Wayne Gray

It does say what I want to say. Thanks, Kitt.

I don't think there's any stopping that. Thanks, kbois!

Thank you, tim. It's easy to write when emotion is involved. 🙂 I appreciate you reading and commenting.

A flutter between heartbeats, it's a little strange. Something now hits differently, a small, aching change. "Get here, and we can just be," My words I replay. "I don't want anything else, come, relax, and stay." We finally say goodbye, I frown at my phone. Our plans made to reconnect, he's felt so alone. "Get yourself together man," I try for control. But I know I'm all but lost, a flutter told me so.

WHY can't it be the weekend?!!?

you know, despite the simplicity of the implication buried within the word, there are few paths more varied. Happiness Once you get past the basic needs of shelter, food and water, the thing that comes next on the path to realization of an actualized life looks very different person to person. The greatest sin is assuming someone else is the same as you. That they need the same thing(s) to be happy. So many lives have been wasted, so much pain inflicted in the pursuit of more, because this thing, whatever you've finally found that's supposed to make you happy just isn't working. So you keep pushing. you keep trying. you keep feeling like something is just ... wrong. Because you're not there. you're holding the golden key in your hand and it wont. fit. the. damn. lock. Don't let others, no matter how good intentioned, decide what you need to be happy - or even what happy looks like. Nobody gets to define that. Nobody but you. xo

By the way - our project is hacking apart the dead elliptical machine that has been gathering cat furballs in the corner of the living room with a hacksaw. And destroying the mice who have decided Kevin's greenhouse is a nice buffet. So tomorrow while my husband is at work, I get to hacksaw the joints of the elliptical that won't surrender to the hexwrench (some of them are stripped). That means there's rum tonight. Ahoy, matey.

That was a true groaner. LOL

My husband walked to the door. "I'm going to Ace." (a hardware store) I look over. "Okay. Why?" "You'll see. Oh, I'm gonna need help later too." Door closes. *frowning at the door* "Whatever is happening is going to get in the way of my rum drinking, I'm pretty sure."

There is strength in surrender, when the fight is the foe. There are lessons to be learned, wrapped up in letting go. You are losing no honor, when you allow your soul, To feel the peace hidden deep, in giving up control.

you shared this with me, and when you did my comment was that it was "thoughtful." And I still think that's true. It's neither happy nor sad. It's watchful and external. Nice piece, tim.

I actually live in the WeAreAllASpeckOfDustAndNoneOfUsMatterAtAll Universe. But that's not uplifting to most, for some reason.

Logic has no power here!

Consider this. You're the end product of millions of struggles - ones that began far before you were born. You've survived where most didn't. That means you're uniquely placed to survive what will come next too. It may not always be pretty, and you may not always realize your power but it doesn't really matter. You're alive. Your genetic stock survived extinction events. What chance does some passive-aggressive piece of crap have against you? What chance does a series of bad events that didn't have the sense to take you out have? None. None at all. Own your awesomeness. You're gonna be okay. And the sun will rise.

Thanks for the great comments! I like this story a lot. With most of my work, in time, I can find things I'd have done differently. But ... this one, while not perfect, I think it is about as good as I can get. Maybe it's because I love a slow burn, but I think this one is my best. I'm glad you also liked Camp Refuge. That's a series near to my heart, because that's where I found my style/voice in the written word. I hope you find more to like too. 🙂 Oh, if you've not read it, and you like emotional stories, then Fleeting Eternity stands out. Just ... be ready for that one. It is emotional.

I think it'd be difficult to find someone who couldn't relate to at least one of your characters here, tim. It's so real. The struggle many of us have with body image is so hard. And damn, finding clothes that fit AND look good? That's a holy grail for my body type. So, yeah, even though I've shaved some off my waist, stretchy jeans still fit best. I get it, Bertie! 🙂 Nice piece, friend. I'm happy you posted it.

Ohhh, man. you're absolutely right, molly! I'll take chicken crap any day over a skunking!

For me ... Ireland and New Zealand. I don't do great with warm weather, but Hawaii at least once. And ... there are so so so many places in the continental US I want to see. Bryce Canyon, Grand Canyon, Zion National Park are just a few. It's mostly about nature for me.

Thanks, Reader! I wasn't about to stop. I've not missed a workout in two months, and I'm not gonna start now!

I think I’d best remain silent … haha

I think I’ll recover, physically. The emotional scars, though … *shudder*

Kevin thought so!

Sorry your day sucked, kbois. But good job getting your workout in!

I lived. Though the reaction of my husband to my plight when I told him made me want to commit a felony. LOL

As anyone who read my last entry knows, I like to work out. It's something calming, something I control, and it is therapeutic in ways nothing else is in my life. So during today's lunchtime, I strolled out past our garden to our garage. I offhandedly noted that Kevin had been working on the garden, and caught the barest scent of the chicken manure he'd used in his raised beds. No biggie. It wasn't too bad, and I was raised on a farm - I had smelled far worse. I started my workout in our detached garage, the door open letting in the sun that had gloriously appeared. About five minutes in, I begin to sweat profusely, panting with exertion, and happy to be in command of my body - moving, and putting myself through my paces. That's when I also noticed that lovely chicken manure odor was just a bit stronger. Huh. Must be from the sun warming things up. No biggie. I keep going. Another five minutes go by, and I am truly pushing my limits. I'm in my happy place, heart thudding above 150 beats a minute, the concrete of the garage spattered with sweat. And that odor is now stronger and omnipresent. Oh, man. I hold my hand over my belly during my first break. Trying to moderate your breath so you don't gasp in lungfuls of chicken perfume while in a cardio challenge is not easy. And I alternate between gagging and gasping. Then I begin to laugh at my idiotic situation. Oh. Break over, time to start on the next set of exercises. I suffered another thirty minutes, somehow managing to avoid hurling. All the while I'm both laughing, and cursing at my husband. Anyway, I just wanted to share in the hopes you too can laugh at my expense.