Grateful. Thankful. Blessed.
Grateful. Thankful. Blessed.

Signed in as:
filler@godaddy.com

Why GTB? For some wonderful reason, throughout the entirety of my journey, I’ve always been able to focus with gratitude on the good things- family, friends, my animals, the beauty of nature and this world we inhabit, and every other thing that living a life brings, even through the hardest and darkest of times. We all have them, have had them, and will again at some point, but I have always instinctively believed that disciplined focus on the good things will starve out the dismal. It’s a choice- a quick mental adjustment, and It works for me. I feel profoundly thankful for the life I’ve been given, and for what I’ve done with it. I don’t complain much as I look around the world, for there are so, so many who suffer. I feel outrageously blessed, and I am grounded in the belief that my faith, and my adherence to a simple desire to live decently, share silently, and support unconditionally is a great way to spend a day.

Things I have written or published, and want to share. I believe that words matter. They do. At some point. In some way. To someone. If the words I share connect me to you in some way, I am thrilled about it. Here are some of the things I've written if you'd like to read them or perhaps bring something home.
I have spent a lifetime putting pen to paper to share my devotion to the ones I love, especially on holidays and special special occasions. As I grew older, in the leanest of years, when all I wanted to do was give the world to them, it wasn't necessarily an option. So I wrote. And I created. And I learned early that the time spent creating words and images for the ones I'd take a bullet for are the very things that have meant the most to them
and have stood the test of time.
The CARDS remain.

As I pen oft, my darlings
For each season, in rhyme
Let me tell you,
This Christmas,
That I'm grateful for TIME
For this TIME spent with you
Is the greatest I measure
It's the TIME, my dear sisters,
That I hold dear and treasure
... more

I was 9 years old when my Father bought me an old school 1950's Smith Corona typewriter at a basement sale in the building in which we lived. I can still remember the black and red ribbon that made colorful the stories I'd tap into existence. If I close my eyes and think about it, I can still smell the oil on my fingers when, every time while typing, the keys would stick, and I'd need to free them. Then, my mind worked faster than the technology afforded me. How lovely the undeniable fast moving passion of wanting to get something down on paper before it escapes you.
You can send me a message or ask me a general question using this form, and I'll get back to you soon.

We use cookies to analyze website traffic and optimize your website experience. By accepting our use of cookies, your data will be aggregated with all other user data.