This is a new place

This is a new place
in which I stand now.

Am I rising
or just sitting in limbo
until I can gather my
thoughts and feel
comfortable in this
new place?






It's not a lonely
place,
just a different place
from which I am used to being.






Am I being transformed
or is my world as I once
knew it to be transforming?






Where are you?
Why am I here?
Where do I go now?
What do I do now?








I shed my tears
of years of holding back
while forging onward.






I feel my way
through the strangeness,
looking for the hands that held
me so tight,
guided me
and supported me
through the years
of laughter and tears.






But they aren't in reach
for me to hold on to and grasp
so I don't fall.

I'm not lost,
for this place is where
I once remembered
filled with laughter
joy and adventure and love.







But it has changed now...
this familiar place.
My playground,
my hiding places
my sanctuary.







They been transformed,
torn apart into
a beast of burden.








Where are you?
Why am I here?
Where do I go now?
What do I do now?

The Rules for being Human

**I am respectfully sharing this from my friend, SHA Rain's page at MySpace.**

You will recieve a body. You may like it or hate it, but it's the only thing you are sure to keep for the rest of your life.

You will learn lessons. You are enrolled in a full-time informal school called, "Life on Planet Earth."

There are no mistakes, only lessons. Growth is a process of experimentation. "Failures" are as much a part of the process as "success."

A lesson is repeated until learned. It is presented to you in various forms until you learn it -- then you can go on to the next lesson.

If you don't learn easy lessons, they get harder. External problems are a precise reflection of your internal state. When you clear inner obstructions, your outside world changes. Pain is how the universe gets your attention.

You will know you've learned a lesson when your actions change. Wisdom is practice. A little of something is better than a lot of nothing. "There" is not a better place than "here." When your "there" becomes a "here" you will simply obtain another "there" that again looks better than "here."

Your life is up to you, and Life provides the canvas; you do the painting.Take charge of your life -- If I don't, someone else will.

You always get what you want. Your subconscious rightfully determines what energies, experiences, and people you attract -- therefore, the only foolproof way to know what you want is to see what you have.

There is no right or wrong, but there are consequences. Moralizing doesn't help. Judgments only hold the patterns in place. Just do your best.

Your answers lie inside you. Children need guidance from others; as we mature, we trust our hearts, where the Laws of Spirit are written. You know more than you have heard or read or been told. All you need to do is to look, listen, and trust.

You will forget all this.

You can remember any time you wish...

unknown

Touching life story.....

A young man was getting ready to graduate college. For
many months he had admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer's
showroom, and knowing his father could well afford it, he told
him that was all he wanted.

As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited
signs that his father had purchased the car. Finally, on the
morning of his graduation his father called him into his private
study. His father told him how proud he was to have such a fine
son, and told him how much he loved him. He handed his son
a beautiful wrapped gift box.


Curious, but somewhat disappointed the young man
opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible. Angrily,
he raised his voice at his father and said, "With all your money you
give me a Bible?" and stormed out of the house, leaving the holy
book.


Many years passed and the young man was very successful in
business.
He had a beautiful home and wonderful family, but realized his
father was very old, and thought perhaps he should go to him. He
had not seen him since that graduation day. Before he could make
arrangements, he received a telegram telling him his father had
passed away, and willed all of his possessions to his son. He
needed to come home immediately and take care things.
When he arrived at his father's house, sudden sadness and
regret filled his heart.


He began to search his father's important papers and
saw the still new Bible, just as he had left it years ago. With
tears, he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages. As he
read those words, a car key dropped from an envelope
taped behind the Bible.
It had a tag with the dealer's name, the same dealer who had the
sports car he had desired. On the tag was the date of his graduation,
and the words...PAID IN FULL.


How many times do we miss God's blessings because they are not
packaged as we expected?

Celebrating the blessings in life

I see it's been a few months since I was last here to post my wanderings and ponderings. I have good reasons for not being in this little corner of my thoughts, but today is a day of celebration for me. This is the day God has made for me and I am blessed to be experiencing it, for today is my birthday and as I sit with my cup of coffee, feeling the warmth of the rays of the sun light through the window, I'm thinking back over the last few months.

It's been a fast few months in my life. After 16 months of seperation due to both of our family situations of caring for our elderly parents, my husband has finally made the move to be with me. What a blessing that truly is for the both of us. I shall never take for granted a single day he is with me and I shall cherish each moment we spend together.















And during these months I shared moments of joy and tears of gladness by witnessing for just a brief few hours of time, the light of my mother's soul shining brightly as we completed our commitment to the Alzheimer's Memory Walk in her honor.















During these months of walking in the blessings of life, my husband and I are heeding to the calling of building up a church community. At the moment we are online as the Alpha and Omega Christian Gnostic Church. We've had tremendous support of friends across the internet in support of this endeavor. This is where I've also spent a good deal of my moments the past few months. I invite you to enter and be a part of this community seeking truth and wisdom.

http://soulgazer.iamlight.info/

So now, as you can see, I've been rather busy and today I'm celebrating the blessings of my life with my family on this occasion. Blessings to all who come to sit with me here and I hope you find and enjoy the blessings you have been given this day and everyday.

An Olympian Mother

I watched the historical unveiling a new world record, setting new heights for athletes and changing the sport of swimming during the last week of this memorial time. As I have watched during my 45 plus years of viewing this Olympic event, I cheered for the USA swim teams and all the other participants over the last week and followed the news headlines from various commentators. My focus was on the mothers and fathers of these Olympian champions in these events.

But my most memorable moment of these events is of one who supported the dreams of the now famous swimmer of all times in Olympic history, Debbie Phelps. I felt her elations, anxiety, pride, and her shock of the last individual swim her son would finish by .01 to take the gold medal as she had to sit down from the shock or realization of what her son had just accomplished at that moment as the crowd around her were roaring their cheers of support for Micheal.

She is the true Olympian of this event in my eyes. She is the epitome of a devotion as a mother which represents the role model of all who are in her place as a nurturer, supporter, teacher, chauffeur, cheerleader, nurse, nutritionalist and the list goes on as we who are carrying the role as a mother.

I was so touched by emotions as I can see the bond of love and respect they have for one another. Micheal, searching the crowd of followers and supporters to find the placement of his mother and sisters and then to present her with the tokens of roses after each event to receive the loving touch and kiss from his mother for all his efforts. She should be recognized and honored with her own gold medal for raising such a truly devoted and loving child who has struggled through childhood, overcome obstacles, and devoted to help make his dreams and aspirations come alive, who has earn the respect and admiration from the world that she now is sharing with the world to love also.

I'm sure I will read somewhere as to the "sacrifices and struggles" she has endured to achieve such a goal for her son, Micheal, but I say no to those words of descriptions for her. Mother's don't sacrifice and they don't struggle. Mothers give and want and with determination and will for their children. All of us can achieve what this remarkable mother has accomplished.

Congratulations Debbie Phelps!!! and to all the Olympian parents out there who shared their glory of moments with the world.

A Time When........

As I sit in front of my desk and ponder of my day, I found myself reflecting back on a time when I was younger, a child filled with fascination and curiosity. My days would be filled with excitement and passions to explore the world outside of my home, my room and I would find ways of entertaining my thoughts of creating a new adventure.

Those younger days were filled with catching June bugs and tying a small thread on the legs and watch them twirl and buzz around my head and then letting it go in hopes of catching a glimpse of it the next day, flying by with the same thread on it's leg and then I'd know it had come back for more fun and pleasures.


Just before "dark-thirty" as I used to call it then, I'd ask Mother for a jar with a lid and go out at dusk and catch the twinkling lights glowing here and there in the yard and fields until I'd get a nice sizable amount of those sparkling lightning bugs to display in my room, in the dark watching the glowing reflections through the glass and thinking I had captured the stars from the sky as I would drift off into a slumber of bliss from an adventurous day.



On rainy days, when my siblings I and would have to stay inside, we'd play games of all kinds. Not the technical online games of today, but ones that we actually interacted with each other. We would dance around the dining room chairs to play musical chairs and laugh as we tried to push each other out so that we could be the winner. Hide and seek and playing One Potato, Two Potato to see how was the seeker of the game. If we got too rambunctious, Mother would send out into the garage where we would find a piece of soapstone in Daddy's treasure trove of wood shop-garage and on the concrete floor we'd mark out a hop-scotch board in the area where the car was parked when Daddy would come home from work. I would spend hours searching for the perfect flat rock to use for this game and then hide it for safe keeping when we were finished. I bet my Daddy was wondering why he had rocks tucked away in the corners of his tool boxes.



Oh and jump roping, what a fun activity which later advanced to double dutch and learning to chase someone in and out of the ropes. Of course after I could get my brother to play with me and my sister, then we'd have to play marbles or Jacks and sometimes we'd join him setting up his G.I.Joe combat zones and play with him by using the marbles as canon balls.

Those were days of exploration and creative wonders of my mind. I wonder if children today even know what such entertainment to fill their days is really like anymore with all the organized recreational team sports that begin from the end of school until the summer is over and then it is time for school to be opening the doors again. They have a wide variety of choices these days with such activities and not to mention the internet connection to the world outside their own room, but I'm not sure they're better choices. I'm just content to recognize the joys and wonderment of my childhood in a rural community where it wasn't hollering distance to the next door neighbor. We forged out our own worn down beaten trails with our hikes or bicycles to the neighbor's yards.

The Time Has Come

It's been a long 15 months since the death of my father and taking over the role as a caregiver to my ailing mother who is afflicted with Alzheimer's Disease. The road is not an easy one and I'm sure it will be a continual experience of ups an downs, but after personally getting away for a week of much needed rest and relaxation, taking the time to clear my head and find some peace of heart as well as mind over this matter, we, my siblings and I, are searching out alternative living arrangements for our Mother this weekend.

Our goal is to find a place that will give her a much better quality of life for her. One that she can feel welcomed and loved as well as nurtured through the progression of this disease that has robbed her memories of a life filled with hopes and dreams, joys and encouragement for all whom she has touched during her life as a wife, mother, grandmother and teacher and friend to so many.

I am in hopes of assurance for her, where she can feel secure and enjoy those who will bond with her in her state of confusion and restlessness. I want a place for her where when I come to visit her, the light is shining in her eyes and she is smiling again with joy of her new home and friends.

No this is not an easy decision for us, but this is not about "us". It's about her. We've come to the realization that we can no longer give her the kind of nurturing and care that she is reaching out for because we ourselves are spent and drained and weary from this task. It's so painful to be asked, "What's your name?", "Will you live with me so I won't be alone?" and my answer is always the same, "Yes Mom, I'm your daughter and yes, I am living with you."

My compassion is draining due to the daily routine of questions and insecurities she carries with her each morning, but it's still there, just not as strong as it was 15 months ago. My love for her will always reach the surface, but will it become resentment on down the road? I don't want it to become that feeling, not ever, but it's difficult to struggle with it day in and day out.

So yes Mom, we're going to find you that place where you can be secure, be cared for and be given a quality of life you are so very much deserving of in your days of living in the world of "I can't remember". Just know that it's from the deepest love that we have for you that we have come to this decision. I've been missing Mom for quite some time now but I'll always love her.

If you have a loved one that is afflicted with this disease, please help in finding a cure by just clicking the purple ribbon below please. A donation of $10 will be given to help find a cure. All you have to do is share the word. Thank you and many blessings to you and yours.

In honor of my Mother.

Diagnosis of Alzheimer's

Get a Web Ribbon

Mother's and Moms

I received this as an email and thought I would share it with the world, because we all are connected through the special love and nurturing of having a mother, being a mother and desiring to become a mother. Happy Mother's Day!

Mothers and Moms

This is for the mothers who have sat up

all night with sick toddlers in their arms,

wiping up spit up laced with Oscar Mayer

wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying,

"It's okay honey, Mommy's here."

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at

work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains

on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and

make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.

And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to

babies they'll never see. And the mothers

who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art

collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars.
And that when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't

have missed it for the world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with

their children and explained all about making

babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who

wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go

hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read "Goodnight,

Moon" twice a night for a year. And then

read it again, "Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who taught

their children to tie their shoelaces before

they started school. And for all the mothers

who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons

to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?"

in a crowd, even though they know their

own offspring are at home -- or even away

at college -- or have their own families.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids

to school with stomach aches, assuring them

they'd be just FINE once they got there, only

to get calls from the school nurse an hour later

asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone

astray, who can't find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they

bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of

recent school shootings, and the mothers

of those who did the shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their

children to be peaceful, and now pray

they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good mother anyway?

Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and

sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it in her heart?
Is it the ache she feels when she

watches her son or daughter disappear

down the street, walking to school alone

for the very first time?

The jolt that takes her from sleep to

dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put

her hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again

at 2 A.M. when she just wants to hear

their key in the door and know they

are safe again in her home?

Or the need to flee from wherever she is

and hug her child when she hears news

of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are

universal and so our thoughts are for

young mothers stumbling through diaper

changes and sleep deprivation...

And for mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us...

Hang in there. In the end we can

only do the best we can. Tell them

every day that we love them. And pray

for them. Remember we never stop being a mother...

"Home is what catches you when

you fall - and we all fall."

Help Me Celebrate Green

First of all, I don't normally solicit such contests or ideas of what and how we all should participate in the ecological recycling of our day to day lives. I'm work in progress myself on this topic. But my local grocery store chain is promoting a contest to help all be aware of how many plastic bags are endangering our cycle of ecology daily and I was thinking of the numerous plastic bags that are piling up in my closet, but I do use them for various things around the house, but the majority of them are getting tossed into a landfill and I am sorry for being a part of that cycle.

So while I was on-line with my local grocery store, I saw their contest and decided to submit a design of my own. There are wonderful designs already submitted and maybe I did it so that I could be reminded myself to take my own personal reusable bags when I go shopping and not ask for their plastic ones.

So I leave you with my design to view and vote if you like, if not, I won't know one way or the other, but maybe I got you to thinking about it too. Thanks if you did vote, if you didn't, I wish you a wonderful day full of love and blessings always.

Here is a preview of my design, so you can decide if you would like to take the time to vote for it following the instructions below.


Just copy and paste this link into your browser

http://www.designagreenbag.com/vote-for-designs/bag.aspx?BagId=29127

and it will take you to my design. You won't have to register or sign in to do this task.

Painting Rainbows

The world around me is my canvas,
Painting the life I am living with many colors on my palette.
Ever changing the perspective of the view I see,
Mixing the colors with each choice I make.


Serenading My Mind by Rainbow Painter

Some days are monotones of different hues of gray,
Then I close my eyes and visualize the light to shine
upon the shadows of the path I am traveling.



a study of oils in hues of grays from my college days 1975 Rainbow Painter

I open my eyes and begin to paint again.
Splashing the vibrant hues of green and reds,
Mix a bit of blue and violet and sparkle it up with
yellows and a shock of orange here and there.




My spirit rises above the shadows as I
stretch out to once again touch the canvas
with another stroke with my brush in hand
from my palate of many colors.


Painted Bunting watercolor by Rainbow Painter


My canvas comes alive and dances around me
to bring me joy and peace for my soul.

A Caregiver’s Personal Story: Getting Into a Dementia Patient’s Head

A Caregiver’s Personal Story: Getting Into a Dementia Patient’s Head
by Carol Bradley Bursack


Dad was adamant. He was waiting for his medical degree to come from the University of Minnesota and wondered why it was taking so long. I did what I usually did, and waited a few days to see if this episode of delusionary thinking would pass. It did not. So, I went to my computer and designed a medical degree with my dad’s name on it, scribbled some “signatures” on the bottom, put it in a mailing envelope and brought it to him, in the nursing home, the following day. He was delighted.

I added it to the other awards and degrees hanging on the wall; the entomology “degree,” his legitimate college degree, some other earned awards, an “award” for helping direct Lawrence Welk’s band. The wall was cluttered with the real and the fake, but I knew I would need to find room for more. Dad’s brain would tell him he had earned something and eventually I would need to produce it.

Dad had, indeed, gone to medical school at the University of Minnesota, but that was before World War II. He took some time off to be an archaeologist and then the war broke out. During maneuvers in the Mohave Desert, Dad passed out from the heat. He smacked his head against the baked desert floor and sustained a closed head injury. He was in a coma for months and had to learn to walk and talk again. He succeeded, and stayed in the army until the war ended, but kept Stateside and trained as a sanitarian.

Dad became director of Sanitation for the city of Fargo, meanwhile raising a family and, like so many returning soldiers, he went back to school. He attended school at night and worked during the day. I remember going to his college graduation. I was 14. Dad continued taking any graduate classes that would help his work or simply because they interested him, and he became very successful in the world of public heath.

As Dad aged, fluid started building up behind the scar tissue in his brain. He had surgery to drain that fluid, but the surgery backfired and he came out of it totally demented – and bonded with a voice in his head we came to call Herman.

That is when reality changed for all of us.

Dad moved to a wonderful nursing home, a block from my house, and for the first few years, my mom was still able to live at home, so I’d take her each day to see him (eventually, my mother entered the same nursing home). Everyone in the family wanted to help Dad, but I was the only one who could really get into his head and be who he wanted and get what he wanted.

I was his office manager. I brought him his brief case. I made a graphic letter head for him, and made him business cards. I took dictation. I mailed letters, and “received” letters – and of course – made degrees and awards.

What Dad could remember was attending medical school at the U of M. Why wouldn’t he have a degree, then? He watched Lawrence Welk on public television. I even bought him a baton because he wanted to direct the band. Why wouldn’t he have an award for that?

One day, a couple of years into this saga, a psychiatrist caught wind of what I was doing. He chewed me out royally. I was supposed to ground Dad. Bring him back to reality. Redirect him. I had no business playing Dad’s game.

Hogwash, I thought. I know my dad. I know he is not capable of coming into my “reality” and I wasn’t going to torture him by trying to drag him along. If I argued that he was delusional, he would feel degraded and disrespected. It made no sense to me. I still had my brain. Why couldn’t I put his anxiety to rest by traveling into his world – his “reality”?

The funny thing is, a few years later, a different psychiatrist stood looking at Dad’s award and degree covered wall. A nurse stood next to him. “I didn’t know he was a doctor,” the doctor said. “He’s not,” the nurse said, with a grin. The doctor burst out laughing. Later he asked me where I learned my “technique.”

“I’m his daughter,” I said. That’s all I needed.

Now there is an actual theory about this called “validation theory.” It makes me smile. I didn’t need a theory to know what Dad needed. I just needed love.

Validation is exactly what Dad needed, because what was real to him was real in his world. Yes there were times when I would try to explain true reality, but I chose my battles wisely. I tried to keep him from seeing television news because he would insist that the war going on (there’s always a war going on somewhere) was in our town, right outside his window. I’d try to get him to walk to the window with me, but no, he knew the war was outside and I shouldn’t belittle him by saying it wasn’t.

Okay, I wasn’t going to “play his game” and say, “Sure Dad, there’s a war outside and they will blow us up anytime.” If I couldn’t convince him of the reality that we were in a “safe zone,” so to speak, I would calmly say, “I’m sorry you can’t believe me, but we are okay. We’ll talk about it another time.” Usually, these things happened when he was having a particularly bad day, and we’d just have to weather it.

However, the rest of the time, I’d just agree with him. What did it hurt that he thought he was helping plan the new zoo in Fargo, including finding an elephant? It kept him busy. What did it hurt that he needed to study “Grey’s Anatomy?” I found a copy in the used book store. What did it hurt that he needed a copy of “Roberts Rules of Order”? I found that, after a search, online.

My point is this: Dad’s reality was a real to him as mine is to me. Why should I, who supposedly can use my brain, make his life miserable by continually telling him he is wrong, when going with the flow was not hurting anyone else, and it was making Dad’s life a little more bearable? Why would I not do what I could to help him have some feeling of accomplishment? I’m his daughter. He would have done as much for me.

http://www.agingcare.com/Featured-Stories/121365/A-Caregiver-s-Personal-Story-Getting-Into-a-Dementia-Patient-s-Head.htm

Submitted with much love and understanding of all who are walking this path.

Emergence

The sun is shining,
the buds are emerging,
the days are lengthening
to a new Spring.

New life is ready to
emerge from the blankets
of Winter and tickle our
souls with colors and dance
with the fragrances of sweet
nectar as the wind blows warmly
to comfort our souls.





I celebrate this New Life
and look forward to it's nourishment
for our souls.





May you gather up the colors of your life and weave them into rainbows for your heart.

Rainbow

AP Probe Finds Drugs in Drinking Water

http://abcnews.go.com/Health/wireStory?id=4416882

AP IMPACT: Pharmaceuticals Found in Drinking Water, Affecting Wildlife and Maybe Humans

By JEFF DONN, MARTHA MENDOZA and JUSTIN PRITCHARD Associated Press Writers
Mar 9, 2008 (AP)

A vast array of pharmaceuticals — including antibiotics, anti-convulsants, mood stabilizers and sex hormones — have been found in the drinking water supplies of at least 41 million Americans, an Associated Press investigation shows.

I'm very concerned with the fact that since the human body is 95% water, our resources are depleting as we speak. I don't have the solution to this situation but maybe I can be more mindful of what I should be doing to preserve this wonderful gift of nourishment that we all take for granted and consume daily.

What concerns me even more is the fact that this resource has become a commodity in which one can prosper and deceive all mankind through distributing bottled water that comes from sources unknown.

Gone are the days of refreshing, pure and clean well waters, lakes and rivers to quench our thirsts on a hot sultry day. Can this situation be turned around? Can we undo the damage that's been done? Have we become a society that only thinks of using these gifts of resources to earn a dollar for our pockets and support the economy by purchasing tainted goods?

Maybe I'm becoming skeptical with age but I thank my Creator daily that I can be more resourceful and tend to the gifts of nature as well as be more mindful of the need to preserve them for not only my health but for all mankind and wildlife. And this too shall come to pass........

Indigenous Native American Prophecy

A What????

I'm always fascinated by the ingenuity of others and the way in which they live and survive, but surfing through one of my many "widgets" on my Google Home page I came across this one:

http://readymademag.com/projectsblog/project.php?project=E647O7OFBJIMTN0

I enjoy so many projects of creativity of different cultures and styles as well as artists and writers. Since I'm a bit of a "Jackstress of all trades" and "Mistress of none", I have to say that when I find a bit of a valuable time for myself, I can get trapped into a spatial realm of creativity and fascination here in my PC.

Which leads me to wonder with all of the YouTubers, Widgeteers, Photoshop-pers, Bloggers, MySpacers and Wanna-Bes that Wanna-Do-Someday, like me, out there in this world of the Internet Highway and byways of pixels and bytes, just what is on your "Home Page" or Desktop?

I'll give you a synopsis of a few of mine:

At the moment for my desktop wallpaper it consists of a beautiful picture of the Aurora Borealis, and by the time you read this, I'll have probably changed it. It's adorned with icons that I really don't have a clue as to how they got there, and I'm afraid to click on a few for fear that they will lead me into a realm of the part of my brain that gets confused and frustrated easily.

So I tend to just leave them there in hopes that one day, they'll like some of my other items have done that I've saved to some folder, in a deep, dark, hidden file of the UnKnown somewhere in the hard drive of my PC.

Along with my icons of mystery, I have a "gadget" which rotates pictures from my personal folder of my adorable family and a few unfamiliar photos that I'm not quite sure where they came from because I can't seem to locate them in my personal photo albums. They're nice to look at as they scroll on by, so I won't stress about them there. But really, how did they sneak in there?

Then I have a few other gadgets that I haven't seem to have a need for, yet. But just maybe one day, I will use them before they go extinct or become a part of the relics of the past as this type of Addon gadgetry tends to do quickly.

Now, on my "Home Page" there is an array of designs with different category of tabs for clarification of importance such as News, Recipes, Gardening and Crafts, and last but not least, Random Pages. Each tab represents an order to my sanity of this confusing world that stays on 24/7. I've yet to recall what or where certain topics of interest are within these pages. I really and truly thought I was simplifying the process of filtering by adding what I wanted to know about, but it's only made me more confused and curious all at the same time. Now I just add everything to the Home Page where I can easily access it.

The Home Page is my favorite of all "tabbed" pages. I have lovely music playing from one of my many playlists in the background as I read over the day's updates. This familiar page is full of art works from various creative people from whom I glean inspiration, such as Elizabeth Perry who blogs a lovely page of her artworks called "Woolgathering"http://www.elizabethperry.com/woolgathering/, and other various RSS feeds (which took me awhile to figure out how to access this wonderful button) of fascinating people of various creative talents and gifts. I now proclaim myself to be a RSS feed addict!!!! as well as a Widget addict!!! of which I have on my main page of my Blogger as well.

I'm always anxious to see what my Home Page is going to show me when I log into my PC. I'm a member of various groups in different places and I can access all of the great writers, creative ingenuities and crafts people, whom I admire, of these realms by adding them as RSS feeds to my own page. So now you can have a better picture of what my "Home Page" consists.

Maybe next time I'll discuss the Bookmarking of various sites and pages issues that I deal with as well as the numerous "sign-in" and "log-in" world of confusion to access the pages within those places of my Bookmarks. Oh what a tangled web I've woven in this contraption.

What's on your Home Page?