How to Save a Life

Space Oddity...the second attempt

So I did it the same way as I did for Cmdr Hadfield, following his arrangement but with new settings and a different ending. I also studied Bowie and his mannerisms so I can try to inject some of my own style into a song that SCREAMS Bowie, without insulting his version....I hope.


Please comment if you liked it.

Phelan's Last Good Bye

Dear Family,

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am upon the winds that blow,
I am the the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle Autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die...

Phelan

This summer officially sucks now...

Within 1 week of each other, my dog Phelan and my cat Chewie(the tuxedo above) passed on.

I'm so hurt and so upset I don't kno show to be normal still despite the fact that Phelan died on July 31st and Chewie on July 25th. There is this incredibly hollow patch in my chest where I look for these two beloved friends and I cannot find them. Sometimes my dreams take me back to their youth and I mourn them all the more, because the illusion they are with me fade when I wake.

My life has taught me that whatever occurs these friends, what people call pets, devote themselves to us and love us so unconditionally it aches when we lose them. What hurts worst of all is the fact that these two animals were my best friends in the world.

Chewie came first. He walked up to the house and sat in the yard, frail and tiny...frightened. I came out, saw him, smiled and felt compelled to go get him. Karen had been trying all day, waiting for me to return home to tell me after work. I walked out, scooped him in my arms easily and brought him in. I'd just started playing Pokemon and decided that I would name him after my Pikachu in the game due to his "Lightning Bolt" in white on his back.

A year later we were returning from eating a meal at our favorite restaurant at the time, Millie's, and as I unlicked the front door a flash of white bolted out of the bushes and passed me running up the street. I noticed he was hobbling on 3 legs. Rather than chase him down I let him go. That night I stayed up, worried about the dog and his wound. The next morning I felt a frisson go down my back and I knew the dog was in the yard. Running out the door I saw him bolt out of the bushes the same as the night before but gave chase. He was fleet but I was not going to be stopped and hate myself that I had let this animal suffer when I could do something about it.

He ran himself into a corner 3 blocks later, panting and frightened. Looking him in the eye I could see he was partly blind, and in most pictures you can see going all the way back to his first days with us he was going blind from liver issues in one eye.

He offered no fangs and not raised hackles. Offering him my hand as I knelt there, I gave his face some loving strokes and looked at his leg. We would later learn that people had seen his owner drag him behind a motorcycle by a snapped leash and collar., resulting in a rear right leg that was split open to the muscle from toes to what amounts to a dogs ankle.

I carried him, bleeding and scared, in my arms like a baby to my home and then into my car. Dr Kumar would save his leg and later fix his many cysts.

Then Chewie decided to live up to his name and snapped a tooth in half on Karen's Wedding band for no reason we can understand. Another visit to the Vet.

Phelan started acting dopey, feverish, sick and no appetite...another visit to the Vet. Six thousand dollars in combined bills we had Chewie corrected and Phelan on medication for Rheumatoid Arthritis.

Despite all this they were loved and loved us back. Phelan would even go on to be the Ring-Bearer at my wedding, learning tricks easily and knowing them his whole life through. His favorite was "Kiss the Baby", that simple command would result in Trevor being chased and kissed...then later, albeit much slower, for Erick as well.

Chewie would meet the love of his life, my little black and white cat I named Gi-Gi after the adorable cat voiced by Phil Hartman. Gi-Gi came to us, already dying though we never knew it. Chewie would contract a disease from her that Dr Kumar could not identify. After 6 years, Gi-Gi slipped away and I buried her in the garden in Torrance. The instant she was gone, the heart went out of Chewie. His playful times were gone. We have innumerable pictures of the two lying together, eating together, cleaning each other...wedded in all ways. In a few short years Chewie's weight had gone down to next to nothing. We fed him 4 times daily and he seemed to improve.

Then, last year, Chewie and Phelan seemed to hit the same wall at the same time. Both slowed way way down, even in eating and drinking. We knew their time was coming but did as all cat owners do:Hold them tight and profess our love in the hopes that love is enough to cheat death for another day.

But as all things begin, so too must they end.

Chewie stopped eating, rarely drank, searched for comfortable places to lie out of sight. When he started looking to hide in closets I knew it was over. When a cat seeks a hidden place it wants a safe place to die unmolested. I held him and loved him, then put him in the cat bed and checked on him now and then. At last, his moment was nigh. Picking him up in the bed I went outside and sat with him as he breathed in the summery twilight air. Finally putting his head down as if to say he was too tired to look at the orange and purple sky, he breathed his last as I spoke words of com for to him.

Cradling his head in the crook of my left arm and his body in my right, I walked him to his grave and buried him alone, weeping unashamedly.

Sensing that it was time, Phelan stopped eating a couple days later. His good friend, Chewie, was gone. No canned food could tempt him, no treat or special offer of food got any notice. In days he was unable to move and began to defecate and urinate on himself. I would have to carry him out in my arms as I did when I brought him to the doctor, then carry him back in after he was done. Adrienne would wipe him clean with the baby wipes and we'd lay him on his dog bed.

At last he was struggling to breathe and we took him to Smith Veterinary. Phelan liked to go everywhere with me in the car when he was younger. So I put him in the back of the Explorer and told him we were going "Bye Byes" one last time so he would feel better.

The doctor hooked him up to the IV so she could give the injection, I held his head and he looked me in the eyes, no fear because I was with him. She pushed the plunger down and I felt his soul wash over me like warmth...he was free at last. My tears were childlike and agonized as I collapsed to the floor telling them he was gone. His head was slack now, resting on the edge of the table as I could no longer hold him...my glasses smeared with tears. The vet told me he couldn't be gone yet, then took her stethoscope out and listened...he was indeed gone when I said.

We were ushered out as they wrapped him for us in a blanket and put him on his dog bed for us to carry out.

I buried him three feet down in the garden where the grass would not grow.

Now, the grass is growing and mushrooms ring his grave as if the Faeries mourn his passing.

Something sleeps inside humanity until they love an animal that has come into their home. It sleeps and the heart never reaches out to the edges of its reach as God intended. In loving an animal like these two we touch the divine love that our Creator shares with us and intended for us to allow to rain out on those in our lives with unfettered radiance.

Any of you who stumble upon this page and read this, do one thing for me. A favor if you would.

Hold your animals closer, don't neglect a moment. Pet them when you see them, kiss them and hug them. Give them all NOW. Tomorrow is not guaranteed, forever is not ours to share. Give now or you will hate every missed moment, every lost cuddle, each neglected chance.

They are around for a short while, but their affect on our lives lasts until the very end of our days.

Rest well, Chewie. You are the best dog, Phelan.

Au Revoir.

John Lennon's 'Imagine,' Made Into A Comic Strip

John Lennon's 'Imagine,' Made Into A Comic Strip

The truth of love:

No matter how much you love someone, you can't make them love you back.

Be careful whom you give your heart to as few are worthy, many are cruel, and most will use men and throw them way like kleenex.

When You Say You Love Me

I hope you like it.

It's All Coming Back to Me Now, Duet with Josie

Finished product with Josie.

It's All Coming Back to Me

New attempt to make this song now I don't have such terrible water retention affecting me.

Why Is it Always About You?

Some thoughts about how people treat others.

When you say something, get upset, fly off the handle...


Do you ever consider what you're saying, said or how it came across? Did the person you said it to walk away?

And then when they did you got upset because they didn't let you finish ripping into them?

And when you caught up to them and continued ripping them a new one, did you get offended they told you that you were the one going too far or in the wrong? And you got pissed at them because you couldn't possibly be wrong as you see all, know all, understand all?

Ah, I see some of the piss draining from you now as you read.

Yes, you didn't contemplate how you sounded, shouted them down, time lag in conversations on the internet or even the facts of what was said, only that you were upset and had to strike back.

This lead you to running the person down and battling even as they tired to escape even into the wee hours of the night on texts, or phone calls, or emails, because your rage...needed...

A Victim.

So...why is it always about you, huh?

Most of the time people walk away is because they know something you don't: That you are unreasonable and cruel when you have to be the injured party, all the while ripping the person fleeing apart in the name of your crusade to be the one claiming FOUL! Not realizing you look like a lunatic chasing a person down while beating them with an aluminum bat screaming "RAPE! MURDER! ASSAULT!" and hoping others would aid you in the attack.

What's more disturbing with that picture do you think? The fact that you were wailing away and calling for back up, or the high chance you were going to get it? Or possibly the fact you were leading others down the primrose path because misery is not the only emotion that wants company; "Frothing at the Mouth" angry likes a party, too.

Welcome to the world of Verbal Assault. You're an asshole.

The Longest Time

Some more Billy Joel.

Alejate - Just Walk Away

A sad farewell to friends who are better off without me...

Just The Way You Are

Since Josie loves Billy Joel so much.

She's Got A Way

More Billy Joel. Somebody seems to like him a lot.

I Fall in Love Again

Another Anne Murray song for people not to hear.

All of Me

An old favorite I learned from the Steve Martin movie of the same name.

Always A Woman to Me

My version of another Billy Joel song.

I bring hope...

I bring hope...but keep none for myself.

Tears in Heaven

Si Volvieras A Mi

How will I survive?
How will I end this thirst?
To go on without you,
And leap with no net...

With that farewell so savage and cruel
I was flensed of my skin
Forever was left behind
an my heart became a desert.

Oh, if you returned now to me
You'd ignite the sun of a thousand spring times
If you came back for me
Every kiss would seem a miracle!

But today you must go on
and there is no turning back.

What will come after you.
What more than these tears?
If even after the rain in the garden
the raindrops music is endlessly somber and tragic?

Today I kneel before God,
for the sake of we two
that something in your heart breaks
so you may hear this lunatic
dying for want of your love.

Oh, if you returned now to me
You'd ignite the sun of a thousand spring times
If you came back for me
Every kiss would seem a miracle!

Unleash the hurricane,
the fire and fury of the volcano
that can never be put out
the memory if how you're gone!
I am your slave,
and I cannot go on!

Oh, if you return to my life, if you'd only return!
If you could come back for me
I'd be happy once more!

But today you're gone
And there is no turning back.

(my translation, your forgiveness appreciated)

Just the Way You Look Tonight

Never Hurt People Who Love You ...

The more someone cares for you the more they can be hurt. Small hurts magnify into large ones, small pains to an outsider are crises to the persons wounded.

It's not all about YOU, it about all involved.

Some thoughts on a lonely night...

need

• n. A condition or situation in which something is required or wanted: crops in need of water; a need for affection.
• n. Something required or wanted; a requisite: "Those of us who led the charge for these women's issues ... shared a common vision in the needs of women” ( Olympia Snowe).
• n. Necessity; obligation: There is no need for you to go.
• n. A condition of poverty or misfortune: The family is in dire need.
• auxiliary v. To be under the necessity of or the obligation to: They need not come.
• transitive v. To have need of; require: The family needs money. See Synonyms at lack.
• intransitive v. To be in need or want.
• intransitive v. To be necessary.

Such a cold analysis of the word that seems to be possibly the greatest motivation in life. A cold definition for such a powerful thing. To need. It's much deeper than want in every way. We can do without "wants" but not needs. We need air, we need food and water, shelter, safety.

Some people even define things as wants that are needs in order to rearrange the way they look at them and impress those changes on others. It's a social ladder pastime, in fact. The rich spinning things into needs, needs become signs of greed and merely wants while THEIR wants become needs supposedly for the betterment of "All" when, in truth, it goes no further than their clutches. 

But I digress. How does one define a need? Personally, beyond the clinical and the categorical? Do you do it on experience? Based on feeling? Drive? Some motivation springing from whim? Or something deeper? Or is it driven by fear, longing, pain? Are there motivators from your past? How about guilt? Can that create needs, too?

All seem potential for the creation of a need, for they certainly can create wants and wants can grow into almost obsessive things that can overwhelm us. Some of us live by these drives, avaricious and clinging, holding to the thing needfully and with frightening strength. 

Rather than follow how far down the rabbit hole this goes I feel it necessary only to see my own definition of needs for now. I'll re-explore this some time in the future when I have my thoughts more gathered and explored.

My definition of "Need" is Obligation and Requisite. When I put my mind to it I can see almost all my decisions were based on these two points, even unto choosing friends. I felt a sense of obligation to those who looked to me for support. They needed me so I was "obligated". This unfortunately put them in a position of power over me, able to twist me and make me work to their ends. From those I tried to save from themselves(and there were SO many) to those who threw claims of affection my way to alter my course to suit their purposes, I've been twisted in life by my sense of duty and obligation to those who pretended to need me, but didn't. 

This has been ever a downfall in my life and has made me make bad decisions despite my intellect and wisdom. In the past I would think nothing of working hard to overextend myself then be left in the cold and alone. This shamed me, left me feeling so stupid and used. Again and again it hurt beyond measure. Throwing caution aside and then chasing to the rescue or doing what they wanted of me under the guise of "need" pushed with tears, a sob story, fears, screaming...name the method and it was burned into me. Even the false promise of love was fair game, which I admit I have always been an easy mark.

People may not be aware of the games they play nor of the emotional buttons they press, or they may know exactly what is being done in order to hold a deep tie to me or others as a support mechanism, while never affording them the same accord. This is the deepest dishonesty I have ever encountered in this world. The more I speak to people I see it's how the frightened and damaged hide from their responsibility in a relationship. Think into your life and imagine if you will that one friend/relative/co-worker that is like what I am describing. You know the one(or more) that I am referring to. They get you to do things based on the implied reciprocation of support and then are nowhere to be found when life deals you a crushing blow or you need to call in a favor. 

I could list examples in plenitude, sufficient to render Shakespeare speechless. But I will not bore you with details or anecdotes of my many betrayals. What's past is prologue as they say and now I face the new future of hard choices and changes in how I deal with anyone and everyone.

No one can define themselves by the small spaces left around the allowed and the denied in life. That's like living in a prison of your own construction, bricked in by your own hand defined by those whose supposed needs you put in primacy to your own. It's all well and good to do this for children, but it takes extreme means to explain why someone else should be able to manipulate you thus. Rather than allow this to be your definition, when you feel squeezed you must examine whether your Give list and your Receive list are far out of whack. If you feel it is then introspection to see whether it is selfishness that drives the imbalance is the next honest step. Should you find that you have been giving, and are the solely giving party(at least most of the time) then change is important. If equity is not reached or reachable, it's time for hard decisions. 

Keeping this in mind you should honestly be able to expect the following:

1) If you find yourself always/mostly the giver and never/rarely the recipient 

2) If you find you are wronged, blamed, accused frequently as a means to control you

3) If you find yourself on the end of broken promises as a rule rather than an exception

These are signs the situation you are in is radically unbalanced and designed to control you for the needs of the other person. Kindness can go very far and should be in abundance in ones life, given freely to others. However one cannot always be the source of light and solace for everyone without some small return. Nothing flourishes in vacuum. 

Now my thoughts on reversing this position are:

1) Be kind to people, forgive...and don't forget YOU are a person to be kind and forgiving to!

2) When wronged do not return the wrong, or be spiteful, this ties you to the culprit. Instead consider each step they make upon you as a step you should take away emotionally to disengage from they source of the pain.

3) Remember that life and all in it is voluntary, no matter the motivation for action you have the right and the responsibility to expect equal treatment good AND bad. 

In the end it all adds up to my new demeanor to people and how I approach them. No longer will I be obligated by your needs if you are not obligated to mine. Do not expect of me what you cannot give to me. Forsake any idea of leaning on me if I cannot find solace in you. Expect no honesty from me if you cannot be honest to me and to yourself.

In short, though I am kind and will give into the world and the people around me, you can no longer expect from me what you are unable to do yourself. 

If kindness, then kindness. 

If joy, then joy.

If love, then love.

Nothing less is fair. 

Sun and Moon

 Darling Josie asked me to sing this with her....I couldn't say no.

One Last Dream Before Living

One Last Dream Before Living

It was ever the same, always the same. Night never brought more than a distant hazy drop into terror that never resolved itself to anything she could understand in the daylight, even moments after blinking away the sleep sand in her eyes. The fall through the haze this time, the nameless dreads reaching for her through the fog…were less frightening. Why? She couldn’t understand it. After so many years of trying to flee and hide in her dreams from these things that reached out to clutch her from her past, robbing her of sound sleep and solace as most enjoyed…this time it felt different.

The fog wasn’t fog at all it was gauze! She felt it against her fingers distinctly! The crackle of the soft fabric as she ran her fingers against it reminded her of freshly starched cotton. Sniffing she could smell cleanly laundered cloth! And flowers! She smelled flowers everywhere of many and varied types that clung to her, invoking memories she hadn’t touched in near a decade…not since…not since…

Her memory wouldn’t help her, she couldn’t find where or when she had smelled this last. It frustrated her mightily as she knew that she was somewhere safe and she wanted to see it! She clutched and tore at the gauze but even as she felt it, the material evaporated like the air, leaving her fingers clutching only the memory of what she’d seen.

Green! She was surrounded by green growing things, verdant and brilliant! Grasses, oats and other sweet smelling plants! That’s when she knew she was lying down and sat immediately upwards to see a field of flowers of all varieties stretching out in all directions around her, down the hillside atop which she sat, all kissed by the dazzling sunlight of noontime.

“Where…where am I?” she breathed, looking from the roses and the tulips to he bluebells and amaranth around her. All the plants were as tall as her shoulder height as she sat or shorter, and she reached out to touch them with awe.

“Where could I be? Am I still dreaming?” she breathed after inhaling the sent of a blue rose she cupped to her nose.

“Life is but a dream to many...and a nightmare to others.” A voice spoke from a short distance, and she jumped, immediately looking up into the hazel eyes of a hooded man dressed all in blue robes of a magician. The figure pulled back the hood to reveal a face she hadn’t looked upon in years! Ian! It was the mage himself, and he looked not a day older than when last she’d laid eyes upon him.

“Welcome back to the Valley, m’lady.” Ian said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a soft smile, a deep look of mixed emotions filling his eyes. Bowing low, and offering his hand to her, he rose from his bow as she reached for his hand. It was soft, and warm, as she remembered, and her pulse quickened. She chided herself inwardly, she was….she was… What was she? Her mind was muddled. Why did her pulse reacting like that make her feel so guilty? She did not know, and she tried so hard to remember, she looked askance as she rose, her brow furrowed in deep thought. The memory would not come to the fore.

“You’re trying to remember you’re married, Rilna.” Ian said, grinning deeply and turning while tucking her hand under his crossed arms and leading her down the hill. Now she was truly mortified! How could she forget that? How could he KNOW that?

“How…?”

“Did I know?” He asked, smiling at her from the side as he walked. ”Well it could be that I am a figment of your dream, because you ARE asleep, m’lady.”

She gasped,”That’s right! How could I forget that?”

She clasped his hand tightly and he gripped it back, a twinkle in his eyes. She watched him closely, trying to see if there was anything to indicate he was nothing more than the mold of a dreamscape in her head. It only made him smile all the harder and he chuckled in his deep baritone. He heart fluttered again, and she chided herself once more to remember….remember….Who?

“Does it matter?” Ian asked, and she jumped. Was he referring to her husband, remembering his name or that he was a figment or not. Without further explanation he led her on down to a dirt path wide enough to allow a cart and horse to pass easily. The soft susurrus of the wind in the grasses picked up slightly as their feet crunched on the gravelly dirt of the road. It blew coolly through her hair and she felt the sweat that had been there begin to dry.

Lifting her chin to the breeze and letting it caress her mildly, kissing the salty sweat from her brow, she closed her eyes and felt it all. It was real, wasn’t it? No dream could match how real this felt! Each smell, the wind, the grass, the crunch of gravel!

“This is all too real, Ian. Are we really dreaming?” She asked as she opened her eyes and nearly jumped. He was suddenly before her, looking into her eyes as they opened. The press of something in her chest, near her heart, made her forget to close her mouth as the warmth in his eyes bored into her once more, just as they had all those years ago. She remembered every moment, every detail in that instant. Every ounce of emotion, terror, joy, adventure….and more. She swallowed suddenly, trying to back away, but her legs didn’t respect her wishes as she felt her heart surge once more.

The heart! He’d shared his heart with her! But…time had changed all that! He was whole now, and she had never needed it, though she could remember things as they had turned out when Ian had been forced to change to a dragon and gift her with his love and longer life. She’d spurned it in the end for reasons even she did not wish to look at. All this time later and the memory could still make her feel ashamed. Looking down to break the gaze she found she could not meet his gaze.

But she didn’t have to as Ian released her hand and stepped away, looking back and beckoning her to follow. His smile, without recrimination, drew her on. She chased to follow his long strides as he moved ahead effortlessly. Leading her on to the center of the town at the center of the Valley. People went this way and that, heedless of Ian and Rilna. He took her hand once more and pointed to the market place as people gave out food and took foods they wished to try, no money exchanging hands. Here it was unnecessary as no one went without or hungered, the magic of the well in the castle saw to that.

No one was unhealthy, age was present but bent no backs nor crimped any hands. Death could come here but not to end suffering of the aged. No, death came to end life that had been fully lived, and Ian was there to make sure they all lived healthily and happily. These were his "children". The ageless Mage/Dragon living all along, freely and fully in the Valley of his own creation…albeit alone throughout the ages.

But none of the faces were people she knew! She remembered each face quite well as they had all fought to preserve both her life and the well being of the Valley.

“It’s been nearly a hundred years since then, Rilna. All the children are long dead and their children’s children stand before you.” Ian answered her mental query. She didn’t think it so odd this time, and she looked up into his downturned face. Sorrow was deeply etched there. The pain of each death was there, fresh upon his downturned features.

“I’m sorry, Ian.”

“Don’t be. That is life and I need to get used to that fact. Stopping time is something even the Gods don’t attempt. It makes nothing better, it makes no ills go away.  All it does is stagnate the larger circles that life must spin through.” He said rather woodenly as if still trying to convince himself.

“I know, but you don’t have to like it I guess. I know how much they all mean to you.” She said.

“That’s true, I agree completely. But we’re not here to deal with my troubles.” Ian said, looking to her, a new, albeit lesser smile upon his lips. Raising his sleeve to her eyes for an instant then drawing away, she felt a shift as her feet slapped onto flagstones of a courtyard.

With a delighted sigh Rilna looked to the ramparts around her and the central tower with the flying towers. Ian’s castle with its silvery blue stones that defied description, making up every inch of it. She remembered how it had repelled all the attacks of the evil ones seeking to gain the benefit of the healing well water that could even make one young again! Not that Ian needed it.

“What are we doing here?” Rilna asked.

“I have something to give you, something precious and lasting because…well because I will never see you again.” The blue robed mage said, his smile drooping at the corners. Looking askance, Ian raised his hood again to hide himself somewhat from her gaze.

Hundreds of emotions rushed through her chest all at once, but she couldn’t voice them. She had…she had…a FAMILY! Yes, a family! She couldn’t let this affect her!

‘Wait’ she thought, ’that came too easily! I’m waking up!’

“Ian, I am…” she couldn’t voice it. She choked, knowing he was going away, forever! But no! How could he? She would dream of him again, wouldn’t she? He had driven away the horrors and made her dream peaceful. He would come again ! This couldn’t be true! She had waited for near a decade and had endured her…endured….

Banishment! She had not loved him back and despite his love for her, he’d sent her back to her home world! It was all coming back to her now! Gods, no!

“Some things cannot be changed, Rilna. Some things can be. I’m always here for you if you really need me, but…you don’t really need me. The sooner I free you from your fears, the sooner you can live. So this is one last dream before the rest of your life begins in truth.” Ian said, turning back to her with a fluffy silver lump in his hands.

“What is that?” she asked, coming closer entranced.

“This is an elvish cat, long lived and smart as whip.” He smiled at her, then tossed the tiny silver fluff ball into the air. Suddenly the ball came alive and a set of brilliant silver wings popped out of the back of an adorable kitten with deepest blue eyes. The delightfully downy fur on the wings fluttered as the little creature hovered before her eyes, its innocent gaze staring into hers.

“He is descended from Argent, my first cat here at the castle.” Ian smiled and walked around the entranced pair to stand beside her.

“Will you take me home nice lady? I think I like you!” the squeaky little voice purred out at her from little feline lips. Her heart filled with such joy she reached out and snuggled it to her breast. A twinge that a dream thing could not leave a dream pressed her for an instant.

“So long as he is with you the horrors of the night dare never come near. He is yours to have and will be the heirloom of your life to your children and their children’s children.” The mage said, backing away slightly.

“Thank y…” Rilna began, turning to look where Ian had gone. She clutched the kitten to her tightly as she began to walk after Ian. Sudden panic in her grew to overwhelming proportions. She didn’t want him to leave her…not now! She had to tell him! She had to make sure he knew!

“Ian, I need to…” she faltered running after him, suddenly a weight attached itself to her waist and she was annoyed. With a free hand she cupped her now swelled belly. Heaving herself along at as fast a run as she could make, Ian continued to back away slowly, a deep look of sadness and longing in his eyes.

No matter how fast she went his slow backward step widened the gap until she could not hope to catch him! And the courtyard went dark as though night had fallen, a deep mist sprung up around them. The kitten in her grasp glowed like a small sliver of moonlight.

The mage was indistinct in the distance now, and seemed to fold into the darkness as though swallowed by a monster she could not see. But his voice wafted to her softly despite the distance and the ear plugging nature of the gloom that pressed her.

“One last dream before living, Rilna. May all my love and hopes go with you for all the days of your life.”

“I don’t want to say good bye!” she cried, tears streaming down her face, she pressed into the gloom recklessly now.

“No one does. But whether we say it or not, they come, and we live on.”

“Ian! Please…” she wept openly now, her heart was breaking, but still she didn’t give voice to what was inside her. She wanted him to stay all the same! Why couldn’t he see in her now when she wanted him to! And see what she had hidden within for so long!

Within the gloom she suddenly saw blue fabric and she was so glad she grabbed it with her free right hand and pulled hard to one side, intending to spin the mage to face her. She’d make him understand somehow! With a mighty wrench she pulled the blue fabric aside and blinded herself as the sun seemed to leap into her eyes and dazzle her! Releasing the fabric she fell back a pace and her husband caught her lightly. It had only been the drapes of her bedroom window and the light was the dawn!

“Rilna, are you alright? You shouldn’t be up and dashing about in your condition, not with the baby coming any day.” He chided, as she turned dopily to see him with eyes wide in concern.

Throwing herself into his arms she wept openly, not daring to tell him what she’d dreamt. She was ashamed and at once glad to have seen Ian at least one more time in her dreams.

“Oh, it was just the most realistic dream I have ever had! It was so…so real!” she breathed.

“What was it about?” asked the little ball of silvery fur that she clutched, purring in her left hand. The little eyes opened looked up at her slyly, then closed as the little cat stretched its wings out, curled back up with its head rolled to one side and went back to sleep.

Her jaw dropped as she blinked at the cat, then looked at her equally amazed husband.

Soy Cubano Inglés...

Sí, es cierto. Estoy ascendencia mixta como el 99% de la población de los Estados Unidos.. Yo también nunca renuncié a mi doble nacionalidad con Inglaterra como nací de una madre Inglés en territorio de los Estados Unidos, con un padre cubano-americana. Todo esto es muy complejo, pero a quién le importa, ¿verdad? ¿Qué significa todo esto?

Bueno, significa que crecí en Doctor Who, reposiciones Isla de Gilligan y I Love Lucy en la sindicación. Mis abuelos sólo hablaba español así que tuve que aprender desde una edad temprana y yo hablaba ambos idiomas como yo crecí. También significa que tengo una gran acción de la cadera, puedo bailar, pero prefiero cantar como tengo que bajar mucho mejor.

También significa que mi madre pensaba que era Mary Poppins (sí, y eso sería verdad sólo si Julie Andrews era un asmático fumador en cadena que pensaban sus males eran los únicos males que existían) y mi padre pensaban los niños deben ser criados por las mujeres. En la década de 1970 déjenme decirles lo que eso significaba ... Mi abuelo me quería levantar y mis padres me echó la cabeza primero en la guardería ... CUALQUIER guardería. Atornille el hecho de que mi abuelo era el mejor que te puedas imaginar y mi única inspiración para una buena crianza.

Además, significa que me encanta la comida cubana, pero no me alcanza como mis relaciones escocesas.

Seamos realistas, soy un desastre. Mis tías me decían que soy medio ... medio .. siempre MEDIA. Eso quiere decir que nunca se aprobaron, ni las relaciones de inglés. Siempre HALF, nunca todo excepto totalmente decepcionante. ¿Puedo jugar al béisbol? Infierno sí, yo era muy bueno para golpear a ese caballo de piel fuera del parque. Pero en cambio me dieron lo más parecido a mi madre pudo encontrar a un internado como si quisiera ir con los Niños Cantores de California. No me entiendas mal, le encantaba cantar, todavía lo hacen ... pero cuando el único objetivo de su padre parece ser la de conseguir que la mierda de su vista lo hace picar. ¡Ah, y no nos olvidemos de que mis relaciones Inglés refiere a nosotros como los "negritos cubanos" hasta que apareció en 1977 y estábamos como lirio blanco como eran. Esto es un poco sorprendente si tenemos en cuenta que mi abuelo era casi negro.

Esta masa de supuestas contradicciones en realidad no es la mitad de algo, es DOBLE. Significa ninguna de las partes nos iba a reclamar en caso de una decepción para que pudieran culpar al otro lado de la infracción. Sé que te estás preguntando, "qué sus padres se quedan casados​​?" Al diablo con esa idea. Este pequeño combo increíble estaba destinado a morir como todo el mundo estaba buscando razones para ser infeliz y ninguno de ellos realmente quería tener hijos.

Cuando llegó mi turno de ser un padre que estaba listo. Después de la asombrosa actuación de la mamá y el papá de la comedia del egoísmo y de la autodestrucción, que tenía un montón de malos ejemplos a no seguir. Volviendo a mi abuelo como fuente de inspiración para ser un buen hombre, el hombre que enseñó el béisbol y la paciencia sea, el amor por las cosas hechas a mano, y no comprados. Mi mejor amigo en este mundo y el siguiente. Así que gracias mamá y papá a la mejor excusa para ser como él imaginable.

Así que me puse a la Internet. ¿Hay alguna familias inglesas o cubanos que necesitan de un miembro de la familia? No he tenido un ejemplo digno de una familia que no era falsa o forzada. Me gustaría ser adoptado por una familia cubana y de las vacaciones en Inglaterra, con una bonita mamá o abuela. Me gustaría conocer a una Noche Bueno que no tenía enemistad familiar involucrado. Para no ser considerado como una fuente de malestar porque no estaba en la vida de la familia cuando yo estaba en mi espalda lesionada y en agonía durante 6 años a partir de ese momento yo tenía 17 a 23. Quiero una familia nonjudgemental, que me acepte como soy que le gusta a mi familia por lo que somos y no lo que no se rinden o se parecen.

Estoy domesticado y lo hago trucos.

I'm a Cuban English...

Yes, that's right. I'm mixed ancestry like 99% of the people of the US. I also never renounced my dual citizenship with England as I was born to an English mother on US soil with a Cuban American father. It's all very complex but who cares, right? What does it all mean?

Well it means I grew up on Doctor Who, Gilligan's Island reruns and I Love Lucy in syndication. Mis abuelos only spoke spanish so I had to learn from an early age and I spoke both languages as I grew up. It also means I have great hip action, can dance but prefer to sing as I have that down much better.

It also means my mother thought she was Mary Poppins(yeah, and that would be true only if Julie Andrews was a chain smoking asthmatic who thought her ills were the only ills that existed) and my father thought children should be raised by the women. In the 1970s let me tell you what that meant...My grandfather wanted to raise me and both my parents threw me head first at daycare...ANY daycare. Screw the fact my grandfather was the best you could imagine and my sole inspiration for good parenting.

Further, it means I love cuban food but I'm short like my Scottish relations.

Let's face it, I'm a mess. My tias would tell me I'm half...half..always HALF. That means they never approved, nor did the English relations. Always HALF, never whole except wholly disappointing. Could I play baseball? Hell YES, I was great at whacking that horse-hide out of the park. But instead I got the closest thing my mom could find to a boarding school like she wanted to go to with the California Boys' Choir. Don't get me wrong, loved to sing, still do...but when your parent's sole aim seems to be to get you the fuck out of their sight it does sting. Oh yeah, and let's not forget that my English relations referred to us as the "Little Cuban Niggers" until we showed up there in 1977 and we were as lily white as they were. This is slightly amazing when you consider my abuelo was nearly black.

This mass of supposed contradictions is really not half of anything, it's DOUBLE. It means neither side was going to claim us in case of a disappointment so they could blame the other side for the infraction. I know you're wondering,"did his parents stay married?" Nope. This little amazing combo was destined to die as everyone was looking for reasons to be unhappy and none of them really wanted kids.

When it came my turn to be a parent I was ready. After the amazing performance of mom and dad I had plenty of bad examples not to follow.

So I put it out to the internet. Is there ANY English or Cuban families in need of a family member? I have not had one decent example of a family that wasn't fake or forced. I'd like to be adopted by a Cuban Family and vacation in England with a nice mum or grandmother.

I'm housebroken and I do tricks.

In Another Life...

This song struck me as possible to go either way as a male or female lead song and I found it was actually a male song at one point in time. Katy Perry made it famous in the non-country singing world so that's how I first heard it.

A Cuban Friend is a True Friend

This is some of the best truths about us. When we are treated lovingly, we give you love in such boundlessness to kill it is a crime. To count us as less than the best of friends is to drive us away. If you need us we're there for you nursing you, helping you lovingly.

To kill this much friendship is a crime. I know because I laughed reading this and learned where a good portion of my actions came from but I'd forgotten...then it made me cry to know I'd lost some part of me from the actions of the selfish and lazy in my life.