“I have already settled it for myself so flattery and criticism go down the same drain and I am quite free.” ~Georgia O’Keefe


Just so you know, if you’re reading this, I love you. Thank you for wanting to check in with long winded antics to health misdiagnoses and Elvis, and if you aren’t here for Lyme talk then you should stop reading now.

I was surprised to learn how often my Lyme has been inquired about. Of course, I never mind answering notes (when the comments I don’t post are turned on) but I’ve heard through the grapevine and emails how many have really made effort to find the actual state of my Lyme disease. 2020 is a good time to address that because there are things I would have shared when I started this blog that I wouldn’t now, on a public forum.

I still might do it one day or we can just talk in person.

There’s nothing to be embarrassed about to be sick of course, unless if you are a visual writer/speaker and you don’t want a reset or relive any of it again.

The article attached above details the closest on a wrap up to Lyme disease, in my opinion. My husband and daughter both said it reminded them of me. The only thing I personally found not true is the average hospital will most certainly not go by your symptoms to diagnose you with Lyme. Again, if it’s not freshly infected in you, it’s called an invisible illness for a reason.

Although asking what my Lyme is like is too broad of a request to begin answering you properly only in a blog. Since this began I wanted to write a book regarding all of the shocking things that happened to me but I changed my mind. Living with chronic Lyme means you, one, myself will have it until death, and carry heart issues you never had before. I’m known to hold on to things but even I know when to come to a final rest.

We all carry battle scars. My 20 years so far of a Lyme infection, neck/throat cancer, repairing my fractured pelvis from a car wreck, being misdiagnosed by 2 neurologists, and being treated for things I don’t need and thanks to cancer, early menopause has all changed me in a way that once you know you can’t go back mode. I’m not hardened, but disappointed in what the medical community can really handle and awakened to a steady awareness of listening to my body. Some days I’m so sick I can be bedridden but luckily that’s been a long time since I take all the precautions seriously. I simply kept ice on my head when a migraine started, chamomile tea with me constantly to keep my heart calm, and regularly took part in a colloidal silver cure, supply oxygen to my body, and work hard to not touch sugar so I can fight back with Lyme in my blood and how it can ravage ones organs.

Regardless of what I share with you, it won’t help you dramatically other than a familiar shoulder and the fact I will more than likely know how you feel, but our sicknesses with Lyme will always be unique individual cases. I was on doxycycline and amoxicillin for 2 years that was too late or not long enough. Who really knows?

The closest thing to MS is Lyme, the closest thing to dementia in the brain is Lyme, the average person knows nothing about Lyme. I found out the hard way, and I highly doubt you would be here if you didn’t as well. Nevertheless, I will never regret what I have endured and you shouldn’t either. Juxtapositions with epiphanies to Lyme and or brain lesions is the reason we are stronger today. Think of daily obstacles to improve cognitive function.

I was never told if my 7 brain lesions and large black brain actual hole is from Lyme or cancer but all of my medical research and brain MRI images in hand, I can guarantee my brain damage is Lyme related. There is astronomical doubt it could be cancer after personal discussions with a reputable oncologist in NY, along with the fact it lacks evidence and documentation to it being due to my throat cancer.

Plus I’m telling ya from long lived experience the average doctor may put on the ultimate poker face but they don’t have the slightest idea what to do with chronic Lyme. They need your tick in a bag and you tell them with your fresh bite to get high doses of antibiotics or blood transfusions. The latter is the only way to cure Lyme. Most hospitals don’t use the proper lab that’s needed to even get your blood read right! That’s the catch, you have to get diagnosed early. Back when my neurologist was filling me with steroid shots for MS and advising me to get my daughter closer to family, I sent my blood to the most reputable Lyme lab, Igenex.

Most doctors will offer antidepressants and some states carry one Lyme doctor many miles away. Regardless, what you do is you don’t give up. You’re fighting for your right to feel well and to get your body clean from parasites as soon as possible to stop the rapid shortening on your life. Holistic health is successful for many reasons. One being you simply don’t have a choice. Holistic health will consistently encourage you to ditch the side effect meds and get your body back to green and clean. I can personally vouch for the success.

Masking physical pain will only cause the Lyme in your blood to have periodic awakening attacks, so will sugar, Lyme loves sugar. I was infected 20 years ago and I’ve endured every painful obstacle Lyme will place before you; make you bedridden, shallow breathing, rapid heart rate while standing/sitting still (I really hate that one), your body temp will rise so high you will place yourself in a tub of ice, your temper will worsen so you must stay mindful to it, your skin will develop small blood like drops on limbs that doctors will never admit is Lyme, your head will pound so painfully you will swear you are about to have a brain aneurism. (I always used an ice roller/pack on my head).

Once in comparison, Lyme disease has the brain damage evidence along with western medicine baffled on how to help a person with chronic Lyme. I have found they choose the cowardly path and blame it on something that you don’t have or that they can’t prove while encouraging medications. I know they’re simply pushing what they are taught or their ego is doing the pushing, but I have found without your helping yourself the repair and recovery will take longer than necessary.

The bone and joint pain, pins and needles, depression, anxiety, or going days without eating. I’ve always been horrible with eating although Lyme in my blood made me go to bed many nights not having the memory if I ate or not. 

I never take any credit for a doctor to learn I don’t have a thyroid at all and I’m not overweight, I walk around daily hearing my parents’, husbands’, and daughters’ words that I would kill my self with how I eat. Guess what, if you’re like that too, Lyme makes it worse. You’ll crave sugar endlessly while knowing with Lyme in your blood if you eat it your heart will skyrocket to levels where you need the ER. I’ve been there. They shot me up with morphine 3 separate ER visits until I asked them what was in the IV and to not do it again. *Yes, it felt great but I can get addicted easily if I like something.*

In WV, as my house sat around railroad ties and deer regularly hung out in my yard, this tick gave me Lyme in Lord knows where, when I was 31 years old. I have an abundance of paperwork with the blood diagnosis and tests of my brain to speak for it but not one physician helped me recover when it came to the underrated disease until I met a Lyme disease doctor. Sadly he was blunt that high dose antibiotics are too late for a chronic condition. *Swami S Chandra MD 701 N Hermitage Rd # 7, Hermitage, PA 16148
(724) 981-3322

After having 2 neurologists swear to MS and 2 Lyme doctors swear to Lyme, as cancerous tumors was found on my trachea with cancer throughout my neck, I didn’t believe much from western medicine.

There are many reasons to the rare but negative thinking I carry for western medicine. I remember once after the cancer ate my thyroid, telling my endocrinologist he wasn’t aware my thyroid replacement medicine should be taken twice a day, not once. (Armour thyroid). The look on his face to the indignities for him and his title was beyond insulting, as I was crawling up his steps to his office, that wasn’t enough evidence. I did the work to help myself, and he inevitably found out how to prescribe it. Now I feel the best I ever have and blessed to have more good day’s than sick ones with all my health challenges. Yadda Yadda, this shouldnt gone on this long for any of us.

That’s very scary to me. I know doctors are like every other human in the world, some being great while some need work, but I’m not educated like my daughter, I only have an associates degree. All of my studies was my desire to learn. However that endocrinologist went to med school. Frightening. Another reason to my viewpoint of feeling burnt out with searching for cures, my doctors assistant told me she could tell I was sick for a long time, when I asked why? “Because people who were sick for a long time will do anything to get out of a doctor appointment”.

The good days I live are without a doubt from me not giving up on myself. The fact I have been a rebel all of my life ended up helping me where it counts the most. To feel as I do today took my daily efforts with dietary rules and colloidal silver and hydrogen peroxide baths to kill one strain and become dormant. The colloidal silver detoxing is what caused the biggest of a difference from the pins and needles in limbs. Unfortunately, migraines are a side effect of brain lesions and menopause. I deal with those daily.

Personally, I’ve found out since that first week of being infected and subjected to violent vomiting, high body temps, the flu that doesn’t end, sleepless nights, and stabbing brain pain, that if you go to a college hospital a 25-year-old ‘new’ doctor will explain the theory of anxiety to you. I remember pointing at my bullseye rash directly on my leg to her asking if there could be a connection. Not one to carry blind faith, I was sent home with my first bottle of anxiety meds, and my chronic illness began without me knowing.

I definitely have no private side left after two diseases were blatantly missed with my esophageal cancer and Lyme disease. I was treated for multiple sclerosis, a disease I never had. So that’s another common statement a person with Lyme will state, “I was first misdiagnosed, it took years and partly my own efforts”. (*It’s time to give yourself some credit.

After 20 years of experience I can rest my hand on a bible that I only know people cured of Lyme disease due to it being treated in early stages of the disease, or they find out they didn’t have Lyme.

You all know mine was discovered in bloodwork from a reputable lab to my carrying 7 strains. After years of nonstop effort I walk away with film to my brain damage, a diagnosis as chronic Lyme, and now at a lesser strain.

Presently, I wouldn’t know how to help since I also walked away from treating Lyme. I am mindful to all my rules. There is no Lyme specialist near me although I do have an internist in which she supplies low dose naltrexone as a precursor to more Lyme attacks. I take 3.5 mg of LDN every night. *(LDN is not FDA approved for Lyme, state your case when you meet a dr you’re comfortable with).

My symptoms fluctuated amongst a plethora of annoying nightmares all to taking me down for the count on occasion to make me bedridden. One thing I always had done naturally, my get up and go was stolen.

I always mention these long time spans of illness because that’s a part of misdiagnoses and trusting any doctor you are provided, it will go on as long as you allow it.

Not awesome to be gaslit by western doctors who don’t want to admit the fact that insurance companies won’t let them treat Lyme after it’s chronic, the insincerity was sincere. Meanwhile they try to convince the patients they must have rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia, MS, anxiety, or simple stress from motherhood. By the way, that last one is an insult.

Wishing you only good news to the lyme sufferers.

Doing something over and over and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity, unless if a lyme infected tick bit you.

~Comments are not published to protect privacy, will respond to any questions.~

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2020 The Gift That Keeps Giving~

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“We do grow into those roles our parents assign us”~Carrie Fisher

As another year hits, I see many places I would love to take my mom for her birthday. I miss my mom and my dad every day, always reminisce about funny stories of them, and say a prayer in a moment of silence. Although none of those things will ever change the fact I lost my best friend, my idol, my therapist, my mother. She will forever live in me.That goes for dad as well. I know she said ‘this is how it goes, I lose her Drew loses you’ but I wish I had a choice in the matter.

Listening to Willie Nelson I think of how much mom admired him. The only country artist she enjoyed country music from. Others are consistenly surprised wtih that bit since she was friends with Dolly and even babysat Crystal Gayle (Loretta Lynn’s sister). I can relate, everyone affiates Elvis with me to a supersonic level and I’m proud of it, but Bobby Sherman, Mark Sanchez, Blake Shelton or Sam Eliott-(when 42) could knock on my door.

What woman wouldn’t like him? 😉

The inevitable loss of my mom was a dreaded lingering spirit hanging over my shoulder my entire life, and now I am living it. Any and all who know and love me always knew it was my greatest fear. I am here with many years have passed with my finding a protective peace regarding their absence.

In my opinion time will help a person get used to it but I feel no difference from my 30’s as in missing her or my dad. It’s the same gaping hole, it makes no difference when people were that important.

I know her well enough that she would tell me I’m doing a good job. I am a good mother, and not a ball of depression for others. I relive the happy times, and when I need to cry or mourn I keep it to myself. Just the way she taught me how she did it.

Her birthday is so special not only from a positive happy relationship I will never forget but it’s special to me and my vivid visual thinking because I have the hilarious memories of my parents.

My dad walking in while just sharing space with them together was an experience. Their quick wit and chemistry stood out the strongest. They both laughed together more than anything while it was healthy for me for example. My dad never forgot to walk in with song lyrics, jewelry, flowers and 2 cakes for my grateful mom, and she spoiled him right back. The cakes were the star of the show the annual one for her birthday, and one for their anniversary that was on the same day. With her long frosted locks brushed perfectly, with a fresh self done manicure, luminous eyes lipsticked lips in the highest form of femininity you’ve ever seen as she begged for her “big fat white ass” to be spared.

I wish they were here so I could do what I always done with my parents. Laugh, hang out having a good time with a cool couple from the 50s, learn, hug them, kiss them, see them cringe while I listened to the GoGo’s, complain how something isn’t fair such as zero concerts this summer so I can hear what my mom usually, nine times out of ten were to reply, “LIFE ISN’T FAIR” or an oldie but a goody “PEOPLE IN HELL WANT ICE WATER”.


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We women have a million MeToo moments from the time we are born but I’ll happily share one of mine which will head posting elsewhere to inspire any and all.

When I started high school, my school had 7th graders walking around with 18 year old seniors and they may very well be where my love for older men stems from, and Elvis of course. At that particular time in life I knew nothing about jocks with an ego not to be superseded. Lucky me I fell for one of those jocks. While my young mind dreamt of kissing him, roller skating together, and playing with his dark curls he proved his point it was never about getting to know me, or caring about my curls, not on my head anyway.

As I dated this boy I knew he was losing his patience since he was older, and no time to waste, I found myself one night in the backseat of a car in the woods and seeing a boy naked for the first time. I remember thinking it was what I imagined with finding my older brothers ‘exotic’ magazines, but in my 13 year old severely crushed valley girl brain he looked utterly adorable while I said “I’m not doing this”, my moms words of instruction to not getting pregnant scared the living hell out of me and even my biggest crush couldn’t sway my opinion. I didn’t want to find out the difficult, unappealing way to what my mom described as teenage pregnancy. It wasn’t worth it to me. Discovering early in life when you love a person more than yourself you will subconsciously do what they would want you to do. As my crush gaslighted me in anger screaming “tomorrow’s the game!” I sat quietly as he pondered on leaving me in the woods, I assured him I had no problem walking home. Exuding bitter attempt for pity to which no woman would change her mind for and as if it was my fault he was stripped nude while I was dressed, that was one guilt trip that didn’t work. Even though I made the mistake of giving an apology on the ride home. I will never forget how I never offered sex, I never promised sex, but I apologized.

The Monday after that date I walked into school with a huge smear campaign going on about stuff I never even took part in and to this day, 38 years later, if I run into that strong and secure former jock he will ask if I’m still a lesbian. As I look at his aged face when he’s saying it I simply think what every woman thinks when seeing a former flame. Nothing. It felt empty to see him. That boy was the virgin time from my past. I guess it’s moving that I affected him to such a degree he decided to punish til death regardless of age anyone who doesn’t sleep with him. I was raised open minded and others sexuality is none of my business however while my infamous crush is on his third marriage, I’ve been happily married for 34 years.
So if a guy is so narcissistically wounded he can’t help himself but refer to you as gay and it makes him feel better to say it, no reaction is the best reaction. Your reaction makes the sick, happy. I find that one of most unsound things I’ve learned in psychology. Their wounds run deeper than the ones that would go on in any back seat.
Obviously that’s the whole point to aging and wisdom. When I envision someone trying that now I would without a doubt shove him in his trunk, head first. Pun intended.

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I love you email followers but I foolishly edit so often after it mails!!!

That can make my OCD short circuit. My problem, isn’t it? I promise to fix it. 😉

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~Obsessive Compulsively~

Being blessed with two seasoned doctors to continue watching me after our move following some recent blood work, I’ve discovered my name is ‘red flagged’ to my genius doctor that originally found my cancer in my trachea.

I’ll tell ya, I can get orderly and obsessive compulsive about cleaning, writing and music but after far too many years of misdiagnoses the last thing this cancer and Lyme survivor wanted to believe is, I have to get on it with enduring exhausting cancer testing and a day of blood panels all over again.

And here I swore I’d never walk into a hospital again.

It’s during my birthday week after Christmas as well, and that seems like my mom is still making sure I get a birthday present. 

My entire life I’ve lived with an anxiety disorder and OCD. My family will tell you I only have anxiety and I’m just one of those cleanaholics, but I assure you what you could witness all to prove my consistent need with order most certainly entails OCD. Thankfully I’m not the type that needs to turn the doorknob ten times before I walk out but I do match the medical criteria…

  1. Extreme devotion to work that impairs social and family activities~I devote my daily routine every morning to have my house spic and span with laundry finished, car included, before I head out the door. If I have to do it the night before due to an early morning, I will before bed.
  2. Excessive fixation with lists, rules and minor details~I am religious in staying strict with myself with bills, paperwork, files, and numerous clerical work as I access and review. Making a cd is tedious work for me not only due to the music discovery, but I will spend literal days devoted to only the sound. I grow so sick of studying the layout, I don’t listen to it again after the finished product.
  3. Perfectionism that interferes with finishing tasks~I have 5 really interesting well written novels, that have been started over from scratch many times. *I am my own worst critic.
  4. Rigid adherence to moral and ethical codes~Although I have always been open minded for others and easy going, I am old school and tend to stick to it.
  5. Unwillingness to assign tasks unless others perform them exactly as asked~I won’t ask for help in anything, my mom or daughter are the only peeps that could do my lists and I would be okay with. A cleaning service that is hired could never live up to my expectations. I would find what they missed, every time.
  6. Hoarding behaviors~I’m known to declutter and give quality items away. However, after my moms’ death, I kept every single item of hers down to the heart wrenching efforts of keeping her meaningless papers that lingered inside her desk. My older sister saved me with coming to my house, and verbally forced me to load truck after truck to Goodwill. Each drive I hauled felt like another chunk of flesh being ripped off my body, while also freeing me from the unhealthy hoarding and painful reminders that was born in me all due to significant loss. I also have countless record albums all the way from age 7 due to my obsessive compulsive love for music.

Anyway, as dear friends and family were immediately concerned, inquiring me with questions about my upcoming cancer testing I felt grateful for all the love and emotional intelligence that surrounds me as I floated into the realization my medical team is not in my music city, my childhood goal. Now being a flight or 8 hour drive away, it may be time to force myself to keep still, and make where almost took my life the location that takes precedence. NYC did the treatments to repair me but this particular doctor in the south saved my life, and he is still watching out for me.

Ever since my misdiagnosis to MS my daily regimen has been a different kind of survival. I don’t bore people with it, I keep it to myself, but as we all do I actually see my living the health fight of survival from the moment my eyes open until my work and chores are finished, til closing my eyes every night. 

As Bobby talks about his passion for the ocean again, and our daughter longs for the town she’s known from age 3 my compulsion lingers to what makes sense.

I don’t make resolutions but maybe it’s time this gypsy does just that. #noregrets

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For Another~

Just as my Genesis blog shared with you, I found inspiration once again. I don’t know where this desire came from. It could be my dads creative artistic genes in me, my personality that screams aquarian, or the fact that I have been a writer for as long as I can recall. (My long term memory side of my brain is damage free, can’t say the same about the other side). I always have lived for inspiration, originality, and unique deliveries to thoughts and learning, but I’m also a criminal justice junkie. I’m not the type to watch tv, although I do follow certain cases that leave us all with questions. I found myself at that moment once again as I cried my compassionate heart out.

I was watching the Dateline case of Laci Peterson. The story we all know. One of those in which we all witnessed cruelty, loss, and of those rare types where you can’t find an enemy. The kindest of kind being unfairly and selfishly taken too soon.

Now, I know every time I take part in reading or watching details on the case I am going to genuinely suffer with listening to Laci’s mom, Sharon Rocha. I can relate to how she feels; her devotion, and her love. I am a mother as well.

Like a solider walking off a battlefield without limbs telling of the details, Sharon is a warrior. Mrs. Rocha is that beaten lamb. I watched her nervous hands rub together, and her eyes dart around in fear to trust not even her own, she has endured, survived what all mothers fear the most. 

My intuition was telling me for years since my surgery and recovery, I am meant to take part in some sort of selflessness. I had to have survived what I did for a reason. No, I don’t think everything happens for a reason but when it comes to life and death, there is usually a pivotal moment for why it transpired. My dads exact words on his death bed in the hospital besides, “Please get me a weed Dondu” (a cigarette), was “People are supposed to become better people from watching death and suffering”.

Anyway, it could not be writing I told myself, even with all the compliments I am truly touched to receive,  I am my own worst critic. We all carry some scar buried deep from childhood to form us into the adult we turn out to be. Even though my mom praised every one of us, I do carry a beaten bat that questions every piece of art I attempt.

I pondered the incontrovertible doubt with finishing my book or any book, I continued to make money writing in the most simple way I knew. Real estate, and tourism. The work provided some light to that literal black hole in my brain while my soul still filled with the desire to perpetuate, save, or assist someone who is in need. Sharon Rocha has done that for me. She woke me up so to speak, and I understood every single word as if I was inside her as a Siamese twin. Sharon was speaking of the hope she always carried in finding her Laci, “I brought her into this world, I should be able to feel when she left it” she shared. The day that beautiful young girl washed up with her son, Sharon said she was hiding in her house because she could feel it. That day was the day.

Motherhood is the most powerful I have personally ever witnessed in my lifetime thus far. I remember once when my younger sister was in California as a teenager, my mom fell to her knees knowing with every fiber of her being something was happening to her. An hour later, she said “It’s okay, she’s safe”. I was bewildered beyond comprehension. My mom always said “Someday when you are mature you will have that ability with your child too”, yet I still believed her witch blood line was where it originated.  Now when I question my daughters safety, I listen to myself. If I don’t feel that panic, I know she is safe. No, I’m not a witch and neither was my mom. I am now mindful as that adult she once couldn’t wait to see but missed out on, that my mom was an empath and a mother. As am I.

My daily wish until the day I pass will be to look in my moms eyes, talk with her. Now as I still travel this earth I will continue to cherish every moment I can hold my daughters hand and pray it will end the way it is supposed to end, with myself passing on to the next life first.

Even though I have always been a children’s rights advocate in marches and writing senators, I am now a proud volunteer and writer for Missing & Exploited Children Organization hoping to be of some help, all the while embracing allegiance in print and spirit Sharon Rocha and every mother who continues to find the strength to walk in her shoes. 

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” – Matthew 5:4

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If you find yourself drained with all the latest news try this meticulous true crime truth teller, and enjoy some quiet, mellow time with Ray LaMontagne’s latest album?

This too shall pass…

“Only boring people get bored” – Stephanie Harlowe

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I always speak of his talent but my mom grew up with him so naturally told it better. My dad was introverted and wise while able to tell you anything you would want to know on history and more, but a goofball and a ham as well. I loved when he would know I was watching him as he was combing his hair he’d stop and say slowly, calmly “Pretty, aren’t I?”, we laughed together every single time.

Having a music addiction my entire life, my dad was only person in my history that taught me anything about music, he could pick up any instrument while sitting at a piano and play each one beautifully. A certified hit song he whipped up would be in your birthday card along with a cartoon story of yourself.
I always loved his company and he taught me 2 things in life that rattled a difference to this day.

If I had a problem my dad’s 1950’s cool cat advice, to “stand tall and talk back” usually prompted me to ask when mom would be home from work. I understood his dry humor nevertheless, all due to having a consistent, soft spoken man that was proud to be who he was while around me in childhood he always respected women in the old school gentlemanly way and romanced my mom daily. So I don’t let men talk down to me. I know how a gentleman will (should) behave, due to my dad.

Dad wouldn’t let me mow grass and that’s not easy for a tomboy that begged to, but my favorite chore was when he was a hoist operator all day to come home to ask, “Dondu this ole man is gonna take a catnap before I go play music. I need you to write down the lyrics to these songs”. I lived for it, I was honored to not only enjoy doing that for my dad but for that little girl it was a genuine burst of excitement in which blew inside of me with the dream of being a music producer someday, and that my cool dad would play the songs I prepared in a mere few hours!

I made it. I was a music producer in my young mind. Music was my daily work my entire life. In childhood, along with my music teacher, my dad was the only person that encouraged my desire to follow music as a career. When I did Elvis impersonator shows my ducktail was perfectly convincing, thanks to my ‘The Original Mr Cool’ dad. When I wanted to hear my lyrics in the instrumental format he never hesitated to sit down at the piano with me. I’m also honored to say it may be true what my mom always said about me, “She’s me from the neck up but Donovan from the neck down”, with age I notice they are within my demeanor daily. I naturally walk like him which is a cool strut for a man but not so cool for a woman when ya can’t change it. As former people in their life have cried seeing me due to resembling my mom so much, what they don’t realize my personality is more like my dad than anyone. I will always be grateful to him for many things, one being performing in his band, teaching me why Dolly Parton’s voice was more advanced than Pasty Cline’s, studying my favorite subject with him, meeting country acts signed with music labels. For example I will never forget meeting Johnny Lee (Urban Cowboy soundtrack) as he towered over me and his song was number 1 that year. My dad enhanced my obsession with music and I will never forget a second of it. You could probably pick up my excitement as I built up speaking of music.
I eat, sleep, create and breathe music, while being blessed to have had such a talent not only want to hear, see the songs I wrote, most of all be a part of making me and helping in raising me to be a part of the memorable HD. One more impressive thing I must mention as my dad was on my mind a great deal recently. My dad is also the only person in my life that didn’t cuss, at all, not even ‘damn’. I’m not kidding, not even WHAT THE HELL .. no cussing whatsoever. My mom could speak like a sailor but loved how my dad always affiliated curse words to ones intellect. She was proud of that thinking of his. These little blogs pale in comparison with descriptions of Linda and Donovan.

Stand back honkycat 💖🎼

Best grandparents in the world…

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Buffalo Hump~(Fathers Day)

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What I would write to my mom if she were here to read it since I know it would make her laugh and smile…

Mom.. I forgive you for always picking me up at the many Elks, and other Jamborees when I was relishing in my Urban Cowboy moment with Dad and Uncle Mike playing music, all because you said “it was dusk and I was too young.”

Mom.. I forgive you that you reminded me how you’d happily take Drew off my hands if I didn’t stop college and stop my car salesman job after giving birth to her because we were ‘blessed enough for me to be home with her.’

Mom.. I forgive you for telling dad he “should’ve killed the spider with his purse.”

Mom.. I forgive you for making me the first girl in shop class with the boys because you demanded it to the principal, after putting Ms. Goslin in her place for how she spoke to me.

Mom.. I forgive you for being appalled I didn’t have earrings and lipstick on when I checked into the hospital to give birth, as you held my hand.

Mom.. I forgive you that you didn’t want me in music because of the lonely lifestyle, so you suggested auditioning for SNL instead.

Mom.. I forgive you for calling me ‘your pumpkin’ my entire life because you pushed out this 10 pound baby naturally.

Mom.. I forgive you for being supportive, paying for a huge wedding, and giving me the option to marry the love of my life, even up to the point when I panicked in my wedding gown.

Mom.. I forgive you that as I was in awe holding my newborn Drewbabe in the hospital you said “She’s absolutely beautiful, well..this is the first day. You’ll live in fear from this day on until the day you’re gone.”

Mom.. I forgive you that I have yet to find you wrong on anything and everything you taught me.

Mom .. thank you for always forgiving me.

Mom, thank you for allowing me to mimic you on how to be a wonderful mother, always speaking and living 100% honest. Most of all, for loving me unconditionally.

mom’s favorites, for mom❤️

“It takes a smart brunette to play a dumb blonde”-Marilyn
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