Happy 2017!

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And because I let the Almighty guide me to wherever I need to go and be as I no longer make any New Year’s resolutions.

Woke up this morning, counting my blessings, thanking the Almighty for one more day, month, hour, minute, seconds and yes, year. It has had his rough patches, negatives and positives, met new people, made new friends, challenges of earthquake and tornado proportions but it is His Will and not mine. I am just riding along. I have accepted it. I have surrounded.

I am here, I am alive, I am breathing, I exist and yes, I am cute; sorry, could not help, it is just me. I have my family, friends and angels who I am eternally grateful for – they are tucked away in a special corner of my heart, and anything else is academic, a bowl of potato soup and sorry to say, just a space on my sentences.

I foresee 2016, excuse-me 2017, to be different, exciting, at least I am hopeful, striving for it, with its challenges and all. Yes, the page has got to turn in this book as dreams never die. A new chapter will have to be written with a mile (a semicolon it was in 2016) long of subjects and new protagonists in the midst as I look through the lenses.

Although a day late with my post, to all a Happy New Year. Wishing you the best in the roller coaster of 366 days; correction, back to regularly scheduled program of 365 days, as the leap year is gone and done with it, leaving us with more then we could chew. May 2917 bring you much joy, love, happiness, kindred spirits, prosperity and most of all, great health.

Muah. God bless. Much Love.

The Wooden House

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The wooden house sat in the corner of Billsboro and Fallbroader streets in the Kingdom of Euboiro, up in the hill behind some oak trees, surrounded by nosy gossip du jour deliver neighbors, bordered by trees and calm ambience, humid weather and raggedy terrain, characteristic of the tropical climate. The houses were built ceiling to ceiling, on top of standing wooden poll sticks in such razor-thin proximity the neighbors could hear each other’s sneeze. Like many homes built in the area, miss Madeleine’s was of the same design, resembling a tree-house or a hanging stool to escape the frequent rain and ranging mud.