Chapters:23, Tyrone, Dance with Dragons by George R.R.Martin

Chapter 23a,

Chapter 23b,

Chapter 23c,

Chapter 23d,

She’s Not there!

And she’s not gone!

I hear a noise in the dark,

All the kitties are spread out in my room,

I smell colon think sherry’s been here,

Imagine fingers on my cheek,

Light touch my lips are brushed,

Bout to drive to Manchester,Iowa,

Air enters my space I reach out to envelope her,

I awake scaring Mr.Black,

She’s not there!

She’s not here!

Drury in Illinois vs. Drury in Kentucky{Hotel,The Drury is a Hotel}

Must be like the old movie,

Jackie Gleesen starred,

‘Don’t drink the water!’

Different as night and day!

I believe in turn around business,

Good place to stay,

The Drury that,

When we arrived coming to Iowa in March,

Cold snowy,



Front resembled Family resteraunt,

Place was packed,



I had called while on the road,

Paid in full as I had down tonight all the way from Iowa 400 miles away.

We arrved,

Got a cart,

Unloaded it was just dusk,

Our room was on main floor,

Handicapped toom,

Non smoking,

One of the perks at the ‘Drury’


An evening meal,

You can get two alcoholic drinks, wive and do Not drink!

We were two sheets in the wind!

Two more like seven means we were that tried,

We were told there would be a free breakfast also!

America’s values and yesterdays Custmer Servce has vanished also


No one said you “Can not have breakfast if you have a fir family wth you,”

No one said no pet is allowed alone in room!!!!

Illinois better cleaner state then Kentucy,

Tonight in Kentucky at the same hotel as in Illionois the “Drury, my.wife was charged more then the $122 already paid on line at Reservation crappy site.

Cost Sherry at 68 all together $222 for the room aready paid and reserved. The above $122 is a deposit!

We paid once in our March trip.a creepy deposit

The deposut was the penalty for in cash!

Smart people who travel,

Say “Screw Hotels!’

Camp or travel in motor home.

Next time we will follow our parents lead,

Stay in our vehicals!!!!!

Whooping Cough Whooping cough

Ellen baby Ellen we neary lost her,

To Whooing cough,

She wasn’t perfect but she was my kid sister and I love her,

Adopted family

Patrica known since 1998,

Tonight asked her if you go to WW,

If you go to Wally World would you pick me Surgical pads for wounds.

She laughed you can do that,

Judy through pain would without garbage talk,

Reminds me of mom while Pat reminds me of my baby sister,

Once I asked Ellen if she would come out and pick mom and me up,

See we has car trouble, ot was just like yesterday,

My poor Sherry hurting worked like a thirty year old,

Got soaked,

On the Iowa cold spring rain,

Ellen said ,’No, get dad to go it!’

Ellen was great many ways but very onesided,

Meaning selfish!

Pure Eloquence

Short hair,

Twang goes my heart,

Audience, one,

Layisd on my back last night,

Bed of my queen,

Love doesn’t mean sex,

MY arm around her back,

Her head resting on my arm,

Munching Cheedoes,

To tired to get real food,

Sixty-three and eight,

We had gone to Wally World,

From two to seven in the rain she paced,

Tear glisten pass my blues eyes,

Like horses in spring rain prance,

We at Wally World like two Festers,

You the right age recall,

Gun Smoke with James Arness,

Back when TV didn’t need J.R.,

Looking back now we knew Jim was Miss Kitty’s Guy,

I was on a cart,

My gal had a cart she pushed,

I zoomed here and zoomed there,

When time came to get out,

I felt like Fred Flintstone wishing someone just tip me over,

This morning after packing personal things and Sammy her black and white, With me at our metal door ,

Love is over flowing once more,

Wish I spent more time holding her.

Were not done.

Just apart for now.

Love my Southern Bell,

Part African, American through n through on dad’s side.

On moms Scotish from the isle of man.

Sixty today

My baby sister,

Moments written down thats what it takes,

Moments are all precious,

Writers know that.

Now you do to,

The secret of written is to save moments,

Paint a period seen only before that in writer’s an artist,

April 11th, will always play upon my heart

Ellen B. Heike Mathis,

Fifty-nine, October twenty-nine dead,

Pain tetched through her heart,

Bullied and told falsely accusing a blood sister of Elder Abuse ‘Didn’t matter,Ellen’s pain enveloped her existence.

Slowly died intoxicated,

My baby sister,


Grand mother,


Born sixty years today,

My love started her journey south today,

My heart drives shot gun,

Love you both.