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  1. So terrible, I have to laugh.

    Warning: This story is a little morbid, proceed at your own risk.

    When my father died, I was living with him and my brother in a house in Southern California.

    He had a heart attack. I was not there at the time, I had gone to a spend the weekend with my then boyfriend. When I got home, my brothers informed me that my father had died, in his bedroom.

    My brother tried unsuccessfully to administer CPR, and when the ambulance arrived, Dad was removed from ...

    Updated 07-14-19 at 11:20 PM by Faydra

    Member Blog
  2. ... and then the ****ing cat


    It was an intense move.

    I had made the decision to move my son and myself to Oregon, away from his father, my friends and my brother Bob. To a place I had only visited a few times - what was I thinking?

    Well, I was thinking I was sick of LA, and I really wanted my son to get to know MY side of the family. They are, of course, much cooler than his father's side. Especially Uncle Jim.

    It's comforting now, 10 years later, to know he agrees ...
    Member Blog
  3. Medication


    Mom went first. Emphysema. For her, the inhaler was her life line. The miracle tool that allowed her to exhale. Inhaling wasn't a problem, it was the exhale that she couldn't do. It was kinda funny needing the inhaler to exhale - until it wasn't funny anymore.

    Dad went next. There was no bottle of pills to save him, rather it was the 'bottle' that killed him. His total addiction to alcohol made his heart just finally give out.

    My brother Jim followed ...
    Member Blog
  4. I can run like the wind...

    I can run like the wind. I am fast fast fast - faster than any of the other dogs at the dog park.
    They may be bigger than me, 85 lbs to my mere 17, but I have a very specific low-to-the-ground running style which took me a lifetime to develop. So, I am FAST.

    I'm Cody, and I live with my human in a big house with an annoying cat named Maggie.

    My human is wonderful, I am so glad I found her. She gives me delicious food and goes with me to the dog park. She doesn't ...
    Member Blog
  5. My Life with an Alcoholic Father

    I grew up with an alcoholic father.

    And let me be perfectly clear, he was an extremely mean, stumbling, yelling, nasty, slobbering DRUNK.

    That being said, I need to also tell you that I loved my father. When he wasnít drinking he was one of the smartest funniest men Iíve ever known.
    He was supportive of anything we wanted to do. ďI donít care if you want to dig ditches for the rest of your life, if digging ditches makes you happy, then so be it!Ē.

    Updated 02-07-15 at 07:19 PM by Faydra

    Member Blog
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