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Saturday, August 28, 2021

The Axe Murderer............by Julianna Rowe

I went to bed last night around ten pm.  I usually sleep quite soundly but there was a mouse on my mind that has taken residence in my kitchen making my two (rescue) cats prowl the area in trepidation, less the fear part of the word, and hoping to score a win.  My thoughts on the other hand were of sweet pets bringing me a present middle of the night.  So when I heard a knock on my outside door I freaked because I was already freaked internally mentally.  Wait, mentally is internally.  

Terror gripped me.  I grabbed my phone and readied it to dial 911.  I slithered out of bed in my short T shirt, undies, and socks due to cold feet and slowly walked to the door.  Why slowly I have no idea. I peeked out the peep hole expecting an ax murderer but it was a woman with her head down.  OMG I thought she was hurt and needed help or was she kidding me to get into my abode and steel my lap top and or TV and or the $60 in  my old black purse. I have nice purses just wasn't using one yesterday! I looked for blood on her head and neck but there was none. Who was she? So...without further thought I just opened the door in my shorty T hoping that would detour any thoughts of my  upcoming death by axe.  It had been a boring slow day anyway. 

To my astonishment there at the foot of her and my door was Bob.  My cat.  

I flung my disheveled hair back like I was a movie star ignoring my exposed under's and legs.... and exclaimed.  

"BOB!"

He heard his name, looked up at me, and walked in with a slight trot.  The boy cat had been wondering the lonely halls and dim dark doorways since about nine that evening when my granddaughter ran in to pick up something she had left over the weekend. How he escaped without me noting it bewildered me but he did, not to say he never has before but I always caught him in the act.  Oh sometimes I would let him walk as far as he wanted sniffing selected doors. I always wondered why just some doors. What would cause him to bypass other doors??

The cat savior lady told me she was just going to start at the first door and go knocking on each of eleven doors until she found his home.  Lucky Lady got lucky on number 1.  I thanked her and offered her a million dollars, as soon as my wish came forth.  We laughed, she left. 

As long as I was up and about I went to use the "rest" room saving me the usual two pm bathroom run.  Bob followed me into the "REST" room all the time watching my every move.  I sat down as predicted  and Boom, he jumped in my lap, reached his paws around my neck hugging me and kissing my face while I am attempting to gain control of the uppie (I roll my tissue from the top, not underneath) toilet tissue so I could get life back under control.  Obviously BOB was happy to be back home. And the other rescue Lucy was all over him greeting him like he had been missing  from our lives for days versus two hours.  It could have been worse like most things but it wasn't except for the shorty T shirt thingy deal.    The End.   Does Bob look like he cares??  I always save him!   And I should for I am responsible for Mr. Bob Benjamin Morrison Ogden.   (He has his own blog)


Wednesday, August 25, 2021

NO MORE SALT..........by Julianna Rowe

 
This is half of something. This is half of a union, a pair, a couple!
One white and one black. One salt and one pepper. Now I stand alone, really alone on a vast wooden table left to deal with life half-way.
Salt was sitting on the counter attached to me, pepper, at the side by a strong almost unbeatable, unbreakable force called a magnet. We were like twins, inseparable, where one went the other usually always went too. Silly huh? Not really....just look at me now. Poor soul. Not only standing alone now, but I'm black on the inside living in a white outer side! This is no good life anymore.
After salt fell off the the edge of the counter and died a big smashing death, I knew it was over. The life I had known for years was over. I could see the person that shoved her off the edge was upset. Standing there gazing at salt trying to figure out a way to put her back together...sort of worse than humpty dumpty or scrambled eggs. There was no putting salt back together. So I watched the lady sweep her up and drop her into a big white bag and that was the last time I saw salt. I have an empty spot now. Its right on my side where she used to be attached and sit every day, every month every year.

The lady that accidentally killed salt was talking to someone. She was saying, "OMG, I hope those weren't a wedding gift, or maybe carried some sincere sentimental value. What if they belonged to the deceased Grandmother, or they might have been a gift one of their children walked a mile to a store with only a few dollars they'd saved for months to buy a Mother's day gift for!"

That lady carried on so long I started to think she might know I had feelings. Nawh, impossible. Salt is gone and I will have to find a way to move on. I have some other friends on the counter. A large brown wooden grinder and some new fangled plastic (probably from Wal Mart) with big salt inside it. When they turn the top it makes noises and then salt like my old friend that got pushed off a cliff counter and smashed into a thousand pieces, comes out the top. The new salt is OK, just not my cup of salt is all. I will adjust to the loss. Not so sure that lady will. She was more upset than I was and salt wasn't even hooked up to her. I think she was just a-scared the people that owned salt and I might be upset. She still isn't over it. It's been a few months now and today when she came to our home, she sat me on the table and took some pictures of the missing salt. I'm fine, she isn't!!

Spirit is Carried on by.......... Julianna Rowe

I read an obit on facebook about a nice lady that passed away like everyone has and will.  When I came to the line, "Her Spirit is carried on by...,"  then came the names of the survivors. I was impressed yet horrified.  Yes horrified!  Obviously I have carried on a few Spirits from my passed on people.  And some of those so called Spirits were great and some not so great.  The great ones, spirits that is, seemed to have an eternal fight with the bad ones.  And in this family there are no mediocre spirits.  Either horrific or wonderful.  Fight and drama even though done quietly. No Maury Povich or Jerry Springer by any means.
(I try to stay away from all of them that "My Spirit would be carried on by..." who act with such drama.) Oh we do have a Mr. and Mrs. Nancy Grace.  Everyone guilty!  Where did that come from? Certainly not my side of the cells.  We have no judges.  Oh I forgot, we have judgers who haven't evolved yet.

Love, hate....no in between.  Of course not me. 
Our cells contain: Western frontier town murder in the 1800's, insanity in the 1800's, rich farmers all the way through the 1990's,  alcoholism, depression, giving, comedians,  and one policeman.  Good Bad like most families.  We had no Rockefeller's, no politicians, a few good athletes, a couple "Carny's,"  as in carnival tent travelers, (omg) one moonshiner in the 1930's that spent some time in Levenworth,  a couple Nascar drivers, no literary scholars, no teachers, many female crotchers, hum, crocheters, ha, I cant spell that! Knitters, embroiders, sewers, artists of the drawing,  a tax evader, and a lot of maids. We do carry on the creative spirit for sure.  Hell of a background of which I have diligently tried to overcome, evolve past, move on from, hide away from, run from, learn from, accentuate the positives of, all of which is a work in progress.  Cells have memories.  I say they, my ancestor's, had a camera and took videos and placed them in their "Carry on-ers" brain cells and or vagina's and penis's for future turn on turn offs.   Might not be so funny.  I heard on talk radio that one of our brain cells, yes I said ONE is identical in appearance to ONE Universe.  There is that word infinity again.  Eww eww.  Too big for my cells to grasp.  We could each have over a billion Universe's in our brains.  I said it was too big.  Oh and all with camera's trying to trick us.  Some of those brain cell Universe look a likes lift us, some try to bring us down.  It's no different than the show Survivor.  And I would have gotten kicked off quickly!  I'm good!  I'm not "done" yet.  I might add there are a LOT of beautiful and strong women in this family.... 
Laters 

Monday, August 23, 2021

The Umbilical Cord in Eggs?.........by Julianna Rowe

 




I don't know what it is with me, chickens, roosters, and eggs lately? Certainly there are more important issues like when will women have equal rights.   And will the Pandemic ever end. 

Back to the Umbilical Cord of the everyday egg. I like eggs, but when I crack them open and that milky looking wirery squibbly fertilized umbilical cord presents itself off the yoke in my frying pan I get woozy. So, I do the right and good thing and take half the shell I have just cracked open and use it to splice off the " unbili -cord," while using the other half of the shell to scoop it out and into the sink nevermore to be seen. Then and only then can I eat it. I even went so far as to purchase a dozen organic fed "chicken eggs."
You know what I mean, in great hopes there may be less or no umbilical cord. And I paid $4.60 cents vs $1.59 cents for regular eggs both of which have the same white milky fertilized umbilical cord looking at me from the pan. I know, duh. 

My friend Peter, whom I shall blog about at some point, says I am Obsessive-Compulsive Neurotic. I am not, my Mother is! LOL 

Why would anyone want to eat something that came out of a Chicken's (ass).  If the Chicken had sex, I don't think they make love, then that same egg would be-holden a little chicken...eeewww. Call it what you will, I cannot eat the unfertilized or fertilized umbilical cord of a "chicken egg." Now if I scramble it quickly and its out of site, that works on occasion depending on my mood of course. Neurotic....no way.

So be happy, be safe, be WELL and don't eat umbilical cords.....not chickens, not any okay?  Good.  We're good.    Later's

Sunday, August 22, 2021

"The Dyslexic Writer," Me!

Dyslexia is a shitty thing to have to live with. It comes in many shapes and forms.  I could go into depth but there is no need for that.  Simply put my brain gets scrambled sometimes when I visually look at something.  For instance the name Johnson might appear to me to be Stanley.  Bad example but hope you get it.  Fractions were a living nightmare.  And English class was even worse. My brain just could not understand passive voice, certain punctuation, and most of all sentence structure.  It looked like scrambled eggs.

It started around 4th grade where I couldn't keep up in class.  The teacher would talk to fast and only a few of his or her words were retained. Big blank spots.  I would try diligently to do my homework but I couldn't.  My mother would continually say, "What's the matter with you?"   Well I didn't think anything was until I heard that about a zillion times along with my teachers saying I could do it but wasn't applying myself.  They called me lazy. (I am the farthest person from lazy)  Each year I sank further into lack of self esteem.  I was a pretty young girl so I fell back on that.  How'd that work out for me you ask?  Not-so-good, with low self esteem nothing works out so well.

High School!  Lord the load got heavier each year in all areas.  I was made fun of in my classes. Once by a teacher, he was the Social Studies and he taught Drivers Ed as well. I forgot his name but never will I forget his face, who made me stand at the blackboard and draw apples and then erase one so I could see the answer.  Humiliation!  I started to skip school A LOT.....It was the only way I felt I could save myself from the pain. 

Why am I writing this?  Because I love/loved to make up stories and write books.  But I lacked the Grammar skills to do so.  I was not a wealthy person so I lacked the funds to hire editors.  I tried nursing homes asking for folks who may wish to feel useful again to edit for me.  I tried assisted living homes and college students for a nominal fee.  I did and do online learning and discovered I was and am the Queen of Passive Voice sentences and run on's. The words then and than stump my buns every time.  I have Word so that helps quite a bit. 

My mentor of 41 years told me if I ever thought of publishing I better have someone edit my punctuation.  Okay!  Again embarrassed as well as I thought of the hundreds of people that read my chapters who might be wondering were I learned to put so many comma's in. 

One of my clients is a Linguistics Professor who told me to blow everyone off and write like I write.  If you don't like where my paragraphs and comma's are.....just read the dang story anyway because I am pretty darn good at coming up with interesting stories.   My English teacher, Mrs. Covington, who resides in the heavens is probably rolling over and over but is jumping for joy at the least for my attempts at entertaining people with my wild imagination.  (A lot of the tales I tell are true even though I mark them as FICTION.)  You have to guess what is and what isn't. 

Thanks for your understanding.  God forbid I don't wish to be made fun of at this age for Dyslexia!
Been to that rodeo before.  Oh, I now have an editor from the UK and two novels on Amazon and at Barnes and Noble online.  As well as three more ready for print. 

Famous People with Dyslexia? 
John F. Kennedy, George Washington, George Bush, Pablo Picasso, Albert Einstein, Henry Winkler, Whoopi Goldberg, Robin Williams, Jay Leno, Anderson Cooper, Cher, Steven Spielberg, Justin Timberlake, Tim Teebow, Keira Knightley Jamie Oliver, Leonardo Di Vinci, Tom Cruiz, Walt Disney, Jim Carrey, John Lennon, Guy Ritchie, and Me.


Thursday, August 19, 2021

Donkey vs Ass.............by Julianna Rowe

I have been thinking of a way not to offend people when I feel the need to use the word "ass."  So I googled ass phrases and decided TO use the word "donkey" in place of "ass" to see what I get.  Too funny.  So the next time I am at Wal Mart and someone at the check out angers me I will say, "Why you fucking Donkey!"  That way I wont offend anyone.  (sorry, really I am, but it just fit right in there jeez)  I will be better I promise...


Donkey my Donkey! (meaning, "I will not answer your question")
Donkey-over-appetite [-teakettle, -tip, -tit] (head-over-heals; end-over-end)
bite my Donkey
(used as a derisive comeback)

chew somebody's Donkey (to speak or shout angrily at someone because they've done something wrong)
creep up someone's Donkey
(to demean oneself as a means of currying favor)

get in someone's Donkey (to cause trouble for)

get on somebody's Donkey
(to get on someone's nerves)

hang it in your Donkey! (used as derisive comeback
hang somebody's Donkey(to punish; thoroughly defeat)
have (one's) finger up (one's) Donkey
(to stand about idly)
have (one's) head up [or in] (one's) Donkey (to be inattentive or stupid)
have (one's) nose up somebody's Donkey
(to curry favor with someone in a blatant manner)
hold (one's) Donkey
(to be patient)
How's your Donkey?
(used as a greeting)

jump up my Donkey
(used as a derisive comeback) 
kiss
[or suck] my Donkey (used as a derisive comeback

not on your Donkey! (no indeed

pain in the Donkey(someone who is annoying)
piece of Donkey
(someone who is sexy, attractive)
pull something out of
(one's) Donkey (to invent or produce something seemingly from nowhere)

scratch a beggar's Donkey (to be impoverished)
shut your Donkey! (shut)
stick [or shove, etc.] it up somebody's Donkey (to brutally manhandle, victimize someone)
suck my Donkey (used as a derisive comeback)
suck somebody's ass
(used as a derisive comeback)

take it in the Donkey 
(to be brutally manhandled, victimized)
talk like a man with a paper Donkey
(to talk nonsense)
tear (one's) Donkey [or Donkeyhole] (to injure oneself; get into trouble)
tear somebody a new Donkey 
(to ruin or destroy someone)
think the sun sets [or shines] in somebody's Donkey(to worship stupidly someone or oneself)

up somebody's Donkey
(hounding, annoying, or bothering someone)
up your Donkey! 


Well that's enough Donkey for a while.  So until I find something more interesting than ass phrases, be safe, be well, be happy, and get rich and stay smart....it is easier!   Laters





































Some of this list from http://thoughtfuljack.blogspot.com

Wednesday, August 18, 2021

Coconut Pancakes.........................by Diane Ogden

I awoke this morning and made the conscious decision to try the Coconut Pancake recipe I saw on face book.  I copied and pasted it to Word Pad, at which time the printer decided to "not print." What's new? I figured it out and onward and upward to the kitchen.  I get all the ingredients ready:

4 eggs, room temperature
1 cup milk (raw cow’s or coconut both work)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 tablespoon honey or a pinch of stevia
1/2 cup coconut flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
coconut oil or butter for frying
The consistency of the batter concerned me.  Basically I had four frothy eggs with a bit of coconut flour. Oh and I couldn't find my baking soda.  Had to get the one out of the refrigerator.  Ewww.  Don't panic, it was almost new.  Still.......eeww
Into the frying pan we go....   




                          So far, so good............. or not!  The flip was as bad as trying to flip raw eggs.
                                    But I carried on.  I had my "heart" set on healthy coconut pancakes.

I did not take a photo of my lopsided coconut pancake stack.  But I did take a bite, after butter and syrup topping.  Terrible.  Terrible.  Terrible.  The texture in my mouth was unacceptable.  Like eating partially cooked corn bread batter with syrup on top.  O M G!   Bob the cat also upped his nose at this stack of ??
To the sink dink! What a waste of four organic eggs etc.



This is when I pulled out my friends old fashioned pancake recipe from twenty years ago.  Unhealthy as hell, but no worries, I spruced (healthied) them up a bit.. I don't think that is a word. Who cares.




DeAnne Roeske's Old Fashioned Pancakes
1 1/4 c. flour (I used unbleached organic)
3 tsp. (organic) baking powder
1 tablespoon (Truvia) sugar
1/2 tsp. (sea) salt
1 beaten (organic range free chicken) egg  LOL
1 cup milk  (organic coconut milk)
2 tbsp. salad oil  (organic coconut oil)
(I added 100% Blueberry juice for my brain.
 BEAUTIFUL!!
Topped with Sugar free POISON (aspartame) It's all I had on hand.


DELICIOUS
PERFECTION
FLUFFY
AMAZING
Slightly green from the Blueberry juice.
I am now vegging with a sugar low.  Yes low, not high. Already been there done that.  Back to Oatmeal tomorrow. 

           Laters.......Be Safe, Be Well, Be Happy, and get richer so you can go out for pancakes.
                                                             My kitchen is a mess.

Monday, August 16, 2021

Before Hate: By Julianna Rowe

 Before Hate 


                                                           Standing alone for a decade

Losing hope, living in life’s shade.

Stopped looking, heart fading.

Nothing left not even waiting.

No one knew my laughter hid the pain.

I wrote stories to keep sane-

I forgot God was working,

And his Angels were lurking,

Behind the scenes…..just for me.

Then with no special warning,

He appeared  one morning….

The man God sent called me “Sunshine.”

Out from behind dark clouds he came-

A breath of fresh life with no added games.

Maybe a few, but we got through.

After a time, love was fully true.

We were given back whole,

The hundred-fold what life stole.

We praise God in every way,

For each other for all our days.

And then came HATE.....


Friday, August 13, 2021

Making Butter: by Julianna Rowe

 

 Making Butter: 

If you received a truck full of money on your road, who would it be delivered to?  Who are you?  Are you the person you were born to be? Could it miss you because you are fogged under?  Could it miss you because you are not aware?  Could you miss it?

Clean up your mind so you can see and receive.  “Shed your feet with the gospel of peace.”

Peace thru love. How can you give if you cannot receive? Take the cover off the shoe box that contains your hidden peace so it can chase the strife from your life.  Then what you seek can be given/found.  

If there is anyone in a wheelchair on the side of your road of life that are negative? If so, they are on your back.  No more shall you put anyone on your back for if you do how can you receive?  It is likened a man shooting a gun with no bullets. 

When you are reeling inside and all boggled up and churning, think of it like when your Grandmother used to churn her butter.  First, she strained the milk of all its unclean impurities, then she let it stand/sit quietly while the separation of the best part came to the top.  That was the cream, thick and rich and the best part of all. Then she worked long in time to create from what she had separated and she got better /butter.  Good from all her work.  Do this for yourself and others. Be patient, let the best of yourself rise to the top.  Then work to achieve what you want.  You see, it’s a process. 

Everyone fears.  Everyone gets bogged and fogged at times.  I have revealed to you something you will use over and over.  Take but one step at a time.   But it’s not always easy!  Don’t look up at the top of your staircase and expect to skip the steps in between.  One step at time. There is so much more for you but you can’t go all the way if you expecting to jump to the top.  It is dangerous and you could fall.  Rewards are not only in heaven but on earth.  Make yourself proud.  Just like making butter, step by step.  The Universe rejoices in you. The Saints are singing for you. The Angels are in flight just for you. You.  The most important person.  This is how important you are.  See everyone and everything as part of your life/living.  But do remember to SEPARATE the impurities first and be led by goodness.

You are your own servant so, serve yourself and in turn you can care for others.  What you have been searching for is already here.  Look in the mirror and see yourself. You have the strength of an eagle, the wisdom of Solomon, the fate of Angels, the voice of Saints, the ears to hear and the ears to block.  Your smell is sensitive to flowers everywhere and your mouth will speak kindness, peace, faith and praise.  All good.

 


My Grandmother used to make butter and the Spirit used her as an example for this blog.  Every now and then I smell her separating the milk and cream to make the butter.  

Thursday, August 12, 2021

If I Should Die Before I Wake: By Julianna Rowe


 











You made love to me with your lips on mine.

You touched my heart with warm skin each time.

You held me close until I fell asleep each night,

Even when your shoulder hurt and became so tight.

When my leg muscles tightened in terrible pain,

You leapt to my rescue when I cried insane.

And ever so gently, called my name.

We are old now, wrinkled yet the same,

Our minds didn’t change, our bodies lame.

I’m glad you stayed and weathered this life,

No one could say we didn’t beat the strife.

I continue to lay down with you,

To hold you and love you until our due.

I don’t know what I will do when your gone,

And if I do, just sing me our songs.

All the ones you sent me when we first met,

Just know you are the one I loved best.

If before I wake, you should pass away…

You will be in my heart each and every day.

Monday, August 9, 2021

Portal's of Unearthly Dimensions..... By Julianna Rowe


PORTAL’s of Unearthly Dimensions:              by Julianna Rowe

I could feel and see everything that was happening to me through the portal. It was a tiny yet vast canyon in another dimension. Another time? Which was I in? I wondered, pondered as I bent over to pick up something that resembled a telescope. It appeared to be an antique brass cylinder like in the old pirate movies.

“Ahrr,’ land ahoy!” the rugged filthy yet virile bearded man said, as he peered thru the long, thin, brass object appearing to magnify his destination. 

Was I magnifying through imagination my own destination? I reluctantly picked up the instrument, put it to my eye, and scanned the canyon through the nearly invisible portal in my bedroom wall. I saw land, mountains, craters, and an ocean, all in miniature scale. As I scanned this new world through the tiny, round, amplifying lens, I caught a glimpse of three tiny figures. I turned the cylinder to heighten the magnification and clearly saw a woman, and walking with her as though lost were two animals. One oddly appeared to be a living, breathing, large, shaggy, blue, stuffed animal. I stopped all mental and physical movement, afraid to look away, or remove myself from the portal, for fear of losing it forever. Yet was I dreaming? I continued, although with subjective confusion, to follow the odd threesome as though I were their portal police. Who were they? Where were they? Did they need help? And then, suddenly, and with a force unknown to me, I was pulled through the small opening to the other side in a millisecond. Faster than an airbag and with the velocity of a jet engine. I suspected birth was easier, although looking back, it did leave me breathless as well as weightless. The weightless part was the only factor I enjoyed. When I reached the end of the portal, there was a powerful, sucking swoosh as I entered a new world through a second opening, allowing me a sense of free flying. I wondered, should I put my arms out like Superman? But, instead, I did nothing. No thoughts or emotions were present. I simply was.

I had asked for it. I had done what I always did. Gotten myself in too deep trying to help others. It had always been my downfall, not to mention, the portion of my brain still maintaining rationality wondered if I would or could ever get back. What or who would call me back with the intent I did others? That to me would be the only way of returning through the porthole to the safety of my earthly bedroom. Much less my earthly life.

Regardless, there I was actually flying or rather soaring. It brought back a memory of the boy flying on his enormous white shaggy dog in “The Never-Ending Story.” Maybe that was who the blue dog was I saw with the woman through the pirate’s nautical spyglass, and then another memory came into view.

I was a small child riding in a car at a time when seatbelts were not required. I would scoot up and rest my head on the back of my father’s driver’s seat, near his big safe shoulder, usually donned in a soft, plaid-flannel shirt and watch the road dreaming of someday driving like he did. On occasion there would be a mountain ahead—in reality a child’s mind pictures a small hill to be a mountain—I would watch intently as my father drove us up, straight up, where the road met the sky, nothing beyond. The end. I was sure we would fall off the edge of the road and go down, down, down to our deaths.

And then another memory came toward me like a swirling column of air. Inside the whirlwind was an ocean. I didn’t like water, and in fact, I am very frightened of it. And then as before, I saw my father driving us near the water’s edge, purposefully driving off the road just enough to hit the gravel to tantalize me, or was it torture me? His intention was to make me think we might drive into the water and die. I guessed that would be torture. Why would he do that? I could feel where the fear began in my life as I soared above it able to read the visual beneath me. What my father did wasn’t a good thing. I suspected he would have a portal of his own to deal with someday.

And then… I descended slowly onto real land. Everything was blurry ahead and all around me. I had nowhere to go so I took a leap of faith and stepped forward, only to see clearly a long very-tall glass wall I was unable to penetrate. And then I saw her on the other side. I was on the inside of a building and she was on the outside. A door appeared, but it would not open. I could not get out, and she could not get in. What would happen if I could let her in? She was me standing there with her stuffed, shaggy, blue dog and another small animal I didn’t recognize. There was no way out. On Earth I would have had FEAR. 

Wikipedia says: Fear is a feeling induced by perceived danger or threat that occurs in certain types of organisms, which causes a change in metabolic and organ functions and ultimately a change in behavior, such as fleeing, hiding, or freezing from perceived traumatic events.

Here, through the portal, I had no fear. I saw prisons, offices full of strange people with all sorts of worries. I passed over large bodies of water confident in myself to be safe. Mountain roads dropping thousands of feet should one get too close to the edge. People shouting at one another from their vehicles. People dying. People, angry with me. Yet, I withstood every insecurity and mental probability of my own fear of confrontations, of dying a water death, falling off a mountain road, and I passed the tests. The blue shaggy dog might have helped some. Interestingly my dream allowed me the security of a living stuffed animal.

I had taken myself to this place to learn how to escape my earthly situation and bring myself back to reality to face life once again. The Universe took me to places I needed to re-experience, so as to be able to live in peace on Earth without continued fear.  

There are other portals… good ones and bad ones. Given enough mental off-balance they would open up and swallow you like the whale swallowed up Jonah. They would steal your life. Balance yourself to avoid portals of unearthly dimensions. It was all around you. Blurry until you removed the blinders and could see the truth. Just like the glass wall in my portal. The woman on the other side was me, of course. Now she was free. Free indeed.

picture from Cern's Portal to Another Dimension and Other Unbelievable Facts.

Sunday, August 8, 2021

I Love You, I Said to Myself......by Julianna Rowe

 


Why are you crying?

He called you names, told you he wished you’d die!

So why are you crying?

You know it’s a lie.

Are you afraid to be free?

Free of malice, hate, and left to be.

You are amazing like the song….

Allow that “Simple Man” to be wrong!

Do not respond, do not listen,

Just step on out and glisten!

You will sparkle and shine

Give yourself a bit of time.

 I love you I said to myself,

And that will continue to add to my wealth.

Not to mention my health. ðŸ’“

Wednesday, August 4, 2021

My Thorn.................by Julianna Rowe

 

 1989-90   The (My) Thorn

Fear is the product of an insecure mind, trying to let it go is difficult you'll find. 

I've tried to conquer it through much prayer and pain, What once I battled is back again.

I learned I can beat it and win when alone, but when with another, it grabs me to the bone.

I  learned the secret is deep inside, it was healed in the Universe, but not where I reside.

My mentor said, "Fear can't hurt you, only steal your success." It's way inside me where fear doth rest.

I let it sink me way down low, Now let me reset it again, what I already know.

My past was conquered through business success, but the failures hung on to my attest.

My trust in the  Universe was total at best, but my own trust in me leaves me with no rest.

I do not want to look through other eyes, yet even if I don't, I seem to want to cry.  

Errors I have made, and some have let me down, why do I hang onto them and let them steal my crown.

I see before me a new battleground, Lord show me how to win in the first round.

Bad thoughts start up, they come in words.

Condemnation slipped in and stole all I've learned and heard.

I crave peace and rest and quiet with no fight, but that won't be until I get it right.

Replace in me honor and pride, not only what is seen but what's deep inside.

I hasten the Universe to hurry to me, I'm needing a miracle, I need to see.

I pray for security to live alone, whether in Boston, Seattle, or even Rome. Just to be fulfilled on my own.

Why dear Father did you bring me home; Show me soon to keep my mind in tone.

I love and trust you throughout each day, my blessed Father to whom I pray.



 

Tuesday, August 3, 2021

"Bullied" ............Nana wrote a RAP song by Julianna Rowe

(I wrote this when my daughter and Granddaughters were in Jr.  High and High School about girl bullies.) 

          “BULLIED”

You call me a tard but I am not,

You are nothing but hallway snots.

And when it’s all over and you leave this place, 

You’ll be nothin’ but a sheer disgrace.

 I try so hard to be accepted, 

Only to see you all are infected.

You low-life creeps in pretty lies, 

I rise above you and all your cries.

The words of hate and jealousy, 

Strive to put me down where I don’t feel alive.

I hate myself and the skin I’m in, 

What you’ve done to me is truly a sin.

What I let you do is worse than that, 

I put on the fat scared hat.

You are nothing but hallway snots, 

And when its all over  and you leave this place,

You'll be nothin but a life's disgrace.

Scared of you who call me names, 

Scared of you who play the games.

I go to lunch nowhere to sit; 

You mock me with your words of wit.

You who call me the tard but I am not, 

You are nothin’ but hallway snots,

And when its all over and you leave this place, 

You’ll be nothin’ but a life’s disgrace.

You think you’re the best, because of your dress.

You be-ach-es of the hallways, that is what you do best.

I smile and laugh at your mocks each day; 

You walk away in mid-sentence I say.

Be-ach-es of the hallway is your goal, 

You made it you tards of the soul.

Not me I say, the names don’t count, I am smarter than you, 

Be-ach-es your due.

Due to get what you should receive, 

The same you gave, sheer deceit.

You call me a tard but I am not,

You are nothing but hallway snots.

And when it’s all over and you leave this place, 

You’ll be nothin’ but a sheer disgrace.

 

Sunday, August 1, 2021

Caleb Loved His Mother: Short Story by Julianna Rowe

 Caleb Loved His Mother:  by Julianna Rowe

15-year-old boy hiking with friends goes ahead of them like all competitive young men might do. Who can get to the top the fastest, and he did.  The other two kids were not as interested in the fast jaunt to the top so they could do the “Rocky” dance while displaying their man boy muscles not yet developed.  Not to mention the knobby knees of an underdeveloped young man. 

Caleb was always an overachiever, a smart boy moved onto the gifted classes at school. No one knew that underneath his desire to achieve was a human being who had been told he wasn’t good enough all his life. His mother was a frightened anxiety ridden woman who couldn’t stand up for herself much less her son.  Caleb’s father was a perfectionist making life unable to live for most who inhabited their home on the side of Bear Mountain.  An unbelievable to most log home with a stream or should I say river running under it.  Caleb’s father designed the water embellishments against the county’s orders stating the dangers that could develop over the years and weather conditions.  But Cecil never did what pleased anyone or did what anyone else wanted.  He did what he wanted. And so, he hired some fancy attorney’s who found Cecil a loophole in the law giving him the rights to have a river running under and around his magnificent log home.  Caleb’s mother had a fear of the river but Cecil could have cared less what she thought or felt.  Only Caleb cared about his mother. 

The logs had been shipped in from Montana and while its construction took place Cecil became known as a Czar in the area.  Nothing could be done to please his perfectionism.  Some of the workers quit midway through the job due to his arrogance and lack of knowledge as to how to build a three story log house on the side of a mountain with a river running under and around it.  Engineers from around the world had to be called in to assure the safety of not only the home, but the workers and the townspeople at ground level.  But Cecil didn’t care.  Hell, he had more money than God.  Why he had just won the lottery in small town USA Colorado.  That alone added to his belief that he was God and not just believed in him.  No, Cecil was a man hard to reckon with.  Caleb and his mother tried to stay out of Cecil’s way. Nevertheless, the sounds of that damn river would keep a person awake most nights just from the fear of the power of it.  It was useless.  You couldn’t swim in it.  You couldn’t drink the water from it.  You couldn’t fish in it, well you could but who would want to fish from the cement border walls that kept the rushing water from taking the house from its foundation down the side of the mountain and everyone and everything in its path.  Cecil didn’t want to swim or fish or bother to look at it.  Cecil wanted to show everyone he could do what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it and how he wanted to do it.  That was Cecil. 

The boys always let Caleb win because they knew what his life was like at home.  Not many teenagers would do that but those young men did.   And so, there was Caleb doing his Rocky dance atop the mountain his father would imminently destroy.

Caleb was so far ahead of the others he decided to do some new trailblazing in the area.  He had left his cell phone behind which was rare.  But what no one knew is Caleb had a plan that day to save he and his mother from the wiles of Cecil D. Crumbsworthy II.  You see there was a reason Caleb jaunted to the top of the mountain ahead of his friends.  Caleb needed time to put his plan into action and he did just that.  He had also looked ahead and left a note in a fireproof bag for the people of Huntington Glen to know the truth about his father. 

Caleb brought with him several rounds of dynamite in hopes of changing the course of the river away from their home.  His father Cecil had built a two-story office adjacent to the house where he stayed most of the time.  He left Caleb and his Mother to the darkness of the river and its fear.  He was a mean person who used unkind words and deeds to maintain his control over his family and anyone who chose to be around him making him a target for hatred by many.  Caleb knew this and had planned to use it.

When his friends made it to the crescendo, he entertained them for a time and then as dusk fell upon the day, he shared with the guys he wished to stay up top the mountain for the night, that he had come prepared.  Michael and Shawn, his buddies, had never heard of him doing this before but he convinced them with what he had inherited from Cecil in terms of the positive side of manipulation. And so, after a time of playful nonsense the boys trekked back down Bear Mountain to the safety of their homes in Huntington Glen leaving Caleb to spend a peaceful night under the stars with no worries at all.  Little did they know what Caleb had in mind.

Caleb being an honor student thought he had figured it all out. He had checked out books on engineering and how to but he was not a water resource engineer, nor was he a structural bridge engineer, nor was he a civil engineer, but boys who want their father dead will claim to be one of the above or whatever works to attain the outcome. 

And so, Celeb set out to kill his Father.   The man who didn’t care a bit about his mother or him.  Only his stupid loud mean dark river that would frighten even the fish that had to enter a house outside their main habitat, swim through mazes of concrete and trap doors that held back the force of the river maintaining it so the house remained steadfast on its foundation.  Everyday was insecure for him knowing what he knew. 

Caleb only shared his secret inside that fireproof bag in hopes someone would find it and tell the world the truth.  The truth about the man he hated to call father. Cecil D. Crumbsworthy.  Interesting how sometimes a name means more than it should and in this case it fit.

And so, Caleb set about his plan to change the course of the river to bypass their home and furiously move to the West and demolish his father and his fathers two story office building he so kindly built for himself leaving the furious river to someday their demise.  Little did he know his son had the simple skills of an engineer without training.  A kid good at physics and fireworks and that is all that was needed. Not a large group of hired men from all over the world could save his mother but he could. And so, he set forth placing the dynamite he got online for a fake rocket project of which he embellished to fit his needs.  Over the past few days, he had strategically placed dynamite with remote control devices attached, in various areas to change the flow of the river his father had developed to kill he and his mother.  Caleb had found his father’s little black book with numerous additions of proof his father was a sex trafficker as well as having multiple affairs. 

Sadly, Crumbsworthy’s reverse plan was in place. 

Of course, Caleb didn’t realize his father knew of his plan because he intervened in his computer and had already devised a way around it.  He had removed Caleb’s dynamite and reversed the process meaning the river would take out the house, his mother, and Caleb in the process.

`That evening Caleb removed his shoes, clothes, all but his undershorts. His thinking was he could find his way down the river to his mother and safety but his plan failed. He forgot one important factor, his father’s evil ways. Always backing up every plan more than once.  Caleb had not backed up his plan at all. And when he pushed the remote control to change the course of the river it blew up likened a mushroom cloud taking Caleb downstream ramming him into his childhood coffin along with his mother. Caleb knew what had transpired as he cascaded downward to his death.  Oddly he and his mother were found at the base of the mountain near Huntington Glen at the cemetery where his grandparents lay at rest.  Odd but fact. Sometimes our loved ones help us at the end and this time was one of those. 

Caleb’s father did not go free because the contents of the firesafe waterproof bag were found by a local who turned them in to the Sheriff.  Cecil was arrested for sex trafficking and attempted murder of his wife and son.  The local University renamed one of its Buildings Caleb Hall, University of Huntington Glen. Forever remembered as a hero.

There was a sister, Corina, who lived with her mother’s aunt due to Cecil’s unhealthy lifestyle.  She came to the funerals and to veiw the walls of Caleb Hall. She also visited the mountain where her brother passed away.  She had heard he placed his basketball shoes on posts at the top of the mountain so everyone knew he had been there no matter what happened.  The Chamber of Commerce showed Corina where more than one thousand pair of shoes were placed along the river on posts as well as around campus.  Kids were placing their shoes on posts everywhere in honor of Caleb’s love for his mother and for taking his evil father out of the world’s way. 

My Executive Order $$$$$$$$$$.......... by Julianna Rowe

  My Executive Order J$$$$$$$$$$ .......by Julianna Rowe Somewhere along the way, politics changed my signature. I realize that sounds like ...