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Moving on...


Well gentlemen, you wouldn't be around to have your "fraterns" (latin) if you weren't born of a "womern" (straight out of the holler) now would ya. "fraternal" (latin).

And why would any single one of you have an issue with me if I'm all about love, peace and universal harmony - you wouldn't and you don't - so let's just leave me out of the whole "I'm famous and you're not" situation. Take that elsewhere and that is NOT a suggestion.

Thank you for your cooperation and respectful understanding.

Oh The Things I Can Do To Help One Mr. John Clayton Mayer

August 9, 2014


There’s a spiritual realm. It truly does exist. Heaven exists as well. Having written that, all I can say is that John Mayer, yes the one who plays guitar, YOU ARE ALL OVER MY SPIRITUAL REALM. Pretty sure I took quite a few spiritual hits that directly relate to Mr. Mayer. I know what you need John. I know what you want. I know you still have faith. I also know that “heaven never hurt no one.” isn’t entirely the truth. We should meet person to person. I’ve already gotten angels involved, so it’ll happen sooner rather than later.

You’ve been hurt in your life John. More than you know, no matter how enlightened you may believe you are. You do carry a load, perhaps you can’t see it or feel it, but it’s there and it affected me. Your spiritual got all tangled up in mine somehow. Regardless, if any of your fans, friends, or maybe those who don’t like you so much see this – show him this blog post and ask him to e-mail me

There were some very, very, very “interesting” things I pulled out of your music John. When you stated in your 2012 Rolling Stone article that you were looking for your soulmate. I understood. Then I listed to all your CD’s a few times.  Since that time, I’ve been in “firefight” that had everything to do with you. The result turned out to be that a pregnant woman (yup, that’d be me) got used for a shield in a Spiritual war, so I expect Mr. John Mayer’s going to either contact me of his own free will OR something from the spirit realm is going to be upon him, get him in the now and keep him there long enough to “guide” right to my apartment in Maryland. I been in that war since I popped out the womb in 1972, so as one can imagine – I’ll be getting the straight, whole truth about that situation. I gotta go all “other wordly” on some asses and wear Jesus like a garment in order to make that happen – that really should not surprise anyone who knows me. If it does surprise you, then you didn’t really know me at all did you.

It’s going to happen, so might as well be sooner rather than later.

My faith and my love is strong John (it runs in the family, so I come by it honestly) – I believe you need to experience that with your own two eyes in person.

Besides, I know you want a son, perhaps you’ll even name him Hendrix, so maybe your friends and fans who love you will do you a kindness and make absolutely sure you see this blog post.

Peace – mia

(or call 410-980-1173) You can also just show up at my apartment anytime, day or night – ask God for my address. You know he has it.

True love never dies.

The heart of life is good.

So too is the heart of love.

As is the same with the heart of life.

We’re not entirely strangers.

A perfect rhyme for “heavier things” given context of your writing could be “mightier wings” “or “sturdier strings”.

I like humming – it helps builds bridges. You should try it sometime.

ps-the mechanisms in your head were NOT working correctly – yipes!

The power of love is so strong – members of the other team are starting to defect and they’re singing like little canaries.

Oh, he knows what this is all about it – he knows.





Finally – Progress (And A Few Little Things Can Make All The Difference)

April 27, 2014


Hi there person who reads. It is NHL playoff season, so you can expect any posts appearing here at this time of year will have some sort of ice hockey content. The good news for me and a particular NHL team is that I’m now medically cleared to travel. For me, that’s a very good thing. As for where I’ll be two months from now; that’s still an unknown, but not for much longer. Let’s see, will it be Detroit? Perhaps maybe Phoenix? It could be Denver. It’s still possible I could go Tampa Bay. My decision could be swayed by a little bit of hockey love coming from certain locations. Who wants a hockey fan?

I’m retired from my previous, I suppose it could be described as a “vocation”. Obviously, I can’t (won’t) retire from being an ice hockey fan. Also I can’t (won’t) retire from being the musical sort either. Retiring from life doesn’t fly in my airspace, so what’s next? I’ll know very soon.

As for the NHL playoffs, I’ll admit it took me a few days to get over Carey Price (Montreal’s goalie). Oh, he’s a good goalie. I’m sure some of the Montreal Habs faithful are glad they didn’t run Price out of town a few years ago. It was my team, so the kind of antics coming from the Montreal net defender weren’t making me happy in one way. Of course, now that we know who the Habs play in round 2 (Boston Bruins), I’ll be far more likely to have a good-old “goalie snicker” if suddenly Lucic has a little trouble standing up on two skates during a TV timeout. Clearly, Mr. Price plays to win. I’m over it now. It’s hockey and I love it.

As for the Tampa Bay Lightning, well, it was pretty darn amazing that they made the playoffs in the first place and it just so happened that they had to play the ONLY Canadian team in the playoffs in the first round. It wasn’t just Montreal fans supporting the Canadiens, it was ALL of Canada. The coverage was Canada biased. Yeah, you can deny it all you want Canada, but I know better. The Bolts had an injured starting goalie, several brand-spankin’ new rookies and the face of the team changed this last season, so as a fan, I’m proud that they went out playing Lightning hockey and they went down fighting. I don’t want to press on any Bolts bruises, so to speak, right now, so I’ll simply state that the Habs had the edge and Lightning hockey is far more stable than it was even two seasons ago, so all is well as far as I’m concerned.

As for the “little things”, well, here’s a moment from the first round of the playoffs I think I’ll always treasure: I imagined Zedeno Chara giggling like a little school girl when this happened.

I admit it, I’m home in the mornings and yes, I’ve been watching Supernatural. Can you blame me? Jensen Ackles – uh, yummy. The writing is pretty good actually and Jensen’s delivery is right spot on every single time. He’s good at what he does. There are some “little things” that when delivered by Ackles are just humorously priceless to me. I know how to hold onto to what I got and even a teeny-tiny smattering of laughter a day is enough. It often times has had to be and if I have to make it last, I make it last.

For example: “I love posse. Gonna make a t-shirt out of that.” Dean Winchester, and then Sam’s reply “are you done?” – equally priceless.

“What? I’m nesting.” Dean Winchester, Supernatural. Don’t even get me started on the scene where Castiel discovers porn and the ensuing comments from the Winchester brothers. All very well done as far as I’m concerned. I have needed a laugh here and there over the last year or so like nobodies business, so thanks much for those little fun treasures all of you who have anything to do with Supernatural. (Especially you Ackles – you can lip-synch “Eye of the Tiger” at my house any time you like – I mean anytime) ;-)

Watch the show if you want to understand the fun of it all. It’s got many fun tidbits to discover. (Dean “communing” with the dog which makes him a bit more canine than usual is worth a watch I tell ya!”

Also, the number of nicknames I have for Henrik Lundqvist, New York Rangers goalie has increased again this season. Here’s one I’ll share for fun: “The Metrosexual Swede Singularly Responsible for the Mani/Pedi Wing at Madison Square Garden.”

Here’s to laughter, love, back-getting, guitars and smart goalies I can appreciate even if you gave my team a hard time.

I’m still having a little trouble with links and I live (not for much longer) where internet isn’t always available, so social media isn’t my prime mode of communicating these days. And yes, those are indeed my digits on the home page. No kidding.

Peace – mia – – have I mentioned “out loud” that I’m really tired of being single? Yes, I have, you just read it. Luv ya.

Tampa Bay Lightning – Game 4 – Let’s Do This Boys!

April 22, 2014


Oh how very interesting the Bolts (Tampa Bay) – Habs (Montreal) NHL playoff round 1 series has become. First, I still believe in the Lightning. Second, his name is Anders Lindback. No, he’s not Ben Bishop. He’s not Ryan Miller either. He’s an NHL goalie. He stood in front of his net in Montreal in game 3 to do his one and only job, stop the puck. He faced the challenge of keeping a crease for a team that was down 2 games in an arena that is always filled to the brim with loud, hockey-lovin’ Canadians. He took the initial hit of being scored on within 11 seconds of the opening face-off in said game and said arena, and then shook it off like a professional and helped shut-down a FOUR minute Montreal power play immediately afterward. So, for those who continue to mention on air, on your blogs, in your tweets, in your living rooms, and where ever else you opine about the NHL and particularly the Lightning and goaltending, in some cases with a rather matter-of-fact tone (as though you even have the chops to be a goalie), here’s a bit of news of for you:  Anders Lindback doesn’t care what you have to say. Ben Bishop is injured. That’s the story. That’s the only story. Move on. Get over it. The Lightning have TWO goalies don’t they. Exactly how is it anyone’s “expert” opinion that the Bolts would have at least one series win if Bishop were in the net? It’s not “expert”; it’s hot air expelling words from the bodies of those who can’t seem to understand reality as it actually happens in real life, in real time. Perhaps the “experts” out there would like to share with the rest of us your “secret” technological mojo that you apparently must be in possession of because you were able to go back in time and actually be present, in the building to see the alternate Bolts-Habs series in which Ben Bishop was manning the crease. Until such time as you can share that with the rest of us – SHUT YOUR YAPS. (yes – I am very clearly typing this for public consumption). 


As long as I wake-up in the morning, which is always a good thing no matter what the day brings, I’m going to do point out the obvious when it comes to ice hockey. My team has two quality goalies and when one is injured, the other was ready. That’s not something several other NHL teams still playing can say with confidence is it? Go Bolts! Go Lindy.

Hi Montreal. I protect my team. Bare that in mind. Somehow, I just get the feeling Game 4 will be a little different. I may not yet be a recognized member of the “old-boys” club fella’s , but when it comes to a certain something a hockey lifer who had to fight just TO BE A HOCKEY FAN “picks-up on”, oh let’s just call it an “intangible” or “unseen factor”, well, she isn’t exactly powerless. I protect my team. It’s just that simple. The officials are neutral and impartial now, and for every right good reason, including the love of game and implications extending through the course of an actual human lifetime form beginning to end, it best it stay that way isn’t it “gentlemen”?

I’ve only just begun.

Tampa Bay Lightning are getting better every game. What’s the matter Montreal, getting a little worried about that? Let’s be sure Carey Price’s skates are sharpened correctly before the game and in between periods. The Habs equipment staff must be slacking a bit. Can’t win on skill and teamwork like mere mortal men of hockey Montreal? Oh well, I’m on to you and I know with no doubt you know exactly what I mean. That sort of thing comes back to you later, so perhaps you’d like consider that this morning. It’s a hockey love thing and maybe I don’t want to hurt yourselves that way.

Yeah, so I’m a little goalie weird. It’s quite normal actually, but it’s not for everyone.

Peace and GOOD hockey love – mia –

Oh, you’ll hire me alright. As a matter of fact, you’re thinking about doing it right now.



Do I Have To Fly To Montreal Now Bolts Nation!?

April 18, 2014


Hi there Bolts Nation. I’ve been bringing the THUNDER so loud from my living room couch in Maryland that I just might get an eviction notice tomorrow morning. Do you think I’m kidding? I’ve got those “singy” lungs and I think three streets down they know I’m Thundering for the Bolts. When your team is down, that IS NOT the time to be quiet. No, that’s the time to get your LOUD ON! Don’t wait for your team to score a goal, move those mouths, get your hind parts out of your seats and help ’em out by THUNDERING like YOU MEAN IT.

Technically, I’m not supposed to travel (health reasons), but at this point, I know there are seats available for the next two games in Montreal. Screw it. I couldn’t give a dirty puck if I get evicted for thundering in my living room or how crappy I feel or if flying on a plane is bad for my health. LIGHTNING NEEDS THUNDER.

Yes, I’d much rather be seeing Ryan Malone on ice right now. I think the Bolts would be fairing a little better if he were, but that’s not the reality so, let’s all just do that whole “ain’t no quittin’ in hockey” now and tell the Habs they ain’t getting anything in this playoff season easy.

As for the Bolts, well, I’m taking a wild stab at it here and will simply guess that Coach Cooper and likely a few others will likely have some choice wisdom to impart in the lightning locker room. I’ll just let that be what it’s going to be.

Don’t anybody be giving Lindback (Goalie who stepped up when stepping up was required) a hard time – we who are of clan goalie can sense that sort of thing from many, many, many miles away.

Yup, I might as well just Thunder in enemy territory. I mean if the Caps fans want to send me death threats (true story and one of them will do jail time soon), then why not just throw a few Habs fans in the mix while I’m at it. (Yeah, I’m the respectful sort, so don’t worry Montreal, I don’t believe in bringing attitude – all I believe in is bringing some Thunder for my Boys – plus, I’ll get to see “Stinky Chees” Briere play – that’ll be good too – although I may taunt Price a little – but you all expect that sort of thing up there.) ;-)

As for whatever else is going on with me – you don’t want to know – might not even care really – and WHO CARES – It’s the playoffs and I woke up breathing and opened my eyes this morning!!!

GO BOLTS! ALLER BOLTS!! YOU HAVE AT LEAST TWO MORE GAMES, SO DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT GIVING EVEN A SINGLE INCH – MAKE ‘EM WORK FOR IT! Hey Gudas, I’ll drive to Tampa Bay and clean your house or wash your car or something if you stay out the “Downie Suite” a.k.a. the penalty box for the rest of the playoffs. Seriously – I don’t joke during when it comes to the playoffs – it’s against the hockey code ya know?

Peace + good music to all of you – (yeah, I’m more than pretty sure I’m about to get evicted – OH GOOD – welcome to Friday night as a certain ice hockey coach might understand – that sounds about right).

Goalies Rule (except you Price – we’ll just see how cooperative your posts and crossbar are on home ice mwahahahaha). Aaaah, I love hockey. Always will. Born this way. Can’t help it. Don’t want to either.

The Bolsheviks Were All I Had

December 1, 2013


In February of this year, I was the last family member left standing with regard to being in charge of all the many things left in the family house (now the former family house). There were, and this is a low estimate, 200, 000 photos alone. I’m sure that number is higher, but photos were just a small portion of the things I had to sort through with regard to my family history.

In going through some of these things, I had the chance to remember a lot of things having to do with growing up in that house and at the same time thinking about how to approach writing a book about my life. A lot of people I’ve known have encouraged me to write a book about my life, so this was a good time to think about the best way to get, at the very least, a good outline and framework to accomplish that goal.

I’ll happily share a family anecdote on my blog. There are so many family anecdotes, it would be unlikely I could get even 1/18th of them in a single book, so here’s one I’ll post here.

There was a time, when I was about 6 or 7 I think, that my father seemed to have some major unresolved issues with the Bolsheviks. Now, it’s important to bear in mind that not only was my father an alcoholic, but he was also diabetic. He wasn’t the friendly, “I love you man” sort of drunk either. Add in the fact that many diabetics who don’t have good control of their sugar balance, have chemical situations that can make them volatile and angry. My dad was also a full-blown sugar addict. He displayed addiction behaviors just like any of the other addictive behaviors other people tend to display in relation to drugs and alcohol. Sometimes, one of the family would have to check the extra tire well of his car to make sure he wasn’t taking a stash of candy bars to work. One of us would have to wake up in the middle in the night if we heard someone else up and moving around to make sure Dad wasn’t hiding in the bathroom with the sugar bowl eating spoonfuls of sugar.

For any who may not be familiar with alcoholics, diabetics and specifically both, well in my house, everyone was vigilant, all the time and at any time, for any reason, a perfectly fine evening, could instantly become an “every man, woman and child for themselves”, “duck and over”, “save yourself” outright struggle that might possibly result in one of us not making to the next. I’m not over-stating the situation. By the time I was 8, I knew that anything in that house could be used as a weapon, but also could be used as a defense mechanism as well.

Needless to say, if someone sneezed too loudly around my Dad (that happened with my mother too, but this about my father right now), that was plenty enough reason for my dad to start an all-out, no-hold-barred, rant about the Bolsheviks that could possibly result in one of the rest of the family being thrown through a closet door. I was the smallest for a time, so to him, I was easy pickin’s. My mother got a wine glass thrown at her that hit her right in the head once on a “Bolshevik” tirade. My brother, Chris, got pushed out of his dinner chair and hit his head on the corner of the china cabinet. Put simply, no one was safe when Dad decided to unleash his feelings about the Bolsheviks in my house.

I can safely say he dished out his anger about the Bolsheviks for at least two years. He must have gotten all that anger out and finally gotten past all that though, because eventually, he stopped going on angry tirades about the Bolsheviks. He had plenty of other major issues with all sorts of other things, people and types in the world, so no worries, he certainly had a plethora of anger to pull from. He moved on from the Bolsheviks though.

My family did have a certain knack for finding the humor in certain things. Even if those were getting hit in the head or thrown through a door. We all could do that. We, as a family, eventually could make light of certain things and make little family private jokes about them…eventually. I’m not sure who the first one in my family to do this was, but one of us, a short time after we all realized that Dad was finished being upset about the Bolsheviks, someone used the phrase, “It must have been the Bolsheviks” to explain something that appeared at first to be a bit of a “mystery.”

I’ll give you an example. Objects in my house often got broken. There were always the obvious “breaking of things”, like someone threw something, hence the breaking of the thing that was thrown. Sometimes, however there would be a broken object that didn’t have an obvious, seen, reason for being broken on the floor. Mind you, we always had family cats, and it wasn’t uncommon in my house for one of the others (at that time, I was too young for it to be me), to have been on some substance, alcohol or drugs, and “accidentally” broken something and truly have no recollection of actually doing it. Of course, there was also the possibility that one of the humans, as in “non-cat”, did break something, knew that he/she did it, but didn’t want to confess. Confessing to things in my house translated to only one thing; a severe beating with an object that could dent your head if the recipient of the beating didn’t do whatever was necessary to protect his or head. As you can imagine, there was always reluctance to admit to breaking something, even if it was an accident. The reason why was not a factor in the matter when it came to that sort of thing.

So, in situations where there wasn’t a clear answer to why something was found broken, and the cats surely weren’t talking, there’d be a bit of a loud and unpleasant inquisition, that often involved the threat of physical violence. Sometimes, however, one of us would put an end to that and get the entire past the “mystery of the broken object”, but saying, “It must have been the Bolsheviks,” which, to us, was a little funny and helped us ease the situation sometimes. Once someone had the “stones” to actually just say, “It must of been the Bolsheviks”, none of us could do anything but start having a little of a laugh. My dad knew it was at his expense, but by that time, he was over the Bolshevik thing, so he took it with a sense of humor too. Sometimes, he’d be the one to say it and we’d all just leave the “mystery” a mystery and the state of the house would deescalate to normal, go about your business, “we’ll all live to see tomorrow” levels.

It became a fun, family, inside joke actually. When any of us were around other people or if we had company at the house, any one of us wouldn’t have a problem just chalking certain things that other people may have seen a “mystery” or had some discussion about in search of some, face value, immediate explanation for, we’d happily just say “It must have been the Bolsheviks” and just consider that the reason.

For example, my brother was playing recreation baseball at the time and when we as a family were out watching his team play another league team, one of the parents of a player on my brother’s team said the following to my dad, “I wonder why we have a such a hard time playing this (the other team that kept beating my brother’s team) team?” Well, my mother and I certainly had a nice family laugh together when my father looked that parent right in the eye and straight-faced told him exactly why that team kept getting the best of my brother’s baseball team. Yes, indeed, the answer my dad provided was, “It’s because of the Bolsheviks”. That explanation became our family way of explaining things that didn’t seem to have a clear, answer to and it was our thing.

It was out family “thing” until I put an end to all of that. Yes, it was me who ended that particular family “thing”. I was last family member, as far as I know, to use the term “Bolshevik”. Here’s how that happened. I was probably 10 or 11 and decided to sneak out after dark to meet some of friends to play “Dungeons and Dragons”. Yes, nerdy as it may be, I will say it was a few years later when “Dungeons and Dragons” friend time also was the time when I became familiar with the fact that it only took 2 moderate swigs of straight grain alcohol to put me down for the night, if you catch my drift. “Dungeons and Dragons” taught me not mess around with grain alcohol. Anyway, as to the last night “Bolshevik” was spoken by a member of my family, I was returning home after sneaking out and attempting to put my 10-speed bike up against the garage door at the back of the house so I could quietly slip into the house through the back, basement door.

My bike and I made it about 10 feet from the garage door, when on came the basement light and there in the newly lit darkness were the silhouettes of BOTH parents. Had it been just one parent standing there, I might have thought I had a chance to at least have the punishment happen the following day, after school, or even get a pass. That would happen every now and again. The fact that both parents were present meant that I was about to have a really, really bad night. That’s when I saw the wooden spoon in my mother’s hand. That meant that I wasn’t even going to make it in the house before I started having that really, really, bad and painful night. So, what did I do?

Instinct kicked in and at that point I was not thinking in anyway. My autonomic response systems kicked in and the threat to my physical being was enough for my automatic defense systems to take total control of my and those innate systems chose – flight. I let go of the bike, turn tail and took off toward the line of bushes that marked the line between our family property and the neighbor’s property. As I was about mid-air in a head first dive into said bushes and as the sound of the bike I left behind crashing to the ground reached its conclusion, I said clearly and loudly, “The Bolsheviks made me do it.”

I then rolled out of the bushes on the other side, frantically removed the shoelace that got caught in the bushes and took off down the hill, through a few back yards to the woods that were about 1/4 mile away. I didn’t look back. I didn’t stop even after I ran my foot into some sort of unseen hard object in one of the back yards through which I ran that hurtled me to the ground and resulted in some of my skin being removed from my elbow. Once I found a good place to “hide” in the woods, I did realize I was just putting of the inevitable, but at the same time, I hope with all my my might that perhaps the fact that I brought the “Bolsheviks” into would lessen the punishment I was going to receive. It didn’t.

I stayed in the woods for several hours and then got tired, so I went back to the house and just knocked on the front door to be let in to take my punishment as it was meant to happen. My parents did not find the “Bolshevik” comment humorous in the slightest and that was the end of the family “fun” blaming the Bolsheviks for unexplained events. I pulled the “Bolshevik card” in the incorrect situation, but frankly, today, thinking back at it, it’s still pretty darn funny.

Yes Bolsheviks, I know it was not the right thing to do to blame you for something I did, but at that moment, you were all I had. You were all I had.

Good times.

peace – mia – How they hanging out there world? Mine aren’t hanging at all. They’re just as nice and firm and perky as they were when I was 22. No really. ;-D luv ya

No, I Don’t Think You Really DO Want To know

November 26, 2013

11/26/13 – Auto spell check doesn’t know what it’s doing, so sometimes, the mistakes in my posts come from some automated pile of BS that doesn’t know the different between “write” and “right”. Learn how to spell auto-correct will ya. Sh$#!!!! Screw it people – you know what I mean. If you don’t, consult with a friend or something. Oh yeah, modern technology – it’s all so very helpful. Yeah and I’m an alien working for the CIA on a top secret mission to find out the Colonel’s “secret recipe”. 

There have been some people who have communicated to me in one form another that I should write a book about my life. I’ve had someone tell me I should write children’s books. Someone else also suggested I write a book about resilience.

They all plausible and I’ve given a great deal of consideration to writing a book about my life. My life is still going on, so I do that as time permits. Right now, I will state rather bluntly that I am fully aware some of things I’d share about my life will burst some bubbles. There will be a lot of burst bubbles. My parents were who they were for the reasons they came to be that way. Some may have only seen the good a great parts of my family, while others only saw the not good and great parts of my family. I was adopted, but that means zero to me in long run. Family is family and that’s that.

It will take careful thought and preparation to show all sides of my family in as fair and balanced way as I can, so I’m not going to rush through that process of actually doing and getting it published. I had some friends when I was younger who nicknamed my mother, “Satan.” There were others, however, who, even as I type this would think that’s the most ridiculous statement ever. My parents did, in fact, use sleep deprivation as a method of punishment when I was in middle school and that is looked upon by the Geneva Convention itself these days as cruel and inhumane. I then had to go to school and mingle with everyone who, odds would likely show, weren’t forced to stay awake for days at a time.

It is that kind of information that some distant relatives, friends and co-workers of my parents will find very hard to take and I am aware of that. It is just in me as a person to understand that some would simply like to remember all the good things about someone when they have passed away. It is also important for those of us who’ve been through things in our lives, we’d not like to happen to anyone else, to share openly so that those who might be feeling as though they are alone or do not understand what can happen in families, communities, teams, work place and yes, even places of worship, know that there is always a way to heal and get beyond them.

I told a former co-worker a few years ago, after doing an office-wide seminar on resilience, that “it is not just surviving a difficult, it is surviving it well.

In writing a book about my life, I will do so patiently and do my very best to share the many good parts as well as the parts that others, depending on their perspectives and experience in life up to the point when they read the book may consider to be not so good parts. No one’s paying my bills or keeping me all comfortable in a comfy work space as yet either, so unless you plan on doing that, my rather interesting, compelling and I’m sure shockingly entertaining, hard hitting, yet gentle wonder filled life story will happen when it happens, or not. You can change that.

I will share my thoughts about something in particular that has a little to do with my personal perspective at this point in my life. Last year I wrote a certain blog post. Yes, indeed, I surely did. Oh, but I did. That blog post was all about me telling God I had no problem standing before him in judgement. It may or or may not be visible to you, depending on a few factors which involve an UNINVITED outsider who likes to get into people’s business without permission. No matter. Certain events happened after that post was written. When I use the word “children”, in general, I mean children of all people of the world. I mean children are children. It matters to me ZERO percent what they look like or where they were born. I happily tell all you nit-picking, judjey, mcjudgertons of the world that you now know, right out here in the open of the internet, that until you go through something like that, I’d like you to simply accept me for the human being I am and if you do approach me as such, I will gladly do the same in kind.

I can drive soberly and safely. I can support my hockey team and friends and family the best way I know how. I can do my best to be understanding and a good listener. I can make some people laugh now and again. I can be mindful at all times that I’m sharing the planet, not only with other humans, but with all kinds of other life. At this point in my life, however, I will tell anyone, and I do mean anyone, that unless you are paying my way through life, as long as I am a single woman in America with no ring on my finger – none of you have any right to tell me, an adult, who has been dealing with REAL LIFE, adult issues since she was a child. ESPECIALLY if you are doing from a location that is not in my physically present environment, in person. I, my friends, deal with REAL. If it isn’t real, in the flesh, genuine  – then it isn’t for real right NOW. I live in the now. Unlike many others, as some would have people believe, I am not in the slightest afraid of change. I’m very good at making command decisions. I will know what a good, happy home is like in this lifetime and I will be getting paid to do the things I do, because I am very good at them. I don’t need to be coddled. I’m a natural born goalie who has been raped and tortured in her lifetime, so it stands to reason, I’m not one to be hemming and hawing, waiting around for something that may or may not happen, just sitting around not living. It’s not my style. I’m all about quality and I’m not all that complicated. I share my life with real people who I can hug and kiss and tickle and give the old fist bump to and if that’s something that doesn’t interest you, then just keep walking pal. Keep walking. If it does interest you, it’s not like I’m hiding or anything. My email address hasn’t changed and neither has my phone number.

I just like people in general. We are all on the same planet aren’t we. I can’t stand-up and say, “Hey world, I made this planet.” Can you? I can however, just put out that I appreciate I have a place to live and everyday I open my eyes and am still breathing is a pretty good day right from the start. I may not be running about thumping other people with text from holy books, but I have faith and faith is just plain faith.

As long as I just continue to be me, the interesting, hockey loving, woman who CARES simply because that’s who I am, but who DOESN’T CARE if my face and my name is known simply because I want every-freakin’-body else see me doing it, well, heaven, hell, limbo, or just dead as a human and that’s it will be as it is at exactly the time it happens. If I am meant to be famous, I will be famous. If I am meant to write a book about my life, it will happen. I really only know a few things for sure, in all confidence. One, I will get a job with an NHL organization, because I’m meant to get a job with an NHL organization. I have the kind of qualities and true love of the sport of ice hockey to be a great asset in helping to grow the game and helping to get some of the bad wrap the NHL gets for being too “violent.” That I can do and I’ll earn a living doing just that. Two, I’m only interested in being in a committed relationship with a man who is also only interested in the same and plans to get married. I’m 41, and thought I’m  not out on the hunt to nab me a man just for the sake of nabbing me a man, I just know I’m not looking to get involved with anyone who is “playing the field” 0r might possibly, one day, perhaps, think about marriage as one of a few options looking to the future.

I also know I’m not the only person who likes the smell of fresh ice and there just has got to be at least a few other people out there somewhere who also know that some guitars smell differently than some other guitars. There’s just got to be!

I’ll be thanking the mysterious powers of love in the Universe,that some call God, for my frozen Swanson turkey dinner with all the fixings, yup, even cranberry sauce and for the hockey game that’ll be on NBC this Thursday. I’ll do that by eating the frozen turkey dinner while watching hockey and having a good time making comments to the TV, perhaps chirping a goalie here and there and knowing that I’ll be alone in physical, but I’ll be sharing a hockey game with an assortment of hockey lovers just like me. Some of the  American hockey fans will likely be eating our Thanksgiving dinners at the same time (I hope you have your own cranberry sauce though – I get all “goalie stingy” about the cranberry sauce, so eyes on your own plate my hockey loving friends – eyes on your plate ;-D ). I’ll be in some pretty good company I’m sure.

Peace – mia – Ice hockey goalies have bigger, well, you know…uh….um…yeah….uh…STICKS. There’s a musical guitarist who also sings out there in the world who I think might want to know that making someone prove to you that they love you is an indication that you’ve put an awful lot of conditions on something that’s meant to be unconditional. It’s just friendly, loving advice from someone who took A WHOPPER of hit that directly correlates to you … and you KNOW IT!

Oh and if my own government really feels the need for some some reason to tap my cell phone or get all up in my personal business, well, I don’t really have anything to hide from you and you can just ask. I mean I am a little weird, but it won’t bother me personally. At least that way you’ll be able to trace the source of the “auto-bot” calls I get and no one needs to spy on me for me to tell everyone, I wear neither boxers or briefs. He, he, he. I’m a girl silly. I wear bloomers and they’re very comely, I can assure you. Would you like to come find out for yourself?

Hey Cancer – You’re Going Down and Out BeeYatch

November 16, 2013


I don’t think much of Cancer, so this poem was written to let it know:

Say Good Bye Cancer

You’re getting taken out in every one of your forms and fashions

You can’t overcome Team Love, together with all of our various passions

We grow stronger hour by hour

You’re getting weaker and losing power

You’re not needed on land or in sea

And you’ll certainly have nothing to do with me

You’re going extinct on Earth, it’s very own face

We’ll relentlessly end you right in your place

No life on Earth wants you here

We’ll live on without you and do it with cheer

You’re a life taker, so you shall not persist

You’ll soon be a word that does not exist

Peace – mia – – it’s what you get “C” word for messing with hockey and children and the music ya bully.


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