Evergreen

Hey fellow Atlantan's

Are you tired, worn out, stressed beyond believe?
Are the kids, dogs, boss, that annoying co-worker making you crazy?
What you need is a vacation.

"Oh right T, who can afford a vacation in this economy?"

I know, but just picture this..............................
A beautiful resort set among green trees and rolling hills, on a lake with a majestic mountain in the distance.

"that sounds great T, but like I said.....I'm broke"

Well what if I told you that this place is right here in the ATL.
Marriott Evergreen resort at Stone Mountain.'

Today

Maureen, Todd, Eugene, Vivian, Furdonna, Diana, Joe, Frank, Camille, Christina, Chris..........and the countless others on floors 34 and 35, today I think of you.

13 years ago today we became a family bound by tragedy. As we all began our day in the peach palace little did we know the horror and pain that would play out from the usually glorious view of our office windows.
The memories of that morning always hurt, they always bring tears but I no longer fear them like I once did.
Those awful, awful memories have become a part of me. They have made me love deeper, forgive easier and to never, never take my life for granted.
I know that life can change in an instant. I know that your world can become unrecognizable in a second. I know that the sky can fall down.

Quest for jeans

I know, blue jean shopping.....it sucks.
It's almost as bad as bathing suit shopping.

Well ladies before you go off and start with the whole "men don't have these problems"
"guys will never understand what it's like to......"
I must stop you. I recently had a very eye opening experience.

You see my lovely biker man wears a 32/36.
Let me state that again, he wears a 32 waist and 36 length pant!

We went to more stores that I have ever been to to buy jeans even during the dreaded "my ass is how big!?!" days.
You know it's bad when the salesman at the big and tall shop says "wait, what size did you say!?!" Apparently this size is such a rarity that no one keeps it in stock. He had to revert to trying on jeans that he knows will be too short to "get the fit" then special order the correct waist/length size, if they even carry it.

And don't even get me started on shirts. Poor guy has to buy XXL in anything button down even though he wears an L or an XL. He then tailors it so its not a tent around him. If he buys a smaller size the shoulders are too narrow and the sleeves are too short. And I thought I had clothing problems.

I now understand why my 6ft5 biker has a sewing machine and knows how to use it......very well.

This is going on the invitations

So very, very beautiful

I am not the first person you loved. You are not the first person I looked at with a mouthful of forevers. We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife. We have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin. Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night. Our love came when we’d given up on asking love to come. I think that has to be part of its miracle. This is how we heal. I will kiss you like forgiveness. You will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms will bandage and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book. I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat on your skin. I will write novels to the scar of your nose. I will write a dictionary of all the words I have used trying to describe the way it feels to have finally, finally found you. And I will not be afraid of your scars. I know sometimes it’s still hard to let me see you in all your cracked perfection, but please know: whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun or the nights you collapse into my lap your body broken into a thousand questions, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I will love you when you are a still day. I will love you when you are a hurricane. ~  Clementine von Radics, “Mouthful of Forever”

Suicide

We lost another artist this week.
It is always tragic when these beautiful lights go out, but there is something significantly different this time.

Usually when someone takes their own life there is the tragic shaking of the head, that grim flat mouth and the obligatory "what a shame"; but it is too often followed by something else, blame.
Our society so often blames the afflicted for not being able to conquer their illness.
I'm not hearing as much blame this time.
Maybe it's that Mr. Williams was so loved and adored, maybe it's because we always knew he was "a little touched" but maybe, just maybe, we are changing.

Perhaps our society is finally willing to see mental illness for what it is, a debilitating, all too often fatal disease.
Perhaps we can become more tolerant of the those who suffer so silently, so shamefully.

Robin Williams was loved and admired by millions but this horrible disease made it impossible for him to feel that love. That is the tragedy of depression. It robs you of your ability to see or feel the support that may be standing right in front of you. We can only hope that the tragic end to Mr. Williams amazing life can open the doors wider and help our society remove the shame so closely related to depression.

Why didn't I think of this

I think I know what someone is getting for his Birthday.........................


http://twistedsifter.com/2014/07/thrift-store-painting-remixes-by-david-irvine/

This Guy Paints Random Characters Into Old Thrift Store Paintings

David Irvine is the talented artist behind the Gnarled Branch. The self-professed illustrator and crafter is known for his whimsical furniture, his Gothic sculptures and what he describes as ‘Re-Directed Paintings’.

Featured below is his ongoing series of re-directed paintings where Irvine finds old and/or discarded thrift store paintings and revives them by adding a recognizable character or two. The artist sells the paintings along with prints of the pieces on Etsy, Society 6 and Red Bubble.

The artist is also always available for commissions and you can see much more of his artwork on his Facebook page. To keep up with the latest, be sure to check out David at the online links below.

DAVID IRVINE / THE GNARLED BRANCH

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

The arm beneath your head!

It is some dream that on the deck,

You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

But I with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.