Serendipity

Create a poem for that Mother you love and win a prize! Blue Mountain Mom's the Word Sweepstakes

Poke Salad Granny: Granny's daughter moves out of the shoe to take ov... : "Granny's daughter will keep the family cupcakes and love ongoing. My Mama used to say I was like that old woman in a shoe with too much t..."

This is something to think about: Philip Radford: What Would a Chernobyl or Fukushima Disaster at Indian Point mean?

We will miss you, Granny. Poke Salad Granny: Granny's love multiplied by many

Dr. Zahi Hawass and a team of leading archaeologists have selected the ten most important discoveries in Egypt. See the best of the best: from major battles, to mega-construction, the discoveries uncover the amazing stories of the lives of kings, queens and ordinary people. Watch "Egypt's 10 Greatest Discoveries", a 2-hour event, Wednesday at 6 pm on Planet Green. Erupting Volcano's Incredible Impact (Slideshow) : Planet Green

Yesterday, my son, Shawn Campbell...who was labeled as the "Handyman Killer" was in court again...asking for another trial , as well as having an unusual request: that the Assistant D.A. Brooks Baker be called as a witness.   What this means is that IF Mr. Baker is called as a witness, the D.A.'s office will have to be replaced by a special prosecutor!  Go Shawn and Mr. Valley! Again, Shawn's former lawyer, Mr. K. was mentioned...as having coerced Shawn's guilty plea, as well as with-holding important evidence that would have changed the course of the trial. That is likely to be addressed in the weeks to come. Shawn's Aunt Kathy (Overholt) said it all in the video:  "The truth will come out in the end."  

Poke Salad Granny: Life, Death, Rebirth and the Lessons of Easter : "'Granny is gone, isn't she Elmer?' 'No,' he said, 'Behind the veil, you see, but her voice, her message and her love remains with us. Her d..."

Are you a real man? If you are you would never buy a girl. That's the message of Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore's latest venture battling the growing trend of human trafficking: Real Men Don't Buy Girls. Real men don't buy girls

A wonderful story for those who do believe... My Faith: A reluctant churchgoer 'gets the Holy Ghost' – CNN Belief Blog - CNN.com Blogs

I found an interesting question this afternoon, that I thought I'd throw out there..."What did you do before there was internet?"  What a question, right? But really, what DID you do before the internet?  What did I do before getting on the internet...and that question made me think! The things that I can remember doing to replace the time that I spend online, included:  housework, reading, writing letters (by hand, not typed), crocheting, watching TV , spending more time outdoors...! Wow--right?  What does that say about my time now?  I still do most of those things, but in limited quantities.   What I don't do is read whatever book that I have at the moment during the day...that is saved for at night, to read in bed.   I haven't crocheted in years, and to be honest, most of my letters are now typed and printed from my computer vs writing them by hand. I don't watch much TV at all and when I do it's at night, or I watch TV programs on...

When I was a child, Easters were much different than they are now.  Time has commercialized the holidays, and this one is no different.  There is some sadness because children today, aren't taught what Easter is really all about. As I child, I was brought up not only in a religious household, but a dual one...my dad was Catholic and my mom was Protestant.  I learned both religions, as well as learned their differences.  But that is of little importance to the memories I have of those childhood Easters. Easter was celebrated knowing it was when Jesus was resurrected, but also we knew that the Easter Bunny came too...bringing sweet treats in baskets overflowing with green plastic (or paper) grass. It was a time to color eggs, and decorate them with stickers and whatnot.   As well, it was a time for getting a new Easter outfit, which for us girls, would include not only a dress, but a hat and even gloves, so that when we went to church, we were dress...

By definition , a "bucket list" is defined as:  A list of things to do before you die. Comes from the term "kicked the bucket".  I don't know anyone who has actually made up their own bucket list, but for fun, I thought I would!  Here goes: 1.]  Road trip to the Oregon coast.  (I am very fascinated by the rugged coast there!) 2.]  Publish at least one novel.  (Lifetime dream of mine, as you know!) 3.]  Go on a cruise to Alaska.   4.]  Road trip to Maine's coastline.  (I want to scope it out because I'd love to move there!) 5.]  Cruise to Caribbean. 6.]  Buy my own home.  (Where ever I do settle for my final years on this planet.) 7.]  Travel to Michigan to spend time with my friends there.  (You know who you are!) 8.]  Travel to Ireland and/or Scotland. 9.]  Buy a new, expensive camera. 10.]  To go shopping for my home without any worry of how much things will...

It was a warm, pleasant day to go out for recess at lunch time, and the child I was then was as eager as my classmates to get outside to play for a bit before getting stuck in the classroom again.  I recall being in being in a higher elementary grade...4th or 5th...old enough to remember but yet not old enough to understand what was about to happen to me. After eating my lunch, I quickly walked through the hallway that led to the play ground area that was reserved for those of us that were in grades 4 through 6. I plowed through the glass doors and as I rounded the side of the building, something happened to me, and it happened so fast that I had no time to react.  It was a sudden vision of two boys fighting on the playground around the corner from where I was at that moment. I only hesitated for a few seconds then went out around the corner of the building, and there...two boys were fighting, just like I witnessed in the vision.  That did stop me in my tracks.  I ...

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN....?         All the girls had ugly gym uniforms? It took five minutes for the TV warm up? Nearly everyone's Mom was at home when the kids got home from school? Nobody owned a purebred dog?When a quarter was a decent allowance? You'd reach into a muddy gutter for a penny? Your Mom wore nylons that came in two pieces? All your male teachers wore neckties and female teachers had their hair done every day and wore high heels? You got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, all for free, every time? And you didn't pay for air? And, you got trading stamps to boot? Laundry detergent had free glasses, dishes or towels hidden inside the box? It was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents? They threatened to keep kids back a grade if they failed. . . and they did? When a 57 Chevy was everyone's dream c...

Time Spent on Listening to Music Indicator of Teen Depression | Exami.net

"Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country."   — Anaïs Nin   Back years ago, as I started really getting into keeping my journals I read a book titled, "The New Diary" by Tristine Rainer with a foreword by Anaïs Nin, that gave me the encouragement that I needed to begin my process of journalling to work my way through my past toward healing and understanding...to find the "me" beyond the mother, wife, friend, and any other titles that I may have went by. Much of what I learned was that journalling can take on many simple forms, that there are no strict forms to go by.  A journal can contain, lists, sketches, doodling, anything that helps to get you from one place to another. My own journals took the form of writing down my days, not only the physical things I do but more-so my emotions and feelings. I "talked" to my journals as if they were a...

I believe in...              dreams, stranger things and    fleeting memories, which gives perspective         to an often blited world,               mysteries, intrigue and mischievous     eyes, innuendos that hide truth and                 the tears on aged faces after seeing                            what the future may bring,   laughter, pain and the quiet grounds                in-between,         tomorrow's hope, conception in every form,       ...

Writing is the most powerful way I know of to sort through all the inner voices. ~ Rebecca Maddox As a teen, I did what most teens did by keeping a small diary of my days at school, my crushes and frustrations with school mates, but it wasn't until my second marriage that I started journaling again...because I felt so lost, so miserable inside, and needed a place where I could find some small piece of sanity.  A place where I felt at peace. For the duration of that marriage, some 11 years, I filled literally dozens upon dozens of spiral single, three and five subject notebooks, and as each one was finished, I placed them on my book shelf.  I had no fear of being spied upon by my husband or step-children because they had no interest in what I was writing.  I had learned a tip from reading about journal-keeping: what's obvious isn't interesting to others.  Hide a diary, then others will want to know what it is you are writing about....

If there's something you haven't done that you've been wanting to do, then by all means, don't wait any longer.  Do it!  -- Julianne Moore From the time I was a little girl, I've always wanted to write and be an author. I am not sure when that wish/desire started but I think it was around the time I was in 5th or 6th grade. My mom was an avid reader and from the time that I was able to read without help, my mom gently pushed me to start reading more at home. In our bookcase, she had acquired dozens of Reader's Digest Condensed books which is, I think, what devloped my deep love of reading and appreciation of literature. I remember that during the years between my 5th and 6th grade, I didn't read...I inhaled every book within my sight! I had a close friend at that time, who also was a book worm...and we'd often talk about the books we'd read,sharing them back and forth with each other. I don't recall what made both of us start "writing...

Many years ago, when I was a beginning school bus driver, all of the drivers and bus monitors had to go to a required state training that took place up in Sodus, NY in order to licensed.  (The irony here was that we rode with others from different school districts on a school bus !) The day was bright and sunny but still cool enough that we had to wear either sweaters or jackets, as most of the training took place out doors.  There was a bit of a breeze but as the day progressed, I was able to take off the lacy white sweater that I had wore.  For a while, I carried the sweater draped over my arm, but after a bit it seemed tedious to have to carry that way, so I decided to throw it over the top of my purse and carry it that way.  (I didn't want to take it back to the bus as it was clear across the compound...and to do so would have also taken me away from the training sessions.) It ended up being a pretty long day and when we were getting ready to board the buse...

When my son's appeal was granted, he was worried about what kind of lawyer he would be appointed, as he is determined to be very active in his court hearings now, making sure that the attorney who represents  him, does his job well.  This is my son's freedom...he HAS to do something. This is the letter he wrote in search of a new lawyer: Although, he didn't get any volunteers to take his case, J. V. has taken it and has become very adament about setting things to right for my son.    Again...we have hopes and lots of prayers... My name is Shawn Campbell, I am a 33 year old man sitting in an upstate prison for murder I did not commit. I have been here behind these walls for almost 7 years - 7 years I have been fighting to prove my innocence. I have a very unique case, there is no physical evidence linking me to the crime. No blood, hair fibers, DNA, fingerprints, co-defendants, eye-witnesses, and they took foot castings from around the body which did not m...

"When encountering emotional vampires, see what you can learn. It's your choice. You can simply feel tortured, resentful, impotent. Or, as I try to do, ask yourself, "How can this interaction help me grow?" — Judith Orloff Over the last several years, there has been a lot of talk about Emotional Vampires  and although I never knew the terminology, I knew the signs and the results of being around such people.  It's not only not pleasant, but very draining on anyone's mental, emotional and physical well-being. I've lived with people who were extremely pessimistic and negative in their outlooks on life, literally sucking dry anyone who stayed around them for any length of time.  But what of people who are so deeply and religiously convicted to the point that they have a completely different demeanor that instead of being joyous because of their belief and love of God they have become doom-sayers and very unhappy...even to the point that they are angry? ...

I think that it's true; more women writers make a good living out of writing... whether they are married or single.

  “The further you drift from shore, the more likely you are to be lost at sea.” No truer   words could be said.  They imbody exactly what I've felt like and have been doing for years on end...drifting and drifting away from shore.  It's felt like the more I tried to swim back to shore, the more the current took me further from the shore. From the time I was 16, when my mother was killed in a vehicular accident and throughout most of my adult years, life took me in the direction of not only being a wife and mother, but taught me about the struggle to survive through poverty, abusive husbands, and eventually...lifethrew me the hardest curveballs of all: a nervous breadown and the arrest/coviction of my oldest son for murder.  What small steps I had taken in my recovery were slippery at best...for every few steps I took, I seemed to slide backwards at least half of them. Somehow, somewhere over the years, I had lost a part of myself...the part that is m...

On January 16, 2008 I published my first blog, titled “ The Handyman...Who Is He? ”. What I didn’t say then, but what might be intuited was that this story was about someone close to me, but I didn’t say…didn’t want to admit …it was my oldest son. When I wrote that entry, I was still angry…mostly because of the fact that it was my son in prison, and I was having a extremely hard time dealing with that. Even back then (and now), I hated the term 'handyman' because the local media had really played up that term to describe my son...linking that term so that it equated to "murderer".  Thankfully, for the most part, the media has dropped the 'handyman' when they talk about him and his case, which has some new developments . (2 separate links.) My son was accused of murdering Ronda Bilby at her home in what the police and the District Attorney referred to as a "botched robbery-gone wrong".  All the evidence was circumstantial, there was no blood f...

Quote of the Day: All my life, I always wanted to be somebody. Now I see that I should have been more specific. --Jane Wagner

Technorati Tags: weather , rain , depression It’s said that April showers bring May flowers…however, gray days seem only to deepen my depression, something that I have been aware of since I was a child.  Even as a child, I have hated gray days…they make me feel so listless, drowsy, and in general just depressed so that I’d rather be left alone. It’s not been much better as an adult.  I find that the rain makes me moodier, and quicker to fly off the handle at the least little upset, and even with medication, I still don’t like these wet days. 

There is something that can be said about living in the country.  Here, the typical noises of civilization are absent…the sounds of traffic, of dogs barking, children playing and being noisy.  Instead, all one hears is nature’s silence punctuated with the chirping of birds and the wind blowing through the trees.  Peace. Now that Spring has arrived, the night-time sounds are of hundreds of peepers singing their songs in the swampy areas surrounding this place we call home.  The peeping is so loud that it drowns out the other noises of the night.