Jonah and Kyle David Miller 3 more for 99 in 33

by Michelle 20. January 2010 13:31

3 more in 33.  I share two more stories today of the three.  These are nominations from MckMama community.  This is from Jessie She says “I saw you linked from MckMama's Facebook. Thank you for what you're doing for these families!  The family I think would truly appreciate a book is the family of Jonah.  You can read about their story at his mom Patrice's blog.  I've known Patrice since I was a teenager from Bible camp.  Patrice and Matt's first son, Gabe, was stillborn, and their almost-one-year-old, Jonah, has a very rare skin disease, Epidermolysis Bullosa.  Basasically, if anything causes friction on his skin, his skin blisters and comes off.  As of right now, there is no cure.  Patrice stays home to care for Jonah 100%, and is the most selfless mom I know.  A book like this would mean so much to the Williams family.  Please consider giving one to them.

 

Laura Bower, Executive Director & Child Passenger Safety Technician, nominated Kyle David Miller’s family.  Kyle was born March 13, 2002 and from the moment he was born he filled our lives with such joy and sense of completion. His big sister Katie was so happy to have a little brother, she had been talking about him for months before he was born,  Kyle was a blessing, perfect in every way.  In 2005, Kyle was killed in a car accident.  He had had his seat belt on, but a 5-point harness secured and tethered to the car is the safest way to keep your child in a car until they are 80 pounds.  Please visit the Kyle David Miller Foundation and help put a child into a safe car seat - thank you!  If you want to buy a 5-point harness, please visit http://www.hipmonkey.com - all proceeds go to the foundation!

Thank you to the families for sharing your heartfelt and touching stories.  Love, Michelle

Kiss. A sensuous noun. Kissing. A sensual verb.

by Michelle 14. October 2009 13:18

I have three people I regularly kiss.  Eric.  Tucker.  Alyssa.   

Alyssa’s spirited kissing, so genuine and true, has awakened my thoughts on the topic.  Alyssa kisses me in such a way that we, together, become the kiss.  She kisses, enveloping me in her robust, full-lipped abandon.  She kisses, embracing me in her naked certainty and raw sureness.  She kisses, lacking all reservation or hesitation, wanting for nothing but the kiss itself, and basking in the beauty of oblivity to the sting of love’s pain.  I savor and cherish each time Alyssa’s lips share a kiss with me.

I don’t remember when Tucker’s kiss changed from embarking on an experience of pure sweetness into tedious obligation.   It happened, like the way September steals the primal heat of the summer sun.  Sneaky yet stealthily.  Tucker‘s sincere and generous love for me conflicts with his acute desire to minimize his display of affection for me.  Particularly kissing affection.  When I kiss Tucker, he avoids my lips altogether.  Instead, he brushes his lips across my cheek, only.  If I stick my lips out, he grazes them or my chin, hastily.  Now, Tucker kisses me out of obligation, with complete hesitation, and absolutely no elation.  I still relish each time Tucker’s lips come in proximity of any of my facial parts.

As for kissing Eric, I have one sharable kiss story out of several thousand kisses.  Our first kiss.  In high school.  At Hamlet Park in Cottage Grove.   I wore my nylon green, girl’s track, warm-up suit.  Lying in the night grass, Eric was on top of me.   He held me close, his body sliding against the slippery fabric of my warm-up.  He blew a bubble with his gum.  I popped it with my teeth.  He kissed me, twice.  One right after the other.  Eric said, “I’m going to marry you.”  He looked at me.  I kissed him, this time. 

Eric responded, kissing me again, open mouthed.  He inhaled deeply, his lips still attached to my mine.  Exhaling, he blew my cheeks full of his lung air, and with that same breath, blew his bubble gum into the back of my throat.  His gum lodged itself at the top of my esophagus.  Choking, I pushed him off me and sat up.  He patted my back.  I hacked the gum out of my throat onto my tongue.  I spit the pink wad on the ground.  Standing up, I walked away.  Eric followed behind the soft swishing of my nylon suit and asked, “So, you don’t like Hubba Bubba?”

Kiss.  More complex than a sensuous noun.  Kissing.  Not always a sensual verb.  Memoir of Me -- Personalized Books.  What about you?

 This is a pic of Eric not blowing his gum down my throat.

Memoir of Me wins Web Award!

by Michelle 30. September 2009 21:48

Memoir of Me won a Web Award from:

http://www.webaward.org/winner.asp?eid=13015

Very please that Memoir of Me site is easy to use and navigate.  Another way to ensure that we can continue to enhance relationships through stories.

About Michelle

Passionate and dedicated to enhancing relationships through stories.  Loves early mornings and late nights.  Doesn't love afternoons.  Adores my hubby and two beautiful kids.

 


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