tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53454743925004171432011-04-21T14:20:46.539-07:00AnDeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11569553112289453995noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345474392500417143.post-50281985041130267032008-10-07T15:48:00.000-07:002008-10-07T16:35:18.706-07:00<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;">There are days when my head is so full of other people,random thoughts </span><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;">and ideas </span><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;">and wishes and fantasies, and ideas that I can't get a harness on it, to think </span><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;">clearly. </span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;">It makes me think I'm the "whirling dervish" from the Mrs. Polifax book. (Everyone </span><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;">ought to listen to the Mrs. Polifax books if they can. They're quite fun.)<br /><br />In July I lost my brother Jim to the evil and gruesome cancers self-imposed by substance abuse. I never realized how much he would rattle around in my head after he was gone. He used to have little things he would say that were a blanket response to whatever comment you offered him him.<br /><br />If you said... "I hurt my foot" he would reply "Dammit Man", in a sympathetic tone, but with a little grin. A single sentence, of two words of sympathy for whatever ails you. </span><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;">If you said... "I lost 50$ in the grocery store" he would reply "Dammit Man". Now he is gone and I seem to find him in my head every time I stub a toe or drop a glass on the ceramic tile or have a sinus headache. He's right there behind me, saying, "Dammit Man". I'm serious, I can hear his voice in my head. Sometimes it's a little creepy.<br /><br />He was a sad and complex man and he loved very deeply. I will miss him more than I realized. He could also be a bit on the sarcastic side. If I complained of something he thought trivial, he would look at me, cock one eyebrow, and retort in a mocking tone.....</span><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;">"Say it isn't so".... followed again by the grin. This was a frequent response to many of my high speed verbose rants on something. I tend to go onie onie onie when I get myself wrapped up and passionate about something. Especially if I've had 3 or 4 glasses of wine. I think it was his way of bringing me back to this planet and slowing down my orbit to a managable speed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;">Come back Jimmy.... I wasn't done with you.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;">AnDee </p></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5345474392500417143-5028198504113026703?l=andee10.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>AnDeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11569553112289453995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5345474392500417143.post-44154670978880192332008-10-02T00:31:00.000-07:002008-10-02T00:33:24.074-07:00Hello Friends,<br /><br />I am new to blogging, but am so excited to meet, greet and learn new things from other beaders and to share with lots of fun people.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5345474392500417143-4415467097888019233?l=andee10.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>AnDeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11569553112289453995noreply@blogger.com0