top of my exhaustion list, followed closely by getting schedules straightened out.<br /><br />School shopping is total chaos for me. I am quite sure that most mothers will agree with my point. Normally, my children drag me through one store for hours and then just pick out one or two items, then we move on to the next store in which the process repeats. If I try to help pick out their clothes in order to get the shopping over with, the clothes that I hold up only get gawked at with "I am NOT wearing that" attitudes. Basically, the shopping experience takes days on end, and I end up being consumed by total exhaustion afterward.<br /><br />This year I let the girls shop online to see if it would help the situation. I gave them a spending limit and I let them choose their clothes to put in an online shopping cart for me to review. I only had to take a couple of things out that I didn't approve of and they replaced them with other goodies. I am not exhausted as I did not really have to be present during the 'shopping' experience except to place the order. The girls had fun and found what they wanted easily. The orders came to my door within a week and all things are settled. I have decided that this is the way it will be done from now on.<br /><br />The last chore to do was to get the girls' schedules from the high school. My oldest daughter will be a junior and she got her schedule first. I was excited to see that she did get vocational school for the last half of her day. The rest of her classes were the ones that she had chosen and needed. I was relieved that I did not have to change anything on hers.<br /><br />Now, my second daughter will be a freshman. She is highly intelligent, scoring at twelfth-grade levels on her tests. She needs classes that will keep her mind occupied, otherwise she will be a class clown, it has happened before-true story! When she got her schedule, she was very upset. They had placed her in Algebra I (which she had already completed last year), Drama, Art, regular English, and a few good classes. The child has enough drama in her life, she is a teenager, she doesn't need to take a class for it.<br /><br />Yesterday I go to the high school to see the Guidance Counselor to have these classes changed. I was very lucky that the counselor at the school was very nice and I had no problem in changing her to the college ready classes and Algebra II. She also has to take a weight-lifting class as she is a volleyball player, so we added that to her schedule too.<br /><br />School starts tomorrow in my town and I am hoping that everything is taken care of and that nothing unexpected comes up. I am sympathizing with mothers and fathers around the world who are going through the same thing...trust me, I feel your painZM_Dreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10597679206362292524noreply@blogger.com0