I found this photo fascinating.

Posted on June 25, 2015 by luckyotter

The inside of a cabbage. I could study this for hours.

Click to enlarge.

“Hand crack” for my birthday.

Posted on June 20, 2015 by luckyotter

My birthday isn’t for 3 more days, but I was browsing in a rock shop (I collect geodes and other interesting rocks) and was looking for something that “spoke” to me. I finally found these beautiful unglazed squares of “picture” jasper. Besides the natural patterns of the jasper that look like desert scenes, I liked the way they felt–kind of heavy and smooth at the same time, and I liked the soft clacking sounds they made when they hit each other in my hand.

Immediately I thought what a marvelous DBT tool these could be. I have my turtle, of course, but it’s a little big and the feel of it isn’t all that special. These are little natural works of art that I know could help me calm down with their sound and feel in my hands when I’m stressed, upset or angry. I think the $4.00 spent was well worth it.

I turned them around to show the patterns on the other side:

What living with a psychopathic malignant narcissist does to your looks.

Posted on June 19, 2015 by luckyotter

This is a picture of me taken two years ago, about a year before I finally got my MN ex out of the house for good. He was turning my daughter against me (although he failed with my son, who moved to another state to escape from all the drama) and had already succeeded in turning all my friends against me with his gaslighting and triangulation. He had everyone convinced I was insane, deluded, and stupid. I had no one to turn to and no money (well, I still have no money) but I had to support him even though he refused to work. I felt so trapped. We hadn’t even been married since 2005 but he continued to play his narc games, using the kids as pawns, and I made a huge mistake allowing him to move back in with me in 2006, because I was so easily manipulated and afraid of what he might do if I didn’t agree.

I was fat, out of shape, exhausted all the time, and look several years older than I do now. I didn’t care about my appearance or much of anything. I think you can tell by the expression I’m wearing here that I was severely depressed and had pretty much given up having any kind of future. I was just marking time until death and aging fast.

Me in December 2006: I don’t look very happy. I wasn’t. I never smiled.

At a wedding in 1996–around the time his abuse turned physical and my son became scapegoated. Yes, that’s him on the left. He looks like a bum today.

Here is me today:

This was taken in April this year.

I think the change is dramatic.

Maternal love.

Posted on June 14, 2015 by luckyotter

I find these pictures beautiful and moving. Some prudish types may find them “pornographic,” but I don’t, not one bit. They are just so natural and lovely.

For the record, I don’t find anything wrong with public breastfeeding, and I think we need to get over our discomfort with it.

Protected: Embracing vulnerability: reparenting myself.

Posted on June 14, 2015 by luckyotter

Florida Sunset by Lufti Shedraway

Posted on June 13, 2015 by luckyotter

I couldn’t take my eyes off this photograph. It reminds me of where my son lives. The sky looks like it’s on fire.

digger666

via colour my world.

djferreira224:

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Laughing.

Posted on June 12, 2015 by luckyotter

I like these selfies I just took.

Daylilies.

Posted on June 12, 2015 by luckyotter

Explosions of bright orange like mini-fireworks along the side of every road!
Click on the photos for closer detail.

The picture I hope my descendants find.

Posted on June 8, 2015 by luckyotter

One of my favorite activities when I was growing up was spending hours in our dusty, swelteringly-hot-in-the-summer, wood-pine-fragrant attic for hours at a time. In the attic were several old trunks filled with family photographs, both recent and very old. I remember being fascinated by them all but especially by the pictures taken of my grandmother when she was young. She was born around the turn of the 20th century, so when she was a young woman (“lady” back in those days) she was a flapper who could be seen decked out in the loose short sleeveless dresses, long beads, boas, and the short hairdo’s of the day.

Click on photo to enlarge.
My grandmother Earlene with my dad in 1930. I love the cloche hat. She was beautiful and always so fashionable too.

I think every family has certain photographs that capture the imagination of children born generations later. When I think of the future, say about 50-100 years from now, and my grandchildren (should I ever have any), great-grandchildren or great-great grandchildren are scouring THEIR attic (or whatever serves as an attic in 2085 or whatever) THIS is the picture of me I hope they find. It was taken in about 2000 and shows me holding Kimba, my cat at that time (she got run over by a car).

I know the focus is shitty because my camera sucks and the picture is so tiny (that’s a miniature pewter frame about 1 1/4 inches across), but I think this picture captures my personality in a unique way that shows me the way I really am instead of the me my parents wanted me to be in all the family photos (always smiling). I look a bit pensive and far away, but also vulnerable and a bit bemused. That’s what I actually walk around feeling like in my normal-for-me (meaning non-depressed) moods. It reminds me of a photograph of a woman of about 100 years ago–ever notice people in old photos almost never smiled? The men looked stern and mean and so did some of the women (especially older ones), but most younger women looked the way I do in this picture, and that’s why I hope to be remembered this way.

I faded the color a bit to make the photo seem more antique-looking.

Maybe not the oldest thing I own.

Posted on June 7, 2015 by luckyotter

Quite possibly, this GE clock radio maybe among the five oldest things I own (not including photographs). I know it’s not the oldest thing I own but it’s damn near it anyway and the only one I still interact with everyday.

I’ve had the thing since 1983 and it still works like the day I bought it or acquired it or stole it back in the day when I was still called “a kid.”

I remember when my kids were little, they liked to play with it, and that meant dropping it on the floor and pretending it was a factory being hit by a Lego hailstorm.

In spite of their abuse, its sturdy brown plastic housing that’s as firmly attached as a carapace has held up, its cord is supple and undamaged, and its red numerical glow never burned out or faded away. The GE clock still keeps the time and wakes me up with modern country or indie rock instead of Boy George or Cyndi Lauper or Asia.

For 33 years, it has kept up with the changing musical landscape that filters through its tiny but powerful speakers, its tinny sound wafting through my eardrum and finally lodging itself into the long-term memory sector of my brain which transforms the sound into long-forgotten recollections and emotions.

I bet that clock will still be waking me and making me remember until I’m dead and can’t hear it anymore.

Things just aren’t made to last anymore. In 1983, of course, we all said the same thing.