Name Days For Wednesday June 30, 2021
Pallas July 6 (Canada & U.S.)
Paloma March 23 (Canada & U.S.)
Pam March 23 (Canada & U.S.)
Pamela March 23 (Canada & U.S.)
Pandora December 5 (Canada & U.S.)
Pansy August 17 (Canada & U.S.)
PARKER December 7 (Canada & U.S.)
Parsla January 30 (Latvia)
Paul January 10 (Denmark) January 25 (Estonia, Sweden)
Paula January 20 (Germany) January 26 (Croatia, Hungary, Poland) February 10 (Latvia)
Carrot Bread
2 Eggs
2 Teaspoons Cinnamon
1 Teaspoon Vanilla
1 Cup Sour Cream
1 Stick of butter room temperature
1 Heaping Cup of Sugar
1/2 Teaspoon Salt
2 Cups Flour
1 Teaspoon Baking Soda
1 Teaspoon Baking Powder
1 Cup of finely grated Carrots
1 Cup Pecan Pieces
1 Can of 8 1/4 oz. Crushed Pineapple drained
1 Cup Coconut
Cream butter salts, sugar and eggs.
Add Sour Cream, Vanilla, Cinnamon.
Mix in Flour, add cup of finely grated Carrots, Coconut, Pineapple and Nuts.
Bake at 350 Degrees in a loaf pan for 1 Hour and ten minutes or until done.
I use wooden Skewers to test for doneness in Quick Breads.
1990-08-07
Dear Diary,
Great weather and food. Love,
Tara
Friday April 24, 2020
natch
PRONUNCIATION: (nach)
MEANING: adverb: Naturally; of course.
ETYMOLOGY: Shortening and alteration of naturally, from natural, from Latin natura (nature), from nasci (to be born). Earliest documented use: 1945.
USAGE: “Kate Morgenroth’s debut novel, ‘Kill Me First’, is a wholly fresh and absorbing work … [The killer] gathers the residents of a nursing home together, pairs them up, and then asks each to choose whom he should kill, the questionee or their partner. All conform to expectations (kill the other guy!) except one woman named Sarah, who says (natch) ‘kill me first’.” Whodunit, and Why; The Economist (London, UK); Jun 19, 1999.
A THOUGHT FOR TODAY: For what is a poem but a hazardous attempt at self-understanding: it is the deepest part of autobiography. -Robert Penn Warren, novelist and poet (24 Apr 1905-1989)
Monday May 7, 2018
Dear Papa,
I know you just had a birthday on Friday May 4, 2018. I thought of you on your birthday just like I think of you every single day of my life since I was a child. I never stopped thinking of you.
Did you not realize all the pain and heartache and anger and sadness you caused when you left me? Why did you leave me? Have you any idea the psychological scarring you’ve caused? The mess I’ve been in? The issues I’m currently having?
How can I forgive you when this has caused mommy to be so angry with me, calling me the devil incarnate, that I can go join you? How can I heal when mommy takes out all her anger about you onto me every single day?
I’m shrivelling up on the inside. I feel small, stupid, insignificant, judged. Mommy makes sure to point out all the wrong I’ve done, all my faults all the time. It makes it hard for me to make any progress in life.
I wonder if I am the devil incarnate. Is that how the world views me – as this evil, awful person nobody ever wanted – not even you? I keep thinking people judge me by what I say & do & they don’t want to get to know me because of that.
It is hard to keep positive and neutral with others when all i want to do is tell others all I’m going through. Yet I know that pushes others away. And I have a hard time with that – I get really sick to my stomach when I can’t reveal myself to others – no lies, deception – just pure honesty, openness.
I hate myself. I hate the way I look. I hate my weight. I hate my face. I hate my naked body. I feel I’m crawling in my own skin. I won’t look in the mirror because I hate the way I look – the voice mommy says “just look in the mirror & see how fat you are!” That voice I always hear when a picture is taken or when I see me in the mirror. I won’t look in the mirror unless I really have to. I won’t get my picture taken because I hate the way I look. I’m an ugly stupid person.
Perhaps people don’t like me because of my weight. They don’t see what I have to offer. And I’m lonely & sad all the time. I’m depressed and upset and angry. I wish I could talk to you in person, Papa. I want you so much, but you’re only a ghost that I need to kill for good.
Love,
Tara Kimberley Torme
Sunday June 20, 2021
Dear God,
I am so sick & tired of the global pandemic. I am tired of wearing masks, social distancing, zoom calls. Please, please, please maje the pandemic go far, far, far away. Make it disappear completely so I walk around without masks, not worry about social distancing. Please open up all restrictions so I can eat at restaurants, travel, see theatre. I really, really want this, God. Please make it happen. I want to eat lam at the Ethiopian restaurant with my friend Rochelle again. I am going crazy & bonkers. Please listen to my prayer.
Sunday June 20, 2021
Dear God,
Why are we poisoning our planet? Why are we poisoning ourselves? Why are we using toxins which poison us, kill us, make us really sick? Why can’t we be more mindful on what we use because everything is being poisoned? Why do we have so many toxins in the products we use? Is it really so necessary? God?
WHY I CAN’T WORK MONDAYS:
I can’t work Mondays
I’m really a patient in
Psychiatric ward.
I can’t work Mondays
I’m building a house by hand
Be there tomorrow.
I can’t work Mondays
Swallowed an entire car
Be there tomorrow.
I can’t work Mondays
Cat’s going through a crisis
Be there tomorrow.
I can’t work Mondays
Cat’s doing a commercial
Be there tomorrow.
Wednesday January 29, 1997
AN ODE TO MY 20TH YEAR
By: Tara Kimberley Torme
Twenty years have gone by,
And as I look up in the sky,
I realize my dreams are there
Waiting on top of the golden stairs.
I know all of my dreams,
Bursting out of the seams,
Waiting for me to pick one,
So it won’t stay undone.
How fast does the time fly!
And I say to myself my,
How I wish I could go back in time,
And observe myself-as a mime.
But I know that can’t be done,
So I just continue as one.
SILENT MEOW AUTOBIOGRAPHY POEM
I’ve wondered on the last time we met – and what I did miss
If I told you how I felt and we shared our first kiss
If I were still in Montreal – and we were in touch – you and me
I wondered if you liked me that way – if it were meant to be
Yes, I can tell you – how I feel – through the years apart
And tell you what’s really deep in my heart
I wonder – if our friendship took that leap – I ask you
Would you have reciprocated and ask me to marry you too?
How I was afraid on that last day to tell you my feelings you see
I was so afraid you’d be like Papa and reject me
Oh – if you only knew over the years – too
I was actually deeply in love with you
But I did not realize this at the time you see
I was still discovering me
I didn’t know what being in love meant
Many hours and days thinking about you were spent
How was I to really know what was true in my heart
My feelings were really of love of you – when we’ve been apart?
Now I clearly understand what my feelings meant
But I wondered over the years – where did you go? How was your life spent?
tktorme 