Archive | August 11, 2012

Missing Alerts from WP Stalling Bloggers

My Dear & Fine Blogging Family and New Friends:

(I realize I am being repetitive – forgive me for this too. It’s been a strange day at the old WP office cooler ~

Please forgive lack of attention on my part. It has not been intentional, and has not been because I have been away. Just need to say that I’d like to ask for your patience. I know one other blogger who is also having a similar problem, albeit I’m not sure if it’s exact.

It appears there is a glitch somewhere between your blog posts of late and my email. It seems that almost 90% of WP alerts are being dumped in my spam folder. Now that I know I can try to retrieve, and hope that all alerts are being sent to one or another, my new mail folder, and my spam folder. It as I said in a prior post just dumb luck I found the alerts I did in my spam.

I’ll be seeing you soon. I am in catch-up mode as I write.


Six Word Saturday August 11,2012

Brothers Visit * Sister Laughs * Sister Cries.

Caveat to my Six Words this week:

I had intended these photos of myself below for another post. But since then a couple of things have happened that have put me another mind-set at this time. I have decided that these photos and scrapbook page layouts from some my family’s heritage story books I create will do okay here.

I loved that my brothers together found time for me, they make me laugh until I almost need to change my pants, they sing and play music with me, and they make me cry at the end of it all. Their timing this time I have to say has been their very best. I happened to need this visit and they had no real idea. Although I am thinking they may have needed it as well. You see this is the month of our beloved mother’s birth. It also the month of her passingg.

These photos below are of her only daughter. I’m who I am as a woman in many ways because of my mom. I have been working on a page layout of her graduation photo from highschool, it is when she was just 18 yrs old. I grew up at every turn hearing to my chagrin that I looked just like her. I had not seen myself as a kid and only wanted to look like myself. How foolish I see now.

I am my mother’s daughter, I am her face.

                                                  The Cemetary Club  (circa 1995)
{FYI I am the one in front in Tye Dye]
There is a kind of morbid but sweet reason we have been dubbed The Cemetary Club. These are the three ladies I have known and grown up with, one since birth, one since we were 5yrs old, and the other met in Jr High School. The naming of the club was done by a mutual friend. WE had all begun losing our parents, and when we entered all four together as we did, we apparently made quite a statement. The Four of us powerful women entering a room together caused first a hush to come over the gathering, then little whispers. A dear friend who also caused us to gather again at his graveside had dubbed years prior the Cemetary Club. Thanks David, it has followed.
The following images are taken from our scrapbooks. I was taught in a story telling class that it is important when telling your family story to include yourself. This is hard for me for reasons that have to do with photos. I can find the words just fine. Below are my pale attempt at fulfilling class requirements, not much more. But the idea that even the author should include herself in the stories that are of their life is now one I am accepting and coming to even like.
I hope you include Photos of Yourself in Your own stories. It matters none if they are perfect portraits, obviously. Or if they have been edited and have been enhanced by a photoshop editing program. It’s you, it’s who you are on paper. Just like your stories you write are you on paper.
I challenge you to add your photos too.

Scrapbook layout. (Photos circa 1997)

Scrapbook Layout “Free To Be Me”. (Circa 2010)

My hair is still long in this photo just pulled back because we had below freezing weather that day. It was the day of Red Hat Christmas Party. Seeing the progression in my scrapbooking layouts is kind of fun.




Where OH Where Have All You Gone?

Where have you all been?

I have wondered why this last couple of days my email has been so low in new emails. I’m not saying I am Miss Congeniality or Miss Popular or anything, but I do get my fair number of emails. And where are the email alerts for my blog?

And yours?

I know you’re writing, you cannot have gone quiet this long.

I thought that maybe the blogging Gods were just being kind to me and that there were other things keeping you all from blogging. Yeah, that’s it. With 3 blogs I needed it this week.

Nope…. I was wrong. Seems all my mail alerts from all you fine blogging folk in my community were being filtered out by my spam program. Hmm. Like it had a mind of its own. It was taking all my WP alerts and dumping them into my spam so that my new mail folder looked almost desolate. I just happened to check my spam folder out because I was looking for my Maja bath soap order which always goes there because I do not keep the address saved in my address book.

I’m not sure what happened. All I know is I am so grateful to be getting these almost lost to the “Spam Hell of the Universe” blogs back where they belong.

I’m even happier and grateful to know that you all have not gone out on a writer’s strike.

Now that you are all out of the spam folder where I’m sure you’re spoiling away, I just want you to know I notice when I am not reading your blogs.

Just saying~


Looking for a bit of poetry to fit my walk down the years of the 1960’s and the 70’s. This is the perfect piece for where my mind set has been this week.

Sitting on the Porch 2

10th August 2012.

Sub Titled – Loved and Forgotten.

Follow up from post of the same title.

Another top article by the  Daily Gerald1  reporters…Red Flag of Destruction..(Loved and Forgotten)

The archives were searched and this song was found, and for your enjoyment and in response to the post on Gerry’s Space of same title, but there it included a video with the song, so below are the actual lyrics.  As the writing shows it is very powerful song. Maybe not so relevant today, but meant a great deal in the 70’s


Red flag

Loved and forgotten she lived for a lie,

One day he’d come home and then she not cry.

She cried and cried as she counted the years,

And she finally laughed as she drowned in her tears.


Beneath the field of poppies her loved one lies dead.

The old man looked so harmless as…

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