tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90242078682598786332011-07-08T13:29:47.984-04:00Reflections of life and the perpetual journeys that it takes us on....(while eating pizza)it's moihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11462519100694728460noreply@blogger.comBlogger51100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9024207868259878633.post-8504315832572338142009-08-16T02:38:00.003-04:002009-08-18T02:07:23.903-04:00

It's funny, for as long as I lived, and for as many people that I have had deep conversations with...no one that I'd ever talked to, and I mean, NO ONE... has ever escaped the issue of "low self-esteem"Even those that seem narcissistic and would think that they are better than anyone else (they are actually givens, to me....I don't even need to know them to know that they suffer from some form of

it's moihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11462519100694728460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9024207868259878633.post-74370000199727453002009-07-10T22:09:00.001-04:002009-07-11T02:06:49.491-04:00

"look papo, it's a sword!!" Our grandson Jaidon yelled in excitement as he picked up a stick. I murmured to myself about how dirty it was but the big glowing grin on his face made me swallowed my disgust at how dirty the stick looked.It was covered with moss AND a little bit of Spanish Moss. I gently pulled away the Spanish Moss for I had been warning him that it might make him itch due to the

it's moihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11462519100694728460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9024207868259878633.post-59976321723604249702009-07-09T21:50:00.001-04:002009-07-11T02:11:35.231-04:00

My first recollection of effervescence was when I was about five years old. I remembered that my brother and I were visiting our God mother and she offered us sodas.Now, we grew up drinking nothing but water. No juice, no milk (well, we were breast fed but don't have recollections of those) and once in a long long while, we'd get a taste of soda: Sarsparillas, to be exact. it was one of those

it's moihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11462519100694728460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9024207868259878633.post-31582915311000415342009-07-08T22:41:00.002-04:002009-07-11T02:14:41.391-04:00

"Gardening, I am, the fruit of my father..."When I was growing up well into my adulthood I could never understood WHY people loved gardening.I mean, I enjoyed the beauty of the flowers and the bushes and plants and I enjoyed eating the fruits of people’s labors. But I just couldn't see myself getting down knee deep into the dirt (hey, that’d ruin my jeans!); nor could I made myself digging with

it's moihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11462519100694728460noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9024207868259878633.post-24695415428344314072009-07-08T21:57:00.001-04:002009-07-11T02:15:58.292-04:00

(For my grandmother...Yu-Yi)She held his hand tightly as they chased the retreating waves.But when the waves returned and crashed against the cove in the dusk, nature's spectacles demanded respect as the thundering sounds rattled his tiny heart as he clinched her hand tighter.His face: taut with every muscle pulling backwards that made his eyes squint as the crashing of the waves created tiny

it's moihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11462519100694728460noreply@blogger.com0