I care for you.
But how do I show you? I care for you by washing your sheets and sweeping the floor in your room, carrying your dirty dishes, dried chicken bones, bread crusts, to the kitchen.
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“This book looks simple but it will kick your butt.”
—Steven Pressfield // Best-selling Author, The War of Art
This morning I stood in line to buy an extra-large latte in the basement of a hospital. Nurses, doctors, friends, family members of patients waiting to buy coffee. The barista was wearing a plaid shirt over a white t-shirt. Hanging down the front of his t-shirt was an ornate cross, brown on a long chain. His brown hair was short. He was wearing a smile.
After he handed me my coffee and I handed him four dollars, he looked past me and started to take the next order. I asked him, ” Excuse me, may I please have cold milk added to it.”
Will you please tell me how many candles are on your cake? Or is it a secret?
At what age do you stop telling how old you are? When do you decide you are old enough?
“I am old enough, thank you very much.”
And if you really don’t want to get older what age would you choose to stop at? When your children were in diapers? When you were thirty and lived in the small apartment? Or do you stop before you add a zero?
You haven’t done it yet. Nope. You have not. Yesterday you didn’t do it. You didn’t walk. You didn’t floss your teeth. You didn’t learn how to play the flute. You didn’t write your mother a letter. You didn’t run a marathon. You didn’t learn how to use Adobe InDesign. You didn’t learn how to spell beautaful. [...]
Reba McEntire helped me clean under my fridge. Yes, she did. She really did. And she helped me wash the floors under my washing machine too. Reba sang to me, “Who I am is who I want to be. I am a survivor.” Well, she didn’t sing just to me. She sang to everyone who watches the reruns [...]
There are two portable toilets for sale on Moyer Road in Gilbertsville, Pennsylvania. They sit in someones front yard, with a hand painted sign. $3 EACH Why they are selling them? Did the person die? Did they just get indoor plumbing? I know that when I am dead I won’t know if you sold my portable [...]
Penny, my daughters dog, was born on December 14th, 2013. She is six months and eleven days old. I am fifty-five years, eight months, and seven days old.
Penny, the puppy, is smarter than I am.
I hate to admit it. But it’s true. The puppy is really smarter than I am. Me, the adult person. Me the human with opposable thumbs is not as smart as a dog.
My mom and I drove down Avenue W in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan to Mount Royal Collegiate. We parked on Avenue W and walked to the front of the school. My brother and I use to walk the 1.65 miles to school, from our home on Avenue K. When the days were the shortest, we left our [...]
Hello, I'm Pamela, not Pam.
I write slices of my crazy life with four cats, one dog and two birds. Sharing my fears, my art, dirt under my fridge and how much God loves you.
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I promise to never make you clean my seven litter boxes. ( And I will never share your email address. Not even with my cat.)