Laying to rest

In the course of twenty-four hours, society has shown me a glimpse of being alive. Watching a pizza worker take time out and show a little boy how to toss dough, over and over and over untill he got it right, a pt who has had brain surgery and is confused with the moderen convience gizmo's, and yet 20 years ago, brain surgery wasn't advance as it is now, and of course a close friend putting it into perspective.


There will be no resurection of the dead.

The decision was made, and needs to be abide to. Changing the rules of ones own doing, will only create more problems than solutions. Puzzeling on why I was so ga-ga about getting back in the saddle once again. Maybe because I relised how much I'm loved in La Crosse, as a performer. Maybe because deep down I was tired of dancing around the house in my underware. When do you say, its over. When do you say, your done.

And I struggled with that. Struggled with the desire to have the Miss S.E. Crown. However over the last four years, I should of won it, yet the contest was laced with politics. Whose to say it isn't going ot be the same song and dance again this year? What happens if I did run, and came in runner up, what is that proving? What am I trying to prove? Nothing. Nothing. By accepting to perform in a show, I am creating unnecessary expense, and giving mixed signals. Its best if the dead, lay dead.

New Adventures

The door bell rang.

Sometime during my slumbar. I scremed out, I'll be right there. Threw on a pair of jeans, and

"DING DONG"

It rang again.

Noticed on the clock, 10:30 a.m. Two hours of sleep, since I arrived home from work at 8:30.

Opened the door in my slumber to Frank frantically disaray and need of some help. Threw on some clothes, grabed the house keys, and headed out.

He's starting a new direction with his business, kind of Trading Spaces meets the cleaning lady.

Kind of.

Spent the morning cleaning and rearranging a Dr's house, so it is ready to put on the market.

Grand old 1950's house, with orignall kitchen cabnets, and these kick ass orignal art deco wall scones in the living room.

If anything, this may start to be the beginings of a wonderful part time job and some extra cash on the side.

This adds to the black cauldrun of possibly a few business opertunities, that once start to simmer and boil, might be a nice influx of income.

At last, my slumber is slowly seeping, calling my name...

Journey and the destination

Although the air was crisp, like fall, but it was spring, the sun shone bringing light to the day. With some crude knowledge of the area, road signs, and a map-I took off from Ettelbruck and headed West into the Luxembourg countryside.

History blew on me, climbing hills, into a small isolated town, which had its own suburb type sections, where cars were few, and the day was just starting, school kids playing in the yard, unaware of a "forigner" in the surroundings.

Churchyards becon, and in a county where space is premium, the out of the way chapel held the momuments of ancestors. My ancestors. Returning to a land they left in the 1700's by boat, pieces of them returning by air. Took out my small notebook, and started copying each and every stone. Dates, information, vitals. Snapshots of each. Documentation. I may not come this way again.

Talked to my father tonight... although the last attempt for any internation travel with him never amounted to anything except excuses, I may luck out this time around. with the contact of a relative over there, he's taken the inititive of looking at flights and hotel reservations. Exciting.

Its not about the cost. Its about the willingness to let go, and achieve ones goals. For the amont of time he has spent data entry, research, letter writting, and comparing data, dates, photos, and information, and the endless cost of obtaining such, a trip to the place where it all began, seems only fitting.

The journy is more than the destination.........