The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

19:21 Aug 16 2010
Times Read: 740






I was a little girl in the 70s and I remember the candles, big bold candles stuck in bottles or on chunky stands. They smelled of patchouli and exotic symbols that were casually tucked away in my parents' early twenties. My mom had an old chianti bottle she used as a candle holder. Melting wax had flowed down the sides of that bottle in rivers of every color imaginable. It was beautiful to my eyes in the alluring way of crystals, yellowing lace in my grandmother's drawer, and other trappings of magic.



That old bottle stands in my memory as an icon of those early days when I lived in an apartment complex populated only by teachers like my parents. It was an incentive to draw talented young teachers to an impoverished area in the most southern region of Louisiana by providing them inexpensive housing and an opportunity to have all student loans forgiven if they taught for there for at least 5 years.



This was the era of the potluck dinner. All the teachers would bring a dish to our apartment and whatever they wanted to drink. My favorite was Mr. Hingle who was also a sailor and would bring his wine in a gallon jug. They would talk for hours. Sometimes someone would tie knots in a plastic garbage bag, secure it to a clothes hanger and suspend it from the ceiling. Beneath it would be a bucket of water and as each knotted section would have a flame lick up and consume it, a "zhhpp" sound would occur as the tiny asteroid flamed downward to a sizzly end in the bucket. They called them Zip Shows and I thought they were about the coolest thing I'd ever seen.



I would tuck away in some overlooked area and listen to them talk. Sometimes it would get warm and I'd fall asleep under a tablecloth or behind a chair. The muffled sound of adult voices discussing literature, the politics of Nixon, issues facing teachers, and the poverty of their students would lull me off to a sleep perfumed with patchouli, coffee, and words, always my beloved words. Yes, words can be a perfume...the hint of them can fill a room with memories as haunting as candle wax and voices you long to hear again.

Amen
17:57 Aug 09 2010
Times Read: 777

The news is good. We really needed it. I didn't write about the recurrence of my father's lung cancer. It was too painful the first time. This go-round showed a tumor in his back that was large and hot, so we knew it had spread after treatment.



He's had 4 infusions of the initial 6 this time and they did a scan. The 2 in his lungs have shrunken to half size and are no longer hot, no activity. The one in his back has also shrunken significantly, and while there's a bit of activity, we now know the medicine is working. That's great news. The doctor is considering giving him a total of 8 infusions, and then, he gets to go on a maintenance drug.



It is the first real hope given to him that he can hold in his hands and believe in. He is a man of great faith and I've never seen my father more peaceful than in these last few months. Some things are bigger than we are and worrying hinders the real work we're here to do. He's such a generous and gentle man. I'm so grateful that it looks as though we'll have more time with him.



Also, those of you who remember mom going through her own fight...2 bouts with breast cancer...she's doing fantastic! They've both been able to support and help the other, which was their first prayer when they were diagnosed together. Sometimes we forget to see our parents as a couple, like our friends...they seem more like one unit, the parental unit. But through all of this, my eyes have opened to the love story of my mom and dad. Such a precious gift.

21:10 Aug 01 2010
Times Read: 831

OK, here's the ring!



We just added the side stones. The ring was his grandmother's and the center stone is an opal. The two dark ones are stones that have a special meaning to us, iolite.



I love it so much!