Tag Archives: Love

About a Girl



Hey you,

It’s been a while.  I think it’s been at least a couple of years , but to be honest, I have lost track of time.  I really don’t think you will ever read this, but sometimes, just sometimes, the internet does crazy things.  You may be sitting there one day, somewhere, maybe having a cup of coffee, and you may see this.

Sixteen years ago today, we sat together, in a hospital room.  It’s almost right on the dot of when she was born and I had my first look at our daughter.  Our first child, and at 21, I remember joking saying now we were on a time limit and I would have to have another child in two years.  We did it, too.  Crazy.

I want to tell you about our daughter, though to be honest, I will refer to her as my daughter from here on out.  You see, you maybe had two years with her, maybe three (though I am truly not sure how present you were in those years and I don’t mean that in a bad way.  We’ll get to that later), before we went our separate ways.  You missed a lot, and I know you know this.

She is really amazing.  She sometimes will do something, a look or a mannerism, that reminds me of you.  It blew my mind the first time that I saw it because it was you.  Don’t get me wrong, over the last sixteen years her and I have had some differences, but I can also say we have a great relationship.  She watched Sailor Moon with me, and Fruits Basket. She loved all the geeky things that I did and she has an inner strength that is so admirable.  In sixth grade, she dyed her hair rainbow.  I would have never had the courage to do that.  I’m proud of her courage and inner strength.  She can do some things better, like the dishes, but if I got to check off the things that I would want out of her for her life, I would put inner courage and strength above dishes.

She draws.  She draws so well and I don’t know how she does it.  She is so talented with what she can do in such little time.  I remember you used to draw a lot, and I think she probably got that genetically from you.

She’s funny, too.  I remember you had a way with words, and could make these boring stories really interesting.  I would give you credit for that, but I happen to think I am pretty funny and a decent storyteller.  I am taking the credit for that.

She is smart.  She may not give herself enough credit in this area, but she is.  She is also in Colorguard in the Marching Band in high school.  She does halftime at the football games, marches in parades, and last year they were the State Champions.  I still have the newspaper clipping on the refrigerator.


I could go on forever, telling you about everything she is, and how brilliant she is to be around, but I imagine you don’t have much time.  I am going to take some time for me to talk to you, and please, finish it until the end.

I can’t tell you how angry I was when we split.  It wasn’t because of the ending of the relationship, that could be seen from a mile away, but more angry about you leaving them.  I tried everything, even court, to have you just be present. It was never about the support, because let’s be honest, you and jobs weren’t really a thing, but more to put visitation on paper.  I thought then that they would get to know you, but you found ways around that too.  I may never understand why you did other things, or decided to just not be, but I have stopped trying to understand.

The last time we talked, you told me it was my fault that they didn’t want to talk to you.  You wanted me to sign some paper absolving you of financial responsibility, but I wouldn’t.  I won’t take you back to court.  I am not one for wasting my time and I know what happens.  When you told me it was my fault, I saw red, I yelled, and I honestly don’t know what I said after that.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I yelled, and I am sorry that I got angry.  I have been over my anger for years.

You see, I spent years, many years, doing just the opposite of what you said.  I covered for your extended absences, I covered when you would show up for a few weeks and then leave.  There were times you would say you were picking them up and they would wait, just wait, and you wouldn’t show.  I would come up with the excuses, and sometimes have their anger put on me, but I understood.  The last time, when you wanted to write to them, I gave them the option because they were old enough to make decisions.  They made that call, not I.  It wasn’t my fault.  I think they just didn’t feel the need to communicate with someone who never really made an effort to communicate with them.

Please don’t think that they are sad, or anything.  Oh, they lead awesome lives.  They smile, they laugh, they have so many friends and so many people that love them.  M and I may not be together anymore, but M’s family still treat them as if they were blood.  They dropped things off for her today, and M’s mom made dinner (something that she makes that L loves).  They are so loved, that someone is moving around the world to be with all of us.  That is how amazing, how wonderful, of a person that she is.  The boy’s post is coming in a couple of weeks, but he is also included in that. Imagine that, how incredible, that someone loves us all so much that they want to leave things behind to come here.

I’m not angry anymore.  In fact, thank you.  Thank you, because even though it is her day for presents, I really have the best one of all and I couldn’t have done it without you.  Thank you for helping me create them, create her, because I couldn’t imagine life without her.  Thank you as well, for leaving, if you couldn’t be what they deserve.  Sometimes I wonder if I am good enough, if I am doing a good job, but I know I do the best I can.  I hope you have a wonderful life, and find some happiness, as I have.




September 25, 2014 · 10:13 pm

Are You Scared?

I wish I could describe to you all in most perfect words what is going on inside of me. I wish I could explain to myself what is going on inside of me.  Truth is, friends, I don’t know, and I am more than okay with it.

I was doing a thing last week and I was asked a question.  The Person looked me in the eyes and asked me if I was scared.  There was no hesitation in my answer; I gave myself no time to think about it.  “Terrified.” I told them.  I was.  I didn’t think that it wouldn’t be a good answer, because who likes to admit to being afraid.  That question stuck with me and has been replaying often in my mind, over and over.  

I gave the Person some additional information after answering that I was terrified.  I told them my fear is why I was there.  That when I think about things and if they scare me, they are most likely worth doing.  Now that I have had a week to think about it, I think it may have been the answer to everything lately.

I. Am. Terrified.

I watched “The Way” with K yesterday.  It’s a movie about a man who travels Camino de Santiago.  Maybe about a month or so ago, I discovered this and brought it to K.  I told her we should do it; we decided in 7 years because that would be the next holy year and it would give us time to save and prepare.  We watched the movie and there was a line that got me (the whole movie got me, but right in the beginning, I knew it would impact me).  It was simple.  “You don’t chose a life, you live a life.”

The walk could be done for religious reasons, or personal.  It could be none or both, but I hear it changes you.  There have always been things I planned, things that may not have happened, or things that didn’t quite happen the way I had planned them, but this cannot be one of them.  It’s almost like a calling.

I can’t tell you every story of my life, because we don’t have enough time, and I don’t think you would want to know everything, but I know the day that I lost my religion.  I was in a bind, as I usually end up being in, and was faced with one of the most difficult choices of my life.  I knew I was standing at a moment that would pave a road, and I wanted an answer, a sign.  I wanted something to help me make my decision.  I went at night, in the rain, to the closest church.  I wanted to sit in the church, have a conversation with God, ask for help.  The doors were locked.  It’s hard even as I type this, friends.  It’s so hard.  I felt alone, and abandoned.  I felt that my answer was in those locked doors.  God had turned away and told me I couldn’t go into His house anymore.  

I made my choices; I chose my life.  I didn’t walk back into a church for 8 years.  Goodness, I was so afraid.  I was afraid I would be struck down, or that everyone would know.  They would all know that I was turned away on a rainy night and branded.  They would give me looks, and tell me to leave.  I had Girl2 with me.  She was the only thing that could have gotten me back into a church.

They didn’t kick me out, look at me funny, or shun me.  I nervously sat through, waiting for the moment to come where it would happen, but it never did.  

I honestly don’t know where I stand with it all now, but I can tell you that I am having a strong sense of life change moments lately.  The decision to plan this walk is one.  My weekends being spent having more life; it may seem small, like small things, but I am reconnecting out there in nature.  I told K she was the only one who I would be able to make the camino with.  She is the one who would accept my silence, just as she does when we are caching.  I can have my inner moments, and she gets that.  When I have been out there, on the trails, in the woods, I am reconnecting with myself.  I say I am caching, but I really am breathing in the air, seeing the trees, listening to the river.  I am finding peace and myself.

I don’t know what I believe anymore.  I have my logic, and it serves me fine.  I can’t help but think there is something though.  There has to be something out there, that puts us in places, at the right times.  That something silently guides us along, watches our mistakes, lets us learn our lessons.  It puts the people in our lives, and also takes them out of them.  There has been so much lately that seems like things are happening and rather than be a spectator, I need to be in it.  I need to stop choosing my life and start living it.  It may be small things, like spending the morning out in the woods, or taking a weekend for the beach, but it is really me saying that it’s time.  

I am scared.  It’s hard to take those steps, to face your fears.  I remember when I was little and watching The Neverending Story.  Atreyu reached the Southern Oracle and he had to face himself.  I couldn’t understand how that would be such a big deal, how it could be hard to face yourself.  Oh, was I wrong.

K and I were talking to The Boy, and he had made a comment on how he wanted to have his life figured out at 20.  We laughed, not at home, but rather at the fact that we were probably once young and thought we would have everything figured out at 20.  I am less than one week away from 37 and I am nowhere closer to having it figured out than I was 17 and sitting at her kitchen table playing cards. 

I honestly don’t know how this all comes together, friends.  It’s one of those days that I can feel it; the mystical strings pulling me along, the sense that there is more meaning than what I am doing now.  The sense that I need to reconnect to myself and make changes.  I need to be connected, not just to myself, but those I love as well.  It isn’t enough to go through the motions, you have to be present, to make memories.

I am terrified and that’s okay.  I am giving myself permission to make mistakes, to learn, and to live.  I am living my life and giving myself permission to not beat myself up for the things I don’t have control over.  I am going to start mentally and physically preparing for my road ahead.  I may even start to accept the fact that maybe I am not as shunned as I believe myself to be.



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The Ballad Of FFAC Part 1

Life is crazy.  Sometimes, life is crazy in totally unexpected ways.

Sometimes we think we are going one way, and then something will set us back 10 feet.  Sometimes we think we have all the things in the world figured out, and then we find out that we were totally wrong.  Sometimes we make bad choices that end with something beautiful.

Then there is this, which is all of those things and then more.

There are certain events in my life, good and bad, that I remember as if they just happened.  I remember one of my first conversations with K, about snack cakes, skipping first period in high school.  I remember that to me, she was already special.  We didn’t see each other for a year when I switched to a different school, then they first time I saw her, I ran and attacked her with love.  She got over her fear of me.

I remember my first real, true interaction with HS.  My Panera soul-mate.  I will never forget that day in Canton, realizing we had 50 sandwiches to make and understand that together we could do it.  It was like magic.

I remember the moment of birth for all three of my children.  That first moment I held Lena, and I knew that nothing else in the world could be more perfect.  Nick came, and I felt the same thing.  Julie’s birth was so different, so traumatic, but still at the end when I saw her, there was that moment that you felt like nothing in the world could ever go wrong, not on your watch.

These are important to me; important life moments.  They aren’t the only ones, but some of the few.  There are scattered memories all over the place, of times, of people, good and bad.

FFAC.  Ryan.

I remember our first conversation ever.  I remember our first interaction.  As geeky as it is, it was playing WoW.  We were in a dungeon with some of our other guildmates.  K was there too.  We cleared it out, and people went, and we were still on Vent. We talked about coffee and lemonade, and how lemonade in New Zealand was not lemonade here.  It is Sprite there.  I thought he was lying, because how can lemon/lime soda be lemonade?  I had to leave to go to Panera, and I remember the drive.  I remember going over the conversation, and you have that moment where you know something has changed; something important has happened.

I won’t get into the whole story, because no one has that much time.  I will give you the gist.  We spent two years that way, talking on headsets, sending packages.  We were extremely close, but very far.  It still hurts a bit in some places when I think about that time, but all things happen for a reason.  I became pregnant with J.  He thought it would be okay, but I knew it wouldn’t, and I became distant and cold.  When things start to go distant and cold, when there is no nurturing, things and people go away.

It wasn’t his fault, and I don’t hate myself for that because honestly, to do so would be to regret what I received.  I know that whatever may be out there, fate, God(s), whatever, J was destined to be in this world.  I try not to regret, because to me, that is just an opening for never moving forward, but I do not like hurting people, especially not people I love.  I wrote him two letters, but he had moved and didn’t update his mailing address.  I have done the same thing, so I can’t fault him for that.

We stopped talking, for a long time.  4 years worth of long time.  I never stopped wondering what he was doing, or if he was happy.  I wondered if he had done what he was setting out to do when we first started talking.  There were times that I would think to myself that I should reach out, but I was scared.  I was really scared that had I, I would have opened the door for him to tell me I was a horrible person, and I couldn’t handle that coming from him.

I did what I had to do, what I thought was right to do.  I wasn’t unhappy, but I wasn’t happy either.  I could pretend, but I knew.  There was a lot going on, or rather maybe a lot not going on.  Again, when things are not nurtured, they die.

As cheesy as this is, I heard the Adele song, “Someone Like You”.  It resonated.  It not only did that, but it made me finally sit down at my computer and type out the email I waited 4 years to write.  It took me like an hour for not even a full paragraph.  I erased it a few times, closed the email a few times, debated it the entire time.  I had no idea what would happen and that terrified me.  You see, it didn’t matter to me what the outcome was, but I knew I just missed him in my life.  I wanted to communicate, even if it could only be as friends.  It took me a while, but I did hit send.

I did it and then went into panic mode.  I shut down my computer, I turned it back on.  I went into the living room and then went into the computer room and checked my email.  I saw he was online and shut down the computer again.  I turned it back on a few minutes later.  I was a wreck.

Sometimes facing your fears and doing what you are most scared to do can end up becoming a momentous, life changing moment.


He emailed back, and everything was very hesitant at first, but quickly fell back into old patterns.  There are rare people that if you are lucky, even if you don’t talk to them for a long time, when you do it is as if you were never apart.  It happened with K and I, and there are a few others I am lucky enough to have in my life that even if I don’t talk to them daily, we can always pick up where we left off.

Ryan was one of those people.  I think when you lose contact with someone important, truly lose contact, when and if you are lucky enough to get them back, you don’t want to mess it up again.  Whether it be a best friend, a relative, a soul mate, you don’t want to make the same mistakes.

I may wonder at times what kind of forces there are out there; whether it be fate, God(s), ka-tets, but I do know that sometimes a door may open, close, and then open again.  If it’s meant to be, then pieces will fall together and things move forward.  I do believe in some sort of fate, but I don’t believe fate does the work for you.  I think fate puts you in the right place at the right time, and you have to do the work.

There has been a lot of talk lately all around me about doors opening and closing.  I know some doors in my past that closed, and they closed because they weren’t my doors.  I don’t regret any of those doors, because they helped me realize who I am.  This may be part 1, and I don’t know when part 2 will be written because this story isn’t over.

Don’t be afraid, friends.  Or rather, it’s okay to be afraid, but then act on it.  Sometimes the best things come when we do what we are afraid of the most.


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The Easter the Almost Wasn’t

I almost lost myself today, friends.  Today was Easter, and I decided to have it at my house, even though my mom’s house is now open.  I figured since it was K’s first meat day, we could celebrate here with all the meat and not just ham.  I am not too much of a ham person, to be honest.

I woke up before Girl2, but not before K.  Girl2 came down and sure enough, we had chicken for breakfast. Girl2, the Boy and Girl1 and went through their baskets (the Easter Bunny was a bit lazy this year so there was no basket hiding).  We had chicken and potatoes for breakfast and the prepared for the day ahead.

The reason we have had holidays here is not due to tradition, but rather a falling out has occurred that has made the family not all be able to gather together.  I won’t get into that here, but it is a point of the story for today.  My mom told me she would be here at 2, so I figured 2:30-3.  See, I was planning the cooking around this as well as the planned activities for the children (yearly Easter egg hunt).  So as it got closer to 3, I had K give a call on over to see when they would be here.  She talked to my mom and she said it would be some time, because she still had to go  to my brother’s house first.  

I cannot lie to you.  I was angry.  This wasn’t the first time that planned activities have been held up because of going to my brothers house.  J’s last birthday was a prime example, where she was late and almost didn’t come, and when she did, it was much later than I wanted.  Now, my brother has cut himself off from the family, except for my mom, and that’s fine; we all make our choices.  However, I don’t like being on hold, and not just me, but everyone else in the family as well.

I was doing my rage thing, when K told me, “You know, other people have far worse Easter Sundays.  Some don’t have baskets, or dinners, or anything.”  I think she was explaining it more to Girl2, but I also think it was meant for me. 

I decided there and then that I wasn’t going to let this throw me off. I was going to do what we had planned.  We hid eggs, Julie found them.  Then Julie and I hid the eggs and everyone else found them.




It was like The Hunger Games.  The Boy pushed Girl1 into the bushes for an egg.

We started our cooking, I had potatoes, K had meat.


And a beer

We got dolled up and took pics!





Posing a threat!

They came just in time to eat.  We carved some meat, ate the meal, my mom brought over like 100 more eggs.  Really.  This was how tired I was of hiding eggs:


I got really lazy.

The kids (and Uncle Sal) had fun finding them and it was amazing.  There was much laughter, tears from laughter really.  And some great pictures.




This is just epic.  Look at all that radiating beauty.

Here is the point of all of this.  Holidays don’t need to be on a schedule.  They happen when they happen.  I am lucky enough to be able to be surrounded by people I love, people who love me, abundance of food, and it all happens when it is supposed to happen.  It was a beautiful day, as it was a meant to be.  There was no need for any anger.  Love heals.

“Groove is in the heart.” – Deee-LIte


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Margins and Bullet Points – My Messy Beautiful

How could I not do this?  A simple request from someone who I have never met, but has given me so much.  I will probably never meet her (I missed my chance when she came to CT for a book signing, but it was farther away and I had to work) and that is one of my regrets.  Glennon, over at Momastery.com, invited us to say hello, to share our stories, and not just any stories.  Our messy stories.  The ones that hide deep in us, that we may be ashamed of.  I was intrigued when I saw the rumblings on the page, I stared when it went live. I wanted to write it all out so badly, but I was scared.  I was scared to show my messy.  I don’t know why this post, more so than others, really scares me.  I have written about divorce, eating disorders, troubled families.  This shouldn’t.  So I am showing up, world.  I am showing up for Glennon, and for you, dearest reader, and for me.  It’s time to not be scared.  Maybe it is time to be scared, but do it anyways.  Monumental things happen when you face your fears.

So, now that I am here, I don’t know where to begin.  It would be easier to write about what isn’t messy, because I can’t think of one aspect of my life that isn’t.  So I will start with something that made it all make sense and go from there.

I got the sweetest comment on one of my old posts.  Girl1’s friend (and my soul son) discovered my blog and had commented on one particular feelsy post about how he was happy that he found my blog.  To him, it was nice that someone who was close to him had these same feelings, who have gone through similar things, someone gets it.  It almost brought me to tears, because my heart overflowed with love and hope.  That someone found my words and it comforted them.  The way so many other’s words do for me.

So onto my messy.  I am a single parent of 3.  That’s pretty messy.  I have a job I mostly enjoy with people I adore.  And my ex husband is there too, a stone throw away.  That’s rather messy, but it is my messy and I deal.  I have battled eating disorders, have Celiac’s, Chrones, more allergies than I can tell you.  That’s pretty messy.  How do you fit all of that into one post?  You don’t.  Instead I will just tell you about today, because today was very messy.

I woke up to a text from the ex asking if he could come over.  Within 5 minutes he was there and the arguing ensued.  I knew it was coming, and even what it was about.  I had been waiting for this argument for a few days, actually.  It was the same song and dance, and although I could spill the details here, I won’t, because it isn’t just my messy.  The hard part wasn’t as much the subject, but that it was happening within 5 minutes of my waking up.  Then when we left the house for work (separately – he finally got his own car), I went to get my morning coffee and my card was declined.  It happens when you are a single parent, raising three kids, and going from a 2 income to 1 income household.  It’s the truth, and sometimes it means you don’t get the coffee because your bills got paid on auto draft and you forgot which day it was.

I made 4 different resumes in one and a half hours.  I was told 4 different times it wasn’t good enough.  Once because it wasn’t bullet pointed.  Once because some of the margins were off.  Once because I didn’t sell myself enough.  The last because I wrote too much. I wanted to take the word doc and erase everything and put one bullet in.  That one bullet would say:

  • I woke up this morning and fought with my ex-husband for 45 minutes, drove in my car, was denied coffee, still showed up.  
  • The last bullet should sum it up.

Okay, so maybe two bullets.  

I work long days.  9:30 AM to 8 PM days.  I sometimes come home and I am lucky if my children aren’t in bed yet.  My youngest, I only get her for 3.5 days a week, because we are all about equality.

This is my truth.  This is my messy.  This is also my beautiful.

I have three beautiful children.  I have a job.  I have the money to pay my rent and bills (mostly).  I have a best friend who sits with me and loves me and lets me do what I need to do.  She isn’t just my best friend; she is my soul sister.  I have other best friends who will drive long drives to play games with me and my children and who will listen.  I have someone who loves me who is on another continent.  He doesn’t even get to see me daily, but daily he is there in some form.  I am lucky that he lets me love him too.

I feel everything, too much sometimes, but I can feel.  I can take it all in, and just love the hell out of it.  I can connect with people, with my surroundings, with my life.  I have enough, more than enough even, because there is so much love.  I love the things I didn’t even know I love yet, but it is there waiting.

I always made my choices, knowing some of them would be harder than others, and there would be struggles at times.  I am not giving up.  I just woke up.  My life may not have the right margins, or it may not be able to be stuck neatly into bullet points, but it is mine.  I wouldn’t change my messy beautiful for the world.







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Happiness or Living as We Know It

Oh friends, it has been a bit, as I do, but I have been thinking about you and me and us and everything.  I don’t want to bore you with mundane things, and I promised myself that this would not be a place where I would go if I was melancholy.  I had a livejournal once for that.  

I post a lot about what I think are my life’s journeys, or secrets, or things I may have learned along the way.  This will be one of those times.

Happiness seems to be the universal things that we strive for, but somehow seems to be so evasive.  It’s the carrot on the end of the stick, always there, staring at us in the face, but sometimes it seems to just always be ahead.  We do things that we think may make us happy, like go shopping, or eat, or not eat, or drink, or whatever else may be in that place for us.  It works, usually for a moment or two, and then we see that carrot is not gone.  It’s still ahead, taunting us, telling us that it is just a few more steps ahead.

Happiness comes in so many things.  I know, for me, they are things that have been there all along, but I didn’t know what I had, or that it was all I needed.  I also know that I was afraid to be happy, because what I would need to be happy, to allow myself to be happy, may not be what the world would think.  It could be something that other people may not be happy with.

FFAC has been here for the last couple of weeks.  I was supposed to go to NZ, but things made that semi-impossible,so he came here.  I am of an opinion that things happen for a reason, and this was no exception.  He, on a weeks notice, bought a ticket and came here to spend time with me and mine.  Usually, when these trips happen, my brain automagically starts coming up with the countdown of when it will end.  I put myself into the depressed bubble while it happens, each day becoming blacker until I can’t even enjoy the time that I do have.  I didn’t do that this time.  I refused.  I wanted to enjoy each day, accept it for what it was, and now that he left yesterday, I will deal with the feelings that come with it.  It was the best trip ever.  It wasn’t filled with a lot of activity; I even had to work for a few days, but it was still the best ever.  I allowed myself to be happy; to just be happy and enjoy what I had in front of me instead of chasing the carrot.  

I thought a lot about happiness during that time frame, and how it equates to different people.  How my happiness was sitting on the giant Yogibo with FFAC and the kids playing Mario 3D world, or how it was just spending time.  My girl K, I saw her’s through text messages and stories, communication and giant smiles.  I realized how lucky I was to be surrounded by some of the most amazing people, right here in my own home, and learned to just be happy, no matter what people may think, or say, or be angry. 

Point is, dearest friends, no one else is living my life except for me, just as you have yours.  If you find something that makes you soul crushingly happy, take it.  Take it and be happy.  Enjoy the moments without worrying about the future ones.  There will be good times, and bad times, low and high points, but no one else is responsible for getting you the carrot and in some cases, you realize the carrot wouldn’t make you happy anyways.

On a gaming note, I will be heading up a D&D game soon.  It will be my first time DM’ing and I am pretty excited!  I can’t wait to fill you in on all of those adventures as well!

Be happy, lovies. You are worth it.

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Valentine’s Day

Oh, February 14th, how you have so many meanings for so many people.  Some anticipate it, some dread it, others care not at all about it.  

Me, well, I decided this year is a different approach.  This year, I decided Valentine’s Day is not just for lovers.  It is a day for love.  All love.  Love for my family, love for my friends, love for my friends that are my family.  To quote one of my favorite movies, “I’m taking it back.  I’m taking them all back.”

This year is my V-Day.  It is my victory day.  My day to express my love and to be loved.  My day to love myself, and celebrate myself, along with those I hold dear.  I danced around this morning, I had a great day at work (even if I did forget my badge for the 14th time), and tonight I will relax and just be.  

Love, people.  Love with so much force it will knock people over.  

Goonies never say die.


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