Tag Archives: true stories

Recovery Mode…

I am still in recovery mode from my trip back east to visit my parents for the weekend. Where we spent more time in airports and traveling than we actually did visiting my parents. My daughter and I spent 17 hours last Thursday trying to catch a flight to Boston. We ended up on a Red Eye flight and arrived into Boston at about 7:30 in the morning.  My father picked us up and drove us to their house in Maine. We visited wildlife refuge,  the famous Portland Head Lighthouse and saw some of the Freedom Trail in Boston. Sunday, my daughter and I hopped on a flight to Seattle. This was going to give us more options to get back to Denver. We arrived late at night and had to sleep a few hours in the airport,   We had five chances to catch a flight to Denver and we finally made it on the last flight of the day. We than had to spend Monday night in the airport. Tuesday morning we made it on our flight to Alamosa as the last two people on the plane.  Finally made it home and than had to return right back to work that afternoon and evening. I do have some cool photos of our trip. However, some much needed sleep needs to occur first.


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Adventures in Babysitting

Although I don’t actually remember these events occurring this is how they have been relayed to me in bits and pieces.

One summer when I was about 2, my parents asked my 9 year old brother to watch me. My brother was more interested in watching cartoons then me. I decided to look for my mom, who was working as the summer camp nurse. I exited the front and headed down the front steps. I started walking down our street – naked. Well, I had a diaper on. But being naked makes for a better story.

My journey continued down the the side of the state road until I was in front of our local elementary school. As I walked down the road looking for my mom, cars kept passing me. Finally, one gentlemen decided to stop and pick me up and figure out who I belonged to. He found the house and left me with my brother again.

The details are a little rough about whether the gentleman was a policeman or not. Somehow, social services was called. They came out to the house and discovered that there was no child abuse, after talking with my mother. There are many unanswered questions. Who was the stranger who picked me up? Was he a policeman? How did he find my house? How did I get so far down the road and not get hit by a car? Why did this person leave me with my brother AGAIN and him not even notice who he was, his face, his profession… nothing?

To this day I am convinced that gentlemen was my guardian angel and I am still alive because God was looking out for me. I live today to retell this tale and to constantly give my brother grief for neglecting me.