My Friend, Pammie Is In Heaven

Pam, my imaginary friend who became real.

I 'met' Pam, (I called her Pammie), her sister Kelly and our friend Lynn through an old writing site, long gone, called Pearl Soup.  We then got together in a private Yahoo 'Princess' group with several other women (Sherry!) where we discussed books, men, kids, grandkids, pets and life in general.  We had a blast.  Oh, the stories we shared!!  Pammie had THE best man story ever, hands down, but it's a secret.  She was a pistol, a real Texas sweetheart.  

She loved her family (especially her beloved grandsons) and her dogs, who she called her fur kids.  Then a few years back (how the years have flown by!) me, Lynn, Pam and Kelly all met at the beautiful "Cane River Cottage" on Cane River Lake near Natchitoches, Louisiana for a long weekend.  (Below are photos from their web site).  We had so much fun...it was like we'd known each other our whole lives from the moment we met.  We talked ourselves hoarse, ate, watched movies (I remember "Steel Magnolias" and "Stardust") and talked some more.  We ate out in Natchitoches and I showed them some of the places where "Steel Magnolias" was filmed.  It was a magical time making real friends of imaginary ones.  (I used to call my Internet friends imaginary...but I've met almost ten and made them real). :-)

                                                 Cane River Cottages

      The gorgeous living room where we watched movies, talked and laughed A LOT!!! 

Sadly, our Pammie died last week from a sudden illness that hit her just before Christmas.  She will be greatly missed.  I know she's in heaven with her fur kids and parents.  And I'm so grateful for the wonderful, sweet memories I have of Pammie.  I'm glad she was my friend.

I was reading back on my blog and found this comment that Pam left under a post I'd written after my grand-dog, Olympis, died in 2009:

"As the pillow Kelly gave me from Christmas says:  

'Heaven is the place where all the dogs you've ever loved come to greet you.'

How true; how true!"

Pammie, I know you're in a much better place where there is no pain or suffering.  And I can just imagine the joyous smile on your face as your fur kids and family members who've gone before you greeted you at Heaven's gate.  I will always love you, dearest big-hearted friend.  xxoo, Marion

“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me.” ~Erma Bombeck

John 14:1-6

1 Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.

2 In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.

3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

4 And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know.

5 Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way?

6 Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

Sixty-One by Doug Anderson

                      Catfish is Mr. Death, sneaking up on my Monster High Doll. :-)

SIXTY-ONE

By Doug Anderson

Fifty was poignant, heavy pear 

departs the tree and the poem 

a sigh between branch and mulch. 

But no more. Another decade, 

I’m all song and scruff, 

the mind’s hot wire threading joint to joint. 

I’ll tell you straight out what I think, 

no sweetener. Nor has Aphrodite left me 

collapsed in a stairwell 

and don’t you father-flirt me, girl. 

This morning the world unbelts her robe, 

rose fleshed and randy. 

I like the rats that skitter 

under the subway’s hot rails.   

The little black dog 

who’s afraid of no one, 

not even the dope dealer’s pitbulls.   

Montaigne said sickness 

is God’s way of weaning us from life 

but I don’t think yet. I like the way 

soul clings to gristle like a newspaper 

wrapped around a light pole in a storm. 

Death’s a street away 

walking parallel and at my pace. He gets a nod.

Doug Anderson, “Sixty One” from Cry Wolf. Copyright © 2008 by Doug Anderson.

Windchime by Tony Hoagland

                    Longleaf Pines at Red Dirt, Kisatchie National Forest

WINDCHIME

By Tony Hoagland

She goes out to hang the windchime 

in her nightie and her work boots. 

It’s six-thirty in the morning 

and she’s standing on the plastic ice chest 

tiptoe to reach the crossbeam of the porch, 

windchime in her left hand, 

hammer in her right, the nail 

gripped tight between her teeth 

but nothing happens next because 

she’s trying to figure out 

how to switch #1 with #3. 

She must have been standing in the kitchen, 

coffee in her hand, asleep, 

when she heard it—the wind blowing 

through the sound the windchime 

wasn’t making 

because it wasn’t there. 

No one, including me, especially anymore believes 

till death do us part, 

but I can see what I would miss in leaving— 

the way her ankles go into the work boots 

as she stands upon the ice chest; 

the problem scrunched into her forehead; 

the little kissable mouth 

with the nail in it.

“Windchime” copyright © 2003 by Tony Hoagland from What Narcissism Means to Me

Growing Old by Matthew Arnold

         ...is what we all are, ultimately, sadly.

GROWING OLD

By Matthew Arnold

What is it to grow old? 

Is it to lose the glory of the form, 

The luster of the eye? 

Is it for beauty to forego her wreath? 

—Yes, but not this alone. 

Is it to feel our strength— 

Not our bloom only, but our strength—decay? 

Is it to feel each limb 

Grow stiffer, every function less exact, 

Each nerve more loosely strung? 

Yes, this, and more; but not 

Ah, ’tis not what in youth we dreamed ’twould be! 

’Tis not to have our life 

Mellowed and softened as with sunset glow, 

A golden day’s decline. 

’Tis not to see the world 

As from a height, with rapt prophetic eyes, 

And heart profoundly stirred; 

And weep, and feel the fullness of the past, 

The years that are no more. 

It is to spend long days 

And not once feel that we were ever young; 

It is to add, immured 

In the hot prison of the present, month 

To month with weary pain. 

It is to suffer this, 

And feel but half, and feebly, what we feel. 

Deep in our hidden heart 

Festers the dull remembrance of a change, 

But no emotion—none. 

It is—last stage of all— 

When we are frozen up within, and quite 

The phantom of ourselves, 

To hear the world applaud the hollow ghost 

Which blamed the living man.

I am currently reading "Deepstep Come Shining" by C. D. Wright, a most excellent book.

Adult Coloring Books Are Addicting!

I haven't been around much lately.  I got some adult coloring books for Christmas and discovered that they're highly addictive.  When I get to coloring these intricate pictures or designs, I get so eager to find out how they'll turn out, I just cannot stop.  It's relaxing.  They start at about $5 and go up to near $20, depending on the quality, but there are some excellent selections at Amazon and at local craft stores.  Better than Prozac!  LOL!  xo

My favorite picture done with Prismacolor Colored Pencils

First ones I did using gel pens and Prismacolor Colored Pencils (the best, waxy and bright).

I love the dragonflies and the damsel fly.  Mostly gel pens from Wal-Mart and colored pencils.

Gel pen entirely.  I had a contest with hubby & won.

                My first moth.  I wanted it to have the colors of the Luna Moth.

A Christmas gift from my artist daughter...I'm addicted now to coloring.

                                 Another Christmas gift from artist daughter.

        After becoming addicted in December, I got these two books at Amazon in January.

                                     Hedgehog made of leaves.  Mostly gel & glitter pens.

Got this case of gel/glitter pens years ago for $10.  Almost empty now.

                 All gel/glitter pens.  I'm a bit OCD about balance.  Trying to get over that...

Christmas gift from Ray.  The Mother with ALL Prismacolors.  Heaven!

Two canvas cases that hold ALL 132 of my pencils and roll up neatly and snap. Only $10 each at Amazon.  They come in different sizes for holding varying numbers of pencils.  It makes the pencils much more accessible.  After I use a color, I reverse it so I'll know I've used it.