...a green frog hopping across my livingroom carpet. I put him outside (where green frogs belong). He was cute, though.
Every time sharon loses a pound, I find it.
...fast forward, 6 months and 30 pounds later...
I now have 2 pairs of jeans that fit. If she doesn't stop losing weight, I'm not gonna beat her.
...fast forward, 6 months and 30 pounds later...
I now have 2 pairs of jeans that fit. If she doesn't stop losing weight, I'm not gonna beat her.
MARK J. RENBARGER, 53, of Fort Wayne, died unexpectedly Thursday, Aug. 7, 2008, at Parkview Hospital, Fort Wayne. Born in Quebec, Canada, he was the son of the late John and Betty Renbarger. He attended Woodburn Methodist Church and was the Parts Sales Manager at AutoZone. He enjoyed being the soundman for the band "Not My Kids" for 16 years. He is survived by his fiancé, Sue Doster of Fort Wayne; children, Danielle (Troy) Amaden, Stephanie (Napoleon) Shepherd, Ian (Erin) Renbarger, and Andrew Renbarger, all of Fort Wayne; stepson, Travis Doster of Fort Wayne; sisters, Mary Anne Awald of Walkerton and Joan Ewing of LaPorte; and grandchildren, Khalil, Alex, Ayla, Lura, Logan, and Lila. Service is 10:30 a.m. Monday at E. Harper & Son Funeral Home, 740 State Rd. 930 E., New Haven. The Rev. Steve Burris officiating. Calling is from 2 to 4 and 6 to 8 p.m. Sunday at the funeral home. Preferred memorials to the family. ____________________________________________________________If you'd like to sign the obituary guestbook, please click here.
For those of you that knew him, we lost dad suddenly on Thursday. He had a heart attack, and they tried very hard to save him but his heart had just given out.
Services and showing will be at Harper's funeral home on 930 in New Haven.
The showing will be today (Sun, 8/10/08) from 2-4 and again from 6-8.
Funeral Service is tomorrow (Mon, 8/11/08) at 10:30 AM.
After the service, he's going to be cremated and the family will plan a future trip to Myrtle Beach to leave his ashes in his favorite place.
Rest In Peace, Dad. I love you
So Sharon and I have been together for a little over 4 months now. The connection we have is amazing, albeit scary-weird. Every month, since the beginning, we've started our periods on the exact same day. This month, we were 4 days early and still managed to start at the same time. Creepy, right?
It gets worse.
Today, I woke up and sent her a text saying I'd dreamed my head was shaved. When she got it, she laughed so hard she fell out of bed. She had just awakened from a dream in which I made her so mad she shaved my head!
I called Napoleon and told him about what had happened. When he finished laughing, he asked me if she scratches her ass when mine itches.
I swear to you people, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.
It gets worse.
Today, I woke up and sent her a text saying I'd dreamed my head was shaved. When she got it, she laughed so hard she fell out of bed. She had just awakened from a dream in which I made her so mad she shaved my head!
I called Napoleon and told him about what had happened. When he finished laughing, he asked me if she scratches her ass when mine itches.
I swear to you people, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.
a gift, courtesy of Jess Herself:
create a sexual nirvana, being mindful of her responses to your touch
master all those techniques that make her feel alive with knees weak
exorcise past demons from her psyche and leave her fresh and feral
witness new vulnerability as she lays before you, open to your magick
make the place between the sheets a sanctuary, where she can just BE
welcome her into your arms, into the cradle of your thighs, into oblivion
feel her come alive and gasp and break and falter and be owned by you
and as the silence naturally comes, slowly begin to renew the commitment
join in love together and make holy your bodies with movement
be willing to gratify your urges and scream out loud your testimony
becoming one entity with laughter, tears, and barely-sensical words
fulfillment expressed by sweat-flavored kisses and entwined limbs
(for Stephanie and her poppet - sharon - with love)
create a sexual nirvana, being mindful of her responses to your touch
master all those techniques that make her feel alive with knees weak
exorcise past demons from her psyche and leave her fresh and feral
witness new vulnerability as she lays before you, open to your magick
make the place between the sheets a sanctuary, where she can just BE
welcome her into your arms, into the cradle of your thighs, into oblivion
feel her come alive and gasp and break and falter and be owned by you
and as the silence naturally comes, slowly begin to renew the commitment
join in love together and make holy your bodies with movement
be willing to gratify your urges and scream out loud your testimony
becoming one entity with laughter, tears, and barely-sensical words
fulfillment expressed by sweat-flavored kisses and entwined limbs
(for Stephanie and her poppet - sharon - with love)
If something isn't quite right, we say it's "out of whack". So, if something is as it should be, is it then in whack?
This is for the mothers who have
sat up all night with sick toddlers
in their arms, wiping up barf 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 and never stop being a mother....
sat up all night with sick toddlers
in their arms, wiping up barf 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 and never stop being a mother....
I want to know
how much butter you put on your toast
what color you like your coffee
what it sounds like when you pee
I want to know
how many french fries
you like to eat at one time
I want to know
if you gargle
or just swish and spit
I want to know
what your eyes look like
when you laugh
when you cry
when you cum
I want to know
your fears
your dreams
your history
I want to know you
like nobody else
like I know myself
like I want you
to know me
©Stephanie Shepherd, 2008
Well an airplane's faster than a Cadillac
And a whole lot smoother than a camel's back
But I don't care how you get to me
Just get to me
Parasail or first class mail
Get on the back of a Nightingale
Just get to me I don't care just get to me
Prokeds, mopeds take a limousine instead
They ain't cheap but they're easy to find
Get on the highway point yourself my way
Take a roller coaster that comes in sideways
Just get to me - yeah
Go on hitch a ride on the back
Of a butterfly
There's no better way to fly
To get to me
I look around at what I got
And without you, it ain't a lot
But I got every, with you, everything
Maybe you could pollinate over the
Golden Gate
Take a left hand turn at the corner
Of Haight
And then a sharp right
At the first street light
And get yourself on a motor bike
And if you think you'll get stuck in a
Traffic jam
That's fine, send yourself through a telephone line
It doesn't matter how you get to me
Just get to me
Cause after every day
The wind blows the night time my way
And I imagine that you are
Above me like a star
And you keep on glowing
And you keep on showing me the way
SHINE SHINE SHINE
I just couldn't hold that back any longer. You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.
As soon as you let go of something that’s holding you back, you find that the space in your life opens up for the thing that uplifts you.
There’s been, for a long time, a certain person who could turn my entire world upside down. I’ve made no secret of my feelings for her. This week, I closed that door. I can’t keep running myself in painful circles for something that won’t ever be, and I realize that now. The love continues, and there’s a bit of sad nostalgia attached to it, but today is the day to move on.
*takes a deep breath and steps out into the world of new possibilities*
Out of sight
Out of mind
Out of time
To decide
Do we run?
Should I hide?
For the rest
Of my life
Can we fly?
Do I stay?
We could lose
We could fail
In the moment
It takes
To make plans
Or mistakes
30 minutes, a blink of an eye
30 minutes,to alter our lives
30 minutes,to make up my mind
30 minutes,to finally decide
30 minutes,to whisper your name
30 minutes,to shoulder the blame
30 minutes,of bliss, thirty lies
30 minutes,to finally decide
Carousels
In the sky
That we shape
With our eyes
Under shade
Silhouettes
Casting shade
Crying rain
Can we fly?
Do I stay?
We could lose
We could fail
Either way
Options change
Chances fail
Trains derail
30 minutes, a blink of an eye
30 minutes,to alter our lives
30 minutes,to make up my mind
30 minutes,to finally decide
30 minutes,to whisper your name
30 minutes,to shoulder the blame
30 minutes,of bliss, thirty lies
30 minutes,to finally decide
To decide
To decide, to decide, to decide
To decide
To decide, to decide, to decide
To decide
(t.A.T.u.)
The little girl across the street loves me. (She's 7, and the love is purely platonic, I assure you.) She got all bundled up in her snow clothes and mittens and hat just so she could come across the street and give me her "hot coco" recipe. How freakin' adorable is that?!
Making room for my joy...
I Choose ~ India.Arie
Because you never know where life is going to take you
And you can't change where you've been -
But today, I have the opportunity to choose.
Here I am now looking at 30
and I've got so much to say.
Gotta get this off of my chest,
I've gotta let it go today.
I was always too concerned
about what everybody would think.
But I can't live for everybody -
I gotta live my life for me.
I have reached a fork in the road of my life and
Ain't nothing gonna happen unless I decide.
And I choose
To be the best that I can be.
I choose
To be authentic in everything
I do.
My past don't dictate who I am.
I choose.
I've been through some painful things
I thought that I would never make it though.
Filled up with shame
From the top of my head
To the soles of my shoes.
I've put myself in so many chaotic cirmstances.
By the grace of God
I've been given so many second chances.
But today I've decided to let it all go.
I'm dropping these bags,
I'm making room for my joy.
And I choose
To be the best that I can be.
I choose
To be authentic in everything
I do.
My past don't dictate who I am.
I choose.
Because you never know where life is going to take you
And you can't change where you've been
But today, I have the opportunity to choose.
Release the guilt about why things have been the way they been
'Cause life is gonna do what it do.
And every day, I have the opportunity to choose.
From this day forward I'm going to be
Exactly who I am.
I don't need to change the way that I live
Just to get a man.
Even had a talk with my mama,
And I told her today I'm grown.
This day forward, every decision that I make
Will be My Own.
And I choose
To be the best that I can be.
And I choose to be courageous in everything
I do.
My past don't dictate who I am.
I choose.
And I choose to be the best that I can be.
I choose to be authentic in everything I do.
My past don't dictate who I am.
I choose.
Because you never know where life is going to take you
And you can't change where you've been -
But today, I have the opportunity to choose.
