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27 March SWEARING at WORK
24 March HAPPY BIRTHDAY, McTell, Thursday the 27thIt has been just short of 2 years that I have been privileged to become friends with Bill. I had the honor of meeting him at the Las Vegas MSN Convention get together in September 2006. Since then, we have remained friends. He is a Southern Gentleman by nature , but most of all , he is a wonderful human being. I am blessed to have him as my friend. Thank you my Friend, I am always here for you , if and when you ever need me. May your "special" day be filled with LOVE, LAUGHS, and BLESSINGS.
~*~Paula~*~
20 March WELCOME SPRING 2008 Flowering Quince
SPRING HAS SPRUNG
Behold the miracle of SPRING. Let it's sights, sounds and aromas caress your heart and mind. Marvel at the sound and fury of its mighty storms, for without them, SPRING could not grow and flourish. Allow the magnificent glory of SPRING into your inner being, for this special season has magical healing powers.
Luxurious green will return to trees, grass and bushes; beautiful flowers will bloom and birds will drift lazily to and fro on warm zephrys against the background of a deep blue sky. Their sweet music has a healing power of it's own.
SPRING is the elusive second chance so many of us are looking for. It's a time of spiritual rebirth and fresh new hope. Transfer your sorrows and problems into the blessed, bountiful arms of SPRING, for in doing so you give them the power to create such a glorious season.
Welcome the warmth, inspiration and beauty that God created into your soul, and a new better life will be yours.
~*~PJP~*~
23 March 1999
I love Spring. Each and every year I look forward to the signs of nature returning to the colorless landscape that the Winter season is capable of bringing us. All the Earthtone colors..replaced by vivid yellow, gorgeous purples, the purity of the whites, the bold contrasts of reds. The list goes on as we all know. Spring is a time to rejuvenate the spirit and soul. Slow down...take a look around. With each new blade of grass that pops up from the plentiful rains, warmth, and sunshine that is provided to us by Mother Nature, so should one's spirit. For it is a new beginning. Slow down and take a look and close your eyes and breathe in the new aromas. One can only smile at such beauty.
Have a most wonderful weekend and SPRING. May the season of colors and warmth be yours..ALWAYS.
~*~Paula~*~ 17 March LOVING YOU ALWAYS, ARTHURA few of you are aware that I lost my Father in 1995. It was sudden and of course, never expected at all. He had some ongoing "flu-like" symptons but the Dr's could not find the reasons for the continuous fever spikes, weight loss, and fatigue. Some weeks he would feel like himself...then suddenly..back to the hospitals for numerous tests that always turned out to be negative for any signs/clues as to his diagnosis. They would prescribe more antibiotics and apparently hoped for the "best". He never let on to me that he was seriously ill and the reason I think he did not is simple..he did NOT realize it himself. He took all the physicians suggestions to heart and never doubted their professional knowledge for the many months of trips to and from the hospitals for all the tests.
I received a phone call from the Veteran's Hospital in Charleston, South Carolina in the early morning of May 22, 1995. My father had passed away. Apparently he was having trouble breathing and called an old family friend to accompany him ( drive) him to the hospital. The Doctor that phoned me..told me that my Father had passed away at 4:45 A.M. and the cause was not definite; however they "assumed" it was from acute pneumonia.
Dad, not a day passes that you are not in my thoughts and prayers. I know that you are in a better place and now are pain-free. To some extent this eases my losing you so suddenly and not being able to say "goodbye" and be at your bedside. To this day..this still haunts me. If only I had known how ill you really were I would have been right with you. I cannot change the past.
I am whom I am because of you. I can only be the best I can be. For this..I thank you, Father. May you rest in the arms of the Angels and swim with the dolphins. In honor of yours and my love of the ocean, I post this entry.
I LOVE YOU, Dad. Thank you for being the Biological Father I never knew.
Your LOVING Daughter,
Paula
11 March CONNIE DOVER..Celtic and Traditional I would like to introduce you to a petite, voice of an Angel, Lady by the name of CONNIE DOVER. I have been fortunate enough to have seen her 4 times in the KC area and all I can say is what a powerful voice!!! I hope you enjoy the song and I also hope that you check out the links I am providing. She lives in Weston, Missouri which is very close to Kansas City. Check out her website here. The song I have playing is a traditional one by Connie. "Shenandoah" is A Missouri River boatman's song which probably had it's origins as a capstan chanrey. This rare version of the widely known song was a favorite of rivermen and regular calvary at frontier outposts.
Enjoy your Saint Patrick's Day.
~*~PJ~*~
( Only until Tuesday... )
08 March EYES~ Beauty of a Woman ~
The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears...
The figure she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from her eyes... Because that is the doorway to her heart... The place where love resides. The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole... But true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives... The passion that she shows. The beauty of a woman... With passing years -- Only grows.
~*~PJ~*~
02 March THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE **Have received numerous messages asking about the the composer of the song playing.. It is an ORIGINAL piece sent to me by a friend from out of state. It is titled "A PRELUDE TO A DREAM". It has yet to be published . Therefore, I am unable to give out his name, so just sit back and ENJOY IT!! I do.**
The English Language
Asylum for the Verbally Insane We'll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes, But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes. One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese, Yet the plural of moose should never be meese. You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice, Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice. If the plural of man is always called men, Why shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen? If I speak of my foot and show you my feet, And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet? If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth, Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth? Then one may be that, and three would be those, Yet hat in the plural would never be hose, And the plural of cat is cats, not cose. We speak of a brother and also of brethren, But though we say mother, we never say methren. Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him, But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim! Let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England . We take English for granted, but if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham.
Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend. If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? Sometimes I think all the folks who grew up speaking English should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what other language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? We ship by truck but send cargo by ship. We have noses that run and feet that smell. And how can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by
filling it out, and in which an alarm goes off by going on. So if Father is Pop, how come Mother isn't Mop? And that is just the beginning-- even though this is the end!
~*~PJ~*~
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