Guns And Roses

 

"Hot Cocoa"rose from my garden.

Autumn 2012

 

“Your photography is a record of your living,

 for anyone who really sees.”

~Paul Strand

 

 

 

It's true, sometimes I take a photograph of a landscape or a beautiful bird, but it's more about how I feel while I use my camera. I always have an emotional connection to my subjects. Some of the photos that I have done, that I have received the most positive feedback on, have been when I have been in the depths of depression, and sometimes it's about fear. Please don't think that has been the emotions behind all of my photography, I am a happy and content person most of the time. I am getting older, and that means a symphony of physical pain, and limitations, but I do my best to accept it and move on. However, sometimes life just throws you in the middle of the, frankly, SHIT, and doesn't give you a choice on how you take it. My niece died in a traffic accident that was not her fault. To make it worse, it was a hit and run. Fuck! A short time later my nephew committed suicide.

 

 FUUUUUUUUCK!

 

Glock

 

And if that wasn't enough to fuck me up, yesterday I thought I was going to die. We were out doing errands for a while, and when we returned home a car was parked in the middle of the alleyway where we park our Mini Cooper. We couldn't get around him without driving over the grass and around to sewage equipment. Suddenly a man got out of his car with a gun, and fired about 4 shots toward his girlfriend's apartment. She was yelling back at him in anger, for shooting his gun towards the apartment where her young children were! Oh Shit! Was he going to shoot us for being witnesses? Were we going to be the latest statistic of rampant gun violence? Was the young woman he was shooting toward be a victim of domestic violence? I was terrified! I decided that if he was going to shoot me, I hoped he would shoot to kill, because I didn't want to be in pain and still be alive. That would be a hell of a FUCK YOU from fate, wouldn't it? Just get it over with! You think about a lot of things when you think your death is imminent. 

 

Who will take care of my cats?

 Will it hurt?

 Or will I just be gone?

Did I put on clean underwear?

Guns don't sound the same as they do on TV and in movies!

 

The my brain turned to...

White car, sedan 4 doors, Honda 

4 shots... I think

Young black man

mid 30's

White clothing

We drove around him as best we could, parked, and went into our condo. I called the police. I gave them all the information I could. I was embarrassed by how much I had forgot between the car and when I went inside. I guess I am not the best witness, but FUUUUUUUUUK he had a gun! It looked like a Glock22 semi-automatic but I don't know anything about guns, it's a guess based on the limited research I have done in the last 24 hours. Isn't it strange that something so scary is so exotic. I think I am going to do more research on the instrument of death to both make me feel less frightened next time and better educated. I need to do better next time, and believe me, I know there will be a next time.  I should have began this paragraph with telling you that I am okay, but a little fucked up this weekend. I was diagnosed with PTSD a few months ago, just after my family died. I have lots of incidents in my past that have caught up to me in my old age. I am getting treatment, but it's a long road, and who knows, I may not ever recover. But I am trying. 

 

Now, what's up with the roses? Well, the errand I was on yesterday was to buy some new roses for my garden. I found a lovely "Peace" rose and to my, absolute delight, I found a "Hot Cocoa" rose! I LOVE that rose! I had one when I lived in the Bay Area, and it was an absolute delight! It was the favorite of all my roses, and I had to leave it behind when I moved. Once we settled in Stockton, I looked and looked at every garden center I could, with absolutely no luck at all, so I gave up. But yesterday, there it was! What a happy turn of events! I will have that beautiful rose growing in my garden once again. Something to help me heal, and then that gun incident had to happen, because everybody has a gun. Will my mind attach that incident to my roses? Will I think of it every time I see a new rose grow on the stem? That remains to be seen, but right now it's hard to think about. The human brain manifests fear strangely... and sometimes it's just lets the negativity go, and it gets filed away. And, of course, that's for the best.

So, it was a guns and roses kind of day. Like the name of the band. Funny thing, I can't remember a single song by them, but I did a little looking around on YouTube and found this song, which I kinda like. I wasn't into Heavy Metal rock, so I passed it all by, but now I think I will have to listen to more of their stuff. Discovering new things, making new memories helps erase the stuff you don't want to think about. Like suicide. Like murder. It should be more music, less murder. More roses, less guns. More healing, less scars. Even if life has other plans. I am trying, I really am.

 

 Anyway, this is a nice song, and I hope you enjoy it.

"November"

By Guns And Roses

I witnessed gun violence yesterday.

 Next time I will try to capture the turn of fate with my camera.

 I guess it was my new experience for March. On to April.

Working My Way Through It

 

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are

 deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” 

~Laurell K. Hamilton,

  Mistral's Kiss

 

I am just going to jump right in here... I am moving along with my grieving just fine. I think I have experienced all 5 stages of grief. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally, Acceptance. My niece, my nephew and my sister died last year, as did a very nice man, Treat Williams, who I considered a Twitter friend. He was a man who cared deeply about the well being of others, and that is extremely rare in the times we are living in. It all happened last year, but well under a year ago, so while I have dealt and moved on with four of the five stages, I am still dealing with one, the sadness or depression, or whatever label you want to assign to it. I still have sudden thoughts, or memories of those I lost, including Treat. I miss them all. I miss Treat for his compassion and ability to see the glass half-full and my family for a lot of complicated reasons, but mostly the good times we shared.

 

 I have been spending a lot more time by myself, watching old movies, reading, and I like some computer games. The meeting at the democratic club in Lodi went very well, in fact we plan on becoming members, so I think that was a healthy move, more on that later. Like I said, life is moving on, but the depression remains. But I am not completely lost. I have my photography and I have my birds. Some of my beautiful beautiful Sandhill crane remain along Woodbridge road, and they are great for erasing sadness from my heart and mind. I am going to need my photography more than ever as we move throughout this year because of the upcoming election. Trump will only get more and more irritating, scary and embarrassing as we move closer to November. I am truly going to need my birds and my photography, just to keep my sanity.

 

My photography is beginning to reflect my moods, although I guess it always did to a degree. Anyway, I hope to heal in a steady manner, but one thing you cannot do, when it comes to depression, is will it to go away. You have to try your best to not let it consume you, and you have to remind yourself of what you are grateful for. Embrace what you love and don't let go. When the Sandhill crane finally move on, I will search out the Bonaparte's gull or the Caspian tern, and look forward to the crane's return next September. I will be on Woodbridge road, around the 15th of September, with a packed lunch, a pair of binoculars and my ears listening for the sound of a quaint old rocking chair, creaking across the sky. You can hear it from a mile away!

 

Donald Trump? Donald Trump who? 

 

 “That's the thing about depression: A human being can survive almost anything, as long as she sees the end in sight.

 But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it's impossible to ever see the end.” 

~Elizabeth Wurtzel

  Prozac Nation

 

My nephew committed suicide last July. Please, if you are contemplating ending your life, or even if you are not thinking about suicide but are depressed, there are resources available. Please contact the National Suicide And Crisis Helpline. Call or Text 988 to reach someone 24/7. Please reach out.

 

Shadows

 

“That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.”

 
~Ray Bradbury 

 

I decided to do two versions. I really liked the way the plant in the color version looked with the shadows across from it, but it was late in the day, and the color was not photographing very well. So two versions it is! Both have a vibe all their own, so I just suppose it depends on mood. At the moment I am leaning toward black and white. I am in a quiet mood. Not depressed, just quiet. I am a bit weary. With the brewing war in the Middle East, a difficult summer has carried it's cruelty into Autumn. I dunno, maybe that was why Autumn gave me the gift of beginning early. The Autumn sun was beginning in the first week of August. We found 2 Snow geese at the Cosumnes River, Desmond road, but they shouldn't have been there for a couple months or so. Just stuff like that. Shrug. But here we are. A cruel middle east, and me missing my niece and nephew so much I can barely breathe. God I feel old. I guess that's why the shadows appealed to me so much. In both color and black & white. Both versions definitely say Autumn to me.

I am okay. Just weary.

Weariness Or Witherings

 

"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness or witherings, of tarnishing."

 

~Anais Nin

 

None of their deaths were natural. All came too soon.

 

RIP

Jessica

Ralph jr.

And their mother, my sister, Bonny.

 

I can't share my grief right now, it's too deep and dark to share here. Mostly I don't anymore. I am processing it inside. And that's okay. This blog is my happy place, even when I am pissed or scared or bored. But grieving... no. That is just for me to deal with. I can, and probably will, share little tidbits on how it is processing through, here and there, but summer is over next week, and I want to have this autumn for me, filled with new leaves, new birds, hopefully, and my new office, which is almost finished! My therapist says I need to begin the hard work. The moving on part. The facing each day part. The letting go part. I am trying.

There I said everything out loud.

And I am okay.

Right?

 

 

Ben Mears And Rob Lowe

 

Preston Castle Wall

Ione, California

May 7th 2022

Minolta

"There comes a time in your life when you have to choose to turn the page, write another book or simply close it."

 

~Shannon L. Alder

 

Preston Castle

Ione, California

Nope, not closing the book yet. Well, maybe the Twitter book, but that remains to be seen (see history). What do I mean by see history? Well, Elon Musk... the jerk... is trying to manipulate the price of the stock, and he has already said he would reinstate Trump, and you know how I feel about that, and I am not alone. Some of this shit is already firmly planted in history. The deal may not happen. We will see. If it does goes through, history will have a lot to say about it. 

 

But meanwhile back in the present. 

 

I'm not closing any doors either. I'm working on my health. Covid forced a giant detox of my eating habits. Before Covid, I ordered lean meat on my sandwiches, sliced extra thin, served with a jar of mayonnaise. Now, mayo is pretty much verboten. I can't tolerate mayonnaise, or anything oily. No fries. No jalapeno poppers. No mozzarella sticks, but there is some super healthy stuff I can't handle either. I can't have spinach, or lettuce, or any other leafy stuff like cilantro. Weird. I LOVE salad, always have. I am a veggie girl. But since Covid, I get a queasy stomach from it. Sigh.

 

I can't do much about most of it, but ride it out and hope it all goes back to normal one day, but I'm done with fucking waiting, I am taking lead and jump starting the process. Dr. Williams gave me a guide for kicking my sense of smell and taste back in. I purchased an aromatherapy machine. The sense of smell and taste go hand and hand. The idea is to choose a scent, and retrain my body to recognize it. Hopefully it will help my sense of taste if I use the same formula. I also purchased a sound machine to maybe help me get my body retrained to some healthy sleeping habits.

 

I can do this.

 

As for the mental exhaustion, again it's a matter of closing the last chapter on what happened last autumn, by closing the storage room. Hubby and I will be cleaning out the last of it next week, and that will be that. The door will be shut, with four months left on our contract at our current home. Hopefully Eric, the owner, will renew our lease, and I can take a little longer to recover, without another move. I'm trying to not think about it. I'm good right now. There is a roof over my head. I am relatively safe. And I am about to buy an air fryer to help me get back into the swing of cooking. I miss baking too. Alan has pretty much been doing everything since my breakdown, the poor man is well trained in being married to a nutjob. Sorry, chronically depressed person.

 

But he knows I eventually get back up, and I guess I will again this time too. What choice do I have? Suicide will always be sitting there, reminding me of it's availability, but, well, you know. Robin. I am trying really hard to not give up this time, in that I came so close to going though with it last fall. I have so much that I haven't shared about what has got me to this place, but as we move along I am sure the details will make themselves known. I just need to process things and go from there.

 

Now, about the "Lowe" in the title of this post. It refers to Rob Lowe. You might remember I posted about his visit to the Central Valley, when he filmed the first episode of, The Lowe Files, back in 2019. His love of the supernatural lead him to film the first episode at Preston Castle, in Ione, and that helped me find something to enjoy out here. I struggled in the first few years, as there isn't a lot to see, and photograph in and around Stockton. But Preston Castle changed all that. As did the town of Ione, Ca. The castle itself is mighty spooky and at the same time glorious. Like all truly spooky places it has a deeply troubled past, which intrigued me. In the next few years I photographed it many times over. And there is a very photogenic graveyard nearby and one of my favorite autumn trees to feature every year in my autumn leaf project, sits nearby in a small park and ride near the creek. 

 

I'm still grateful to Mr. Lowe, he will never know it, but he helped me heal. I experienced a lot of pain between 2015 and 2019 when he visited here. Because of his visit, I was interested about something again, and even slightly amused about how Preston Castle could have easily served as Hubie Marsten's house from Stephen King's, Salem's Lot, that Rob Lowe starred in. It's easy to pretend it was Ben Mears who visited here, and let my child's mind take over for a bit. Are there really ghosts roaming around among us? Perhaps. Are there vampires sleeping in an eerie house on a nearby hill? I don't know where they sleep, but I can say without a doubt that yes, there are vampires among us. That's what's got me to where I am right now.

 

Damn those vampires.

But Thank you, Ben Mears and Rob Lowe. 

 

"But when fall comes, kicking summer out on it's treacherous ass, as it always does one day sometime after the mid point of September, it stays awhile like an old friend who you have missed." 

 

~Stephen King

Salem's Lot

 

You might recall that this is my 

favorite quote to begin autumn with. 

 

 

From The Truly Ridiculous To The Truly Macabre

"On a creep scale from

 Hello Kitty to Cthulhu, I award it a Freddy Krueger"

~Granuaile MacTiernan

The last few days have been sufficiently, macabre. I haven't bothered to write about current events in ages, mostly because current events no longer take place in the quaint old fashioned way of bits, bites, and booms that tended to randomly occur over days, weeks, or months. Instead, we now have hourly events of bytes booms and bangs, thanks in no small part to Twitter, and the charmingly loose senile orange toddler with nuclear devices as his only friends... no not the biscuit or football... but rather his damn mouth and Twitter fingers, Donald John Trump. 

That's right. The woman who bitched. Pissed. Moaned. Groaned. Spit, and generally lost her shit about every move made by George W. Bush, finally gave up. Trump broke me. I decided to let history keep track of life in the political world, because I simply couldn't keep up with whatever shocking misstep, intellectual fart, or social fuck-up he produced, let alone follow the endless line of cabinet miscreant slam dancing, he demanded be choreographed in the White House, and sometimes near the White House, at any given moment, on any given day. Enough! I had some depression to nurture! It's not like Bush made me any younger. And as for Obama... he made me lazy. Life was reasonably boring, quiet and non-eventful with him as president.

But enough of the reminiscing, and onto the macabre event that sent me back to blogging, if only for this post. History will remember the name, Jeffrey Epstein, like it has remembered the names of so many other notorious evil spirits of the past. History will unite him forever with other convicted pedophiles, and for what he was most recently charged with, human trafficking of under-aged girls. History will remember that he apparently provided many powerful men with these girls, which will forever unite those men with him. You are the company you keep! 

Prime Ministers. Kings. Presidents. Governors. And Donald Trump kept close company with Epstein. Many men visited Epstein's private island and flew in his airplane and private helicopter. He owned an apartment in Trump Tower, and partied often with Donald Trump. Does that act alone prove guilt of pedophilia? Does it mean any man on the list engaged in anything illegal? No, but I assume absolute proof, one way or the other, will be provided beyond a doubt one day. As the women come forward, and point directly at these men, it will all be laid bare, for all to see, but when it does, it will have to be without Jeffrey Epstein, because he was found unresponsive in his cell last Saturday morning, and later declared dead.

At the moment it's being called an apparent suicide. But there are folks on both sides of the political aisle, who want it to be murder so bad they can taste the dead body in their mouths. Conspiracy theories abound! Hillary must have done it! COUNT THE CLINTON MURDER VICTIMS! A.G. BARR DID IT TO SAVE TRUMP! "Jeffrey was scared, so he killed himself." "The guards hated pedophiles, so they did it." Twitter, was all atwitter, Sunday night, with the possibilities. Not much consideration given to his victims and what comes next for them, however, just one macabre theory after another about a dead man, with pictures of his lifeless, slightly cyanotic body lying on a gurney in a hospital in Manhattan, to provide proof that something happened on the second Saturday in August, In The Year Of Our Lord, 2019.

I'll keep you posted, unless history gets to it first!

~Mood: Quiet
~Me

S

Razors pain you, rivers are damp.

Acids stain you, and drugs cause a cramp.

Guns aren't lawful. Nooses give.

Gas smells awful, so you might as well live.

~Dorothy Parker

  Enough Rope

As I begin yet another Monday, I am thinking about someone I have never met, and probably never will. Bobbi Kristina Brown. She is the daughter of Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston, and as I write this, all news reports seem to be indicating that she is, in effect, brain dead. She was found Saturday, face down in the bathtub of her home in Georgia. The whole situation is eerily reminiscent of the way her mother was found dead, nearly three years ago. It's all so sad. Bobbi Kristina is so young, a pretty, and talented girl, who could have enjoyed a bright future, but instead she apparently gave into the pain of losing her mother. Not much has been said about the incident, I am sure more will come out in the next few days and weeks, but right now it's all just so tragic, although I have to admit, it doesn't really surprise me much. If it wasn't deliberate, and it was an accidental overdose, either way, I wish she would have had some stronger support for her emotional needs. I wish she could have found a way to manage her pain, without dulling it, by putting a drug band-aid on it. I wish something could have been done for her well being. 

I have been so lucky in my life. When I was deeply depressed, and considering my own life, and whether it was worth working through the pain I was in, I was amazingly lucky to find resources to strengthen me. At the time it all seemed useless, and it didn't make a lot of sense when my therapist spoke to me, in fact I told her that when she spoke, all I heard was blah, blah, blah. I knew she was speaking, but I couldn't seem to comprehend the words. She told me she understood, and it was normal to feel that way, but encouraged me to stay with it. She explained that I was indeed retaining the words she was saying, and their meaning, and that one day I would be able to understand them in context. And she was right. I did one day. I was in such deep pain, for a very long time, and then one day, and I was numb all over. I had zero emotion on most days, and for a while I couldn't pick out my own clothing. Nothing looked right together. It's called Anhedonia, and it lasted the better part of three years. I see now, that the Anhedonia is probably what saved me. I took a break from feeling anything, until I could face the pain, and process the skills I had learned to handle it. 

The best piece of advice I ever got, in my entire life, my doctor told me when I was in the deep end of the emotional pool...

"Suicide is the ultimate FUCK YOU that you can't take back."

~Dr. B.

I hate suicide. I hate it's lies. I hate it's truths. 

I just hate it!

Mood: Quiet

~Me

A Little Orange Flower From Summer's Past...

"The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there."

~L.P. Hartley, The Go-Between

If I let myself, I can sit for hours and dwell on all things negative which happened in the past. I think it's called ruminating! But fortunately I learned the fine art of thought stopping, which came by way of some intense therapy because of things that happened in the past. Had it not been for the need of the intense therapy in the first place, I would not have learned to deal with the pain of today. LOL. Go figure, there really is an upside to pain. You really do grow as a person through the experience of pain!

Go pain!

Mood: Happy

~Me :)

Keep Passing The Open Windows

"Maybe you think life is not worth living, but is death worth dying for?"

~Cesar Nascimento



I was very sad when I learned the news yesterday that Gia Allemand had passed away. I had been praying for her since hearing about her illness online the night before. There weren't many details, and truthfully, the details of why she had been hospitalized weren't the point, the point was that she was gravely ill, on life support, and as her friend said on Twitter, the next 48 hours were crucial. But less than 24 hours later the horrible news came... Gia Allamend has passed away at age 29. It's obscene, no one should die so young, and so vibrant! It wasn't until a few hours later last evening that the news came that Gia hadn't been struck down by some random bit of bad luck, or illness out of the blue, Gia had committed suicide.

I didn't know her personally, but I remember seeing her for the first time while she competed on ABC's The Bachelor: On The Wings Of Love. Which, by the way, was the worst of the Bachelor seasons I had personally watched. But not because of the show itself, and certainly not because of Gia, but rather because of the bachelor himself... Jake Pavelka. But this post isn't about him, it's about Gia, and the loss of her talent and potential. Again suicide had talked someone into making a bad, irreversible decision. Suicide is such a liar.

It tells you that if you pull that trigger, or take that leap from the window, or put the noose up just a little higher, all your pain will end, but it doesn't remind you that so will all your joys. Days filled with amazing smiles that you can't imagine, are just waiting to happen for you. One simple act, means you will never see your wedding day, feel your children birth from your body, grow old with the one person in the world who loves you, faults and all, and still sees you as a girl of 20, when you are an old woman of 70. Sunsets are so beautiful that there are no words to describe them. I could go on. But we all have those things that we love. The things that keep us getting up every day. The life affirming moments that each day has, as long as we keep them in our heart.

I don't know what Gia's personal demons were. She seemed quite loved and respected. Maybe she didn't exactly know what those demons were either. I make no judgement about her choices, including her decision to end her life. Suicide is a very personal decision. But I do hope, and wish that the next person contemplating this act, decides to pick up the phone and call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline and talk it through. Perhaps be open to a different point of view. If it's Monday, and suicide is all you can think about, rather than taking that step, take a pause, ask some questions, talk to a friend, pray, cry, yell, whatever because, after all, Tuesday is only a few hours away, and who knows how many problems can be solved in just a few short hours, that don't have to last the lifetime's of those you leave behind.

Rest In Peace, Gia Allemand. Maybe God Hold You Close Always.

Mood: Sad

~Me

"Keep Passing The Open Windows"
~John Irving, The Hotel New Hampshire

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 
1-800-273-TALK (8255) Call 24/7
http//suicidepreventionlifeline.org

American Foundation For Suicide Prevention

The Folly Of Giving Up

"Resume"

Razors pain you
Rivers are damp
Acids stain you
And drugs cause cramp
Guns aren't lawful
Nooses give
Gas smells awful
You might as well live.

~Dorothy Parker

I was very sad to hear about the suicide of country singer Mindy McCready. I wasn't really a fan, I only know a couple of her songs, but I appreciated what I heard. To be honest, I knew more about her personal life, and demons, than I did about her talent. But just because I didn't know much about her talent, doesn't mean it didn't hurt when I heard she had died. We are so lucky to have talent as a part of what makes us... well... us. Those in the arts that share their gifts with the world, make every single day better on earth. No matter what's happening, the arts can help one begin to heal. I knew this for sure on the afternoon of September 11, 2001, when the Ethereal Musician, you know the sax player in my neighborhood, began to play America on his horn. The wasn't a sound outside. No birds seemed to be in the trees. No planes taking off from Oakland airport in the sky, no sounds of children playing. Everyone was inside, glued to the TV, all except for the musician... healing himself, and his neighbors, through music.

In the spring of 2001 I was in a bad place psychologically speaking. I was very near giving up. I wanted for it to just happen. A meteor hit me. An accidental case of extreme food poisoning. Get hit by a bus. Something. Anything that could just let me leave my life behind. Anything to make the pain stop. Honestly, I am not sure exactly why I am alive now, because at the time, I didn't do myself any favors. Depression and Anhedonia had a complete hold on me, and I was in so much pain, I couldn't feel anymore. I don't even really remember that time with Elvis. I was THAT disconnected. I was that way for about 2 years or so, then one day Alan got my cameras out, and said go find something new and I tried. Failed. Tried again. Started a blog, this blog, and baby steps later, here I am. It took one day at a time, and like a person standing on the ledge of a building, it took... not... looking... down.

I finally healed. Through Alan and Elvis's love and patience. Through my online friendships. I healed because of Alan putting the camera in my hand. When I was ill I had NO IDEA that one day I would be standing on the corner of Lexington and 20th in San Francisco, watching Woody Allen making cinema magic. I didn't know until years later that he had also had a bout with Anhedonia, and that Anhedonia was the working title of Annie Hall. But he worked through it, and didn't give up. And I think about him sometimes when I have moments where I revisit the option of giving up. He didn't give up, and because of that, I have had many, many happy hours watching his brilliant movies. I don't just admire him for his talent... I admire him for his ability to not give up.

Suicide. It should be a four letter word. I heard once that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. That couldn't be more true or accurate. Suicide gives those rooting for your downfall a lot of power. It robs you of all the moments of excitement and joy you can't even imagine happening. It hurts those who truly love you for the rest of their lives. The folly of suicide is the fact that you can't hold those who will mourn you, and help them heal. The act itself is personal selfishness on a catastrophic level, that never allows for I am sorry. Mindy McCready couldn't see beyond the pain. I know what that's like. But thank God, I made it out alive, because if you would have told me back in 2001 that I would be standing on a corner, in San Francisco, on a mild August day, watching Woody Allen filming a movie, and making inadvertent eye contact no less, I would have said... "You're nuttier than me!"

And wouldn't the joke have been on me?

I would have missed that sunset over Angel Island. Isn't it just about perfect?

I really do wish Mindy hadn't given up.

"Inventory"

Four be the things I am wiser to know...
Idleness, sorrow, a friend and foe.
Four be the things I'd been better without...
Love, curiosity, freckles and doubt.
Three things I shall never attain...
Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.
Three be the things I shall have till I die...
Laughter and hope and sock in the eye.

~Dorothy Parker

Mood: Quiet But Thankful

~Me :)