When They Slip Away



There are people we come in contact with throughout our lives that make a significant impression on us, be it good or bad.  Those that ignite our sleeping flames and make us think.

The ones that impact us in a positive way are the ones we marvel at.  They talk the talk and actually walk the walk.  Be it their attitude toward life, their values, the way they treat others or simply, their smile.  We look to them in admiration and wonder what made them so remarkable.  We ask ourselves how we can change and vow to mimic them from that day forward.

When They Slip Away.

I mourn the loss of two such people, today.  Two acquaintances that impacted my life when they were living and even more, after they slipped away.

A 45 year-old mother of three adult children.  Head cashier at the local market where she was like a ‘mother’ to most.  Beautiful red hair put up in a bun, sparkling eyes to compliment her welcoming smile.  A laugh to remember and a heart of gold.  My children worked with her and adored her, as did all of her co-workers.  I saw her weekly as I waited in her line at the check-out no matter how many customers were ahead.  Her kids were her source of pride and she reveled in the fact that they had all moved back in with her and were once again, a family.  

A brain aneurism.  No warning, no sign.  Gone, just like that.

When They Slip Away.

A 55 year-old avid educator who was happily married with three children, also gone.  Someone whose children I gave Spanish lessons to, who was father to my daughter’s friend and school trip travel partner of my husband’s.  

Gastroesophageal cancer kicked his ass for three painful years, ultimately taking his extraordinary life.  It robbed him of his plans, his goals his explorations and his dreams.  His thirst for knowledge was insatiable.  He devoted his life to inspiring, encouraging and motivating the people in his life as well as those he came across. Everyone and anyone who interacted with him was touched and felt the magic-like effect of his presence.  You knew your life had been enhanced by the mere fact that you had met him.  An undeniable gift to all.

When They Slip Away.

These two people were not members of my family nor were they close friends of mine, yet here I sit today mourning them as if they were.  That my limited interaction with them while they lived inspired me immensely, speaks volumes about who they were.  That upon their death, they leave me with immeasurable lessons about how I should live my life going forward, is absolutely mind-blowing.  These two souls have undoubtedly changed me.

When They Slip Away

I leave you with a poem read by a relative at one of the memorial services I attended: 


To laugh often and love much;

to win the respect of intelligent persons

and the affection of children;

to earn the approbation of honest critics;

and to endure the betrayal of false friends;

to appreciate beauty;

to find the best in others;

to give of one’s self;

to leave the world a little better,

whether by a healthy child,

a garden patch

or a redeemed social condition;

to have played and laughed with enthusiasm

and sung with exaltation;

to know that even one life has breathed easier

because you have lived,

this is to have succeeded

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Why I Love Gay Men

i.marbella.com It's Raining Men

It’s Raining Men

Who doesn’t have that gay friend/relative who is so much fun to hang out with?  I hope you do because let me tell you, I love my gay men.

I have always instantly bonded with gay men.  For some reason they love me.  I can’t explain why that is but I immediately love them back.  The gay men I know are like the bffs you always wanted without the competition.  Girlfriends rock too but there is nothing like a gay friend.

When I am in the presence of gay men I can let my guard down and completely relax.  I know they are not “checking me out” and don’t have an ulterior motive (like wanting to get in my pants.)  At least I think they don’t – although some have been questionable.

Of course, my all-time favorite gay men in the world happen to be my brother in-laws.   Mr. B’s brother M, is the most loving and caring soul you will meet.  Cultured, hard-working, kind and always willing to step up when needed. I always joke that I married the wrong brother because M is always watching out for me.  His husband, G is quite the character.  He lights up a room as soon as he enters it.  I am in awe of his positivity and happy demeanor.  He doesn’t have a shy bone in him and is a Jack of all trades.  There is nothing G can’t and won’t do.  They have both worked hard at getting our family together and love us all to the moon and back.

M & G are exactly the kind of people you want to hang out with.  They are fashion-savvy, love theater, fine dining (and drinking) and will complement you all day long.  I always feel fabulous when I am in their presence.

Did I tell you the time they invited all the sister-in-laws (5 of us) to their beautiful home in DC for a weekend? They greeted us all at the airport with a single rose for each one of us (the producers of the show, The Bachelor, obviously copied the idea from them.)  As we settled into our bedrooms we saw that there were gift/swag bags (like at the Oscars) for us.  Get the hell out, right?  Inside were gift cards to spas, restaurants, shops and tickets to a show.  The menus for the weekend were printed in nice paper and posted on the fridge for all to see.  Can you say completely pampered and spoiled?  As a bonus, some of their gay friends came over for dinner one night and I laughed so hard that my cheeks were in severe pain for several days following.

There are other gay men I have bonded with.  Like the waiter in a fine restaurant that was the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life.  I asked Mr. B permission to tell this waiter exactly how beautiful he was (in the event he had not realized this fact about himself.)  He thanked me for the compliment and we flirted all night.  Oh, I forgot to mention that this was a special dinner and anniversary Mr. B and I were celebrating.  Oops.

Then, there was the time at a gay bar in Provincetown when my new buddy, Madonna The Transvestite, introduced herself to me and told me how much he/she loved me and wanted to party with me, that is, until she looked down at my feet and saw that I was wearing Crocs.  The look of horror in her face said it all.  She informed me that we could not be friends after all because she did not “do” Crocs and was clearly appalled.  She did have a point.

Dancing to my favorite song, Brick House inside an elevator with a hilarious gay guy I had recently met is also up there as one of my most memorable gay-men experiences.  

The new memory to add to my gay-men collection happened a couple of days ago while on vacation with family, including M & G.  It was the last night of vacation and there were only four of us left at the house.  M & G had made reservations at a fabulous restaurant they had been to before.  This was a new quaint farm to table restaurant only serving two seatings.  One at 5:30 and one at 8pm.  We arrived right at 8:00 and were given complimentary Prosecco as we took our seats.  

Every seat was filled including a large table that seated a group of about 14 men.  My ears perked up as I listened to them talk.  As we ate our seven exquisite courses each paired with the right wines, I had to visit the ladies’ room.  Low and behold, can you believe that I had to walk past the table of gay men to use the facilities?  On my way back I stopped at the table and commented on their good looks and fun gathering.  That was it.  It was love at first sight (with all of them) and I instantly became their bff.  They greeted me, serenaded me and took selfies with me.  Mr. B came to my rescue ( though I didn’t really need rescuing) and he was also given a warm welcome followed by some…catcalling.  Oh, they LOVED Mr. B and he was a great sport about it all.  By the end of the night, we all were hugging, kissing and taking more pictures together.   Another wonderful evening with M & G and the other gay men.

As an aside, I also love gay women and have my share of fun stories with them, but today is all about the men.  In particular M & G whom I absolutely adore.  

As new laws are passed and walls are torn down along the journey to a more loving and accepting society, what really matters is that we love the person for who they are, regardless of their gender or sexual orientation.   I am blessed to have met wonderful people along this journey and am a better person because of it.

Do you have a gay bff?

Where Is The Brick House?

“Where is the brick house?” asked fellow blogger,  Mark Bialczak, as he approached my home yesterday afternoon.  How can brickhousechick not live in a brick house, right?  I guess my symbolic brick exterior (which protects me from harm most of the time), will have to do.

Mark, who many of you know (and if not, get over to his blog now), his DWK (dear wife Karen) and their beloved dog, Ellie B aka Dogamous Pyle stopped by for a visit on their way home from their lovely vacation at the Happy Cottage in Cape Cod.  We had originally hoped to meet at the Cape but our vacation schedules did not coincide.

Mr. B meets Mr. B –

As my readers know, I refer to my husband as Mr. B (brickhouse) when I divulge his dark secrets talk about him but I also refer to Mark as Mr. B.  The other Mr. B.  So it was fun to introduce the B’s to each other for the first time.

After letting Ellie B explore our yard a bit, we headed inside to our back porch to enjoy some snacks and beverages.  I made sure to get the other Mr. B shrimp with a lot of cocktail sauce since he was short-changed on the good stuff earlier in the week.  You can read about his disappointing cocktail sauce story, here.

We sat on our porch chatting away and watching Ellie B explore the interior of our home and then settle into a rather… comfortable pose.


Please do not disturb…

Mark’s lovely wife, Karen was exactly that. Lovely!  She kept Ellie B (and Mark) in check and enjoyed a glass of wine, knowing her husband would be driving the 3 hours home.   That she was a good sport in agreeing to meet not one but two bloggers during her much anticipated vacation, tells you what kind of person she is.  (Great meeting you, Karen!)


Mmm…dogs love shrimp too

As for Mark aka the the other Mr. B, I can tell you with all certainty that he is just as sweet, caring and charming in person as he is on his blog.  You can see by the sparkle in his eyes how much he appreciates and enjoys all aspects of his life and how much he looks forward to new adventures. He referred to many of the details I have written about on my blog and could make the connection to my stories after meeting Mr. B and I.  I love that he remembered the time Mr. B had a delivery of manure compost delivered to our driveway the day before guests arrived for my daughter’s graduation party.  Something I have not let my Mr. B ever forget!


No need to show the other half of this picture…:)


A little blurry, but worth posting

Thank you, the other Mr. B, for taking a bit of a detour from your trip back to the Little Bitty in the Syracuse city neighborhood of Eastwood, to come meet Mr. B and I.  It was our pleasure to welcome you into our humble brick-less house.

Have you met a fellow blogger lately?

Pain, Flowers & Adult Children Back Home

healthylifestyle website

healthylifestyle website

Las month was a busy one.  It has been 20 days since my last post when I told you all about my dilemma with medicinal marijuana.  I have since been approved as a patient and will be receiving my official medical id in the mail soon.  Then, it is a matter of waiting for dispensaries to open up in the area.  Sigh.

I have not felt this bad in years.  Because one of the medications I have taken for the past couple of years comes with too many risks, I had to stop taking it.  I did not realize how much it was helping me until I had to stop.  Sigh again.

Walking in excruciating pain has become the norm, never mind trying to exercise.  My joints are fiery red and angry and are behaving like total @@@holes (sighs again and swears a lot in Spanish).

All I can do in the meantime is thank the heavens above for wine.

One thing that has brought joy to my life has been the flowers in our gardens. My son has always told my husband and I that the day he sees us sitting inside looking out the window watching the birds and flowers, is the day we have officially become old.  I am afraid that day has come.  I just love it when the flowers are in full bloom and hey, look at that birdie outside...  Yea.  Who knew peonies could be so…orgasmic.

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The other pastime I enjoyed this past month was spending time with my babies (ages 21 & 19) while they were home from college.  They have since left the nest once again for their summer jobs away.  My son is enjoying being a Community Service Officer on an island near the coast.  He is living in an old coast guard barracks with the other CSOs with no TV and no WiFi.  I think I would die.  He has to shine his shoes, press his uniform and shave every morning before reporting to duty – bike duty.  He is looking forward to this new experience which should help him decide if a career in law enforcement is for him.


Brickhouse-daughter is at a location which, as I write this, is under a tornado watch.  Like her brother, she does not have WiFi so I am not able to check in on her to make sure she is still alive.  She is up in the mountains training to be a swim instructor and camp counselor at a very nice 6-week sleep-away camp.  She gets to share a cabin with fifteen 11 year-olds.  Bless their souls.  She is excited about this experience which will help her decide if a career with children is for her.



I have to say that while they were home, I learned a few new things about the life of empty nesters and got a glance at what a relationship with adult children can look like.

I learned that:

  •   It is now somewhat safe to fess-up to my adult children about all the wild and crazy things I did in my youth, without fearing that they will do what I did.  I do not know what inspired me to do so but they found some of my tales amusing and may have even thought of their mom as “cool” (I’m projecting here).
  •   They are now capable of offering real actual sound advice!  For real.  It is thrilling to see this kind of role-reversal where they respectfully (yes, I said respectfully) offer their views and wisdom to situations Mr. B and I may be facing.  It is almost freaky, I have to admit.

  •   As mature as they now are, listening to me hum show tunes all day long, still annoys the hell out of them.

More importantly, I learned that:

  •    Intimacy and love-making are non existent, when the kids are home from college (it is way easier when they are little and have no idea what is going on.)  I did not realize how quickly a woman’s brain can switch from thinking she is a wild, uninhibited sexy (gotta have it) goddess, to being a prudish, asexual (stay away from me) Mother Superior of a convent, Mama.

Who knew?

Become A ‘Criminal’ Or Continue to Risk Death: I Have A Decision To Make



I have a decision to make.

I am trying to decide if I am willing to become a criminal for the sake of my health and quality of life.  If so, I  would be considered a violator of a federal law, facing a maximum penalty of $50 million and life in prison.

Here is the choice I face:

1)  Continue to take legal and potent medications to treat my Rheumatoid Arthritis


2)  Consider using a drug that although legal in my state, is considered a violation of federal law:

marijuana aka wheat,  ganga fu, butter, rainy day woman, diablito, o.j., love leaf, kif, binky, moocha, gong, juanita, poke, hooch, skunk, swag, hash, blunt, yellow submarine, sweet lucy, dimba, juju, poke, hooch, pakaloco, grass, boo…

Last summer, I almost died.  Not figuratively speaking, I mean really.  

I. Almost. Died.  

An infection made it to my blood stream and I was minutes away from having organ failure and dying, had I not gone to the ER when I did.

I live in pain, every single day of my life.  Some days it’s my feet or my wrists or my neck or my knees.  Oftentimes, it’s all of the above.  In spite of it all,   I love my little life and consider myself incredibly blessed.  I am not however, a masochist nor a martyr.  Although I have learned to accept my situation, it would be nice to feel better and to improve my quality of life.

I have a long and complicated medical history that no one in their right mind has time to listen to (or would willingly, even if they had the time.)  Trust me. 

The bottom line is that there is no cure for RA, and although there are well-known medications that reduce symptoms and new ones that are coming on the market, the side effects are horrendous.

There is no question (per numerous doctors that treated me) that my long-term use of some of these medications significantly contributed (if not caused) me to get this deadly infection.  One of the common side effects of these types of drugs is weakening of the immune system, thus making the patient more susceptible to infections or worsening of an existing infection.



Not to mention:

{thinning skin, easy bruising, changes in the shape or location of body fat (especially in your face, neck, back, and waist), increased acne or facial hair, menstrual problems, impotence, or loss of interest in sex, increased appetite, fluid retention, weight gain, increased blood sugar (which can lead to diabetes), extreme fatigue, difficulty swallowing, increase in blood pressure, unfavorable changes in cholesterol levels, irritation of lining of stomach and small intestine, ulcers, bleeding, early cataracts and glaucoma, thinning of the bones leading to osteoporosis, mood changes (some people get “revved up” and have trouble sleeping, others get depressed), adrenal suppression, lymphoma.}

I have tried most of the medications available including chemotherapy to treat my RA. Some have helped but they have come at a high price, literally and figuratively.



Last Tuesday, I met with a certified well-respected doctor who specializes in medical marijuana, to discuss the potential benefits for Rheumatoid Arthritis patients.  Holy Shit.  There are many, including the suppression of inflammation.  Inflammation is my enemy.  Inflammation is actually everyone’s enemy and the cause as well as the result of many illnesses.

 Marijuana use for RA patients promises to attack inflammation, target pain, relax muscles and help with sleep.  Many of the RA drugs out there promise the same benefits but the side effects of marijuana use are NOTHING compared to those of the conventional medications.   If marijuana use works for me, I could potentially cut FIVE of the many medications I take daily.  That is HUGE.  Less poison in my system!  


conversationsonthebrink. com

Potential Side Effects of Marijuana use:

sensory distortion, panic, anxiety, poor coordination of movement, lowered reaction time, the user may feel sleepy or depressed , increased heartbeat,dizziness, shallow breathing, red eyes, dilated pupils, dry mouth, increased appetite, paranoia, suspicion, distrust or fear of other people.

Nobody likes side effects but unfortunately, there is no such thing as no side effects when it comes to medications or certain medical treatments.  When comparing the side effects of marijuana to my current medications, to me,  it’s a no brainer.


The federal law does not recognize medicinal marijuana as acceptable or having medicinal value even if its use is protected under state law. It is not approved by the FDA as a drug that can be prescribed by doctors. Basically, we are halfway there but not quite there.  This is not fair to patients who are getting arrested and not fair or practical to expect law enforcement to be responsible for verifying the authenticity of a patient when the state and the federal agencies are not in sync. 

After qualifying me as a medicinal marijuana candidate, the doctor gave me a pin number to use when registering my name with the Sate Health Department. If I do this, I want to do it right.  I am not interested in getting high every day just for the heck of it .  I would like to try the specific strains that target pain and inflammation that may improve my quality of life.

If approved, I will receive my medicinal marijuana ID in a few weeks.  It has been suggested that I use a vaporizer to administer the marijuana as opposed to smoking it. That sounds fine to me. 

I have researched the arrests of medicinal marijuana patients in my state and they are greater than I would have hoped.  The confusion and lack of a standardized process has made it difficult for all involved.  I don’t think the police or the FEDS are going to necessarily be interested in little ‘ol me but it is uncomfortable knowing that my name is registered in a state system and that I am in violation of the federal law. 

Typically, I  find humor of most situations I encounter and believe me, I was tempted to insert all kinds of jokes in this post (like me dealing with distrust and  fear of others as a side effect of marijuana) but I need to be serious about this first before I am able to laugh and enjoy the benefits.


Marijuana fines and penalties:

{1000 Kilos or + or 100 plants or + = $10/50million = 10 years to life

100 to 999 Kilos or 100-999 plants = $5/25million = 5 to 40 yrs

50 to 99 kilos or 50-99 plants = $1/5million = up to 20 yrs

Less than 50 kilos, 10 kilos of hashish, 1 kilo of hashish oil or 1-49 plants =$250,000/1million = up to 5 yrs }


What are your thoughts on this topic?

I Was Awakened/ Order of Seven Blog Tour

I like hearts

When Beth Telihos book, Order of Seven came out, I was so excited for her that on my Facebook page, I made it Beth Teliho Day and took the liberty of changing her cover into a heart-shape.  Because love.

When Starr Bryson from Starry Knight Word Slayers ,posted a sign-up sheet to host Beth on her blog tour, apparently I must have been drinking dozing because I missed it.  After sobering up panicking and begging,  I was able to sign up to do a review of Order of Seven or as the cool people refer to it, 0o7.

So I begin my review with part of a quote from the book;

“…those of us who weren’t aware, had to be awakened…”

This quote is in reference to a critical point in the story where the main character, Devi, finally realizes what her mission is and can make sense of the twists and turns her life has taken and why she is the way she is.  It is at that moment when she understands her true purpose.

That is precisely what this captivating book does.  It takes you on a transcendental journey along with the well-formed and intriguing characters, as they search for the meaning of their existence and the answers to their many questions.  Throughout this pilgrimage, they learn of their individual superpowers and how those powers interact with the powers of others as well as how they relate to the earth’s energy.

OrderofSeven_FC_BNG (1)

As the reader, you are awakened along with the characters, in that you appreciate the importance of being balanced with your surroundings and better understand how your actions and thoughts can affect others.  In this age where life quickly passes by via a text or tweet, you are reminded to take pause and be mindful of your own energy against the beauty of earth’s natural resources.

Beth takes her reader on a full curriculum of educational experiences as she weaves her knowledge on many subjects including history, anthropology, earth sciences and geophysics, into a beautiful love story defined by trust, strength and collaboration.  She succeeds in blending it all together thus producing a riveting and suspenseful read.

In other words, this book rocks!  

I applaud Beth for her process (4 years of research into fruition) and accomplishments {I am clapping a lot right now} and look forward to reading her future projects (hurry up and get writing, girl!)

ps. I may have your husband beat in that I, am the slowest reader in the world. HA!

Please head on over to amazon to order Order of Seven, ahora, not mañana.

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...and she's beautiful too

…and she’s beautiful too

BETH TELIHO is a writer, artist and tree hugger who lives in Texas with her husband and two adventurous sons. Restless in the mundane, she writes about the abnormal, paranormal and otherwise fantastical because that’s what quickens her heartbeat. She laughs at inappropriate jokes, and prefers spicy food and margaritas to almost anything. One day, she hopes to live in a treehouse, where she can be an eccentric introvert with at least seven cats.

Blog: www.bethteliho.me

Facebook: www.facebook.com/writerbisme

Twitterverse: @beth_teliho

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/bethteliho 


My Husband Loves Owls & As It Turns Out, He Married One


pinterest.com pinterest.com

When I started dating Mr. B, I learned that he was an avid birder.  A what, I asked?  I found out that not only did he enjoy this daytime hobby, but that he also enjoyed an occasional “owling” session in the middle the night.  Que, que?

I was convinced that once married, he would choose staying in the warm bed with his new bride over going owling at nights.  Lucky for me, he was too exhausted most of the time and stayed in bed.   At first I didn’t give a hoot about owls but then I learned more about them and happily supported Mr. B’s love for birds and all wildlife.

Did you know that you can actually go out and call the owls and they will return the call?  Mr. B is highly proficient at owl calling and can imitate them perfectly.  Click here if you want to listen…

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My Husband Loves Owls & As It Turns Out, He Married One



When I started dating Mr. B, I learned that he was an avid birder.  A what, I asked?  I found out that not only did he enjoy this daytime hobby, but that he also enjoyed an occasional “owling” session in the middle the night.  Que, que?

I was convinced that once married, he would choose staying in the warm bed with his new bride over going owling at nights.  Lucky for me, he was too exhausted most of the time and stayed in bed.   At first I didn’t give a hoot about owls but then I learned more about them and happily supported Mr. B’s love for birds and all wildlife.

Did you know that you can actually go out and call the owls and they will return the call?  Mr. B is highly proficient at owl calling and can imitate them perfectly.  Click here if you want to listen to some real owl calls.

*Fun fact: The female barred owl call, sounds like it’s saying, “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you?” Take a listen.  

So what is my point and why does the title of this post say that he married an owl?  Let me explain.

I have recently discovered, now that we have no owlets at home, that I must be either part wolf, part vampire or part owl.  Since vampires are over exposed and wolves are creepy,  I choose owl.

Holy, night owl!  

I have become a lover of the night.

A woman of the night.

A spirit of the night.

come alive when the sun goes down.  

I go from being a tight and stiff little chrysalis to becoming a beautiful and free butterfly.

Well, you get my point.

As many of you know, morning is not my time.  That’s when my joints ache and when I lay in bed for hours.  By 2:00 pm, I am finally vertical and somewhat alive.  By 6:00 pm, I am ready to…PARTY!  Almost everything in my body feels a bit more loose and I just want to go out and conquer the world.  The problem is that the world has already been conquered by Mr. B during the daylight hours and all he wants to do is fall flat on his face on his side of the bed.

Three weekends ago we stayed out until 1:30 am.  That was one of the best nights we have had since, for ever.  I felt alive as I took in the sights and smells (pot smoke mostly) of the night and all the joy that came with it.

This past weekend we went to a concert to see a group I have raved about called, Postmodern Jukebox.  You really need to check them out.  

Mr. B had spent the entire day ending hunger, curing cancer, planting our garden, mowing the lawn, painting the side of the house and bringing me breakfast and lunch in bed.  I, on the other hand, had spent most of the day  horizontal.  By 7:00 pm I was PUMPED and ready to take on the night.

She only comes out at night…

(Oh-oh, here she comes)
Watch out boy
She’ll chew you up
(Oh-oh, here she comes)
She’s a maneater

Before leaving for the concert, Mr. B looked around for some kind of dinner I may have made for us and that’s when (not unlike the female barred owl), I said to him,  “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you? Not I.”   So we and our empty stomachs, left for the concert.

As we waited for the concert to begin (at the bar),  I began to feel so loose and free that not even an unbuckled seatbelt could compete with my looseness.  I smiled at Mr. B and told him how much I loved him.  In fact, I told everyone around me how much I loved them (empty stomachs will make you say stuff). I wore black funky heels which I never wear anymore just because I wanted to.  Although I took them off for most of the concert, I felt feminine and beautiful.  Oh, and I  told random people around me that they too, looked beautiful.

After enjoying the music, behaving like a real groupie and literally swaying my arms from left to right along with the music and the crowd, the show was over.  For most people.  For me, the hunt had just begun.

I needed to stay around the venue to meet some of the band members.  Particularly, the piano player and the hot bass player.  Sure enough, they finally came out and blessed us (me) with their presence.  I got my picture taken with both Mr. Bass and Mr. Piano.  I also proposed to both of them.  They were very afraid.

She only comes out at night…

(Oh-oh, here she comes)
Watch out boy
She’ll chew you up
(Oh-oh, here she comes)
She’s a maneater

Then, Mr. B practically carried me to a bar nearby so that we could put some food into our stomachs.  The name of the bar is, The Dirty Truth.  Is that not the most awesome name??  We had 10 minutes to order before the kitchen closed.  I remember welcoming the waiter to the bar even though…he works there.  Suddenly, who walks in but the hot bass player.  He saw me and panicked, (it’s the crazy lady again!)

As Mr. B and I ate and drank some more, I turned to him and told him that he was the best husband ever.  I told him how much I appreciated his willingness to have fun with me and to humor me while I basked in my high from being out and feeling free.  I also thanked him for taking  me out of my daily “cage” where I sit alone in pain for hours at a time.  And for letting me fly.

 Although I wasn’t allowed to keep or eat my prey (like Mrs. barred owl gets to do), I enjoyed the hunt, the sights and the company.

I would rotate my head 270 degrees for Mr. B, anytime!

Something Is Broken, Something Is Wrong: A Mother’s Fear




If you are the mother of a young black man,

I can see your fear.

If you are the mother of a young white man who wants to be a police officer,

I can feel your fear.

If you are the mother of a young black man,

I am sorry for your pain.

If you are the mother of a young white man who wants to be a police officer,

I am also sorry for your pain.

If you are the mother of a young black man in today’s world,

be very afraid.

If you are the mother of a young white man who wants to be a police officer in today’s world,

be very afraid.

If you are the mother of a law-abiding black son,

stay afraid.

If you are the mother of a law abiding white son who wants to be a police officer,

stay afraid.

If you are the mother of a young black man,

get angry.

If you are the mother of a young white man who wants to be police officer,

get angry.

If you are the mother of a young black man you love beyond words,

protect him.

If you are the mother of a young white man who wants to be a police officer and whom you love beyond words,

protect him.

Whether our sons are black or white, we are their mothers,

and we are scared.

Something is broken

Something is wrong

We pray that we can fix it

We pray that we are not alone.


I am terrified.  

My son is a caring and kind young man whose passion is to become a police officer.  He wants to help others.  He wants to serve others.  He is willing to risk his life for others.  

No recent news story has changed his mind.  He is determined to pursue his career of choice.  He may be scared deep down but he doesn’t show it.  

 I am terrified.  

He will be working this summer as a Community Service Officer, supporting the police department anyway he can.  His job is to work with and for the community.  To protect and to serve.  A stepping stone to pursuing his passion once he graduates from college next year.

But you know what?  He needs to do this.  He needs to become a police officer.  He is one of the many good guys.  The ones that care.  The ones that treat others with respect.  One of the ones who values all lives.  One of the ones we need.

I am terrified,  proud and hopeful for change.