Dear diary,
1.
In in Mom’s hospital room and assisting her as care giver and the hospital staff as a ‘volunteer’. And I had my usual incoming thoughts coming through in the waking hours. But I’m too distracted with house chores and other personal stinky smelly stuff. Brouhaha!
But before I go into my main topic, I awoke rather refreshed and only clocked under two hours of CPAP therapy because my nasal passages, especially the left nasal, are clogged. I flushed my nasal passages with saline (and distilled water) via a squeeze bottle instead of a ‘Neti’ pot for better control. No boogers.
And so I busied myself with washing up, scraping the poop from the parakeet trays of their cages, replenishing their food dishes, downloading the daily account balances, balancing the checkbook, writing out Dad’s dental payment and mailing and order the new Ultra Caramel Frappe, and headed northbound to visit Mom and without Dad because is tired from sitting and staring blankly.
2.
So now onward with my blog. Yeah, so I’m thanking God because although I’d like to who He is and what He is all about, the Bible says that no one know the Father except through Me, meaning the Son.
And with that said, I hope God approves with whatever because it’s supposed to be all good as God is good. Oh, whatever I did to that ‘friend’, I’ve done so with that ‘pal’, only that ‘friend’ was thicker by five times or more than that ‘pal’.
And the way that ‘friend’ operated was creating the sense of urgency (similar to the ‘pal’) on a particular ‘angel investor’, err, victim, the unwilling and unwitting gullible fool, who was probably initiated into their ‘group’ by the testing of sacrifices. Whatever.
And so the ‘job’ was supposed to ‘pay off’. The former was supposed to be formal. The latter was supposed to be gifts. But both meant to sacrifice a lot of stuff. And that stuff was made possible (as per my recent blog posts) via two hard-working elderly folks.
So would that mean they were being abused by these two group via an agent who didn’t know better? That’s something these twosome need to dwell upon because while the elderly folks wanted to HELP others, they are NOT aware that they sacrificed so much to keep them, and especially afloat during these hard times.
Mom would NOT approve of my type of communication because I do tend to interconnect unrelated stuff and I do tend to diverge or drift off to a different topic and fail to focus on the main thoughts or current conversations or debatable discussions.
3.
Oh, here is my old nagging thought – the name and pronouncement of names for God, prophets, messengers, and other pals. Now, I’m NOT well-versed in this religious stuff.
But didn’t one group claim there’s no way to know the name(s) or not one person who should know the name(s) thereof? And then other groups list the names or has one name?
I do NOT understand. Oh and it’s 1121 am, and I’m thinking about Adam’s first wife and how she pronounced the name of God and who he angels couldn’t fetch her back after she flew away to breed bad stuff.
4.
There is TOO much stuff and it’s confusing. And why do humanz get angry with each other on who is correct and who is incorrect on which ones to worship and praise? Are humanz that hateful towards each other, enough to wish them death or dead?
I really don’t get it. I though everyone is supposed to get along. Oh, and yesterday, Mom said transgender guy, err, she-male, was VERY helpful in the morning when Mom was feeling sick and tired of being sick and tired.
So how can I judge a soul (who’s probably just doing it’s well-paid job) based on the outward appearance – obviously a man with long and straight forearms and no wide female hips?
I noticed his eye balls were not similar in size or shape – his left eyeball was rounder and more opened than the right eyeball which was more closed or narrower. But I forgot how to tell or what that means when the eyeballs are wonky, like the current White House Press Secretary to our Mister POTUS Trump? Other than that they may be clones without souls!
Yeah, whatever.
Sincerely,
FLYNN B.
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