Sorry, friends ... been super busy.

I had the state police here twice (long story - I didn't call, lol, but obviously turned out fine).

I miss you all. Today was an anniversary for me, and this has already been posted on other social media, which took up a lot of my time ... but I want to leave it here, too. It has been occupying my thoughts for a few days.

Love to you all. <3


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On May 11th, 2013 (Mother's Day), I encountered a woman forcefully and purposely smashing her precious (but dirty) Pfaltzgraff dishes into her 50 gallon trash bin at dawn. She didn't talk. She had no voice left. Soon her children would wake up, and she would be out of dirty dishes to smash, anyway.

Earlier that night she had been repeatedly slammed and held against a bathroom wall while a very large man with very large fists threatened to "bash" her "fucking face in." She believed that she would die, and she screamed until she ran out of breath. The state police took him away, and they assured her he would never return without her permission. She contacted everyone she needed to contact to make sure her family was safe. As dawn turned to day, she slipped into a deep, deep sleep beside her children.

When she finally woke up it was night. Her mother, aunts and children were there. She couldn't move her arms to hug them. She was black and blue ... there were discernable fingerprints on her arms. There was an imprint of a towel rack on her back.


I've known her for four years now. She works very hard for her children and very hard at her job. She swims upstream every day to make sure everyone is cared for, that all her responsibilities are met, and that maybe she might help someone else who is living in what were her shoes.

These have been the best four years of my life - all because of her.

Without her, I'd most likely be dead.