Cojones

Just spit it out Sarah. Are you woman enough to take the balls out of your mouth?

No, I don't think so.

Is it somehow okay for this horrid wreck of a reality show whore to say out loud that the elected President doesn't have the Cojones for fill-in-the-blank.

Is it somehow okay because it is a foreign word... does it make it politically correct?

Go ahead, Sarah. Say it in English. Since it is the preferred language (nay, OFFICIAL language) of your darling posse party of tea leaf readers, go ahead...

Look him in the face and tell him HE doesn't have THE BALLS.

I dare you. Who has the biggest balls of them all?

Is It Odd?

How is it that I don't believe in ghosts, yet I think my house is haunted?
How is it that I am doing things my way, yet I check if what I'm doing is okay with the inhabitants?
How is it that when I know I'm alone, I talk to the people in the house?

It's not Popeye... he's out here in the furnace house. This was where he spent most of his time... here and out on the farm, around the pond.

....Then there is the old "house in the yard" where long ago, enslaved people lived, loved and feared, and hoped, laughed and cried, worked and died. I often stand at the upstairs hall window at night and just listen... Imagine the little dark faces peering from their upstairs window at my house, and wonder what they thought.

 I love this place, I do. Over 200 years of sheltering life in this place in space.

It's not forever, of course, this I know. One day, probably sooner than later, Quarter Moon House will be gone. I don't know if mine will be the last tribe of humans to live here, but if I am...

I'm determined to absorb every bit of energy left here,

in the paint and dust and behind walls,

Recording my time as I add to it all, like a new spice in the stew.

If I'm not the last, of course I will leave it with more whispers and scents of my life.

How awesome is that?

Freedom of Speech

It's wonderful that it works both ways, isn't it?
I certainly think so.