“The Journal of Wall Grimm” Road Trip 1: Avast Ye Mateys!

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May 19, 2013

 

Ahoy me hearties!  All hand hoay!

Beware, the following journal entry contains pirate speak.

First, I want to complain about physical problems, then I won’t complain the rest of the trip.  My leg has been kind of weird and sore feeling since detox.  That’s from when I broke it and I never went to physical therapy.  I never felt a thing with all the pain meds I was on, but now I’m clean so I feel everything.  My stitches were taken out Friday before Hasty, Patrick, Pete and I left for our road trip, so that’s good, and the scars don’t look bad.  Hasty evened off my hair in the back so the shaved part doesn’t stand out so much, now that some hair has grown in.  My black eyes are now a yellow with spots of grey, so not so bad, my nose isn’t swollen.  Those aren’t complaints but the other complaint I have is with my brain.  I had been writing rough drafts of my journal, then copying the entry into my actual journal, so that’s been a pain in the ass.  I think I don’t need to do that anymore since I’m doing all right with it now.  But I do notice significant forgetfulness and distraction.  Like I’ll be in the middle of doing something and think of something else, and walk away from it, completely forgetting I was doing the first thing.  It’s stupid things too at times.  Like the other day I was in the shower and I felt hungry.  So I just turned off the shower and went to the kitchen for food.  I completely forgot to rinse all the suds off of me.  Paula had to tell me.  Blimey!  I just hope one day I don’t get distracted on my way out the door and find myself walking around naked because I forgot to get dressed.

That said, I have to add that it affects my driving.  I can only drive an hour at the most.  So I don’t contribute so much for the journey in that way, but they understand, and we are four drivers anyway.  Everyone will drive at 2 hour intervals and alternate, I will do one hour for my interval.  Pete’s very organized, he’s keeping track of it.  He also made a list of who’s paying for what.  We have to pay for gas, accommodations, breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks.  He’s not marking down how much we pay, he’s just keeping track that we alternate the pay outs.  There will be a variation of expenses, but it’s not important.

We left Friday, a friend’s dad owns a garage and he loaned us a van.  It’s one they need to fix up and resell so he has no worries about it.  I feel like we’re the Scooby Doo gang in their Mystery Machine.  Paula gave me some cash and she also gave me one of her credit cards.  She put me on as a user.  Wait there’s a double meaning there.  I meant a user of the card.  Whatever.  When I return home I plan to start working with Sharly again and getting my shit together.  Hasty, Patrick, and Pete took time off from work.  They each took a month off.  Very fortunate they were able to do that.  I don’t know if we’ll be gone that long, but it would be pretty cool.

Ok now that all the technicalities have been described, I can talk about the trip.

My name is Wall Grimm and this is the story of my road trip.

WALL GRIMM’S ROAD TRIPPING

Wish I was really trippin’ but whatever.  So, we took off Friday with the van.  We took off early enough that we didn’t get caught in rush hour through the New Jersey Turnpike.  Our destination is Florida to start.  We didn’t go into New York, but we might on the way back.  New York’s close to home, we can go there any time, it’s roughly a four hour drive.  Or an hour on the commuter plane.  So we may skip New York altogether and make that it’s own trip another time.  We drove and then we went into a truck stop and napped a little during the evening.  Then we continued on to Virginia Beach as our first official stop.  We got there about 8am and went to the Youth Hostel.  We wanted to see if we could get a private room there, so we could all be together, otherwise we’d be in the dorms, so Hasty would have to go into a female dorm room.  Can’t have that.  So we went in there and the manager was really cool because usually there’s a minimum stay of 2 or 3 nights on the weekend, but we charmed her into letting us do the one night, and we paid $30 for the room.  Not each, just $30.  That’s why we’re going to try to do Hostels as much as possible.  We may not get lucky all the time because they may be booked.  We were lucky this time and we weren’t even trying to hornswaggle her.  We haven’t really charted out a course yet, we’re just going to go where our whims take us.

We booked the private room, and the manager even let us go in early because no one had been there from the previous evening.  So we brought in our shit battened down the hatches, and got ready to hit the boardwalk.  The manager told us that there was a Pirate Party on the beach today, so we were really excited about that.  We got ready in our swim suits to hit the beach and go out and buy pirate costumes.  Basically we got vests and the shirts, hats, eye patches and the swords the pirates have, that kind of stuff.  No pants because we were on the beach.  Hasty looked hot.

The boardwalk I think someone said is about 3 miles.  I was like, “shiver me timbers.” We got some decent beach time in, jumping in the waves like little kids, walking the boardwalk, going on rides, eating lots of fried dough, and talking like pirates.  I found a cute blonde lifeguard with a nice dungbie.  I was like, you’re so small, how could you ever rescue me?  She said she was a strong swimmer and she has the rescue floatation devices and then she described the training it takes to be a beach life guard.  Intense stuff.  She impressed me and made me want to try drowning.  Me mateys dragged me away before I distracted the lifeguard away from her job any longer.  Later we had to drag Hasty away from a group of swashbucklers.

Once at the hostel, we all took turns showering in the head, well the bathroom, not the toilet, but…aye.  We then hung out in our room in our underwear.  I was the only one who got a tan.  The others got sunburned.  Sunburned and we haven’t even made it to Florida yet.  We took off the shirts now and then to get some sun on us.  The sun was strong, so my friends need to use more sunblock.  I just put it on my shoulders, my nose, and my lower back along my swim suit line.  Those are the only places I might get burned if I do.  So yeah, we were all in our underwear.  I was like, “yo ho ho, avast ye!” when I saw Hasty, who wasn’t completely in her underwear btw.  Well, I guess neither were Patrick and Pete who were in boxers, boxer shorts and t-shirts.  Sorry but I was just in my bikini briefs, which was my polite way of not being naked.

Pete played some early 90′s music which is his favorite stuff.  One song he played that we all knew was “Two Princes” by the Spin Doctors, so we were dancing around and singing to that one.  Then when he played “Champagne Supernova” by Oasis, I grabbed Hasty for a slow dance.  Pete and Patrick just stared at each other with awkward looks in their eyes.  Hasty was like, “Weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen!  Just dance already.”  They said, “Aye, aye,” and danced.  I was just impressed by Hasty’s pirate lingo.

As we were dancing, I started to listen to the lyrics.  I said, “wtf is this song even about?  It doesn’t make any sense.”  Pete said, “Yeah, but it makes no sense nicely.”

When it came time for us to crash, we finally acknowledged that there were two double beds.  I said, so who’s sleeping where?  Pete and Patrick just kind of threw out an “aw gee I dunno” kind of shy laughter.  So we decided that Patrick would sleep with Hasty, and I would sleep with Pete.  It would have been completely platonic of course if Hasty and I ended up in the same bed together.  I respect her marriage, and she’s a loyal wife.  Her husband told me to take care of her and look out for her on our trip, so I won’t let him down.  Hasty’s well being is my priority.

Anyway, it’s great to have fun like this, and not be drinking.  This is a good group of buccaneers who are supportive of that, completely savvy, I’m lucky for these friends.

 

Patrick is a character based on himself at http://phintly.wordpress.com/ and Hasty is based on herself from http://hastywords.wordpress.com/ And Hasty’s husband is based on himself at http://hastyhusband.wordpress.com/

"Held Down"

Reblogged from SageDoyle:

When there were barriers pressing him broken
boundaries pressed him hammered down, 
he stood a proud, unconquered token
but switched,and hapless broken now
tall and fine, solid, strong, 
but they held him broken down
tongue left shaved with no words spoken
no more a token, no less a hound

He hollowed his lungs, he breathed and more
released reprieve, left bloodied sore
remorse defiled, grief, unrest, 
from nothing birthed of hopelessness,
battled empty, his birth abhorred 
a forlorn soul from warfare forged

He was forged from pride and doubt 
from without they held him hard 
it ached him, throbbed him, brought about 
further adorned like a broken guard 
yet he would not capitulate
molested, broken, they beat and berate 
but bite on and grip on and held on and held down 
smothered and smoldered, witless and bound
as more than just a battered shard
battered down, they held him hard

White

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It’s been a while since I’ve posted photos, which makes sense since I’m not really a photographer.  When I go out in the world, the things I see manifest to me as words.  Sometimes they manifest as images and I feel compelled to take photographs.  This is usually the case with nature, especially trees.

Anyway, I will call this series, “White” because it’s amazing how beautiful white can be at times.  Enjoy!

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Please Help Find Nichole

Reblogged from M.S. Fowle:

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I've never said this to any of you, but PLEASE REBLOG THIS! We need as many people as possible to see it, even if you live overseas - PLEASE REBLOG or REPOST!

This past Sunday night, a local teenage girl went missing and no one has seen or heard from her since.

15-year-old Nichole Kristine Cable of Glenburn, Maine was last heard from Sunday night at around 9:20pm.

Read more… 369 more words

“The Orchard” by Hasty & Sage

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The orchard breathes life
Into a starry spring night
I hold your hand
Feeling you, feeling me
Enmeshed in the damp
where I lie with you
amongst the hardened roots
pressing against your body
Watching the moon dance in branches
Feeling your hands warm my skin
Anticipation forming like drops of dew
When it becomes that moment 
that grasping pause
and you gasp for that release
when there is nothing but us
Animalistic urges played out
Upon an ancient earth
I become a part of you
As your hands dig into flesh
Making you a part of me
I hold your hand
where I lie with you
watching the moon dance in branches
when it becomes that moment
as there is nothing but us
nothing but us

I composed this poem with Hasty at http://hastywords.wordpress.com Thanks Hasty!

“Entered”

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I entered in and it was opened
bashed from prior ventures here
souls without a fortune worth
unshared and unremoursed 
and wildly charted

They collected in order to trespass
yet as I entered in,
there was my passage
trodding upon the whispering ground
the broken bed of forests grown

The others they destroyed that land
but I am indeed a better man
and hence I entered in

I entered in and I was welcomed
as if I had been called before
as if I knew my way
with a blistered spirit
encased by pride
entered I, and then I paused
remarking that which 
lay before me


“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 93 Grimm’s Stupid Friends, Grimm-like Stealth, & Vanilla K

May 16, 2013

Last night, John, Jay, and Randy took me to a strip club to surprise me.  It must have been Randy’s idea because he hates me.  I told them they were fucking stupid because I can’t drink so how am I supposed to go into a strip club.  I said I’d wait outside, and I pocketed Jay’s pack of cigarettes and lighter.

He said, “what am I gonna do for smokes?”

“Fend for yourself dipshit.” I was so pissed off.

Anyway, they went in and I just leaned outside the club and smoked.  They’re lucky it stopped raining.  At some point I had to take a piss, so I went out back behind the building.  As I was pissing I saw this girl come out of the back exit.  This big guy followed her out, shouting at her but I didn’t hear what he was saying.  I stopped pissing then, my bladder kind of froze up, so I did up my pants and tried to hear what that guy was saying.  I couldn’t tell.  The acoustics out back made it all muffled and echoey.

She tried to walk away but he grabbed her arm roughly, pulled her then slammed her against the wall.  He put his hand on her throat and started shouting and pointing in her face with his other hand.  I decided to get involved. They didn’t see me there and this guy was well deserving of a hard sucker punch to the kidneys, so that’s exactly what I did.  Especially since as I approached with Grimm-like stealth (which is very stealthy) I saw him retrieving a switchblade from his inside coat pocket.  So I punched him hard in the kidney and he doubled over long enough for me to punch the fucker in the head.  That brought him down to his hands and knees. Now I’m not one to kick a man when he’s down, but I did it, because I could tell he was dangerous, and I was protecting that girl.  So I kicked him in the same kidney and he fell over sideways.

He leaned up but was partly on his back and held the knife out in front of him.  I reached out to the girl who came over and stood behind me. I said to him that we were going to walk away and does he have a problem with that.  I said if he did then we’d solve the problem right then and there but he probably wouldn’t be satisfied with the ending.

There was a pause and I suspected that he was going to jump up at me but the girl said, “We’re going.  Come on let’s go.”

She started to walk towards the front of the building but I was a little apprehensive about turning my back on that guy.  He nodded at me then started to stand.  He said, “Get the fuck out of here.  This ain’t your business.”

That girl walked fast so I had to catch up with her, turning back a few times to see the guy standing up slowly and brushing himself off, peering at her as she continued on without looking back. I said to her, “Are you ok?” She said, “Yeah.”  Then she stopped, looked at me and it looked like she was going to cry and said, “Thank you.”  Then she continued walking.

“Do you need any help?”

“I need something to drink.  Come with me to get something to drink?”

“I don’t drink.  …anymore.”

She laughed.  “I mean coffee.  Or something.  I’m thirsty, tired.  I want coffee.”

“Ok yeah.”

She told me her name was Vanilla K.  When I said my name was Grimm, she said we were like Yin and Yang.  We went into Dunkin’ Donuts.  I bought her a water, a juice, and a coffee.  Got myself a decaf.  It’s hard to drink caffeine now unless it’s morning because I don’t sleep well anymore.  I don’t take any shit to help me sleep.  I even avoid Tylenol PM just to stay away from the potential of an emerging cycle.  Decaf coffee from most places tastes like shit though because it’s rarely a fresh pot.

We sat and she asked about my nose.  I told her about the gangsta, took my tweed cap off to show her the stitches.  She said, “I think you like to fight.”

“I don’t mind it.  I don’t start it.  Most times.”  Then I told her I recently got out of detox and that’s where it happened.

She said she had a good feeling about me, as if she could trust me, even though she trusts no one.  I said I’ve been known to give people good feelings.

She laughed because she caught the look in my eye which is like a smirk without my changing my facial expression.

I said, “You laugh a lot for a sad person.”

“How do you know I’m sad?”

“How do you know you can trust me?”

“I laugh when things are funny.  I try to appreciate the good things when they happen.  No matter how simple.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You don’t laugh much though.”

“How do you know.”

“You’re amused by a lot of things but you seldom laugh.  And you’re a hard person to get close to even though you’re friendly.”

“What makes you so keen.”

“I’m a stripper.”

“Ah, you really have to delve deep into human nature and know your clientele if you want to both get the tips and stay safe.”

“Exactly.”

“So, if I may ask, why are you a stripper?”

“I have no choice.”

“No choice?  Like, literally?”

“Literally.”

“Can you get out?”

“Not now but I will.  I have a daughter with the club owner.  She’s seven.  It’s complicated.  It’ll take some time to get out.  There’s a lot I need to do.  Things aren’t right there.  I need to fix some things.  I’m forced to strip.”

“I want to help you.”

“No, I can do it.  Better I do it alone.”

“Is your daughter safe?”

“For the time being, yeah.”

I gave her my cell number and told her to call me if she ever needed anything at all.  I persisted in offering my help, but she insisted she didn’t need any.  She said she’s never told anyone these things before, but it felt good to tell me, like letting the words that were so heavy just slip into a void and drift off into nothingness, so that for a moment she was herself adrift in nothingness, briefly free of all her burdens.

We talked about music, mostly The Clash and Billie Holiday, and she said she was a fan of Maroon 5.  I told her about my situation with Paula and she said it sounds like I’m in the sex business too.  I was like, “wwhaaat???”

“Sounds like you’re a gigolo.”

“No, no way.”

“You have sex with her and she provides room and board, and gives you spending money, buys you clothes.  What does that sound like?”

“Sounds like…I’m a gigolo.”  Then I laughed.

“Hey you laughed.”

I laughed more. “See, I’m no gigolo.  Gigolos don’t laugh.”

“You made that up.”

“Yeah I did.  But it’s true.”

We talked for a couple hours while my stupid friends were getting their rocks off at the club.  They came in to get me, figuring I’d be in either a park or a Dunkin’ Donuts.  I said a quick goodbye to Vanilla K before my friends could embarrass me, and I took off with them.

I like meeting people who remind me of reality.  I go out there and try to find joy in life, and I get distracted by trivial things.  Reminders of reality help me to consider my own condition, and appreciate who I am, and regardless of what I’ve done with my life, I’m reminded to appreciate the things I have that are important.  Family, friends, a good mind, and I’m a good person.

I thought about Vanilla K for the rest of the night, even as I laid in bed unable to sleep, hoping for her to soon be free of that world and safe and happy with her daughter.

Vanilla K is loosely based on reality.  She is a character by Kira at  http://writingsnapshots.com/ Kira will be continuing Vanilla’s story on her blog “The MisAdventures of Vanilla K” in the near future, http://vanillak.wordpress.com/ so be sure to stay on top of that.  I believe one of the posts will be Vanilla’s side to this same story that Grimm tells.  I’m anxious to read that one myself.  Thanks Kira!

"Goodbye"

Reblogged from SageDoyle:

It is a mourning
a painful loss
there is nothing to say
but goodbye
He has a difficult time
he doesn't always process
or comprehend
words seem useless to him
or the words which once were his friends
have become his conspirators
sworn to defile his name
his worth
his intention
bashing his integrity
misrepresenting him
leaving him confused 
his mind a cloud of dust
and no words spoken seem true anymore
A friend is lost 
because of the wrong words
or simply because the words he used
were wrongly expressed 
He makes mistakes, we all do
but his purpose was never harm
rather his faults 
were distractions 
or careless yet benign slips of the tongue
His thoughts are battered
when his ideas are accused of judgment
despite that he degrades no one
He thought he mastered words
but you can't edit conversation
and once you're misunderstood
it's like a grave that only gets deeper
there's no digging yourself out with words
because they persistently betray you
even an explanation proves false
and every ounce of his worth and morals
is discredited
He is falsely seen as a cruel person
with harmful intentions
yet he has never in his life
ever purposely done anything
that would hurt anyone else
rather he's only been the advocate
and a comrade
on behalf of each and every one
of his friends

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 92 “Demons” by Imagine Dragon

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May 14, 2013

My name is Wall Grimm and this is my new favorite song.  The lyrics really mean something.  Something to me, something to everyone in some way probably.  The lines “your eyes, they shine so bright, I want to save their light, I can’t escape this now, unless you show me how” remind me of Emma.  So I have to write these lyrics down in my journal, because they reach me.
http://www.youtube.com/embed/mWRsgZuwf_8

When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood’s run stale

I want to hide the truth
I want to shelter you
But with the beast inside
There’s nowhere we can hide
No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come

When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

When the curtain’s call
Is the last of all
When the lights fade out
All the sinners crawl
So they dug your grave
And the masquerade
Will come calling out
At the mess you made

Don’t want to let you down
But I am hell bound
Though this is all for you
Don’t want to hide the truth
No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come

When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

They say it’s what you make
I say it’s up to fate
It’s woven in my soul
I need to let you go
Your eyes, they shine so bright
I want to save their light
I can’t escape this now
Unless you show me how

When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

“The Journal of Wall Grimm” 91 Looking Spruce, Out With Mom, & Wall Grimm’s Drug Philosophy

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May 14, 2013

 

Paula took me out and got me some fancy duds to make me dapper for my mom.  Black pants, so classy I should call them trousers.  Nice black shoes and socks, collared shirt and she even bought me a tweed cap to hide my stitches and the bald spot in the back of my head.  I had this shit already but my stuff got transported to Pete’s new place and I haven’t gone there yet.  So yeah, I was looking spruce.

She took me to get her flowers and chocolate and a card, then loaned me her car and gave me money to take my mom to Barnes and Noble.  My mom loves it there.  So do I.  I picked my mom up, she loved the stuff, and we went there to have a light lunch and coffee.  First we wandered around the store to look for books to buy or just to read while we sat in the café.  I was looking through some books at one point and my balls got really itchy.  I was trying to relieve myself of that discomfort discretely but it wasn’t happening.  So I just reached down my pants into my underwear and started scratching.  From around the corner appears a freakin’ beautiful tall black girl.  She saw me with my hand down my pants.  Wait, I forgot, I was all classy and shit.  I have to call them trousers.

I just stood there frozen for a second with my hand in my trousers, then slowly took my hand out as we made eye contact.  She was kind of smirking.  I said, “sorry, I was just…uh…scratching my balls…”  She laughed, which was good, but then I got an unexpected whack in the arm from my mom.  Where the hell did she come from?  She just kinda sidled up to me.  I had no idea she was there.  She whacks my arm and says, “Are you my son?!  You can’t be my son.”  Then she says, “Sorry for my son,” to the girl.  The girl just said, “it’s ok,” smiled and walked away.  She had an accent, sounded kind of French.  I wanted to talk to her and get her number or something, but I had to focus on my mom, it was her day.  Besides, I’m trying to control my urges and be respectful to Paula.  Also, I felt like a 12 year old the way my mom responded to the situation.  But ah, whatever, it was mother’s day, so yeah, she could do whatever moms do.  She said, “Valente, I thought I raised you to be a gentleman.”  I said, “I am a gentleman, but I was startled into brutal honesty.”  My mom prefers not to call me Grimm, or Wall, though she does sometimes.  And I actually call her Mama, but when I talk about her, I refer to her as my mom.

We picked out books and sat to have pesto sandwiches, soup, tiramisu, and cheese cake, with Pellegrino, and caramel cappuccinos.  I felt sophisticated, even though I kept my hat on.  A gentleman should remove his hat indoors, but I was hiding the stitches.  Couldn’t hide the black eyes and busted nose though.  But yeah, this sophistication is a genuine part of me that I’ve neglected for a long time.  I am seriously an intellect despite my recent bouts of idiosy.  I’m smart, educated, I’ve always liked to read and have clever conversations.  Sitting there with my mom, I recall how I was always the one people went to when they had problems.  I was the one they sought for advice, or help, or support.  Somehow I became the pathetic one that people either wanted to avoid, or felt compelled to pamper or pity.  What the fuck have I been doing with my life?  I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.  I have a philosophy about drugs though.

My name is Wall Grimm, and this is my philosophy about drugs.

WALL GRIMM’S DRUG PHILOSOPHY

Drugs make it so you don’t care, nothing matters, being high just makes everything ok.  You suffer a lot, from the drugs, but you get high even to deal with that pain.  Drugs are self perpetuating.  You start doing drugs for one reason or another, but eventually, you need to continue doing drugs to deal with the shit in your life that’s caused by doing drugs.

Anyway, I sat there with my mom, feeling like a man, then I’d glance at my mom and wish to be a child again.  It fucking sucks.  I want to start over, I want to go back.  I want her to hold me and say, “everything’s going to be all right, mommy’s here.”  That’s what she’d always say.  And if she wasn’t necessarily accurate about that, at least for that moment, it was true.  I feel embarrassed just to write that shit, like I’m such a pussy.  I remember seeing “Saving Private Ryan” and at the opening sequence there was this soldier with his guts blown out, I think that was his problem, I can’t remember, but anyway, he was calling out, “mommy! mommy!”  And I thought, yeah that would be me.  Is that so bad really?  Good moms I guess.  Moms are just symbolic of nurturing and comfort and childhood safety.  So as you become a man, and things get bad, you gotta stay a man, but there’s that part of you that wants to go back.  But you man up because you have to, otherwise you’re a pussy.  That’s just a fact, I didn’t make it up.  Thing is, you’re expected to man up from a very early age.

But my mom’s a beautiful Italian woman and we talked about some things, nothing serious, just memories and current stuff.  I could tell she held back.  I knew she had tons of questions about my life, the way I was living it, and even about Paula.  The fact that I’m with Paula baffles her.

So yeah it was a nice day with my mom, I made her happy, which is good, that’s what I wanted to do.  But I kinda made myself a little sad in the process.  I’m ok with that though, it was worth it to make her happy.

 

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