Musgo

I have fond memories of a night in the Mills household called Musgo. At the time I just remember thinking how fun it was but now that I look back , it probably had some root in financial issues but regardless. It left fond memories and I didn't remember them until just now. My mom would take everything (that wasn't growing hair) out of the fridge, re-heat it and call it Musgo, translated means everything in the fridge MUST GO. I think I'm ready to have an emotional, mental Musgo. You know, place all the CRAP in my heart and head out on the table and just sift through it. If at some point it was a good meal, well then it will hold up better and might be worth keeping for a little longer but the other things. the things that were my favorite to hold onto, those sob stories, well... I think they can go, I think they MUST GO. Tonight I'm having Musgo.

Losing Marbles

I have kept a journal off and on for years, all of which are filled with stories and prayers and yearnings. I wonder at what point it became so popular to share your journal in a public forum called a blog? Well, I guess I have found it so interesting to read others that maybe, just maybe someone wants to hear what goes through my crazy head. That is if I decide that I really, truely want to share what goes through this brain of mine. We will see...