Hi there. It has been a while since I've posted, but it does not mean that my life is quiet. In fact my head is spinning with thoughts but none that easily get out of my head and are put into print. Sometimes I feel like a broken record, a circle that goes round and round. I've been writing putting words to paper-real paper, feeling the pen against the grain. That is where I've spent the past few weeks. This past week-end I visited my mother in Scottsdale. I've not seen her since her surgery and it was good to have her up and about. Dealing with issues of an aging parent is frustrating and scary. I've yet to figure out the positive in it. This is partly what I write about in my journal, a purging. I also write to find courage and I only find that by living through a day at a time and discovering that what I was so afraid of did not kill me. When thoughts stay in my mind they tend to grow and distort. Little bumps become mountains. That is the importance of my journal, it frees me. Words that belong in private, stored away out of my head. From "dear diary" of years ago, to colorful pages of today my journals are a source of pleasure, release and sanity.