The wind talkers debacle with the President made me crazy with frustration and shame. It literally made me sick to my stomach – and left me rehearsing all the ways the recipients should have given our President “what for”!
Hate Beckons Me OR Sing a Song of Peace
I spent a great deal of my growing up years in predominantly white and southern areas of the country. However, it was the 60’s and my parents were cool. For one short year we lived in a very mixed area of Evansville, Indiana. In fact, the majority of the kids at Stanley Hall Elementary were black. I made friends with lots of kids, had my first romance with a boy named Tracey (I suspected even then he might be more feminine than I, but that’s a story for another time). My best friend, Jesse sat next to me; my teacher, Miss Thompson taught me the difference between “finished” and “done” and “can” and “may” – by experience. Justice, a boy also in the 3rd grade, hated white people – and I got the brunt of that hate more than once. Oddly enough I didn’t take it personally because I knew Justice was simply angry. (Oh, I told on him! I was smart, but I was not a martyr!) My timing and location were the key factors in our altercations – not me personally.
A Life or Death Errand
I do know from experience that coming into recovery – from whatever obsession/allergy one may suffer with – is a feat unto itself. However, that’s not the miracle. In recovery not eating, drinking, gambling, or whatever is merely the price of admission. A conscious life is the real miracle.
September?! WTF?
So…
…much has happened since I purchased my space from Bluehost/WordPress/any and all other vendors who have a hand in allowing for the existence of this blog, that I cannot get my head around it all.
Testing 1, 2…Testing 1…
Very exciting – and a little overwhelming.
I decided I had just better stop all the planning and start typing before I forgot what I was doing all of this crazy research and formatting, font picking and page layout for!
I don’t remember who said, “just pick a theme and go…” but I feel like they lied a little. The idea that we just get to sit at the keyboard and brilliance will be expelled from our fingertips while falling onto a beautifully manicured back drop is lost in the myriad of choices offered to the blogger by our “host”. (In the world of disease, the host is that which feeds the hanger on. In the world of the blogger, I think it’s the opposite, but never mind.)
So…simply because I have not even decided on my front page layout, I think I have to get back to the administrative side of the blog experience.
More will be revealed,
R
PS The picture is actually named Field of Rhea because I made such a wild fuss over it when I saw it…absolutely perfect. Any way, thank you to Debi Adams for sharing her work with me – for you! xo
