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Selfie # 457 – Painting with Frida

If you’ve happened by my “Tribute to Frida Khalo” page, you know that shortly after losing my job, I developed an unusually persistent habit of taking selfies. As I revisited the photos I’ve taken over the past two years, I realized that many of them bring to mind a story that I would like to share. So, I will be posting a selfie here occasionally, along with a story that somehow relates to the photo; just because that seems to me to be the next logical step. or, more accurately, because that is what I want to do.

Striiiife and Chaos!! Striiiiife and Chaos!!; Boot Camp or Juvenile Detention

Fifteen kids, three instructors, countless miles of Appalachian Trail, hundreds of miles in a stinky van, and 182 miles of Georgia rivers. Hopefully this will be just one of several Stories from a Former Foster Kid that I’ll be sharing. This Read More

My Foster Care Story: Trouble Brewing: A Visit to the Children’s Psych Ward

Astoundingly, I was not the recipient of any electro-convulsive therapies, or even any drugs. They simply kept me there for a thirty day evaluation period, at the end of which, it was declared, by some nameless authority, that there was nothing wrong with me, and I was sent home, angry at my mother.

My Panties! My Panties! : A teenage runaway story

I positioned myself on the side of the highway with my thumb out. “I’m gonna hitch us a ride”.  The first truck sped by, but when the second came, I put a little more effort forth, waving my arms about while trying to hold up my sheet. As the driver began to slow, I looked back and winked at Risa. When he stopped, I yelled above the noise and heat of the truck that we needed a ride. He said something but I couldn’t hear him.

“What??” I yelled. 

He motioned with his head for me to climb up the truck to get closer.  I did so and explained, still in the same volume, that my friend and I needed a ride.

“Okay, hop in.”