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Tag: memories

Dear anyone who will listen…

Dear anyone who will listen…

HELLO! Is anyone out there? Nod if you can hear me. Or read this. Or whatever… Hey, it’s me. THE LUCY – remember me? Do I hear crickets? Yeah probably. Thanks to my dumb mommy, no one is here for me in my time of need. Good one, thanks 🙁 Seriously. I’m I’ve had it. Sure you all know I’m angry at her for keeping me away from my bloggy friends. I don’t care that her day job is kicking…

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Happy Gotcha Day!

Happy Gotcha Day!

Hello everyone! It’s me, The Lucy! Remember me? I really hope so. My stupid mommy hasn’t let me talk to my friends in long time. I hope I still have friends… But I don’t want to rag on her too much. She’s been going through some stuff and her time has been extra limited. Yet she still managed to finish Plan Cee (will be published in March) and she does make sure my breakfast is ready nice and early every…

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Forgiven….

Forgiven….

Soon after my father passed away, when I was fourteen years old, my mom worked hard at trying to comfort me. She often said, “You can always find something to feel guilty about if you try.” Unfortunately, I didn’t have to try too hard. I was so young when he passed. Let’s face it, kids always say and do things to their parents that aren’t so nice. But usually those moments are forgotten as the year’s pass. But when death…

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You can’t go home again….

You can’t go home again….

They say you can’t go home again. But they are wrong. You can. We did. It seemed like any other Sunday morning. We woke up early, got some exercise in, and took a ride to Costco before hitting the beach. The only difference was we woke up in a different house, in a different town. “Doesn’t if feel like we went on a long vacation, my husband asked me as we exited the Costco parking lot?” “Yeah,” I replied as…

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Sometimes it is the little things…

Sometimes it is the little things…

“How is this even possible?” I asked my husband as I stared out the front window pointing. “Care to clarify?” He asked. I do tend to have an annoying habit where I start a conversation in my head and end it out loud. “The grass,” I placed my hand on my hip and turned to face him. “I swear. When I went to work this morning there was just dirt. But now, look at it. There is really grass.” “Yep,”…

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