This past week Ruby has developed a cranky time. It normally starts around 6:30 7:00ish and she just cry's and nothing satisfies her. When I say nothing I mean nothing. Nursing doesn't help, rocking doesn't help, a warm bath does help, being changed doesn't help seriously NOTHING. The only thing that calms her down is her papa walking around the dark house singing to her. Its so sweet and I am so glad Ruby and her papa have something special already!
3 comments:
ah, the baby witching hour. my favorite time of the day....
....only not.
Great Site. Thanks! Heres a true story of mine in return.
I BROKE THE TABOO WITH A TATTOO
There was a time when I felt like (my) death was close to me. I ignored the eery feelings for awhile, chocking them up to pessimism, but eventually I faced the strengthening force, first by admitting to my self that it existed. Left Eye got this far, but recognizing spirits isn't rocket science for god's sake. You have to fight shit like this, not freeze like a deer caught in the headlights!
I FOUGHT MY TABOO WITH A TATTOO.
It was 1986 and I was in Davenport, Iowa, when I finally decided to face the Reaper before he faced me. Since the Reaper has no face, I'm speaking figuratively.
I was sitting on a bar stool when a fellow came in asking if anyone wanted to get a tattoo. We chatted, and before too long I was the customer that he was looking for. We left the bar and went to a little garage space that he tattooed out of. The scene was totally unprofessional, as far as tattoo shops go, but since I was a carny (carnival guy) it wasn't anything new to me. I stopped the artist from apologizing for the place and we got down to the business of picking something out to tattoo on me.
There wasn't a lot to choose from, no walls of colorful flash or volumes of designs just a single, thinly filled, loose leaf binder. Having never wanted a skull tattoo, I surprised myself by selecting one with a black rose between it's teeth. "That's the Black Rose Of Death tattoo," the needler told me. "Perfect," I proclaimed! "It's just what I need to fight the reaper. Put it on my left arm where I can keep my eye on him.¨
I believe that the left represents the spiritual side and the right represents the physical side, so my tattoos are placed accordingly. One month later, in Chicago, I was stabbed (in the heart and stomach) to death. The doctor that saved me, said that I have a new birthday and... I still have that tattoo, too.
Spiritual Hobo, I think God gets the credit for keeping you around and might be trying to tell you something.
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