“The Artist’s Way”–my second go ’round

I had found my copy of “The Complete Artist’s Way” [to be known as TAW] in the stuff, my gal pals brought down, from Payson, AZ. Of course, I was pleased as all get out!! I do have a slight problem with Ms. Cameron’s reference to God; however, for me, only me, since I am a Christian, I plan on using Biblical names for God Almighty.
As to the title of this post–well, to be honest, I never did get past the 3rd week of the 12! For me, there are some challenges, such as walking. Uuummhhh, I use a manual wheelchair, and negotiating Phoenix, AZ sidewalks are potentially deadly! Along with the impending summer heat!! All this written, I will do my best.
Ms. Cameron has participants “do” Artist’s Dates–I can certainly do my best with those, as long as I find “to do’s” dirt-cheap or free and in the evening.

I have started the first week of reading along with some of the Tasks, already.
Next time I post, I’ll add what I’ve done.

A near-fatal accident

What if. . .
something happened to you or a loved of ours that really shook you to your very core of your being?
What would your very first response be? Anger, sadness?
Something happened to me four days ago, that I’m still ruminating over.
On the way home from church, I was about roll across the street, I did have the light, the pedestrian indicator light was on, it was o.k., to go across.
Nope, not according a guy in SUV-styled vehicle!! He turned very wide, I had to back myself up to avoid getting hit–it was still quite close.
I looked up into the vehicle; the driver wasn’t even looking straight ahead. He was looking to his left! I called him, “a dumb- – -!”; though I seriously doubt he heard that.
I was too much in shock to get the license plate.

Something I Discovered in My Stuff

This is a wee bit late; however, it’s still needed!

FREEDOM
We are celebrating freedom in this land of ours today
And I wonder if we realize the price so many paid.
It cost a wife her husband, and it cost a mom her son,
A little boy his daddy for this vict’ry to be won.

Brave men fought with fervor all day and all through the night
And when the dawn was breaking our flag was still in sight.
Relief brought tears of gratitude to see”Old Glory” wave
And today our hearts are thankful for our Fathers true and brave.

But there’s another kind of freedom,
It was paid for long ago
By a King who left His throne room
And came to earth below.

His motive was not freedom from oppression o’er the sea
But “to give the blind their eyesight and the captive liberty,
To heal the broken hearted and bind up all the bruised,
T preach the gospel story and bring the world good news.”

There’s another flag that’s flying and it’s color’s crimson red,
It was placed upon Nt. Calv’ry by this King whose blood was shed.
So be grateful to our Savior for His cross and for His creed,
For each born-again American has really “twice” been freed.

copyright 1981 Elaine Pitman

My grand-dad headstone

Because of my pals Annette, Babs, Lauren, I now have my photos, my photo album, along with alot of my goodies I forgot I have!!

One of the photos in my album is a black and white of my mom kneeling against her dad’s headstone. Since my story is based on some of both of them, I was surprised at the date of his death. My mom told me he died when she was 12 years old. Well, it really isn’t a huge deal but she was ‘off’ by two years. Sssooo, I’ll change a few dates in my story. . .it’s called poetic license, I think.

In general, tho I am pleased that I got my stuff with me!! Thanks to my gal-pals!!

Moments.

ocjarman1:

This is down-right exquisite writing!! As well as lovely photos of LA!

Originally posted on Extra Dry Martini:

It’s an early evening in late April in Los Angeles. I’ve been running in La Cienega Park, around and around that dusty dirt track, spurred on by pop music pulsating through my ear buds and the excitement of a little league baseball game nearby. The sounds that echo through the spring evening – the crack of the bat smacking the baseball and launching it into the outfield, children’s voices cheering, parents clapping – give me an extra spark of energy to keep going, to keep running, to keep pushing my body forward.

FullSizeRender

I finish my last lap and leave the track. Tired and sweaty, I run across Olympic Boulevard and turn down Alfred Street, slowing to a jog and then to a fast walk as I enter one of my favorite enclaves in this historic South Carthay neighborhood. iTunes skips to the next song – The Lady is a Tramp

View original 816 more words

Pondering about transgendered folks. . . or

those who feel it necessary in their heart and mind to be a member of opposite sex of their birth. First, before any one gets any ideas that this is a post of me “ranting ‘n’ raving” about this is wrong in God’s eyes, I’ll inform you right now to those readers who want that–move on, please.
I flatly don’t understand why. This is coming from a woman who lived with a cross-dressing man as boyfriend/girlfriend. He always asserted he never wanted to a woman. He claimed he simply enjoyed wearing women’s clothing. He, too, like Mr. Jenner, began as a little boy.
My question, and whether this is answerable, I haven’t foggiest notion, but I go:
where is that line, where desiring to wear opposite gender/sex clothes goes to desiring to be a part of that gender/sex?
Also, what does God say about this? I will not voice my opinion, right about that, perhaps, later. . .