The weather's brutal grip won't be released any time soon. Another storm on the forecast. Nothing new or surprising. Only my tolerance is weakening.

Cannot help but think how this will affect Z.'s babies who are not accustomed to this . They have always lived in Phoenix. They have heavy sweaters and booties but I am concerned that my furry grandchildren will be traumatized by the Central New York temperatures.

Only have a few days to doggy proof the house. Miss Lucy, is still very fond of chewing anything in site. Especially leather shoes. Oh! We are in for some changes. The house has been quiet for several years.

It will definitely be an adjustment period for all. Keeping my fingers crossed.

2:23 AM. This has become routine. My body aches but my eyes refuse to close and sleep. My brain won't shut down. Images of you cannot be erased. I still feel the touch of your feet as cold as the snow that covers the ground. Not all the massaging in the world could bring some resemblance of warmth to them or relief of pain.

I will not let you see me spill any tears.

I will not curse the gods for what they have done to you. I will lie, and thank them for still having you upright.

"TRUE PEACE IS NOT MERELY THE ABSENCE OF TENSION: IT IS THE PRESENCE OF JUSTICE"

martin luther king, jr.

of all the things i thought i knew about him, i had never heard the above quote. it sent shivers up my spine.

In loving memory of Daisy.

Sweetest furry angel that touched our lives for too short a while but will stay in our hearts forever.

I really never thought I would live to see a day like today......

Finally, we can begin to live up to the beliefs of the constitution that ALL MEN are created EQUAL.

Mr. Obama has inherited a country that is in rags. The challenges ahead are tremendous.

Today for the first time in a long time I did not feel shame, when I listened to my President speak......

The weather has been brutal. Absolutely brutal. The highs have been hovering around 6F. That in itself would be enough but the wind...Oh the windchill factor took us to -15F. Even the ski clothes could not keep out the effects of this most furious show of mother nature.

After driving only a few blocks, my hands became so numb that I could not insert the key into my front door. It has been a long time since I felt this severe cold.

Today, I only left the house to pick up my granddaughter. The heating system blasting in the car and her little face covered by a thick blanket to go the five feet between the car and the house.

We are staying put. We are not venturing out till mother nature's performance is over.

Dona Lurdes was laid to rest today.

After church, we followed her to the cemetery where the graveside service was brief due to the weather conditions.

The wind whipped the green tent above the coffin. It whipped the mourners who bent against it trying to keep from being pushed off their feet. I hated leaving her there, behind for the "caretakers" to insert her into the mausoleum. It seemed so unfinished!

Funerals are so "clean" It's a bad choice of words, I realize.....but it's almost like a staged play!

Despite the criticism that I received for my father's services, I would not change a thing. It was personal and intimate.

The Portuguese community is dwindling. Very few of the old timers remain. We are left to a few dozen in this city. The new generation, our children, do not speak the language. I feel a sense of loss of more than the old timers.

I must think of a way to tie the children and future generations to a little bit of the past. To one day be able to know at least where we came from. Time to start writing down part of what is fast becoming history.

Igreja de Santo Estevao, Lisboa Portugal *photograph borrowed from net*


Fifty nine years ago today, my parents exchanged vows at this local.

They promised to love and cherish, in sickness and in health till death do them part.

That, they did. For 54 years. Through good times and bad, sickness and health they stuck it out until death did part them when my father left this world and moved on to a better place.

Farewell

Dona Lurdes finally left; the train to Gouveia picked her up this afternoon.

I felt a certain form of release on her behalf. She had been waiting so impatiently. I last saw her a couple of weeks ago. I sat all afternoon with her. Just she and I. She stared at me as trying to remember where she had seen me before. She stared and stared. Now and then she would break into an almost smile.

She looked weary. Her forehead was covered with sweat beads. The temperature in the room was way too warm. I wiped her forehead gently and asked if she was thirsty. She clenched her lips as a sign of some memory of control that she still possessed. This was her way of telling her body to stop. Luisa had told me that she was refusing nourishment. I pleaded with her gently. She did try to sip from a straw but did not really remember how to do it. The nurse brought me sponge sticks and after much temptation on my part of running them over her parched lips, she opened her mouth and swallowed little drops.

I attempted to change her pajama top. The dead weight of her body frame was more than I could move. I was determined to rid her of the drenched top. I succeed, but not before I was drenched in sweat myself. I bathed her at the bedside. Just her torso and head. She seemed peaceful and relaxed. She did not fight me. I brushed her hair back and wondered if she would be offended, were she in her right frame of mind. I told her that we had to go to a party that evening, after all both of us were celebrating our birthdays on that very day! I believe that I did see a full smile. I spent a few quiet hours by her bedside. It was peaceful and I could not think of a better way to spend my birthday.

At three o'clock today, she departed. Wonder if Gouveia is still as lovely as she remembered.......

Farewell Dona Lurdes. May you finally be where you have been wishing. Rest in peace.

I finally learned how this angel broke its neck. Z. finally spilled the beans. Apparently, many years ago, during my absence, there was a party at the house. One of those parties held in secrecy when a house becomes "available" for teenage liberation! I had thought that my house had never hosted one of those parties. Living across the street from the grandparents, I felt secure that the constant vigilance would be a great deterrent. No. I was fooled all these years.

Recently, during an "intervention" by my two adult daughters, who absolutely detest the clutter of my collections, the poor angel became target number one for the trash.....

I could not part with him. I got him long before angels became a collector's fad. The alternative given was one that the girls thought I would not accept. If I wanted to keep the angel, then all of my clothes would have to go to charity. And so it was, closet after closet, bin after bin, every piece of my clothing was held, and finally put into industrial size plastic bags. It was difficult, very difficult, but as a final push, they used an approach that I could not possibly contradict. When a certain piece became difficult to part with, they held up my gorgeous granddaughter and asked me: "Do you love it more than G.?" What a question! I love nothing more than G!

My van was filled with all the bags of clothing, shoes, etc. My van has only the two front seats since I use it to carter around large things.

At the donation center, I was looked at strangely. The van was unceremoniously unpacked.

I smiled when I returned home feeling a lot lighter and seeing my broken angel greet me. It was worth the price.

I received this peace offering 53 years after an offense was committed against me. An offense that has stayed with me through out those many years and the "offender" finally came forth and apologized.

The year was 1954. We lived in Cerva on top of a beautiful mountain among a half dozen families whose fathers were posted to that town. My uncle from "America" had visited and showered my sister and I with real toys. American beautiful toys. Among those were two dolls. My sister's was a composition doll, much bigger than mine in the shape of an adorable baby. Mine was made of a harder type of celluloid. Since my sister's doll was more life like, I decided to give it a bath without her permission. To my horror, I watched the doll disintegrate before my eyes. I still can hear my cries. I was heartbroken. Totally heartbroken! This had been the most beautiful doll I had ever seen.

My sister must have been furious with me, although I do not remember her shouting at me in anger. Instead, she asked me for my small celluloid doll. She had a little garden and told me she was going to have my doll guard the garden from the birds. I willingly obliged. She was placed in the play garden and I thought all was well with the world. My sister was being so sweet to me. Out of the blue, my sister picked up a boulder. I am sure that the stone probably was the size of an adult hand, but in my memory, it is a gigantic boulder. She calmly rose it above her head and with a sweet smile on her face, dropped it on top of my doll. She casually mentioned a volcano!

I saw the boulder crush my helpless doll into a hundred pieces. I remember screaming so hard that I could barely catch my breath.

Through the 53 years this incident would come up, more often than one might imagine, and I felt so hurt that she maliciously killed my dolly......

This Christmas, she acknowledged she was wrong and apologized. Now, as I told her, I still wait for the apology of the time she and her friends put me inside a burlap sack and threw me down a flight of stairs. That was one way of getting rid of a annoying little sister.

Far too much turmoil to post over the past several weeks. Life does not take a holiday! Despite the obstacles, the tree was put up, although I cannot take credit for it. We had to mark this Christmas since it was a very sweet milestone. It was Miss G. (Sunday's Child) first Christmas!

The lights shine with hope. They will shine until June 7th. I always celebrate Epiphany. When the children were small, this would be the day we would give them gifts.

Growing up in PORTUGAL, we would put out our shoes by the chimney and waited for a tiny present from the baby Jesus (Menino Jesus) on Christmas Eve. On Epiphany, we would get another gift. It was not the madness of gifts that it is today, one that I do not subscribe to.

Christmas Eve, was indeed a silent and Holy Night. Our Christmas was quiet this year. Quiet in celebration. Not quiet in the little surprises that life always seems to have in store for us.

May your life's surprises in this new year be sweet ones.