Tag: Victoria Eugenia Pineros
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More Musings, More Thoughts for Thursday, July 20, 2023, or: On Writing, Stress, Grief, Stormy Weather, and Stark Realities
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in Alex Diaz-Granados, Amazon, Beatriz Diaz-Granados, Creative Writing, Family History, Florida Weather, Kindle, Kindle Create (Publishing App), Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP), Life in Florida, Personal Thoughts, Reunion Duology, Reunion: A Story, Reunion: Coda, Summer in Florida, Victoria Eugenia Pineros Restrepo (Vicky)Evening, Thursday, July 20, 2023, Lithia, Florida Hi, again, Dear Reader. It’s still light outside – sunset is about an hour or so away – as I begin writing this second post of the day. And after a batch of thunderstorms passed through the area between 5 and 6 PM Eastern Daylight Time, the skies…
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Musings & Thoughts for Monday, May 22, 2023, or: Up and About Before Sunrise – Again…
Oh, no. Not again. Not another early morning wakeup! Unfortunately, Dear Reader, as I start to write this at 8:37 in the morning of Monday, May 22, 2023, it’s been five hours since I woke up to use the facilities – and then failed to go back to sleep. I tried. I really tried to…
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Tempus Fugit: Thinking About the Tyranny of Forced ‘Joint’ Birthday ‘Celebrations’
Hi, there, Dear Reader. It’s Tuesday, March 7, 2023 – two days after my 60th birthday and three days before my older half-sister Vicky’s 73rd. In the last decade of my mother’s life (2005-2015), this would have been the “compromise” date on which we’d celebrate both occasions. I say “compromise” because Vicky, for reasons that…
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Tempus Fugit (Countdown to the Big Six-Oh Edition): Hazy, Fragmented Memories of Birthdays in Colombia
If you’re a regular visitor of this space, you know that both my older half-sister Vicky and I celebrate – or observe, or endure – our respective birthdays just five days apart in early March. Vicky was born on March 10, 1950, while I came along nearly 13 years after on March 5, 1963. I…
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Tempus Fugit (Countdown to the Big Six-Oh Edition): Late Winter 1973 – Waiting, with Bated Breath, for the Big One-Oh
Things I Remember: February 1973 With just a bit over two weeks till my 60th birthday – date-wise it’s 15 days, but today is half-over – and with no clue as to what will happen on that day (I nixed a trip to a Disney park due to concerns about exposure to COVID-19), my thoughts…
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Tempus Fugit: Remembering Mid-December, 1972: New School, New Girlfriend, and Apollo’s Last Hurrah
“December is the holdout month, all the others torn away.” ― Anne Gisleson, The Futilitarians: Our Year of Thinking, Drinking, Grieving, and Reading With Christmas Day of 2022 only 12 days away – and New Year’s Eve 18 days in the future – and my move to Brandon looming on a date that is “TBA”…
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Tempus Fugit – Hurricane Andrew + 30 Edition, or: Remembering the Day After Landfall, August 25, 2022
Andrew Plus 30 As I sit here in my dimly lit bedroom/writer’s room/mancave in Lithia, Florida, it is another stifling hot late August morning where the heat seeps through the walls and warms my stocking feet underneath my desk. And even though the temperature outside is “only” 85°F/30°C, the bright subtropical sun and the high…
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Musings & Thoughts for Monday, August 22,2022, or: Sibling Rivalry Stings, Even in Dreams
“People think dreams aren’t real just because they aren’t made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.” ― Neil Gaiman Last night, or early this morning, I dreamed about my half-sister Vicky. It wasn’t one of those rare dreams in which…
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Tempus Fugit – 1972 Edition, or: Musings on the Ephemeral, Imperfect, and Malleable Nature of Memory
“Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.” ― Guy de Maupassant As the Dog Days of Summer 2022 near their finale – they began on Sunday, July 3, and will end on Thursday – I am struck by the concepts of memory, how…
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Tempus Fugit, Summer of 1972 Edition: Living in the ‘Here and Now’ in Sunny, Humid South Florida
“Time doesn’t really ‘march on’. It tends to tip-toe. There’s no parade. No stomping of boots to alert you to its passing. One day, you turn around and it is gone.” ― Heather Babcock This summer – this stiflingly hot, oft sad and depressing, and quite insane Summer of ’22 – is both my 59th…
A Certain Point of View, Too 