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I am new to this world of Blogging and I need tips and advice?!?!

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Face Vaule

I don’t ever take anything at face value. I always think there’s a deeper meaning to life, to love, to relationships, to the way the clouds move through the sky and form messages for you & to the way the stars wink at you when you need them the most. To the way cardinals show up to your friend when she needs encouragement and a sign, or your favorite radio song comes on when you feel like your loosing your mind. To the way my dog lies her head on my lap and looks up at me when I’m having a hard time, as if to say she gets it..to angels disguised as cops to crying mothers in the emergency room. This world is filled with messages if you look for them, or better yet if you stop looking and let them come to you. 

So I work with the Assited “living”… And life is a gift.

We’ll call her Mrs.L for sake of privacy violations and all that. She has the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s, or as she calls it, “a little slippage.” Well I work in the dinning room just as a lowly server, (lead server..whatever that means because I have yet to see a job description for me and I’m pretty sure they just made it up so I wouldn’t leave) and have been there sense they opened in August, 2014.. and I see these people for 10+ hours a day 4-5 days a week. I love them, they are all the grandmas and grandpas you could ask for. Mrs.L… back to her. (Bare with me, there may be a point to this story..we’ll find out when im finished) I hate to love her… no, not love to hate her, I said it right the first time. She’s ornery, mischievous, feisty, manipulative (which yes I realize that ornery is already and adjective for most of those but I’m not a professional writer here) and she’s just so dang cute..most days. So let me set the scene, it really started a few days ago. We have tiny glass vases with pretty little carnations and other things in them we put out on the tables each day and she keeps stealing the vases. Taking them back to her room, where we fetch them later when she is not in there and she never realizes till a few months later when she wants one again. So the conversation goes like this:

Mrs. L: Do you think anyone will notice if I take this?

Me: They’ll notice.

Mrs. L: ohhhh no… will they?

Me: Yes, weve noticed before…

Mrs.L: well whats the big deal if I take one little vase?

Me: because that’s stealing from us and stealing is bad.

Mrs. L: oh boy you guys are something else.

So after a few rounds of conversation she finally conceded and I promised to bring her her own personal vase. Which I knew she’d forget, so I just stuck it in front of her door with some pretty fake flowers in it…or I mean Fake pretty flowers..today. Which brings me toooooo the story today. Her oatmeal. Her favorite thing, besides bacon of course, at breakfast was “too runny.” Which I warned her of this and only added a little of milk for her so it wouldn’t drown… Then she asked for more milk for it so I left the milk on the table,,, warning her again that the Oatmeal Was Fine and in no need of any more liquids…and within seconds after turning my back she drowned it… or “I just added a little dab and now look at it??” FORGETTING everything I just told her about it being runnier today…. and then cursed me and told the “others” what a mean girl I was. ……Fail at feeling good about bringing her flowers..?? nope I think not. By lunch time she liked me again, the morning no longer existed to her any more, I don’t say this to mock her or make light of her disease. The POINT (See I found one) is that I get  a blessing each day from these people and a reminder that life is so precious, every day, every hour,every moment, we should live and treat it that way. We need to (I need to) view life as a gift, esp sense my God has given me time after time to live when I should have been taken away by my alcoholism. AND when I have a bad day remember….I can still remember what I had for breakfast.

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Incase you wanted to know. 

I’ve wanted to start a blog for awhile now and never knew where to start. So I just said screw it and started. I’ve been on a “nibbling” sweets rampage. At least for me. Let me start out by saying I’m tiny! And that’s not a “oh look at me I’m

So skinny, I work out and junk,” statement…because the only part of that statement that’s true is the “and junk” part, that part I seem to have down pack (pact?packed…whatever I’m a horrible speller btw fyi tmi..and whatever other cheesey short versions of sayings there are)….annnnyways where was I?? Oh yes tiny. Like President of the IBTC ..explanation: Itty Bitty Tityy Comity…I don’t work out currently, besides job which keepse on my toes,  I just have a wicked fast metabolism, and by wicked fast I mean I can eat a burrito without instantly craping it out… Wicked fast metabolism just sounds way better then I have IBS and occasionally… ….weekly…. :/ (it’s awkward being honest to the world ) can’t make it to the bathroom. 
Anywhoo..having a sweet tooth was never my thing till of late and its OUT of CONTROL..as in going through a couple – 5- pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream in roughly a week….less…and litteray eating sugar out of the jar. I believe I know the answer to my perdicament and its do to certain meds. Soo now I am going to have to 12 step my way through NOT eating sugar…or let’s be real..as much, primarily because I know one day I should be concerned about health and shit. 
But enough about my sweet toothe and a bit about me..I’m quirky and having a racing brain and imagination and I’m also in recovery and decided this may be. New way to vent and obtain a “healthy” hobbie as they say in my AA group…because apparently the only hobbies i acquired  the past few years was being able to put down a pint of booze..ok it was probably more..a day. However I am close to 6 months sober now and had ten bf I took a quick little uh   lapse… SO basically in a nut shell this is a place for me to vent and air out the crazz (or complex) ..self. A healty outlet to confess all my sins ..or really just compulsive behaviors that I take a weeee to much pleasure in.