Pam Logan's Blog, page 2

I’m losing it...

I lost it. I'm not sure when or where, but I lost it. No, I'm not talking about my mind. I lost 5 lbs. of ugly fat and if you find it, I don't want it back.
If you want it, you are welcome to keep it. But, just so you know, this is just like when someone offers you a puppy that you don't really want - it grows on you. It needs lots of attention, but it makes you feel comfortable and you don't even realize how much you do for it. It loves to sit with you on the couch and watch tv. It keeps you company when you are sitting at your computer playing games and updating your status on facebook. It absolutely loves brownies and ice cream, oh and chips. It will never turn down that extra bottle of beer; in fact, that extra bottle of beer will make you forget it's hanging on your hip.

When it first clings to you, you don't even notice it. You don't see it in the mirror, unless you are looking at your backside. Then, it starts to grow and at first, it doesn't seem like much. As you accept it, it invites its relatives to move in. It loves parties and holidays the most. Believe it or not, it craves depression and uselessness. It wallows in your self pity and jealousy. It doesn't like hard work. In fact, it will do its best to make you out of breath and tired when you attempt it. It is great at procrastinating and giving up.

It loves pictures. It just bulges out all over and shows off, so much that you didn't even realize how big it got. It takes great joy in popping buttons and unzipping zippers and most of all, breaking chairs. It also likes dust and dirt and cobwebs. It will never run away from an unmade bed or clothes left laying on the floor. Dirty windows excite it; gardens full of weeds enhance it; it relishes in overgrown lawns and hedges; it is ecstatic about the room you have been hoarding stuff in.

When it's time to say goodbye because it has overstayed its welcome, scrub your floor, wash your windows, work in your garden, take long walks, empty out that hoarded room, make your bed and do all those piles of laundry. It really, really hates that and it will fight you at every turn.

Like I said, I lost 5 lbs. and there's plenty more where that came from and I plan on losing a lot more. So, if you see any of it laying around, avoid it at all costs. Run. Run like the wind I tell ya.

Sabre April 1, 2000 - July 7, 2013

I will no longer have puff balls of fur floating throughout my house; no more dog hair in our food; no more wiping feet on those muddy, rainy days; no more listening to incessant barking every time someone walks their dog up or down the street (even when it’s the same dog, day after day); no more having her follow me around like my shadow and laying right next to my chair and having her jump up every time I move the chair to get up; no more of her sitting outside my bedroom door chuffing her mini barks, letting me know that, even though I am supposed to be sleeping in, that it is time for her to eat breakfast; no more having her sit in front of me barking at 5:00 pm, letting me know it's dinner time; no more running to the side door when she hears the UPS truck coming up the street because she knows the driver will give her a biscuit; no more having her follow me around the back yard as I feed the turtle and water the plants; no more of her running to the front door when she sees me get hamburgers or hot dogs out of the freezer because she knows I'm going to go out on the porch to cook them on the grill and she gets to go out with me; no more of her squeezing between me and Johnny, my daughter and son-in-law's huge Poodle, when he comes near me looking for attention; no more drooling mouth and sad eyes as she waits for the pizza bone from my husband until he relinquishes the crust to her.

No more Sabre, our black lab/shepherd mix with the one floppy ear, cloudy eyes and tiny front teeth. RIP Sabre Girl. I sure am going to miss you.

As it turns out, I looked through the old papers from when we got her and she was spayed on July 3, 2000 and we brought her home from the SPCA a few days later, possibly July 7, so she shared her life with us for 13 years.

johnboy

The day before yesterday, I lost a very good friend due to an industrial accident where he works. I'm not sure of the details, but from my understanding, it involved a crane operated by someone else and a head injury for him.

John Laramore was a hulk of a man with an even bigger heart. He always had a smile and a friendly remark for everyone. My husband, Dennis and I virtually met John on Steve Saunders Goldwing Forum (Goldwingfacts.com) and in person at a motorcycle rally, NASSIR 1, in Calhoun, GA, in 2008. We rode down from Buffalo, NY and he from Ontario, Canada. He had hit a deer on his way down, doing some damage to his bike with no damage to himself, earning him the title of John, the Deer Slayer. On the forum, his name was johnboy.

We kept up the friendship and started receiving packages of parts for his bike for him that couldn't be sent to Canada. Whenever something came in for him, he and his wife, Peg, would come down to visit. Sometimes we'd have a cookout at the house - he loved Sahlen's Hot Dogs and would stop and buy a package to take home and on the nicer days, we would all go riding our Goldwings and go out for dinner and/or ice cream, his treat. A few times, we went out to see our friends in The Diva Show Band - he always knew when and where they were playing.

He and Peg became part of our family - much more than just friends. He was always concerned about how our kids were and how things were going for them and just about life in general. If anyone needed help, there was no doubt that he would be the first to step up. He had jokingly started calling my husband, De-Niece and Dennis insisted that it was de-nephew. He absolutely LOVED Dennis' bad jokes so much that I'm sure he would have spent a fortune for the much anticipated "Joke Free For 1 Year Certificate" that will be auctioned off at this year's motorcycle rally.

Last Saturday, we had spent about five hours with him, Peg and a small group of forum members, planning NASSIR 6 which will be held in Simcoe, Canada, next month. We told him that we had missed him and Peg because they haven't been down in about a month or so and talked about getting together soon. He was planning a trip to Kentucky for work and we were possibly going to ride along with him for part of the way. Now...sigh!

His passing leaves a lot of holes in a lot of hearts of those that had the pleasure of meeting him. He will be sadly missed.

RIP (Ride In Peace) John
Goodnight johnboy

Bermuda Triangle Phenomenon

[image error] I have a small pond in my back yard where I keep fish and my Turtle, Splash, in the summertime. The other day, I went out to pull weeds from around it and clean out the pond to get it ready for the hopefully approaching warm weather. There was only about a foot of water in it, but a bird was floating, gasping for air and fighting to keep its head above water. I scooped it out with a small bucket and put it on the lawn, then picked it up with a towel and moved it to the deck so our dog wouldn't bother it. It just lay on the towel for a long time. I went in the house and stayed away from it so I wouldn't scare it. About a half hour later, I went out to check and it was sitting up on the towel and a little later, it was hopping around on the deck, then flew away.

Feeling good about myself that I saved this bird, I walked over to the pond to continue my work and there was another bird in it, this time dead and no, it wasn't the same bird. My husband said it must be a Bermuda Triangle thing going on where the birds get disoriented and fall in.

Yesterday, I went out to take a look at the pond and a bird was floundering in it. I scooped it out and it flew away. Today, I checked on it and there are five dead birds in it. Maybe I should put up a No Fly Zone sign.

Too Close For Comfort

Yesterday and today were spent trying to get things done, run a few errands, relax my aching back and in between, switch channels to see what was going on in Boston. That last thing wasn't quite as urgent as it was a few days ago when I couldn't get in touch with my daughter during the initial explosion drama, but I was still concerned. She randomly posted images on facebook - the same things I saw on the news. With each update, I prayed that the terrorist would be found without him taking out more people or doing more damage.

My daughter was at home with her fiancé - safe. That's what she told me and I believed her.

The news showed police donning vests and running (why didn't they have them on already?) and police cars zipping off and gunshots and then the city is no longer on lockdown - business as usual. Before you know it, they found him - up the creek without a paddle. Better yet, in a boat in Watertown without water. The world is a little bit safer. Two less terrorists to destroy anything and everything that we need to feel safe.

It's about that time that I looked at a map of the area. That's when I realized that my daughter was only five miles from the whole ordeal. Five miles isn't far. Five miles is less than 1/5 of the whole Boston Marathon. Five miles is about 12 minutes by car. If that maniac with the bomb had turned in another direction, he could have been in her back yard looking for a place to hide. She felt safe because it was five miles from her house instead of the actual 2,000 feet from her place of employment.

Regardless, I was way too far away to help her if she needed it. I thank God she was five miles away and that I didn't look at a map until it was all over.

Waiting...waiting...waiting...

A normal busy day gets turned upside-down and is spent waiting. Confusion, helplessness, emptiness, and fear bombard me from every direction. I watch the news and see First Responders rushing in and people wheeled out, bloody and devastated. I call her, but her phone goes right to voicemail. I don't see her on the news as I search the victims faces and people running through the crowds, screaming. I text her - no response. She's out there somewhere. She was off from work for Patriots Day and went to the Red Sox game with co-workers, but the game is over. Did she go to see the marathon or did she sit in a bar with friends enjoying the afternoon?

Waiting...waiting...waiting...

My ears are ringing but phones aren't. Texts come in but they aren't the one I want to see. I try not to cry but the tears still flow. Cell phone service is shut down. I post on facebook and hope she or any of her friends will respond. I hope for the best, but every scenario of the worst floods my brain. I can't block it out and I can't turn away from the tv. There is nothing else I can do.

Her fiancé is at work and hasn’t heard from her either. Finally, her friend posts that she heard from co-workers that she's safe. Thank God! A couple hours later and hearing from her directly, finally puts my mind at ease. She had been sitting in a bar a few blocks from the explosions. She's my daughter and there was nothing I could have done to protect her.

Those few hours of not knowing were horrifying. My heart goes out to all the victims of this madness and also to their families.

Affairs of the Heart

Hearts break, hearts yearn, hearts open up, hearts melt.

You can love with all your heart, wear your heart on your sleeve, give your heart away, harden your heart, listen to your heart, cross your heart, follow your heart, steal someone's heart, be young at heart, or even be a sweetheart.

You can have a cheating heart, a cold, cold heart, a heart of stone, a heart of gold, a lonely heart, a heart murmur, a heart attack and heartburn.

You can watch Braveheart, Heart to Heart, Crazy Heart, Places in the Heart and Where the Heart Is.

You can sing along with Heart of the Country, Achy Breaky Heart, Straight From the Heart, Don't Go Breaking My Heart, Piece of My Heart, Heartbreak Hotel and Stop Draggin' My Heart Around.

You can have open-heart surgery to have valves replaced and things put in your body to keep it beating and also to regulate it, leaving a zipper-like scar down the front of your chest. You can have little balloons inserted to clear blockages and have CPR done to bring you back from who knows where.

And, of course, you can sit in a doctor's office for hours to have a pacemaker checked and be told you have eleven more years on that battery - probably longer than you have on your own life.

The heart is a complex organ that keeps you alive, keeps you going and if you let it, it keeps you loving and being loved.

I Believe in Magic

A little over two hours of The Amazing Kreskin wasn't quite as amazing as seeing him all those years ago on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show. The card tricks were great and the mind reading was quite interesting, even though he didn't read my mind - if he would have mentioned "conundrum", I would have been truly amazed, but the lulls in between, that he spent talking about Johnny and all the other shows he had been on made it a bit tedious. In the end, he did find his check, so he got paid for the afternoon and we were reminded that sometimes the memories of the past should just stay there.

Dinner at the Longhorn Steakhouse was good, with the steaks being tender and juicy and very filling, leaving no room for dessert.

The best part of the day was spending time with my husband. He works two jobs and I run our business, The Button Factory and help out my Dad when he needs it, so there isn't much time to spend together other than to just sit and unwind in the evening, watching tv. This was a special occasion for us as we celebrated our 30th anniversary. All in all, it was a very nice day.

Blah!

[image error] It is with mixed emotions that I write this. I feel good. I feel bad. I feel blah. I'm happy and sad at the same time. Things are just topsy-turvy and I just don't know why or, then again, maybe I do.

My father called me last night and said he was confused. That, in itself is confusing - not that he is confused but that he actually called me up to tell me. He doesn't usually tell me things like that. It was no big deal; he just didn't know where he had to go for a medical test. Since rushing him to the hospital last week and being at a couple different doctors' offices lately, I wasn't sure either, but it's taken care of.

It's beautiful outside, bright and sunny, but I have too much work to do in the house to enjoy it. There is so much to do, it is overwhelming and I don't know where to start, so instead, I sit here and write.

Today, I found out my daughter has purple hair - not all of it, but purple underneath, oh, and a blond streak down the back. Some years ago, I would have been upset. I wouldn't have screamed at her or made her change it, but I would have been upset and I would have let her know it. Today I smiled. Is something wrong with me? Is it that I don't care enough to keep her on the right track? Or is it that I care enough to let her find her own way?

In a few days, it will be our 30th wedding anniversary. Thirty years! It seems like forever ago... it seems like, well, it doesn't seem like yesterday but it doesn't seem like 30 years. Thirty years is a long time. Where did it all go? I watched four kids grow up to become adults, even one with purple hair.

The news is full of scary things - politics and taxes and war and guns and the war on guns and drones and bombs and missiles and secrets and lies, lies, lies ... I feel sick to see what the world has become. I hope with all my heart that my kids will find happiness in their lives.

A few weeks ago, my cousin's son was in a serious skiing accident. His injuries are not visible, but deeper inside and will take much longer to heal. I don't think of him as much now as I did when it first happened, I'm sure it is that way for a lot of people. Is it the same way with God? Does he move onto other things? Other tragedies or disasters? Just because we don't spend as much time praying, does that power of prayer dwindle and slow his recovery?

I'm tired and I feel like crying and I really need to clean my house.

Indies Unlimited 2012 Flash Fiction Anthology

[image error] Each Saturday, IndiesUnlimited.com posts a photo by award-winning author and photographer K.S. Brooks along with a short written prompt. Entrants are asked to write a story about the picture using the prompt in 250 words or less within four days. Readers are then asked to vote. Those winning stories have been put in the book Indies Unlimited 2012 Flash Fiction Anthology.

I was lucky enough to win week 2:

Prompt: You have recovered a buried memory. The
scene to the right is the now and suddenly familiar
image that springs to the forefront of your mind.
What happened there? Was it a suppressed memory
of unimaginable horror? Was it the scene of your first
romance long ago? Try to remember what happened
there...

Timestream

It happened so long ago, I had completely forgotten about it until now. Walking through the woods, seeing the creek with the rippling water and cascading waterfalls brought it back like it was yesterday.
My brother and I had made boats out of plastic, cardboard, tape, anything we could find. It was a race to see who could get to the end in one piece. We ran through the woods with our homemade boats, he with his GI Joe and me with my Barbie, were ready.
With passengers strapped in, we let them go on the count of three. It started out slow and calm, neck and neck, or maybe, bow and bow. We walked, then ran alongside laughing and giggling, encouraging our boats to go faster, poking with sticks if they got stuck on a branch or rock, yelling at each other if one or the other helped too much.
The boats twisted, turned and spun around in the current. The creek got wider and faster. We couldn’t poke anymore. Both boats flipped upside down and back again. They went over a small waterfalls, passengers toppling out of the boats and boats coming apart in pieces. That was the last time we saw any them.
Last year, when we said goodbye at the airport, as he headed off to Afghanistan, I gave him a GI Joe and he gave me a Barbie. We both laughed until we cried. I will never see him again except in my memories.
--by Pam Logan
Please check out the the book and the wonderful stories written by the many talented authors.