Looking Glass

   Tuesday morning, when I unplugged my cell phone from it's night of charging, my dear, guy friend had sent me a text the night before. It said, "Finally read the entire blog. Turn it into a book. Your writing style is amazing." I held my heart then texted him back, "Ha. Amazing may be an exaggerated term. But thanks. I can't believe you read the whole thing. Aw."    As part of my morning routine, I sit at my computer with a fresh cup of coffee and check my favorite on line sites and emails. He had emailed me a letter, too. Anxious to see what it was, I opened the attachment and saw a Word Document spring open before my eyes. It was titled, "Letter to Claire", (though he used my real name.)     He thoughtfully complimented my blog after reading the WHOLE thing. He said he was convinced that someday I will do an author signing. He appreciated, "thought provoking statements has allowed me to look deeper into your soul", even though we ha...

When I think of glass, many objects cross my mind in visualization of this product. Windows, (of course), which allow us to see the world from an inside view. I picture skyscrapers across America with  glass walls, allowing reflections to bounce from them, or to protect the mannequins from strangers' hands. Glass jars, trillions of shapes, sizes and colors, that can hold anything from flowers to noodles, or life... like an embryo to a firefly. I think of the windshield of my car, with two cracks running down the passenger side. A mar left from passing trucks, flinging rocks at my Honda. I think of rocket ships and the glass windshields on them. What strength these objects have to withstand so much pressure, pings, weather and the like. Amazing, isn't it? Yet, when packing to move, or rearranging something with glass, we are so protective and careful to wrap it for transport, or lift it with gentle hands. We know of it's fragility. I think the human character is, as glass. ...

   I decided to read some of my older posts today. I wanted to see my development, from the beginning of this blog. I thought, if needed, maybe I would explain some points. In accordance with my original post, I should explain the ending of where I said I was the product of my mother and father's love, though I never had a dad. I am the ninth child, but my father had Leukemia for some months prior to my birth. He died a week before I was born. So, yes, my mother had a funeral for her husband, and then gave birth to her last baby a week later. I guess my older sister was in the delivery room with her. A bond still remembered, by her.    I have reviewed all of the posts of my deepened, saddened feelings of  my second divorce. I have healed tremendously, since the beginning. I still have scars, and sometimes, I wonder, if being completely healed will ever be within me. I feel as though there will always be an undercurrent of loss and bewilderment. But that is okay...

In my post of Monday, April 4th, I described the drive and my gut feeling that an event would be happening to someone I know. An ominous, sad event. A life changing event. I wonder if it is the death of my ex father in law?

    I actually have a lot to say today, I am just lacking the ability to know where to start or how to speak my peace. It will come to me as I type, I am sure.    My radiator blew a hole last Friday night as I traveled home from work. Smoke billowed from under the hood, but I was able to baby it a few more miles to a gas station. I did this by stopping, resting the car for a few minutes, then driving, then stopping, and so on, and so on.  I poked under the hood and saw radiator fluid spewed on the engine. A guy and his lady pulled up beside me. "Are you stranded?" He asked as he edged his way to where I was standing. His Lady friend said,"Don't worry, he's a mechanic." He discovered a hole in the very top of the radiator, patched it with a heavy type of tape he had handy in his truck , though he said it would not hold. He then went into the store and bought a gallon of antifreeze and water, filled the radiator and gave me tips on how to "milk it"...

                                               Near Snoqualmie Pass, Washington State These are the mountains that separate Western Washington from Eastern Washington. Of course, this is a minuscule slice of them. The Cascade Mountain Range. I favor traveling over Snoqualmie Pass opposed to the other routes of choice. This derives from my daughter living in Spokane for four years while attending college. It seemed to be the quickest route for me to take, as I-90 cuts right up, down, around and through them, quite nicely. The DOT knew what they were doing when they mapped this thoroughfare. Plus, my Honda knew the way well. (smile here). It has been a few years since me and my Honda have ventured this route. As I drove along the Yakima River for a stint, I r...

After about 10 -15 minutes, the nurse gently asked us to exit the room so they could reposition him. On our way out the door, she pointed to the waiting room and she would come and get us when they finished their tasks. Grateful for her regard, we went down the hall, me pushing mom on her walker. Around the door frame we went. There sat my ex mother in law, facing the entry to my right, not in front of me. The ex and his lady sat against a wall several feet from me, farther back in the room. An ex brother in law sat near them. His mom had a shocked (?) smile (?) on her face. My mom got off her walker and repositioned herself closer to the Mrs. and away from the doorway. The ex looked quickly up, then I am unsure of his reaction. The Mrs. got up and gave me and my mom a quick hug. My ex brother in law got off his feet and stepped towards me, (positioned right in from of the ex and his lady), arms extended. I hugged him and told him we had just been in to see his dad and they needed us t...