My daughter, hard at work...

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These Words Are Mine

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Who said "Actions Speak Louder Than Words"? I want to talk to that guy. It must be a guy... I am certain. I understand the purpose and point and practicality of such an expression, I understand how we must be accountable for our actions, and not confuse the honesty of what we do, with the ease of words that leave our mouths, oftentimes without much thought, or consideration. Perhaps I rely on the words too much, When my actions seem insufficient. When there isn't a chance to show or make actionable, I am one of words. The way they fall off the pages of a book, and make me cry, or laugh, or scan, rapidly, unable to read fast enough to satisfy my curiosity. The words that are in the songs, That I carefully digest and interpret, Perhaps erroneously. Though it is likely the case that, whatever my favorite songs are at any given moment give some indication of what is on my mind. The words that fall out of your mouth, oftentimes w...
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The Bully Crowd

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7-3 again. No, I lie. It was more like 9-3. Bullwinkle's was my second job and will always remain my most favorite... I crept in at 9 or 10 every morning.   They weren't open at 7 a.m. which delighted me so. I made the bestest friends there.  To this day we remain lifelong, wonderful soul-mates. I even broke down the chola and made her learn to love me. Yes.  Rosie, I speak of you, girl. Rosie was the token chola at Bullwinkle's and she would wear baggy chola t-shirts and one of them had a HUGE Tickle-Me-Elmo plastered on the front of it. And there I waltzed in and up to her register and was likely doing cheer routines on my way in... "HI!!! MY NAME IS CAMBRIA!! C-C-C-C-A-AA-M-MM-B-B-B-R-R-R-I-I-I-I-a' A-A-A-A!!!  WHAT'S THAT SPELLLLLLLLL????" How annoying. I would always wear my hair up with a bouncy fountain and rub glitter all over my cheeks and put ribbons in my hair. It was completely bubbly and obnoxious and the Elmo chola ...
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Thank You, My Friend

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Thank You for reading my blog. Sometimes people say: "I read your blog..." and I hold my breathe for a moment and think about the language I use in my blog. I pray quietly I haven't offended someone's belief system.... that I haven't groaned too much about how much the gym hates me.... or the other way around. I pause as my mind races over my topics.  Have I been too emotional?  Have I confessed too much? But then I want to hug them. I write because, Sometimes I don't know how to say it out loud. Because I want my family to know that my memories of them... with them... are magical.  And they may not remember things just as I do... (And in my memory I am a little bit thinner...) I write because I want people to know that even though I haven't seen them for many moons, I think of them. Often. And I don't want to bore people out loud with stories about how cute my cats are.  In all seriousness, though, They're so cute.  L...
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