A simpler life
No more anger and strife

In the yard, in the sun
Spinning in gardening fun

A big floppy hat
Sunglasses acrobat

Crisp, refreshing mint juleps
When I finish planting these tulips

Owning a house is dream
A capitalist scheme

Millennial bravado
When you choose avocado

Dear Science and Math,

I pray to you because you are what I believe in. Today is the midterm elections for 2018, and boy are we in a mess. Evolution, I would like to apologize that we have devolved as a society to allow our government to function as a really terrible sitcom. Economics and Statistics, I feel your heavy gaze as we still have 2 more years before we hopefully take the bankrupt millionaire out of office. Every day we live under a system whose poster child mocks its citizens and strips the majority of their rights. Their rights to Medical Care, a healthy and functioning Environment, and a Financial System which can support the majority, not just the top 1%.

Today I did my part. I practiced my right . . . no my privilege to vote. Too many people chose not to vote. I didn't vote for the last 6 year because I felt I was uneducated in the topic. I felt I was flying blind, something I could have taken 15 minutes to change. If I were a citizen of Georgia I would have lost this privilege, because of 5 years of voting inactivity. If I were of Hispanic descent I would most likely have had to jump through excessive hoops because of a hyphenated last name. There are so many people who don't want to vote because they fear jury duty, or they don't want to wait in line, or they don't want to make time to vote, or they are just plain convinced the system is rigged and their opinion doesn't matter. Let me tell you something, your ballot only "doesn't matter" if you don't hand one in. In fact, it is probably working against the team you would have voted for.

I am a woman, which mean only in the past 100 years was my second X chromosome "granted" this privilege. There are still grandparents alive today who remember when, specifically, black people could not vote. There are also plenty of other cases of this "right" being restricted from huge groups of people because of, in reality, what makes them unique.

So, I sit here today Science an Math, praying to you that my little corner of the United States may become a better place for ALL of its inhabitants.

Please let the scales tip in the favor of justice.

When I first met you, I cried.
Looking upon your silhouette, I wondered.

Reading your articles, I wanted to know you.
Searching for hours, I would find you.

A traveling boxer, just breaking into fame.
A husband, a father.

She moved from Pennsylvania to Oregon, and was your demise in 1902.
I moved from Pennsylvania to Oregon, and I will remember you.

A decade younger than her, but I feel the responsibility heavy on my shoulders. The resemblance to me, uncanny

She took you to your grave and I will celebrate your life.

Why did it have to take this long?

I think about you often enough
Your companionship fills me with warmth
We don’t even need to talk
Sitting next to each other will suffice

I know I hurt you, as I have done to many before
Commitment, rather lack thereof
It’s almost like a sickness that burns in me.
Like a parasite controlling my brain

I only want to love you
But, as far I can see
The only way I can help you
Is to stay out of your life

But I can’t
Call me selfish

The first time a pigeon lands on your head you WILL have conflicting feelings. These consist of, "this is a magical experience" and "please don't **** on me".

But if you stay calm, interested, determined, and lucky you may build a beautiful relationship.

Mayhaps on the chance, you did get pooped on. A torturous smear on your shirt is a valuable resource to a 17th-century European farmer. It is up to you decide if you want to be that farmer.

And lastly, if two parties of the columbiform do agree to the terms and conditions, they can form a lasting relationship.

That is what I hope to have done with you, my pigeon.
Yours Truly,
~Squab

I feel like I'm going insane.
I can't remember anything.
My short term memory is, poor at best.
My long term memory continues to fade.

Dissociation
Depersonalization
Derealization

I have an MS but you would never know.
I'm too dumb to get a PhD.
I'm too dumb to communicate with most people.

I'm checking out.
Missing gaps.
Making up stories.

The soldier is just that. They fight in actual wars. They risk their lives to protect the "morals" of their "country". None-the-less, they want a better future for their children.

When the war is done, the soldiers children are the farmers. The farmers rebuild, and want. They want material objects. Maybe it's the food they lacked when they were young. Maybe it's a gas guzzling sports car. None-the-less, they want a better future for their children.

When material "wealth" has been achieved the artist is born to the farmer. The artist has the time to take actual pleasure in life's little wonders. But they also have the time to see all the injustices in the world. Injustices, vial enough to start a . . . war.  None-the-less, they want a better future for their children.

You and me, and Molly Malone
In Dublin city, so far from home
Looking over the Liffey
That's when it hit me
My love for you, had only grown

In Galway Bay, we couldn't stay
The loyalty, love, and friendship day
Rainbows at the Cliffs of Moher
The Blarney Stone we can't ignore
Waterford Crystal and...Cabernet

You and me, and Molly Malone
Is the memory, that I've carved in stone
Dancing in Dublin
You've got my heart bublin'
My love for you, had only grown

Guinness, whiskey, cider
I got sick on chowder
Hanging out with Wilde
Don't forget that child
Ten thousand years and...no they're not

You and me, and Molly Malone
Here comes the time, for us to go home
Even though we're leavin'
We will leave here knowin'
My love for you, had only grown
(My love for you, had only grown)

I wear makeup to work,
So people treat me better.

I work with fish.
I get covered in slime.
I don't make tips.
(Not that, that is acceptable)
I have a fiance.
I'm off market.
I'm not there to impress anyone.

No makeup.
I'm ignored.
My credentials are questioned more.
They pick fights.
They behave poorly.

With makeup well,
I only have to deal with one creepy person.

I wear makeup to work,
So people treat me better.

At the beginning of 2020, Australia was on fire.
The threat of WWIII was all too real.
Baby dictators playing with "disposable" human lives.

Disposable lives
Disposable masks
Disposable gloves
Disposable plastic bags
. . . and here were are again with disposable lives.

My family and I survived the Oregon trail and not one of us died from dysentery. A small victory!

George Floyd, "I can't breath."
Black Lives Matter.  
LGBTQ+ Lives Matter.

Marching in the streets and shouting until I can't speak. Organizing and criticizing institutions that WE built. People WE put into office. And my more political topics that WE are responsible for.

Black Lives Still Matter.
LQBTQ+ Lives Still Matter.
Anti-maskers, "I can't breath."

A shame and a reflection in the United States education system.

Me walking my dogs, "I can't breath. . . without a mask"
Ashes falling from our apocalypses skys.
My skin burns from the air.
I my dog sneezing because they don't have masks.
My mask discolored from this short walk.

Exposed
Double Down
Tested
Isolate
Negative
Relief
Virtual Life

A light at the end of this long tunnel?
Good-bye Oregon!
2021, let's try Utah?

Remember that feeling in 2016,
when your choices were - an orange
crybaby or **** filled latrine.

Vote for the third party or abstain,
both of which are options,
options labeling you as vain.

A zero sum game.
Only you're to blame.
A sense of shame.
Profanities, exclaim!
. . . All in the same. . .

Take that nausea and superimpose it
on to every aspect of your life.
2020 has been nothing but $h!t

You hurt each other all the time
You fight, ignore, plague each other in rhyme

The first one is the oldest
She is burdened to succeed
She's withers away as life takes it's toll
Once a limelit life filled with opus
Now swallows her with greed
The pole stains more than just her soul

The second one is the baby
She cries out for attention
Everything will never be enough
Success in life she found the key
Her struggles she'd not mention
Weak inside but her exterior, tough

You cause each other pain and jade
For both your sakes I hope this will fade

Loving you this year was an adventure.
Looking into your blue eyes, I am lost.
I can not wait for our future splendor,
So we celebrate this cycle of frost.

Snowboarding, rock climbing cannot compete.
Adrenaline I feel, you make me high.
My skin, it starts to pulse with my heartbeat.
I may seem strong, but you see though belie.

I have a long-standing fear: commitment,
This fear is strong and stands with loyalty.
Breaking these can cause me to turn flippant.
You have surpassed this issue royally.

I will never walk away, I trust you.
I will sit here and get lost, eyes so blue.

Close your eyes, take in a deep breath of the salty air.
Now open them.

With fresh eyes, looking out you see the deep navy blue water and numerous waves in the distant water.
Crash, crash, crashing into each other.
Pristine white cross-hatching sea foam patterns scatter and reform.

You have been walking towards the water's edge and haven't even noticed. The soft cream colored sand starts to darken and harden as you approach the water.

The wind is loud enough to drown out nearby conversations and passing cars. You are in your own world. Nothing from the tangible world can touch you. The cool wind constantly battles the sun's heat on your face and hands, causing your skin to tingle.

You reach your arms out and close your eyes, lost in the moment.

Breathing in the salty fresh air you let go of your troubles, if only for the moment.

The first time I saw you ***** out the lights
You took the blood from a kitten with ten thousand bites
I was young and did not understand
I could take it, no need to hold a hand
Sadly, little did I know
That day I only saw your shadow

The second time I saw you, I was about ten
I could not prepare myself for you, not  then
Walking in your house, or rather your gateway
Quiet rooms filled with bodies painted gray
There you stood just around the corner
Keeping to yourself like an exotic foreigner

But when you took Libby from me
That is when I started to see
You were in the room with us
In fact, you were the one causing all the fuss
No one was fighting, Libby was old
Still, how could you take a woman so strong, so bold?

Here is where you crossed the line
When you took Her, you filthy swine
She had her flaws that's true
But not enough to stay with you
She was my savior, my salvation
There's not much left of someone after cremation

When my time comes to meet you in the ring
Fist to face I'll make it sting
If I could do one thing for all mankind
Killing You comes to mind

On top of the mountain and you want to be your friend.

I fall off the mountain often.

I'm not ashamed of it, but you are.  

I can't stand you bragging to your friends when I land an awesome job.

My line of work is generally seasonal, which means I am just as likely to be unemployed this time next year.

But for "some reason" you wont even talk to me when that happens.

You wont invite me to . . . well anything.

When, I'm "on top of the world" you just gab, gab, gab.

We are the bestest of friends.

Finally, after a year of unemployment and crickets I have a few awesome things lined up.

But this time, you don't need to know.

Never again, will you need to know.

Because I am not a tool for you to use just to make your friends jealous.

I am a person.

And I am just as awesome when I am on top Mount Everest as I am in the GD Mariana trench.

Prep: 30 minutes, Bake: 30 minutes, Oven: 350°F, Cool: 2 hours, Makes: 12 servings

4 broken hearts
2 cups all-purpose anxiety
2 cups of sweetened depression
2 teaspoons of powdered anger
1 teaspoon of ground self-loathing (optional)
1/2 teaspoon of PTSD
3 cups of finely shredded isolation (lightly packed)
3/4 cup resentment oil
16 oz of your favorite frosting (suggested brand: self sabotage)
1/2 cup finely chopped self-harm
1 any shape life-pan

1. Allow broken hearts to stand at room temperature for 30 minutes. In a large mixing bowl stir together, anxiety, depression, anger, self-loathing, and PTSD.

2. In a medium mixing bowl combine broken hearts, resentment, and isolation. Add broken heart mixture to anxiety mixture; stir until combine. Pour batter into any shape life-pan.

3. Bake in oven at 350° for 30 - 35 minutes or until a wooden toothpick inserted near center comes out clean. Cool on wire rack for 10 minutes. Remove from pan. Cool thoroughly on rack. (This is important so the self-sabotage, does not melt off)

4. Frost tops and side with self-sabotage. If desired, sprinkle with self-harm. Store result in a cool location for up to 3 days.

Emotions, feelings, bursting at the seems.
No one to run to, to hear your screams.

I can't breathe, or focus, everything is a blur.
What has this world come to? Where is the cure?

It's easy to cope if you have faith in a God.
It's a slippery ***** when you know he's a fraud.

Everyday is an effort, being torn down and beaten.
Of course you may be sad when you grow up as a heathen.

Climbing out of the hole you were born into,
is a tremendous feat. Though it is more than you can chew.

The new people you see who grew up in the sun,
don't understand your kind of fun.

The culture shock is disheartening and strange.
It's no wonder to you why your filled with a hunger for rage.

But you're not alone, there's more who have made the climb.
Watching them conform to the sun the light of the lime.

You think the day is better than the night.
Until you realize it's a different kind of fight.

Now you have to learn new rules and follow them.
But the rules here are stupid, fake, a fallen gem.

You realize, "I came this far for nothing."
You pace the room back and forth huffing and puffing.

When do you win the game? If it all ends in death and life is an endless ladder, can you win? You make due for now, but no one really wins. We are all losers in every way. We will be forgotten. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in a thousand years. Next time you look down on someone, realize you are on the same ride and don't hate them because you chose the harder path.

I can't breathe.
Fall asleep, false teeth.
Around my head an anxiety wreath.
Emotions packed away re-sheathe.

Here they come to mock me, hick-ups.
Cat calls and lame pick-ups.
Cover-ups, build-ups, and hook-ups.
I have no time for these hang-ups.

Time to calm down.
Breakdown?
No, back down?
Maybe crack down?

In 1, 2, 3, out 1, 2, 3.
Release your banshee.
Sip some hot tea.
Blame the bourgeoisie.

Blood makes me squeamish
A cut on my siblings leg
landed me on the floor
After catching my breath
I retrieved help

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Punishment.
If I punish myself
No one else can punish me
Wrong.

"You bruise easily."
"No, I punch really hard."

Usually it's my left thigh.
It makes sense
I'm right handed
No one can see
No one can judge

Bad. Bad. Bad.

When it's a lesson to be "learned"
It leave a nasty shiner
On my right eye
It makes sense
I'm right handed
Everyone can see it
Everyone can judge

I'm afraid to speak.
My words are always bad
Always wrong
A lesson to be "learned"

Stay Silent.
Shut Up.
Don't Speak.
Don't Bruise!

Even you are predisposed to decide what beauty is.
Vibrant colors and white and red muscles defining your strength.
Most of you won't survive to become successfully reproducing adults.

Top of the food chain when you are in your element.
You flounder when you are exposed to something foreign, something different.
You won’t give a moments notice to something unless YOU deem it a threat.

We are so alike in many ways
We can be different in other ways as well.

Sleepless nights filled with paranoia and empty hearts.
Drinking ample amounts of coffee because reality is catching up to you
Other recreational options are, “Not okay” because society says so.
Sinking deeper into this hole we call life.

Seeing unrighteous scenarios unfold upon those around you.
Knowing you can make it all disappear, but you won't
You couldn’t dream of making them feel the same way you do.
It’s not okay. It’s not fair.

We are so alike in many ways
I hope we are not alike in these ways.

But who cares really?
Not you. Not I.

Making hard choices every day.
I can't sleep, while the world suffers.
Look in my eyes and share my pain.
Lending money I can never pay back.
Equality, is our dream.
Not ever being good enough for them.
Not having children, is our responsibility.
Isolation, desperation, contimplation.
Always hungry for a bigger challenge.
Lonely networking eager faces.

Wake up before 10am or you are wasting your life
What is that suppose to mean?
I don't know, but it is law

Do something with yourself stop sitting there
Like what?
I don't know, you figure it out

Do your homework
Do your chores
Stay out of trouble
Make something of yourself

We grew up with the same rules, same foundation, and same hand of cards

Why did you do that to yourself?

I, the ringmaster, start the show with my top hat on just right and by my side, the lion tamer.

Each day is a show, a facade to let the world know that we are in control and they are safe from the events to come.

Two little monkeys draw your attention to the center ring, one howling and screeching for attention while the other one looks more like a goblin than a monkey. The roll, tumble, and trapeze around the room they demand your attention. The little monkey goblin digs her way in an around the aerial silks as the silly little howler mocks you and laughs at you more forcefully than any clown before.

Then a sideshow freak bombards you with impressive feats that should not be possible for one so small. He the strong man lifts objects easily ten times heavier than him, all the while balancing them on his head. He the sword swallower confusing, disgusting, and still impressive. He the electic act, bitting into live wires and walking away unscathed.

Last to be seen! The final act! The most beautiful and magnificent! The king of the jungle! As the monkeys and the sideshow leave, the powerful and loquacious mane enters. Not much of a talker but when he roars, the sound reverberates through your whole body. Old scars, and soul filled eyes, tell of his conquest and likewise failures. As he and the lion tamer circle each other in the pit, they constantly play the game of Alpha. Albeit, at the end of the say, they are best friends that only want to enjoy a good cuddle.

Ringmaster, lion tamer, monkeys, freak, and the lion, a smattering of strange individuals relying on each other for comfort and safety. Each day a new beginning, a new show, a new chance.

A family.

My family.

Unstoppable is the Aires
Whose pride held high she carries
Don't anger the Ram
Just tell her, "yes ma'am"
Or end up as smashed berries

Stong as the bull is the Taurus
A heart that remains adventurous
His only downturn
He can be stubborn
Don't bring out his inner Chuck Noris

My brother is a Gemini
Whose limits bound past the sky
When you see the twin
As his true kingpin
Kiss your arguments good-bye

Cancer is a fancy crab
Hosting parties that are fab
Not part of their clique
You're just a fish stick
A friendship you have to grab

A lover is the Lion
Affection you can not buy in
wouldn't you know
I'm talkin' of Leo
A shorter mane he is tryin'

I've never liked a Virgo
I'm sorry if you're a Virgo
You claim you're the ******
I claim I'm a surgeon
I still don't like the Virgo

Libra represents the scales
Whose beauty and love prevails
In search of balance
Finds silence
When equality and justice fails

Handsome is the Scorpio
A heart as cold as icy snow
With a body, aesthetic
and a voice so magnetic
He'll flirt with any schmo

Sagittarius the Archer
Gives honesty by nature
Reckless arguments,
Preaching documents
Can leave you on the floor

Ambitions is the goat
Whose public image they will gloat
A strong Capricorn
Is never torn
For loyalty they tote

The Water Bearer Aquarius
Of her friends she is gregarious
Guarded and detached
Her heart can be unlatched
And I find her hilarious

Pisces is a mystery
Who lives a life of fantasy
Represented as a Fish
A face you cannot miss
With a long romantic history

From Pennsylvania to Oregon

Broken, painful, and haunted memories.
Shuffling through items to determine their fate.
Burning my skin, my cheeks, why did I keep those memories for this long?
A relief fills my central nervous system as I draw out the infect capsules laying waste to my body.

Sweet, romantic, and familure memories.
There is only so much space on my horseless carriage.
Juicy to the touch, on my lips and tongue like a pomegranate, leaving me wanting more.
A sorrow fills my eyes as I pour out the dried flowers petals of lost loved ones.

The essentials: blankets, clothes, pots and pans.
The heirlooms: a dish set, jewelry, a dress, a bible.
Funny, I don't even believe in God.

My most prized possessions, my letters, my journals.
To remember a time past, many other lives that I lived.
My bread crumbs to remind me where I came from and how I got here.
Precious food for my soul to help me get up and keep moving forward.

From Pennsylvania to Oregon,
~Cheers

If it's not your story to tell,
don't tell it.

If you weren't there,
it's not your story.

Gossip is a poison
that propagates rumors.

This can ruin lives,
the live of the ones you "care" about.

It gives rise to expectation,
expectations that aren't yours to have.

When failure is inevitable,
the victim is shunned.

Why does the one who poisons the well,
get off Scott free?

Always a crystal blue or a deep navy
They took my heart by surprise
As you gaze into my eyes
And gently caress my hair, wavy

You reach into my chest and take my soul
You make me feel special, intelligent
Your lady, so fair and elegant
Only now do I know I was a fool

Even though I look past your many flaws
You can't help to catch me on semantics
And neglect you ever had a nack for the romantics
Now, I must watch with my heart covered in gauze

That sparkle in your eyes is still there
I see it when you talk to them
They are the new shiny gem
It is their hearts you wish to snare

Why won't you look at me the way you did before?
Instead of how you currently view me as a chore

Butterflies fill my stomach, as you
Uplift my spirit by just thinking of you.
Beckoning me to stop ever time I drive
By your place of business.
Lazy liquid and tapioca pearls
Eagerly fill the hollows in my heart.

Temptation fills my
Eyes.
Anxiety leaves my body.

Losing myself in the past encompassment if you're purple fluid.

Nothing in the world makes sense anymore, but this is vividly lucid.

It is the first time in a long while my mind has been at ease.

Stuck in this cold smelly laboratory, you wobble as a beautiful flower in a gentle spring breeze.

Spinning round and round and watching as your viscous liquid collapses on its center.

As the bubbles float to your surface, and your opaqueness turns transparent, so do I imbibe the truth of reality.

Just as it began, so will it end at my hand.

Your fortune awaits as you help to reveal the secret that the naked I cannot see.

I can only hope my future is as beautiful as yours.

I have that all of my pets died here
I hate that the best people here are still racists and homophobic
I hate that my boss nitpicks, micromanages, belittles, and humiliates everyone and HR won't do a thing about it.
I hate that I am dependent on a job to pay off student loans
I hate that my boss is inside of my head even when I am home

I have flashes of hurting and killing myself.

I have to get rid of everything so my husband doesn't have to deal with it when I die.

death is so expensive. Even cremation breaks 5 figures.
What if I just leave a note and disappear?

How would I even disappear? This planet is crawling with filthy humans.

I just want to die.

Maybe I will travel to a poor country and pay someone to shoot me in the head and burry me.

If only . . .

Orange shining through the window
We head outside to take a peek
Blue sky's to the North
A dark haze from the South

Small particulates drifting in the air
You reach out, and a piece lands on your hand
It looks like plant matter, only grey
You gently touch it with your free hand

. . . Ash.

Can't do anything?
Give me a reason to try. . .

Show up to work?
To get put down all day. . .

Deal with it?
I'm not a victim, you are an *******. . .

How did YOU get this far in life?
YOU are the one who is truly pathetic. . .

Do you get off on making girls cry?
Look around, all alone. . .

I feel myself sinking, deeper in deeper into myself.
The people around me have been floating away for a while now.
I watch them blame their problems on other nouns.
Me, I can't do that. I live in reality and I know my surroundings.
I want to say something to someone, but when they try to help. It doesn't.
They try to offer me nouns to blame my issues on, I don't take them.
They try to sympathize or empathize, taking the legitimacy out of my pain.
I try and claw my way out, but aging is like quicksand.
The more you move the faster you fall.

What have I learned?
I have learned to not truly share, or people will make it worse.
To keep to myself, because it is exhausting to reach out and be rejected.
Every time.
That as I work towards my aspirations, I have only obtained wrinkles and gray hair.

What will I do with myself?
Sadly, I have been blessed with true knowledge. That God is not real and any hope of an afterlife is the weak trying to comfort each other.
I will not bring others down with me.

But I can not stop from falling . . .

What is wrong with me?
Unregulated hormones up the wall?
I'm getting older, arn't these hormones supposed to chill out?
(STRESS)
I already use man-deodorant.
It lasts longer and works better.
My body had abandoned hope for women's Secret or smelling like Teen Spirit long ago.
(STRESS)
Three applications a day.
Avoid synthetics, they hold smell.
Shower every morning to manage.
The sweet scent of Gain can only do so much.
(STRESS)
The state of our current political affairs, is the root cause.
Lacking basic human rights, is the root cause.
A country of ignorant people spreading hate, is the root cause.
(STRESS)
Deodorant doesn't stand a chance!

You have a degree in marine biology.
. . .and?
You are moving to a land locked state.
. . . so?
Are you going to throw away your career?
. . . maybe.
(In reality no, but I'm not going give you that comfort. You clearly don't understand how modern science works)

Career is not the best way to measure a successful life.
I stand firm to your confused glare.

I went to college at 18 and decided "marine biology".
. . . why?
It's cool.
I had one class in oceanography.
I have never held a fish before.
I had been to the ocean a few times.
At 18, I based my life on "It's cool" and no one thought twice.

Now, I'm pushing 30. This year I got married to my bestfriend of 4 years, we bought a house, and want to start a family.
. . . and you are asking "Are you sure?"

I have been thinking and planning this for  years.
I have lived through 2020.
I am more sure of this than anything in my life.

So, if you don't understand?
If you don't approve?
Agree?
. . . It's cool.

Here we go again . . .
December 31st 2021, sitting by the fire pit, surrounded by the dark clear sky of Utah. "This is the first time I truly feel happy. The first time I don't want to go to sleep and NOT wake up in the morning."
The next day my husky Nikko dies.
He was old, very old.

This year has been, not great.
First my rabbit Gizmo dies, a digestion issue.
Two months later my Chihuahua, Dexter dies.
He was old, congestive heart failure.
Four months later and Nikko passes.
One month later and now our last furry family member, Jazmine.
She has been diagnosed with congestive heart failure and is showing similar signs as Dexter did.

Did you know if you die all of your federal student loans
are discharged. That means no one has to pay them back. Lucky
me, I only have federal student loans. Sixty thousand dollars my husband and cosigners wouldn't have to worry about.

One week before Christmas break and I lost my job.
Nothing on me, just how things go I guess.
I'm still on great terms with my boss.
Student loan repayment plans starts up in February and I just lost my job.

What I am I going to do?

Whose lives would change if I just died?
I live across the country and don't talk to my family.
Nothing would change there.

We have virtual game nights, but I don't contribute to the
conversation. I usually just put my foot in my mouth.
Nothing would really change there.

My husbands family doesn't even like me.
They would probably be happy for their son to marry someone better. "Someone good for him".

My husband, oh how much I love him.
His life would change vastly. He would be sad for a little while but then he would move on. He could do everything he wanted. It was MY dream to move around the country. Not his. He could finally put roots down in the town we are living in or move back home  to rekindle roots with old friends. He could do what ever he wants and not have to take my feelings into consideration, at all.
His life would change. He would be happier.

Cold blue water in the dead of night and fancy shows like the northern lights. Ice covered rails just add to the mystery of the international piece of history. We were walking through Flower gardens and Duffin's Island but a friendly squirrel took us on a flight to Dreamland.

We were eating falafel with Cleopatra something I didn't expect from a trip to Niagra. We traveled 4 short hours by car and met some pretty cool Canadians at the local bars. Paris Crepes we ate our fill but Doc McGillan's fed to ****.


It wasn't a physical trip around the world but a fun adventure to be unfurled. It's what I look forward to every year and just in case I am going to be crystal clear. I love going on an adventure with only you and spending all that time looking into your eyes so blue.

If the United States made an Ireland . . .
It would be somewhere on the coast.
It would have massive blue rocky cliffs to hold back the ocean.
It would have fields outlined with shallow rock fences.

If the United States made an Ireland . . .
There would be every shade of green as you walk down the street.
There would be moss dangling from the trees reaching out to you.
There would be rain, lots and lots of rain!

If the United States made an Ireland . . .
People would be sailors, fishermen, and drunkards.
People would be cautious and friendly in the same moment.
People would be the biggest jokers you ever met.

It the United States made an Ireland it would be in Oregon. . .