Pancakes Made with Love: My Favorite Memory

Dear readers,

I’m kind of feeling sentimental, and it’s something I must talk about here. As a big iHop fan, however, there’s one thing that matches IHOP’s pancakes, and that would be those of my grandfather, my Papa. Why? Okay, read on.

Every morning in Lake Mary, in the big house where everything seems to have had some semblance of normal, there was something rather special that would happen. My grandfather would make these big fat pancakes with bacon strips on top. The bacon strips were deliciously prepared, floppy a bit, but sometimes a tad crispy and so tasty. These days I miss the pancakes made with love, but my grandfather has since developed some dementia and no longer rides his harley motorcycle to Bike Week, or any other motorcycle events. Since my B Ma, his wife, died, things just haven’t been the same.

Usually, Papa would doctor up pancakes from mix, but my dad tried to do the same. My brother had his own waffle maker, and he’d make sweeter waffles than usual, but nothing quite matches Papa’s pancakes. They were delicious, just something to think about.

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Tips for Parents Part 2

Below is a post and before I do, I want to apologize for not posting part 1, but this is about autistic adults and parent caregivers doing activities during #covid19 so read with an open mind. I’d like to add that blind folks also have autism, so some of this might not work like the virtual tours etc., not unless there’s binaural sounds the person can get immersed in. Depending on condition, there are lots of creative ideas in everybody’s minds these days.


Post below.

A parent commented that they enjoyed reading my last blog regarding activities during these challenging times, but wished there were more for adults.…

Tips for Parents Part 2

Some Small Rays of Hope … and a huge question

The following is something maybe i could have written. I’d like to thank Britney for allowing me to reblog this, so read on if you are a nurse or doctor on the front lines.


Some Small Rays of Hope … and a huge question

Post by Britney below

Well hello there, my dear readers! I’ll be honest with you; I didn’t think I’d be back so soon, but here I am with another article. I would like to …

Some Small Rays of Hope … and a huge question

Quarantine Diaries Volume 2 for April 7, 2020

Dear readers,

I want to make something for the quarantine diaries this time. I’d like to document though that the governor of Colorado declared the stay at home order extended for two more weeks. I also echo Hailey’s concerns about people going to church, contracting corona virus, and either killing others or dying themselves. Churches must remain closed, and those who exempt churches from quarantine orders are not doing the world a favor, rather they are doing a disservice to the people. People are not replaceable, so please, if you are a church leader or a member of the clergy, close your doors and move worship online. There is tech that can help with this, so use your brains, use your resources, and move your stuff online. It may be of benefit to not only your congregants but others who want to know about your church or religious establishment. Corona virus doesn’t care if you believe in God or not, it just kills. So if you are ordered to stay at home, stay at home, and don’t do anything stupid, as the director of THS athletics once said. Now, on with a diary of quarantine and documentation of what is happening around my neck of the woods.

One woman reported on Facebook as she went to do her essentials that folks were sunbatheing at Washington Park in Denver. Am I missing something? Wash Park as we call it should probably fall under nonessentials, but then that might anger some. Social distancing and waring masks is important, for now at least. But there are many reports not only in Denver, but in other places, of people not following directives from government. Did you hear the one about the girl intentionally spreading corona virus and taking selfies while doing so? The police probably found her and arrested her for terrorism. That’s a bit extreme, but yeah.

As for me, I’m reading books I haven’t read in a while. Laura Ingals Wilder’s books remind me of a simpler day, but frontier women didn’t have voting rights, so that’s a bummer. Blind women didn’t marry, but Mary Ingalls should have. Ma should never have kept Mary in a rocking chair with empty memories in her mind of a time spent in Iowa. This was the late 1800s, but whatever. I still say Susan Oldknow for the win was the best example of a blind person in that kind of day. I like Susan’s spunk, and her courage. What was Mary doing in all that? Oh well.

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Evangelical idiots are going to get us all killed.

Editor’s note: The following is a rightful rant from our contributor, so think about this before disobeying social distancing and stay at home orders, no matter what state you live in.

I think we all know by now that we are not supposed to gather in groups no larger then 10 at a time or better yet not at all if it can be help but yet evangelical idiots are insisting upon gathering for church on sundays. I’m sorry but this is absolute rubbish because you can pray at home you don’t need to go to church to do it. I’m disgusted that sime states and this sadly includes my own are making churches the exception to the no more then 10 at a time rule, people please use logic and stay out of church.

St. Corona Is Not the Patron Saint of Pandemics: Common Weirdness with the Corona Virus Explained

Dear readers,

It’s kind of weird when I came closing in on research on some saints of pandemics and plagues, and I came across one very important piece of info. Catholics, note that Corona is not the patron saint of pandemics, rather she’s the patron saint of treasure hunters. However, recently in North Italy, they’ve been praying to her for guidance with the current corona virus pandemic that’s sweeping the earth. Unfortunately, St. Edmund or St. Brock are the ones to turn to and not St. Corona, as those other guys are actually patron saints of pandemics believed to save the world from the plague. Does anyone remember the black Plague? I remember it was carried by rats on ships, and humans presented some pretty gruesome symptoms. I won’t go into what those were, as it might scare some of you readers looking at those things. I’d rather you try looking the symptoms of black plague up elsewhere.

But getting back to Corona’s story, her name comes from a vision of two crowns, corona in Italian obviously, and it was for her and St. Victor, a soldier who was killed for his Christian faith. St. Corona herself was a martyr also, along with saints Felicity, Steven, and so many others. There are saints who died in old age gracefully like St. Catherine Drexel, who was raised a rich lady and brought hearing back to those who prayed for her intercession. I learned in St. Teresa’s school about saints and miracles, and we actually did a prayer project for a young girl with cancer, something I wish we would have done earlier for my buddy Cari. But I’m glad we still got Anni Funa’s cancer to go away, and there are those who believe in the power of prayer. Our librarian talked about this girl often, and Anni was able to recover from a brain tumor that was removed, and she still needed chemo. This was so many years ago, and little Anni was four.

Now, here’s a myth, a common issue people are conspiring about. In the tech world, we had a 5g tower or two fall to a bad arsen fire in the UK. People, 5g doesn’t cause corona virus, but it could cause radiation affected cancers. I don’t, however, agree that burning the 5g towers was a good idea. The 5g towers were supposed to bring speedy connections to folks who had 5g phones. Now, someone will pay for the reconstruction of those towers, which take a lot of hard work to build. Please note that Corona virus is caused by a microscopic virus, not a tower for tech companies. However, nothing wrong with getting a break and unplugging from a lot of tech every so often. With social isolation and distancing the norm, however, please use caution and still connect via videochats. See Videochats 101 in this blog for details on the easiest ways to connect.

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This Is Not a Love Letter

Disclaimer: the following is a letter to an old friend, a guy from the UK I haven’t spoken to in as many years, and I’ve lost touch with him, but note the title in the title bar of this entry. Yes, I’m interrupting my flow but something has to be written down.


Dear Ben,

Yes, I know. I haven’t written you at all in a while. It has been years since we talked, and honestly, the last time I heard your version of I Dreamed a Dream, I cried my eyes out. I hope you’re alive and quarantined like everybody else, and please, don’t try to kill yourself. Because there are a few good reasons not to. One, Mumford and Sons. I was listening to their song I Will Wait, and it dawned on me that you probably will listen to the same song too. Two, your buddy Aaron, whose nerdy knowledge and comic book candor can’t be beat. What is the world like without that knowledge? Aaron still has it stuck there in his head, and he and I have talked a while ago but I can’t remember. Ben, it has been forever and a day since we talked, and I have updates, and not a single one is bad, except for maybe one. I had to part with some people because of what they call ableism, and they recommend things they know nothing about. These people were uneducated about my situation, and I discharged whatever weirdness went on with that. The people who said all this are off my Facebook page now, and there could be more folks but still.

But here are all the good things: aside from having to move mine and my partner’s commitment ceremony to a time in October, bar the corona virus comes back, I have been with this man for four years. I love Trenton, and he loves me. I’m typing this letter to you on my mac, but thinking something might have happened to you in the air of cyberspace, but don’t want to believe this. Yes, 2017 was a bad year for the blind, and it entailed the loss of friends, including my dearest Kaitlyn Reichert, who died in Los Angeles with a smile on her face, knowing she’d be in the universal summerland with her deity. Another thing, because I’ve lost friends, I’ve set up an altar in my home so I can welcome the spirits to a special day aside from the commitment ceremony, just ask me. I’ll explain more to you privately, as I’ve written some things about my choices here in the blog, but don’t want to alarm anyone.

The thing is that … I’m glad we are on Mixer. I want you to know that Trenton and I could try to sneak up and kick your butt at something, we don’t know what, Killer Instinct, perhaps, but we’re getting an Xbox 1. Someday, if the money rolls in right. We want to enhance our home and make it livable, productive, and free as Americans go.

Ben, I miss your piano playing of Pompeii’s Bastille, or what is the band? Sorry, I got this all mixed up. Bastille is the band, and the song is Pompeii. I remember you playing and singing the chorus, and the key of A was perfect with your voice. Your vocal qualities remind me of Mumford and Sons but better in a way, not as gruff as the guy in Mumford. Okay, whatever.

If only you knew. I voted for the woman who ran for president in 2016, and the clown beat her. I won’t go into political stuff here because it’s too depressing. But then again, all the news is depressing anyway. What with this stupid virus and all that stupid social distancing and all that … hell, it’s the worst thing the world has ever gone through.

I want to let you know, Ben, that though I am all right, I kind of want to be friends again, and no, as the title bar says, I don’t want to say I love you. I don’t, not that what I used to anymore. I thought irrationally that the only way to shut my parents up was to marry a dude across the pond, shut them up and say, you’re going to miss me, and rightfully so, I would have said. Furthermore, I would have been all, “If you don’t allow this to occur, you’ll get a restraining order and I won’t let you see me, the man, and our future kids.” I revoked my father’s name from records anyway recently, and this is to keep Trenton’s and my kids safe. I’ve got this in the bag.

Ben, it has been years since we played a game together, and so much time has passed since I stepped back and took a good look at why I wanted you in the first place. You were and are a nice guy, and you do lots of great things with gaming and such, and please don’t try to block me on Mixer because I swear I need folks to follow on Mixer, and I want to follow good guys and gals like me who are blind and play games. I’ve recently done lots of things but things have gotten weirder with this virus on the loose all over the world. I hope you yourself didn’t test positive for the dreaded viral crap, and please stay healthy. Ben, I dreamt one night that I was carted through an empty grocery store, no food on any shelves, bare all around, no supplies. What madness! But then again, I’ve dreamt things of times gone by, not so much a word spoken between me and you about such things. My macintosh still works, my life is good, but there are pieces of me missing still. I don’t know who my biological dad is, and wish to do so. Trenton is begging me to get a DNA test, and I’m seriously trying to beg the world to reopen again, especially in the United States, New York being the epicenter of the corona virus. I pray those people get better, Gods willing. Whatever Gods or god you believe in, they will find a way to make this world a better place.

Ben, there are a few people I wish I could say goodbye and that I love right now. Kaitlyn and I were on the mend with friendships, and all that. Trenton loved her enthusiasm about android and a laptop, but no, she died. I only wish Katy could talk to me again, and I don’t know if I will ever meet her in the Summer Land of Plenty, the universe reverberating with its billions of stars. Maybe even the trillions of stars will spell out her name, but Katy has the sweetest smile and the funniest laugh. Her father would have done her funeral, but when she died, no one claimed her body. She was probably buried in an unmarked grave. There’s a holiday in Mexico, Dia de los muertos, which in English translates to “day of the dead.” I’m going to dedicate my altar to Kaitlyn, and do a ceremony for her spirit and hope to the Gods she passes through the essence of time and in to the hands of the Heavenly Realms. I loved Kaitlyn, and I won’t stop thinking of how dehumanized she was at her death, and won’t stop until my own funeral procession with bagpipes is played on the streets of Denver. And Ben, I have a favor to ask, don’t go to my funeral. And no, if you wonder, I’m not suicidal. I just want a small funeral, but I already asked a fellow blind American to do my eulogy if something god forbid happens to me. I have written letters to Cari Loveridge, the spirit of whom is in Heaven’s gates, watching as I type this thing. Cari was 15 or so when she died of cancer that spread and ate her body, but who knew she’d conquer death with a last breath and still live on in my memory? Kaitlyn’s family didn’t support or take her in and didn’t want to, and as a result of California’s inadequate and unsafe housing practices, she died. And her family wanted me and others to forget her, but Kaitlyn is in my head, my heart, my memory. I don’t hear voices, don’t say I’m crazy, only that my remembering Kaitlyn is important to me, for she resembled the me that wasn’t. She suffered gravely at the hands of the states, but she won’t be forgotten.

While I understand that Kaitlyn is gone, Cari is gone, and countless other spirits will go in the next life due to the illness currently ransacking the human race, death is only to me a transformation, a change of state. I see death the way ancients see death, the Celts saw death differently.

Ben, do you know what I want to do next? I want to try and do more and produce my own music, using the knowledge of reaper and garage band. I plan to make an album, so if you have any ideas for me, let me know.

Your friend,