tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-212367532012-02-01T19:34:46.364-07:00. . . but not forever brokenAliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.comBlogger8411100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-87397145220282423422012-01-31T12:23:00.000-07:002012-01-31T12:23:26.919-07:00

Here I am, in my chair. Today's picture was taken, by the way, from the chair in this picture. I almost used a different photo for this post, one that's more flattering, but it was zoomed in a bit and you don't see much more than me and the chair.  I like my living room, and I think the environment I choose to live in says more about "me" than just about anything else.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-2508067853312499872012-01-30T13:25:00.002-07:002012-01-30T13:26:06.446-07:00

My hellebores are blooming. Too bad you have to get underneath them to see them!

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-18872685632050261882012-01-29T13:40:00.000-07:002012-01-29T13:40:36.763-07:00

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-59492354540052213452012-01-28T12:10:00.001-07:002012-01-28T12:10:51.781-07:00

The morning sun, reflected off the mirror on the back wall of the curio cabinet.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-6535107963197890022012-01-27T10:32:00.000-07:002012-01-27T10:32:03.326-07:00

Leftover pot roast and dinner, too!

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-73986060899745965622012-01-26T13:46:00.000-07:002012-01-26T13:46:04.009-07:00

It's a grey day in the neighborhood, not much color to be found ... Unless you know where to look.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-47805420144575650862012-01-25T11:24:00.000-07:002012-01-25T11:24:17.145-07:00

My sister is an amazing quilter; her pieces are precise and beautiful, works of jaw-dropping perfection. My mother's quilts are artistic wonders; she may not have had my sister's perfect execution, but she had an unrivaled eye for color and design. But let the record show that I was making quilts before either of them! I made baby blankets for all 3 of my sister's boys and for my brother's sons

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-51828091873880887052012-01-24T08:43:00.001-07:002012-01-24T08:43:27.113-07:00

Ummm... Yeah. I'm on facebook. A lot. Too much. And I like it. And I spend way too much time there. But all my friends are there. And Scrabble. And silly humor. And Tetris. And my news feeds.  And I need to spend less time there.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-47308164590495005282012-01-23T12:35:00.001-07:002012-01-23T12:35:47.592-07:00

I'm not big on buying shoes. The boots on the left are the oldest shoes in my closet. I bought them at Nordstrom in 2000, for $200 -- so expensive!! But at $16 per year (and dropping), I guess that's not too bad. The shoes on the right are -- I kid you not -- the newest shoes in my closet. I bought them at Famous Footwear in 2008, to wear on our Hawaiian vacation.  I don't remember what I

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-62233650796129678082012-01-21T12:12:00.001-07:002012-01-21T12:12:34.230-07:00

I don't think I could do a better reflecting photograph than I did for the Water entry, so I won't try. Instead, this is what i wish my life reflected more clearly: Specifically: Because isn't that Love, Love Abundant, what it all comes down to?

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-34202011608958602422012-01-20T14:56:00.001-07:002012-01-20T14:56:25.024-07:00

Tomorrow is the fifth anniversary of my sister's surgery for stomach cancer. The surgeons removed her entire stomach and attached her intestines directly to her esophagus. Her prognosis was grim, and five-year survival rates are low.  But Jane is a walking miracle. Even though we always feel like the time bomb is ticking -- when will it come back? where? how bad? -- her follow-up scans for the

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-88734460849187639462012-01-19T13:10:00.000-07:002012-01-19T13:11:56.159-07:00

I just got home from the grocery store. Guess what's for dinner 19. Sweet  My sister-in-law's amazing homemade Almond Roca

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-48687302201215157772012-01-18T06:23:00.000-07:002012-01-19T13:12:44.576-07:00

Learn more.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-34978852771444263982012-01-17T09:56:00.000-07:002012-01-17T14:50:18.777-07:00

This was a fun one. Since it's a bit rainy I tried the drops on leaves, drops hanging from a branch, sky reflected in a pool -- the usual. Not satisfied, I came inside and took pictures of the water stain on my kitchen ceiling. Then I set a glass on the counter and played with that, changing lights and angles. When I took the glass away, I saw a splash of water on the counter ... hmmm ... What

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-3183766500477665602012-01-16T08:39:00.000-07:002012-01-16T08:39:06.732-07:00

I don't usually equate Safeway with Morning. But I was out of coffee -- the horror -- so I went straight from the shower to the store. To make my grumpy self feel better, I stopped here because the light was on.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-50476515043017049992012-01-15T13:18:00.000-07:002012-01-17T09:56:26.062-07:00

I suppose a better title would be Contentment. Happiness is a fleeting sentiment, and what I feel right now, this view from my chair -- the winter sun streaming through the window, ClaraKitty snoozing, my books and things of beauty all around me -- is deeper than that.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-38399656081857585862012-01-14T08:34:00.000-07:002012-01-14T10:55:42.059-07:00

I love my Kindle. I really do. I miss a lot of the tactile pleasures of reading a book, but I love the ease with which I can read almost anything anytime anywhere.  For the record, I've just started Puccini's Ghosts, by Morag Joss, downloaded from my county library. (By the way, if you can enlarge the image and read it, the one paragraph on this screen is simply an amazing piece of writing.)

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-18373679616717600942012-01-13T13:44:00.000-07:002012-01-13T13:44:40.876-07:00

Really. That's it. 2 receipts (one from a movie theater in Tucson!) my drivers license and assorted insurance cards (some expired) 2 gift cards (one for a Tucson retailer) 4 grocery so-called "rewards" cards: 2 for Tucson stores and 2 for Safeway National Parks Annual Pass business card from the shuttle service at the hotel the boys and I stayed in last summer cash and coins lipstick and

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-52498662662569397282012-01-12T12:47:00.002-07:002012-01-12T12:48:09.066-07:00

It's a nice day outside, so I was prowling my backyard looking for something interesting to photograph, when I stopped in my tracks. I couldn't believe my eyes. Can you believe it? You don't see it? Look right there! Okay, it is small. Maybe from a different angle... Right THERE!  Now you see it, right? Isn't it lovely?

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-44234007192246187132012-01-11T10:41:00.001-07:002012-01-11T13:26:36.229-07:00

That's my room, on the top floor. You didn't really think I'd let you into my boudoir, did you?

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-87629960727469038722012-01-10T08:04:00.001-07:002012-01-10T08:05:33.464-07:00

There were a lot of ways to go with this one.  I thought about pulling out some mementoes from my childhood. I thought about going to the playground and trying for some interesting shots. I thought about the shelves of children's books in my house. I thought about trying to find something that represented my sons' childhood.  Tough. Then I walked into my closet and saw Elizabeth. Elizabeth

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-15129808290892317522012-01-09T07:35:00.002-07:002012-01-09T07:48:12.418-07:00

Ten minutes after the alarm buzzes, I get out of bed, wake HardPlace, and go down the stairs. and out the door to get the newspaper. I go back inside and up the steps for my first cup of coffee I go halfway up the steps to tell HardPlace it's time to get out of bed. Back down to top off my cup and start the paper. Up the stairs to wake Rock. Back downstairs to

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-90330746610907582492012-01-08T15:11:00.002-07:002012-01-08T15:13:22.178-07:00

The evening view from my deck.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-21855768153396753012012-01-07T08:28:00.000-07:002012-01-07T08:28:55.128-07:00

In 1976 my mother started a tradition of giving my sister and me matching Christmas ornaments every year. This copper angel, from 1986, is my favorite. It would always go front and center on my tree. Three or four years ago, I stopped hanging the ornaments from Mother on my tree, because there just wasn't enough room! I'd continued the tradition to the next generation, so there were the

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-80063326782808002932012-01-06T07:47:00.000-07:002012-01-06T07:49:57.617-07:00

Another easy one! I love Christmas, the Christmas season, and everything about it. I love decorating my house for the season, and walking from room to room seeing festivity everywhere.   Every day during the month of December, I put a little something on display ... nutcrackers, the nativity set, a handful of ornaments on the tree.  (You can read about my decorating tradition here.)

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-31795778785337051462012-01-05T08:24:00.001-07:002012-01-05T19:55:04.793-07:00

Another obvious post for me today, except ... I wasn't quite ready to talk about about it yet. Nick put this ring on my finger on January 31, 1992. And he put this one on my finger on September 5, 1992. Those two rings didn't leave my hand for years. When I became a regular at the gym, I started taking off my engagement ring before going: I'd lost one diamond from it and didn't want

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-75321287070510029272012-01-04T08:27:00.000-07:002012-01-08T15:12:49.447-07:00

a technique for displaying a wide-screen film on a regular-format television screen by reducing its size until the entire image is visible, thus retaining the aspect ratio, with black bands filling the borders of the screen above and below the picture. Ooops. I'm obviously not a cinematographer or photographer, as my previous entry shows. And I don't have the technology to do this with any my

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-87215318641215422762012-01-04T07:59:00.000-07:002012-01-04T07:59:45.586-07:00

If it weren't 18° outside my kitchen window, I'd walk to the curb and take an artistic shot of my beat-up mailbox against the scraggly pine that I'm always "this close" to cutting down. I'd ruminate on how appearances can be deceiving, that even the rustiest mailbox always holds out the hope of a surprise, how even the ugliest tree has its own beauty. But it's cccold out there. Too cold for

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-56204397047057698952012-01-03T13:02:00.000-07:002012-01-03T13:56:25.142-07:00

Well, duhhh ... No, not the earrings themselves -- even though they are pretty cool, and I did finally figure out who sent them -- But these guys: the original Rock 2002 and HardPlace 1999 They fill my heart with love 2003 and melt it just a little bit. 2004   They make me smile 2004

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-23906301255842270622012-01-02T11:34:00.000-07:002012-01-02T11:34:16.109-07:00

I just saw this photo-a-day challenge over at Amanda's blog. I've never done a photo challenge before, but I like how she put it: Her writing muscle is sprained. My writing muscle isn't sprained, but my writing camera is out of focus. So, I think I'll use images to help me write, even if only a single paragraph or sentence.  Should be interesting.Without further ado ... 1. YOU (which

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-12528058762826318202011-12-31T18:23:00.001-07:002011-12-31T18:24:49.493-07:00

I'm not going to reminisce about 2011. The above cartoon pretty much describes how I feel about the old year. I am glad to see it come to an end. And 2012? I don't make New Year's resolutions (invitation to fail, anyone?), but here are some of the things I look forward to in the next several months: Getting a job. Yes. A job. A real, paying job.  I'm flexible on whether it's full-time or

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-40439961709751488672011-12-06T13:13:00.001-07:002011-12-06T13:16:07.301-07:00

Today is the Feast of St. Nicholas. And the radio is playing Wachet Auf. And in my Christmas rummaging, I opened the box of ornaments my Mother gave me through the years. And I'm a weepy, wallowy mess.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-65541833815467299542011-12-02T09:04:00.001-07:002011-12-02T09:17:24.361-07:00

I realized something during a phone call with my sister a few days ago:  I was never going to be happy in Tucson.I've enumerated ad nauseum the reasons I had to leave -- no jobs, no girlfriends, no church, no dating pool. But the truth is simply that as much as I loved the Tucson area, I could never have been happy there because of the reason I moved there. I moved there to be with my Mother

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-83368096902484751162011-12-01T06:19:00.001-07:002011-12-01T06:23:47.599-07:00

I miss you.More today than on previous birthdays. Give Mother a hug for me. December 1, 1956 - January 17, 2007

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-19507370522625388512011-11-23T05:23:00.001-07:002011-11-23T12:37:35.930-07:00

Six boxes were delivered to my house last week, six boxes of things from my mother's house. I felt a little nauseous looking at them. I don't want those things; they aren't what I value. Six boxes that my sister packed up and shipped out here for me. I thought about Jane and the burden she's borne, having to empty our mother's house, having to weigh each item for its significance and worth,

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-83526670415273030702011-11-21T19:01:00.001-07:002011-11-21T19:47:44.250-07:00

I've been remiss in posting, for which I apologize.  Two posts I've been meaning to make are mostly photographic. One post is about a weekend getaway to New Orleans with dear friends.  It was the first time I'd been gone from the boys for a weekend in 3 years. I loved that city. So picturesque! I enjoyed the history, the voodoo ... The silliness, the tourist-trapness... My friends

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-17036066702269167942011-11-02T14:54:00.001-07:002011-11-02T14:55:05.840-07:00

How silly is it that I keep going back to sitemeter.com and watching this number? And how pathetic is it that I make this post knowing that it will generate the additional visits to push me over the 100,000 mark? Sigh. I have no life. You can see what number visitor you are if you go down to the very bottom of the screen. Care to help me count? If so, post a comment with your number!

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-39990149210071041382011-11-01T14:04:00.000-07:002011-11-01T14:04:54.630-07:00

For all the saints, who from their labors rest,Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,Thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blessed.Alleluia, Alleluia!Once, I would have sung this hymn with tender pride in those whose faithful footsteps I follow. Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress and their Might;Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well fought fight;Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-22511906992545887662011-10-27T19:28:00.003-07:002011-10-29T04:53:33.224-07:00

Time changes people, changes relationships. Death changes people, changes relationships. Life changes people, changes relationships. People change. Relationships change. Long-time readers of this blog may be astounded to learn that one of Nick’s sisters has been staying with us for a few weeks and will be for a few more. But-but-but-but, I can hear you sputter. I thought Nick’s siblings weren’t

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-48548986980819825712011-10-20T19:31:00.002-07:002011-10-20T19:41:00.970-07:00

A few folks have nudged me on Facebook, wondering how I am, how I am adjusting to being back in Maryland, how I am settling into the house, how I am coping with my mom’s death, how the boys are coping with all these changes.   Well, I won’t keep you in suspense. In a word, I am doing great. Really. I am GREAT! We are all so very happy to be back home, to be back among friends, to be back in

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-57408094832362017242011-09-15T17:49:00.001-07:002011-09-15T17:50:03.825-07:00

All of my books are now unpacked and on shelves, and I am struck by two things. First, I can't believe how few books I have now.  I was really diligent about purging my shelves when I left Arizona; I wanted to get rid of books I didn't care about, that I knew I wouldn't read again or that held no particular value to me.  I'm stunned at how successful I was. I could combine the two, once-full,

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-62170821241383206952011-09-15T14:37:00.001-07:002011-09-15T14:38:01.846-07:00

My mother's things arrived today! Only 3 weeks after everything else, but 2 days earlier than I'd last been told. When the movers left, I looked at everything in my living room and sighed. How am I supposed to make my living room look like my house, with so many of her things in it? Four hours (and lots of sweat) later, the furniture is arranged, the boxes are empty, and -- most important --

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-24560985520134816812011-09-12T19:14:00.000-07:002011-09-15T14:40:11.280-07:00

On the day of the great Earthquake that Shook the East Coast, I was having a nervous breakdown, sobbing on the counter of a bureaucratic ice cube trying to establish my residency in this county so I could register my children for school.  I didn't even notice the earthquake. Literally.  While I was sobbing (again, literally), HardPlace put his hand on my shoulder and said, Don't cry, Mom. Please

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-77128873502920411342011-09-11T05:35:00.001-07:002011-09-11T05:35:45.858-07:00

I originally wrote this post as part of a 5th anniversary tribute to the individual lives that were lost on September 11, 2011. I link to or re-post it every year, that Chris' memory -- and the memory of all who died that day -- may be eternal. With the passing of Christopher Paul Slattery, a son died. A brother died. A nephew died. A cousin died. A friend died. A colleague died. A

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-27045154242168147882011-09-02T05:46:00.000-07:002011-09-04T05:23:27.110-07:00

What? I couldn't believe what my sister had said when I answered the phone. She's gone. She died 15 minutes ago. And the tears started flowing, as they do now when I type these words. I called Mother every day last week; sometimes she wasn't interested in anything more than an I love you. When she was up for it, I would tell her all the good things she wanted to hear: that it's good to be back

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-8251091782692509152011-08-29T18:39:00.003-07:002011-08-29T18:39:30.264-07:00

My mother died a few hours ago. There just are no words.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-19961676604664053402011-08-27T08:51:00.002-07:002011-09-15T14:40:11.276-07:00

Just a quick post to let you know that we are in Maryland. There is so much to tell, that I'm not sure I can remember it all. We finally have internet service now, though, so I can check in and let you know that we're all safe and sound (and hoping the hurricane blows on by). More later...

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-58472482793124269982011-08-19T14:11:00.001-07:002011-08-19T14:51:18.236-07:00

"Night is drawing nigh --" Let me finish what I have been permitted to begin. Let me give all without any assurance of increase. Dag Hammarskjöld, Markings, 1963   Need I say more?

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-50315479183579032412011-08-17T20:16:00.001-07:002011-09-15T14:40:11.307-07:00

I can't even begin to reconstruct everything that has happened in the last few days, since my last post telling you of my decision to stay here and send my stuff East. The bottom line is that yesterday my mom told me to get on the plane on Saturday, to get the boys enrolled in the start of the school year, to get back to living my own life. To be crude about it, she's not as sick as she wants

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-4541524835267643492011-08-14T19:33:00.001-07:002011-09-15T14:40:11.300-07:00

My mother has deteriorated markedly in the four days since we took her to my sister's house. You don't need the details, but she has gone from being ambulatory (with a walker) to needing a small wheelchair to get from her bed to the bathroom.  It really doesn't look like she's going to have a long, slow decline. I have decided to continue packing and let the movers load all my things onto a van

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-39545604162077883012011-08-10T21:21:00.000-07:002011-09-15T14:40:11.294-07:00

The moving van is scheduled to load my stuff back to Maryland a week from today. The boys and I are scheduled to get on a plane back to Maryland 3 days later, on Saturday. The plan has been that I'll come back to Arizona when my Mom is at the end. Today, she fell in her home, and we came to the bridge of having to decide what to do next. We moved my mother to my sister's house because it was

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-58135973784780641902011-08-08T23:15:00.001-07:002011-08-08T23:15:50.504-07:00

I thought this vignette deserved its own post. But it does exemplify the cumulative nature of both love and loss. I had a candle burning for Nick throughout the day, but it was a small votive candle that was done by the time the boys got home from school. Before dinner, though, we lit a long taper and sang the trisagion prayers for Nick. Oh Christ God, with the saints grant rest to the soul of

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-56512393281141270082011-08-08T21:24:00.000-07:002011-08-08T21:24:48.749-07:00

increasing or growing by accumulation or successive additions: the cumulative effect of one rejection after another. formed by or resulting from accumulation or the addition of successive parts or elements. It's remarkable how the most important events of our lives, those things that generally happen only once in our lives (generally), those events that are life-changing, are actually

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-84381806233750289572011-08-02T00:12:00.002-07:002011-08-02T00:12:58.552-07:00

I was talking with my sister about things I'm getting rid of before moving.  And I'm not taking the rickety kitchen table -- (chuckling quietly) even though it was Nick's. Jeez. Is that dog still barking? Yup. It still barks and nips at my heels, and even bays at the moon.  Sometimes it still howls and bites and snarls and -- like during this week of remembering -- it can still tear at

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-71810464911252539042011-08-01T19:05:00.004-07:002011-08-01T19:06:15.471-07:00

After this disgusting debacle with the debt ceiling and the details of the so-called "deal," I do hereby solemnly swear that if the Bush-era tax cuts are not allowed to expire next December, if they are extended by one single day, I will never give one penny more to the Democratic Party or to any Democratic candidate for public office.    Y'all know I don't write about politics very

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-54404219791727593442011-07-27T20:02:00.000-07:002011-07-27T20:02:11.638-07:00

You find all kinds of things when you're moving. Some things are just things. Some things are more than things. And some things ... are both. Part 1 Go read this post from July 2008. ... waiting ... waiting ... ... Are you back?  Okay. Guess what I found while cleaning out closets to get ready to pack. Guess what was at the bottom of a big box labeled PHOTOGRAPHS. Guess what was under 2

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-30280013953161574502011-07-15T07:43:00.000-07:002011-09-15T14:40:11.290-07:00

But sometimes, you just need to blurt it out: I'm moving back to Maryland next month. As happy as I will be to be back East, as glad as I am to be leaving this reddest of Red States, as much as I am looking forward to being back among friends, back at my church, back in green space -- this has been a very hard decision to make. I moved to Arizona with absolutely no hesitation when my mom was

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-21916754587023795002011-06-30T17:48:00.000-07:002011-06-30T17:48:58.341-07:00

As a rule, I don't plug charitable organizations or contests.  I don't have a particular reason not to do so; it's just not my thing. So when I DO promote something, you know it's a big deal. Right? Right! Charity Wings "is a volunteer run organization that serves as a resource for crafters and artists that want to fundraise for their favorite causes. Their mission is to raise money and

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-80729580055480085102011-06-26T09:57:00.000-07:002011-06-26T09:57:19.679-07:00

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church — I keep it, staying at Home — With a Bobolink for a Chorister — And an Orchard, for a Dome — Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice — I just wear my Wings — And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church, Our little Sexton — sings. God preaches, a noted Clergyman — And the sermon is never long, So instead of getting to Heaven, at last — I'm going, all along. —

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-1499877070183495242011-06-23T12:54:00.001-07:002011-06-30T17:52:32.711-07:00

Well, two amazing things, actually. But this post is about the first amazing thing, which I was going to write about when the second amazing thing took precedence. But first -- A funny thing happened on the way to writing this post. I tend to write the first paragraph of my blog entries in my head before I sit down at the computer. This one was going to start out someone like this: We all know

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-35606204749194623932011-06-19T12:15:00.004-07:002011-06-19T15:57:53.529-07:00

A widow friend died yesterday. Kristin was just 42 years old; she suffered a major stroke last Friday and was removed from life support yesterday. It's devastating to those of us who knew her and walked the WidowRoad with her. I met her just one time and we were never best friends, but still, the bonds of grief and loss, of shared struggles held us close to each other, closer than most people

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-27190407771770779002011-06-19T10:59:00.000-07:002011-06-19T10:59:50.305-07:00

A lot has been going on lately, a lot that I've wanted to write about. But with the boys home from school, the time to write clearly comes in only disjointed blocks.  I'll try to catch up over the next few days, with a series of short posts on myriad topics.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-15392600973815275602011-05-30T09:40:00.000-07:002011-05-30T09:40:33.613-07:00

I make no secret of my liberal-progressive-socialist-leftwing-whatever-you-want-to-call-them-politics.  In my younger days, I was pretty close to being a pacifist, and I still don't believe Jesus wants us to be killing our enemies by the thousands and the hundreds of thousands.  While I have come to acknowledge that military intervention may be necessary to prevent the slaughter of innocents (

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-49802935725021568582011-05-15T22:16:00.000-07:002011-05-15T22:16:47.219-07:00

Beets. I don't eat beets. I don't like them. I never have, and I never will. When I was 5 years old, I refused to eat the beets on my plate. My father wasn't going to let me leave the table until I did, and I was quite content to sit there all night, ThankYouVeryMuch. So my father -- and this tells you a lot about the man -- forced my sister to force-feed me. Jane and I both have vivid memories

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-71536883561275205672011-05-01T10:54:00.002-07:002011-05-01T13:17:26.702-07:00

Thirty years ago (!), when I was in college, I knew almost all the campus chaplains of all the denominations and was on good terms with them. This isn't surprising: I was a religion major and an earnest Christian.  I had particularly good relationships with three of them, whom I would turn to frequently for guidance, advice, counseling. Rev. A was always encouraging and upbeat: You're on the

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-3789879033144964732011-04-21T19:47:00.002-07:002011-04-22T06:39:22.853-07:00

I love Holy Thursday, or as we call it in the Christian East, Great Thursday. My favorite liturgical moment of the year happens tonight. I will always remember with absolute clarity my very first experience of Holy Thursday ... and my very first experience of Great Thursday. I was raised utterly unchurched, and even anti-church. This meant that I was, to a great extent, culturally illiterate

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-78848892597715751892011-04-17T19:23:00.004-07:002011-04-17T22:09:58.820-07:00

I have read -- several times -- and enjoyed Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. In the current political climate, that statement would likely shock people who know me well, so I must hasten to add the disclaimer that her philosophy and the conclusions she draws in her book are antithetical to everything I believe and think. That being said ... I first read Atlas Shrugged when I was 17 or 18 -- a guy I

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-18792552735960645822011-04-02T15:46:00.000-07:002011-04-02T15:46:09.624-07:00

I love this, even if it is a commercial.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-46174480292245777462011-03-21T16:45:00.000-07:002011-03-21T16:45:51.801-07:00

I'm a news hound. I generally watch MSNBC on a nightly basis. I have the New York Times and the Washington Post bookmarked on my browser toolbar. My Facebook wall gets news feeds from NPR, the Christian Science Monitor, the Daily Beast, Mother Jones, and a few other sources. I'll even watch FOX for nonpolitical news (just to see how they manage to blame President Obama for the earthquake and

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-21499055629389635502011-03-10T21:50:00.001-07:002011-03-10T22:50:11.115-07:00

the state or condition of being subject to death; mortal character, nature, or existence. the relative frequency of deaths in a specific population; death rate. mortal beings collectively; humanity. death or destruction on a large scale, as from war, plague, or famine.  Obsolete: death.   Source: dictionary.com The BBC reported today that survival rates for ovarian cancer have doubled in

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-15109673012013899172011-03-07T06:56:00.000-07:002011-03-07T06:56:43.336-07:00

I just don't understand how someone who looks this good can be so sick ... My mom with Grandson #5 and his girlfriend My mom, wife of Grandson #3, girlfriend of Grandson #5 She was having a good day. I hope she has many, many more.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-3947340807578352202011-03-04T12:53:00.000-07:002011-03-04T12:53:05.562-07:00

I've gotten enough emails since last night's posting that I suppose I should give a real update on my mom. I was going to wait until next week, after her next appointment with the oncologist, but I won't. She has gone from what I called a "downward trend" to a "downward slope." The disease isn't at the final stages yet, but we can see the final stage on the horizon. She's gone from having "bad

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-81484627957263477602011-03-03T22:46:00.000-07:002011-03-03T22:46:54.559-07:00

I sent an email today. Just a 3-line email. Not a big thing. I notified the property management company in Maryland that I would not be renewing the tenant's lease when it expires this summer.  Just a little piece of business. When they asked why I would not be renewing the lease, my reply was even shorter, one line saying that I intend to move back to Maryland, back into my house.  A simple

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-16700956087620728962011-03-01T10:16:00.058-07:002011-03-02T17:40:49.170-07:00

When I decided to run this contest, I neglected to consider how difficult it would be to choose a winner!  The entries were thought-provoking, touching, interesting -- and yet each one was totally different from the others. How could I choose between apples and oranges? or apples and dolphins?  Several excellent entries described moments or decisions that changed the course of the writer's life,

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-78646134699081711012011-02-28T16:45:00.003-07:002011-02-28T22:01:53.346-07:00

Alas, I didn't win Susan Bearman's writing challenge, the one that inspired me to run my own contest. (This fine entry was her winner.  I have to admit that I am "the same kind" as the writer.) I wasn't really expecting to win, because Susan is a talented essayist, and while I am a good writer, the classic essay is not my strong suit. My best writing tends to be more visceral and more poetic

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-99761350365301202011-02-27T17:30:00.000-07:002011-02-27T22:48:01.202-07:00

Now here's something you don't see every day. In fact, this is the first time I've seen it in the three years I've lived here. It was gone by 10:30 a.m., but how otherworldly it was!

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-31749712682092235672011-02-27T08:10:00.001-07:002011-03-01T10:53:37.099-07:00

to enter the Forever Changed writing contest. The deadline isn't until this evening, and rumor has it that if you let the judge know an entry is on its way, she'll hold the door open for you.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-68492291375089379462011-02-25T12:01:00.003-07:002011-02-25T14:15:57.457-07:00

transitive -- to make the form, nature, content, future course, etc., of (something) different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone: to change one's name; to change one's opinion; to change the course of history.  to transform or convert (usually followed by into ): The witch changed the prince into a toad.  to substitute another or others for; exchange  for something else,

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-82679246933643860922011-02-22T10:31:00.001-07:002011-02-27T22:47:36.242-07:00

The Sitemeter app allows me to track visitors to my blog by all kinds of variables, including what link brought them here, how they found me. Fifty visitors show on a page; this morning, 21 of those 50 visitors came by way of a Google Image search for the Herculoids. When I track those visitors by location, I can see that they are from all over the country, so I know it's not one person coming

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-68664519503246862012011-02-19T17:01:00.002-07:002011-03-01T10:53:37.101-07:00

I've been reading Susan Bearman's blog, Two Kinds of People, for a while now. The theme of her entries is that there are (surprise, surprise) two kinds of people -- for example, those who play a musical instrument and those who wish they did, or those who believe in public education and those who think it's a failure, or those who try to write a novel in a month (NaNoWriMo) and those who don't. I

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-89986178004455122822011-02-12T17:38:00.002-07:002011-02-12T19:12:55.955-07:00

As much as I don't want to be part of my half-sibs' karmic mess, it seems like it's going to be hard to avoid. It turns out that the money they "found" is in an investment account. Anyone who has ever opened such an account knows that when you do so, you have to designate beneficiaries of that account. If you do not specify percentages in the designations, the money gets divided equally among

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-84745666393977851122011-01-29T11:54:00.000-07:002011-01-29T11:54:59.323-07:00

When my dad died in 2002, we discovered that he had set up his will in a way designed to cause pain and stir up strife and dissension among his different sets of offspring. I won't go into the details, but his 5 children from 3 (of 5) marriages got very different (and inequitable) proportions of the estate; his 9 grandsons got nothing, and his 1 granddaughter got as much as I did. However, the

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-35071429329733599412011-01-21T09:10:00.001-07:002011-01-21T10:49:19.011-07:00

From time to time over the last 2 years or so, my sister has said something along the lines of how glad she is to see that I'm doing so well. That I'm so much better. My internal response to those statements has been a mixture of bewilderment (What does she see that makes her say that?) and anger (Does she really not see how unhappy I am?). When I've asked what she means -- or said snarkily, I'm

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-25122165124475937172011-01-18T22:42:00.000-07:002011-01-18T22:42:43.153-07:00

Like Number 5 in that adorable 1986 comedy Short Circuit, I need input. I caught an ad for publishing my blog, and I wonder if any of you have done that, if any of my fellow bloggers has used such a service. No, I don't want to publish my whole blog. But I wrote the sections about Nick, the Terrible Story and the Joyful Story, for the boys to have when they want to know more about him, about

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-19037199984789267052011-01-17T14:39:00.002-07:002011-01-18T11:26:22.645-07:00

Since I live in Tucson, I should say something about the mass shooting that took place in this city last week. Since I've been in that Safeway a number of times, I should say something. Since I've driven through the intersection or Oracle and Ina Roads more times than I can count, I should say something. Since my boys' old school is less than a mile away from that shopping center, I should say

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-51811624429358819612011-01-03T20:11:00.000-07:002011-01-03T20:11:51.777-07:00

My birthday celebration began last night with these, given to me by my nephew and his wife: My mom had organized a lovely family dinner at my sister's house, culminating with a strawberry mousse cake that looked something like this (I wish I'd taken a picture of the real one) and that was AMAZINGLY good. Then I got these:   And I woke up to this: Finally, a dear friend who knows me well

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-9610231432308009492011-01-01T14:53:00.000-07:002011-01-01T14:54:20.534-07:00

I have a very active and vivid dream life. Most of my dreams are too complicated to describe (I went through a long period of dreaming Star Trek episodes -- I even considered transcribing some of them and submitting them to the writers of ST:TNG), and most of them don't stay with me very long.  And I certainly don't blog about my dreams.  But last night I dreamed a dream that I need to remember .

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-30875883837649657852010-12-27T15:37:00.001-07:002010-12-27T15:38:19.208-07:00

The retraction Today's mail included a card for each boy with a monetary gift. The sort of They still irritate the bejeebers out of me.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-74851980537709961222010-12-26T23:20:00.000-07:002010-12-26T23:20:39.248-07:00

There are many things I understand. I understand that Death happens. I understand that grief changes people. I understand that some people never recover themselves once they have been changed by grief. I understand that I cannot understand. There are some things I will never understand. I will never understand why my in-laws ignore their son's sons. I will never understand why they don't send

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-73412009599437945132010-12-23T16:43:00.000-07:002010-12-23T16:43:32.110-07:00

... from my house to yours. Thank you for sticking with me even when I have little to say. Thank you for laughing with me, crying with me, and sighing with me. Thank you for offering words of support and encouragement. Thank you for allowing me this little corner of the internet to muse and be amused. Thank you.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-76223874464157920752010-12-13T08:33:00.001-07:002010-12-13T09:34:31.863-07:00

I know I should post more often, but I simply haven't felt like it. Either I've been busy with good things going on or depressed and anxious with bad things going on.  Regardless, I simply haven't been in the mood: Maybe I don't need this blog anymore?  But I'll give a brief summary of goings on... My mom is having more bad days than good, and her symptoms on her bad days are more pronounced.

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-78852015303549528662010-11-18T21:05:00.001-07:002010-11-18T21:17:39.630-07:00

I wrote part one three weeks ago. But part two has been hard to write because what I really want to do is say what faith DOESN'T do for grieving people. One of my high school friends buried his 21YO daughter three weeks ago. Another friend went to a funeral for a still-born, full-term baby girl. Another friend just learned that one of her friends was shot three times by her angry soon-to-be

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-47156951333341717692010-10-29T15:40:00.001-07:002010-10-29T16:11:07.300-07:00

One of my blog friends wrote recently about trying to reconcile faith and grief. If we have a belief in the hereafter, shouldn't that belief erase the pain of grief?  Leaning on the Hindu traditions, Shady quotes the Bhagavad-Gita — There never was a time when I did not exist, nor you, nor any of these kings, nor will there be any future where we cease to be — and asks whether faith should

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-20878691417199213762010-10-21T08:56:00.001-07:002010-10-21T09:00:52.628-07:00

I'm no longer a very active participant in the online group that got me through the first, worst years of widowhood, but every now and then I feel compelled to respond to a particular post.  Since I know that a lot of widow blogs link to mine, even though I don't write about widowhood that much anymore, let me post here an adaptation of something I wrote there. (I adapted it to make it more

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-25096823568028650122010-10-04T21:46:00.000-07:002010-10-04T21:46:47.695-07:00

This is one of those posts that isn't about anything. It's a Dear Diary entry, because I don't have anyone else to complain to about my day.  I really can't complain about my day because everything is fine, and so many people I know have had really lousy days. But my day was cr*ppy in its own way.  Of course, any day spent in the ER is cr*ppy, as all too many of my friends can tell you. And a day

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-52369129992892899052010-09-23T08:24:00.001-07:002010-09-23T08:25:02.065-07:00

1. the recognition and enjoyment of the good qualities of someone or something: a. gratitude for something b. a piece of writing in which the qualities of a person or the person's work are discussed and assessed c. sensitive understanding of the aesthetic value of something 2. a full understanding of a situation 3. increase in monetary value Yes, "appreciation" was the title of my

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-87497994730859542842010-09-16T09:42:00.001-07:002010-09-22T20:47:10.079-07:00

I started to write this post with a dry tone to explain that my mom is not in crisis, that her death is not imminent or even in the "near future." I started to write this post with an apologetic tone for not being clearer in my writing: Her disease has progressed to the "next stage," but she still feels -- for the most part -- "fine."   I started to write this post with a a flippant tone of "Jeez

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-19949885063168376142010-09-13T14:11:00.001-07:002010-09-13T14:24:46.586-07:00

The post I kept meaning to write But I was busy. For this post to make sense, you have to understand (1) that my sister owns the house I'm living in and (2) that I moved to Arizona 3 years ago, when my mom was diagnosed with advanced ovarian cancer and given 12-18 months to live, just 9 months after (3) my brother died and my sister had a total gastrectomy to remove a stomach tumor. See this?

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-48833518561831322202010-09-11T07:21:00.001-07:002010-09-11T09:30:59.680-07:00

In 2006, I participated in a bloggers memorial project to mark the fifth anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. The project organizers asked for volunteers to write about one individual who died that day -- in the Twin Towers, at the Pentagon, and in a field in Pennsylvania. It is my lasting honor to have written about Christopher Paul Slattery, age 31, and it is my sacred

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21236753.post-88936041716861481512010-09-05T07:24:00.001-07:002010-09-05T07:29:09.271-07:00

This is the 7th year I've been without Nick on September 5th, and so my annual bouquet of roses has 7 yellow roses, along with the 12 red roses for every September 5th we were together. I had intended to scan a new batch of photos from our wedding day, but the best ones are already in the video that I made and posted last year. Some stills from that video are here and here. As I was turning

Aliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11566205581092404455noreply@blogger.com7