Please vote for fragrance name

I have been asked to post what to name a new fragrance a friend of friend of mine makes.  It's mysterious scent.  Different. I don't know how to describe it very well.  I will tell you this.  This person writes passionately in purples and blacks and reds.  That's why I voted the way I did. 

Now would  you please post in your journal what you would like to name this? It's for a nice person!  Thanks!

Merry

Well, thanks for everyone that polled in the 4 catagories, here is the FINAL POLL! The winning names recieves a 4oz Balm with there new Name, a Foot Scrubby Pad and a 2 oz Whipped Body Butter and a Lip Balm!!!!

PLEASE PAST THIS POLL AROUND IN YOUR JOURNAL! The more votes the BETTER! This Poll will end on Friday!!!!

Here goes.........

 

Together For Eternity

TOGETHER, FOR ETERNITY
by PS Gifford

      Two nights ago I went to bed as I always did.
      I took up a hot milky drink and a good book and as my wife
drifted into her dream world, I drifted into the imagination of the
writer.  At some pint, I became defeated on my battle to maintain
keeping my eyes open, and with the final remnants of my waking state
somehow managed to switch off my reading lamp and bookmark my book.
      Typically, I am a sound sleeper.  The only thing that ever
awakens me is a storm or my dog needing to go outside.  But that
night I found myself wide awake.  Fragments of the dream I had been
having still flashed in my minds eye.
      I glanced at the clock.  It was 3:30am.  I desperately tried to
recall my dream which was fading by the second.  I remembered faces.
Family faces.  I remembered tears.  I remembered black clothing.  But
what I remembered most of all was a feeling of peace.
      It is difficult to translate this feeling into words.  I somehow
felt strangely tranquil.  I instinctively allowed my hand to drop to
Tasha who was asleep on her bed alongside ours.  As I scratched, she
wriggled contently in her sleep.  My eyes managed to adjust to the
light and I could just make out the silhouette of my beloved wife
cocooned in bed sheets by my side.
      Three and a half hours later the ringing of the alarm clock
sounded particularly harsh as it pierced the morning silence.  I
abruptly awoke.  I remembered I needed to take my father to an early
morning doctor's appointment.
      My father, at 80 years old, has overcome some severe health
issues.  He is well on the road to recovery although he has
difficulty getting about by himself.
      At precisely 8am, on my third cup of coffee, I arrived at his
house.  Traffic had been unusually light and I made it in ample time.
He was still getting ready.
      As he got dressed he shared with me a curious thing that
happened the night before.  He told me how at 3:25am he had awoken
and was so restless that he had gotten up and had a glass of milk
before returning to bed.
      I suddenly recalled my waking at the same time.
      Then it all became clear.
      "You remember what day it is don't you?" he asked.
      I stared at him blankly.
      "It is the day that Olive and Frank get cremated."
      I could not believe I had forgotten.  Olive was his older
sister.  Their passing had come as quite a shock.  They were both
discovered dead at the bottom of the staircase in their home back in
England.  They had apparently been that way for several days.  They
were found after their son had called authorities to check on them,
after he hadn't heard from them for over a week.
     The coroner report concluded that Olive had fallen off a stool
while attempting to change a light bulb.  She had landed awkwardly
and had fractured her hip and several other bones, rendering her
unable to move.  We can only assume that she called for Frank, who
was 85 and incredibly frail and battling many health issues.  When he
went to investigate he must have suffered a fatal heart attack,
brought on no doubt by the shock of seeing her like that.  They had
been married for over 60 years.
      My father was naturally heartbroken by the news, as was I.  We
had discussed flying over for the funeral services but the 11 hour
flight was much too risky in my father's state of health.
      Because the coroner's report took some time, and because of
issues with their son, their only child who lives in the States, the
cremation was held back for an incredible two months.
      My father continued.  "The service commenced at 11:30am."  He
looked at me solemnly and I gave him a hug.
      Suddenly it all became remarkably clear.  With the time
difference, that was the precise moment we both awoke the night
before.  Perhaps, in some sort of spiritual way, part of us was there
after all.
      Here is a poem I penned the day I heard the dreadful news of
their passing:

      Sixty plus years spent together -
      With nary a single day apart.
      Through fine times and the dire,
      they stood by their sacred wedding vows.

      They raised just one single son,
       who fulfilled his dreams in the States,
      six-thousand miles from Birmingham,
      Where he was born and lovingly raised.

      He is a success in each and every way,
      Blossoming career, loving wife and three kids.
      His parents were overflowing with pride
      For everything their son had achieved.

      Fifty years spent in the same house,
      Which sheltered them from the elements.
      Yet, despite its diminishing condition -
      they stubbornly refused to ever leave.

      Yes, sixty grand years spent together,
      and a modest legacy to be proud off.
      For they lived, essentially as one - able to
      finish each others thoughts, with a knowing nod.

      And now they have passed on as one
      Unexpectedly and shrouded in mystery
      From this earthly physical plane,
      Carried up to the next spiritual level.

      They were uncovered hand in hand,
      At the bottom of their stairs,
      several days after their passing,
      by a shaken investigating police officer.

      We don't know the cause of their demise
      We will need to wait to Friday to discover,
      the results of their scheduled autopsies
      For the puzzling and elusive answer

      Yet, I know those sixty years together,
      were simply a beginning to their love.
      For now, it is undeniably destined,
      That they shall be together for all eternity.

                 -- PS Gifford    <psgifford at earthlink.net>

From Heartwamers.com

Goodbye TeddyBear

TeddyBear Kenyon

June 10, 1998 - December 15, 2008

Nine and a half years old.  Not a very long life.  But Teddy lived it to the fullest.   He played up to the end.  He loved his toys, he loved to "blitz"-as all Bichons do.  He was never really sick until that last week & weekend.  He had diabetes, and was starting to have several other organs fail.  We just couldn't see medicating him so he could live...that would be living for us, not for him.  Teddy got in trouble sometimes.  He'd wander away from home.  He nipped me more than once.  I wasn't "his boss" my husband, Dave was.  He was Dave's pal, the closest dog Dave ever had, and we have had several. Teddy knew he didn't have to mind me. But when Dave was gone, he became "my dog, my boy" within hours.  Funny how dogs do that.  He'd lie on my feet when I sat here typing at my computer.  He loved to cuddle. He cuddled more with Dave than me, but he did love it if I took an afternoon nap--then he always put his head on my legs and curled up into them.  He had a gorgeous thick white coat.  It was so thick we couldn't even comb it.  He didn't care for kids as my next door neighbors day-care kids had teased him all his life.  He sat in Dave's lap when Dave was home at night.  They were truly the best of pals.  Dave always called him, Pal, too.  We still have Kaycee, our Maltese who turned 8 on Dec. 23, 2008.  She missed Teddy horribly that first week especially and laid on the couch depressed.  She had no sparkle in her eyes.  Dave was with him when he was put to sleep.  I didn't know he was going to go in, but I should have, Dave would never have let Teddy go through that alone.  But I could have driven the car home.  Dave was not in shape to do that.  Dave told me later, he hadn't cried that hard since he lost his Mother when he was 12.  I took Teddy's kennel and his things and threw them on the heap of stuff in the basement we have of things that are going to the dump.  I didn't want Dave to come home and have to look at them.  But I forgot, all his toys were still up here.   Kaycee doesn't play with toys, sometimes Ted would get her to play tug, or blitz with him, but that's it. She is a quiet dog, she was the alpha dog over Ted, though. She started fights all the time over chews,and sometimes food.  You'd think she'd have known better, being 1/3 his size, but Ted always backed off usually without Dave even telling him too.  Ted could get into trouble, but you couldn't help but love him.  He was a demonstrative dog, an emotional dog, and we miss him so much that I can only now write about him and it's been 3 weeks.  We will never forget Teddy, he was a dog full of pep.  He loved to play, chase squirrels and rabbits, and birds and sometimes he caught them.  Oh TeddyBear, I hope you somehow knew how hard it was to let you go.  I know Jessi (Jessica Sue, his big sister, who was more my dog, who we had the first year or so we had Ted) met him at the Rainbow Bridge and welcomed him to be with her and play with her. Neither one of them have pain anymore.  This is good, but why then, does it have to hurt so darn much?  Teddy, Goodbye,my friend, and your Dad's best pal, and best friend.  Your life was brief but brought us much laughter and joy throught the 9 1/2 years we had the honor of having you in our home.  Rest in peace, boy.  A part of our hearts went with you.  Somehow we have gone on, but never ever are we the same.  I know you were a dog and some people don't understand the closeness we have with our animals, but fact is fact and we do!  We loved you, Teddy!

Mom (Merry), Dad, (Dave) & Kaycee Kay (your 8 year old sister,the "Wonder" Maltese.)

 

My Best Friend (Soft Whisper)

Did you see this? 

For 14 years, I had the honor of having "Joshua's Sister Jessica Sue" for my dog.  Josh was our last collie.  Jessi was our first Bichon Frise.  She was my soulmate.  I loved her with all my heart. We had her put down at 14 as she was suffering arthritis and digestive problems.  It's the hardest thing in the world when you have to do this, even though you know it's the right thing to do.

 

Well, sometimes I still hear Jessi whisper.  And I still miss her sooooooooooo....I still shed a few tears at times, but I know she's happy, and glad that we have Teddy (our current 9 yr. old Bichon  & Kaycee, our 7 1/2 yr. old Maltese).  Jessi loved other dogs, besides people.

xoxo

 

Merry

In a message dated 10/16/2007 8:15:44 PM Central Daylight Time, moderator@petwarmers.com writes:

SOFT WHISPER
by Lanie Blackmon

My best friend spoke to me last night
a soft whisper in my ear.
I woke up and looked around the room,
I was startled, yet I had no fear.

My best friend said that all is fine
Rainbow Bridge is so much more.
That there was so much love up there,
even a beautiful ocean shore.

There are fields and fields of green green grass
and the sky has different shades of blue.
There are flowers, mountains, trees and clouds,
everything they said it was, is true.

My best friend whispered in my ear last night
saying "Please don't cry or be sad.
That what was done, had to be done,
for me to live my life now, so be glad."

My best friend said that I did the right thing
an unselfish act on my part.
And that the pain and sadness I feel
will be gone soon from my heart.

I asked my best friend, "How could this be
I miss you so much everyday.
That my heart hurts so much for you,
I wish there could of been another way."

My best friend whispered in my ear last night
"You will always be in my heart.
Go on and live and love another,
because we will never really be apart."

My best friend whispered in my ear last night
"It's time for me to go towards the light.
I just wanted to stop and say to you
Go on my best friend, I'll be alright."

"I carry your unconditional love with me
I have done this from the very start."
I whispered back to my best friend last night,
"I'll always love you with all my heart."

"So goodbye my best friend," as I looked up at the sky
A shooting star I see in a straight line
Moving fast across the sky and out of sight,
I whispered, "Goodbye my best friend.  Now, I'll be fine."

         --  Lanie Blackmon    <lovemy4goldens at hughes.net>

Little Cottage By The Lake

As most of you know, I grew up in Minnesota.  I lived in a small town of not quite 1000 people.  I had the best possible childhood. We were two hours from Minneapolis, MN for shopping and doctor (specialist) trips.  We had a cabin at the lake about 10 miles from town.  It is a spring fed lake and so clear you can (to this day) see the bottom, even when you go out deep in it.  I received this Heartwarmer's Story today, and when I saw this title, I just KNEW I had to put in here.  If no one reads it but me, I am still happy.  I loved the lake and the cabin.  I am a Scorpian, and that helped.

I confess, that WE did NOT have clams, (Nancy, are you reading this?  Cuz I know you DID.)  We had turkey or chicken and steak that my Dad grilled outside and that's what OUR fall extended family celebration day offered..  I am a midwestern girl, but I must say I while I have grown to love lobster, shrimp, and crab, I DETEST clams, and squid (what is that stuff?), and do not eat it to this day. 

Still this story got me, down to my toes.  I hope you will dream along with me and read it....I bet it might just "get" you, too.

Love you all,

Merry

LITTLE COTTAGE BY THE LAKE

by Stefanie Wass

      What a crisp, colorful autumn afternoon.
      Crimson tipped maples paint the rural landscape as we make our way to my aunt's shady lakeside cottage.  Overhead, a flock of geese fly in "V" formation, seemingly pointing us to the Western Pennsylvania border, past miles of roadside pumpkin stands and endless fields of late season sweet corn.
      Finally, my husband turns down the familiar gravel road.  I spot the lake, glistening in the warm October sun.
      "We're here!"  I rustle my girls from the back seat.  "Hurry and say hello to everyone."
      The small white cottage reminds me of a doll house -- the good cozy kind, where friends and family happily gather, spilling out into the yard when the quarters get a bit tight.  I smile as I walk past the well manicured lawn, bedecked for fall with orange and yellow mums peeking from cast iron buckets.
      As always, dried cornstalks climb the back porch rails.  I spy a row of perfectly orange pumpkins, gifts from my uncle's garden.  I wonder if my girls will remember to take one home at day's end.  For years, my uncle has sent home a pumpkin with each child, just in time for Halloween.
      Hopping out of the car, the girls crunch through the leaves, hoping to sample appetizers on the back porch table.  In an instant, their cheeks are stuffed with crab dip, Amish Swiss cheese, and trail bologna.
      Family seems to be everywhere.  Cousins, aunts, and uncles trickle out from the cottage, sharing hugs and gossip in the wooded yard.  Gathered in groups, my chatty Scotch Irish clan prepares for our autumn tradition -- an outdoor clambake, held annually on the first Sunday in October.
      Husks fly off golden ears of sweet corn as we all pitch in, removing silky threads from more than forty cobs.  Great aunts, unaware that they could be sitting down, scurry about setting tables, slicing juicy red tomatoes, and taking surreptitious sips of homemade
berry wine.  The men hover as they always do, around the fire pit.
      I chuckle at this primitive scene -- men tending the fire and women preparing the vegetables.  Why is this always the case?
      Salty steam wafts upward from the coals as the tempting smells of clams and chicken tease my taste buds.  What could be better than this? Somehow, I can't imagine being anywhere else on this idyllic
autumn afternoon.  Sitting around card tables in the yard, we manage to quiet down for a prayer of thanksgiving.
      Then, at long last, it is time to dig in.  Tearing open the mesh bag of steamers, I can hardly wait to swirl each clam in drawn butter.  What a gloriously gritty delicacy.  Heaven seems near as a lobster tail is placed upon my plate, followed by sweet potatoes and a cup of steaming clam broth.
      My daughters, content with an ear of sweet corn each, amazingly don't seem to care that much for seafood.
      "I can help you out there." my husband teases, reaching for their leftover lobster.  We laugh with my cousins as we swap family news and gorge on a final, overindulgent treat -- homemade cheesecake and APPLE pie.
      As the sun sets, we pour second cups of coffee, warm mugs that prolong our time together, if only for a few precious minutes.
      "Don't forget to take a pumpkin home with you," my aunt reminds us. "Did you get a candle off the mantel?"
      Our girls pick their future jack-o-lanterns as I select my party favor -- a homemade cranberry scented votive.  In the year ahead, the candle will take me back to this place, filling my house with the
light and warmth of family.
      "Thanks again for the clams, the pumpkin, the candle!"
      It is the following morning and I am struggling to email my aunt.  How can I show my appreciation for it all -- the glorious weather, the delectable food?
      Finding next year's calendar, I flip ahead to October, making sure to highlight the first Sunday in bright orange marker.  Perhaps the best sort of thank you involves simply being present for cherished traditions.
      Next year, and hopefully for many years to come, I will be there, feasting with family at the little cottage by the lake.

               -- Stefanie Wass    <swass at adelphia.net>

The Patient

I have to share this with you all, I was very moved by this story.  It brought back many thoughts and memories I have of caring for my Mom.

 Love, Merry

THE PATIENT
by Ellie Braun-Haley

      The transition from living in your own home and directing every aspect of your life to being confined to a wheelchair and being dependent on others for everything, is a traumatic change.
      Five months after mother's 91st birthday my mother fell and this one single incident changed mother's life.
      She was in hospital for months and then moved to a nursing facility.  We knew she would never go home again and then came the day when she too knew it.
      When I visited my mother I recognized she was putting up a brave front, yet I knew inwardly she was questioning her own value.
      She was completely helpless, confined to a bed unless someone moved her to a wheelchair.  The sinks were not even set up for wheelchairs so she had difficulty even brushing her own teeth.
Closets held her clothing up high, as if she had elastic arms.  Her legs would barely respond to lift or shift and her conversations indicated she felt as useless as those legs.
      Mother was wondering why she was still on this earth. Four infections had drained mother to the point where she no longer read or did crossword puzzles or played cards with herself.
      Wishing to stimulate her interest in something I asked her if I could read a short story to her.  She nodded her consent and laid her head back on the pillow.
       I told her the story of The Patient...
                  *              *              *
      The Patient was bedridden and only able to chat a bit and smile. All the nurses looked forward to going into The Patient's room because they were overworked, tired and in need of something -- perhaps the milk of human kindness.
      In The Patient's room they fed on the warmth of the smile they received.  Each person was uplifted by the good cheer, gentle words, and by the abundant and concerned thoughtfulness of this one senior Patient.
      There were some in the hospital who yelled and whined. There were some who cried and others who literally abused the staff with slapping, biting and harsh words, but not The Patient.
      No, when the staff entered the room of The Patient it was as if they knew they would find sanctuary!  All understood, in this room, with this one Patient, they would always be uplifted.
      Cleaning staff, nurses, even doctors fed on the endless supply of enevolence dished out by The Patient, and The Patient, in turn, seemed to understand how very valuable this kind of service was to everyone.  The Patient understood her calling, and realized she was needed!
                  *              *              *
      As I finished telling the story, a light seemed to go on within mother, and she exclaimed, "Goodness, the staff here all say they like coming into my room because I am so cheerful.  I never thought about the impact of it before."
      It was as if a heavy load had lifted from mother's shoulders and she looked more relaxed than she had in a long time. Mother's children have always known she blesses many lives with her loving disposition.  How wonderful for mother to now understand her actions make a big difference and her very presence is a gift to many.
      Now and then I have heard a saying "grow where you are planted." It dawned on me that mother was growing in a new way.
      God impressed upon me to tell mother the story of The Patient and I realized immediately this was indeed the answer to helping her understand her worth.

           -- Ellie Braun-Haley   <shaley at telusplanet.net>
This story comes from Heartwarmers.com

Soldiers fighting for us!

Hi,

This is very moving.  I didn't just cry, I sobbed.  So scroll down and click on the thingie and listen in!  I think we all need to think about this and remember just what our soldiers are doing so that we can enjoy the freedom that we do.  And if you don't think like me politically,  that's fine, but we have not had any terrorism since 9/11. And we all know who was president then and still is.

Those of you who know me well, know I purposely normally do NOT discuss (or argue) religion or politics with my friends or family.  I feel so strongly about this song and this issue, I am making an exception to that and I am taking a stand and expressing my true feelings on this.  You don't have to agree, but I still hope you will listen to this song!

 

Also, I personally feel that we should thank Rudy Guiliani (my spelling?) whether you want him to be in office again or you don't.  Those people got our country through some horrific times no matter what your political views are.

 

I  usually avoid sending anything like this on, but I am not going to do that.  This IS a good song! I think.

xoxo

Merry

A good friend of mine sent this to me!  I have to send it on.  He said: The words to the song you're about to hear were penned by a female soldier named Karen Reed, while on duty in Iraq. Every word is true and heartfelt. Truly a masterpiece! To those of you who don't like country music -- listen to it anyway. It won't kill you!

 

To Everybody Back Home [ If I Die Before You Wake]

or

http://www.andiesisle.com/If-I-Die-Before-You-Wake.html