It's Saturday and I've had an afternoon nap. What a luxury. And, refreshing. As Mom would have said, as Mom always said about naps and sleeping in and about sleeping extra at all, "You must have needed it." Thanks Mom. Yes, Dear, and you're welcome. Hey, did you like that blog I just read? The woman who is in Uganda? Yes. Yes, I liked it. You might bookmark it in your own blog so that you can return to it later. You know what happens when you bookmark those places you want to return to later on. You just can't locate them.
Mom? Yes. I love you. Yes, I love you too. Anybody reading this and knowing anything about me knows that you died years ago. How many? Lots. Are you going to look? Yes. 9/14/04 Nine years ago. More than that, Dear. Oh, right. Eleven years. I should change this? No, Dear, this is your back story. Or, at least, this is you talking to your mother. We might have called each other on the telephone today to yak. Remember how we laughed? Yes. Now, you're crying. It was such a nice Saturday and now you're sad. Well, I still miss you. Yes, and I see you still talking to me. Your sister can't do that. I know. I shouldn't be sad. No, I know how you feel though. You feel that even as good a channel that you are you can twist what I want to say to suit yourself. And, in a way you can. But, I wouldn't worry about it so much if I were you. There's actually not much that you can do about it. Just maintain the contact. You know what it feels like to do this. It's easy for you now. Just maintain the connection. Thanks, Mom. You're welcome. I love you. I love you too. Bye. Yes, Dear.
Anyway, the link to the site I was talking about is Summer in Uganda I read most of an entry she'd made the other day. I don't suppose this is for more than her family and friends. It's the summer she's spending in Uganda, but I was really drawn to her story as I read it. I saw a fellow writer and it was a delight to see somebody who can craft words and loves them and just plain old has diarrhea of the mouth like I do. As I read what she'd written I was hooked and, yet, on the other hand I was thinking who would read this? Who would spend the time to read all of this? Then, I read the comment her mother had made and I thought how lucky she was to still have her mother. And, one thing led to another and my own showed up. Damn, I wish I still drank. I'd go make me a rum and coke right now. Anyway, I can't do this anymore right now. But, being as how this is the back story of a psychic, I will leave the conversation I had with Mom in.