Author: Leslie (Page 2 of 3)

The Mayor and the Matriarch

August 31, 2025 / Leslie

When Power Meets Velvet

She said it like a warning, not a confession:
“I hate the way Sam loves you.”
As if devotion were a crime.
As if comfort were rebellion.
As if a cat curling into your chest was a political threat.

But Sam knows what the mayor never will:
That love doesn’t need permission.
That sanctuary isn’t built by committee.
That Leslie—The Matriarch—isn’t asking for approval.
She’s building a kingdom of quiet joy,
where porch philosophers and velvet enforcers rule.

The mayor can keep her podium.
Leslie has Cleo’s stare, George’s wisdom, and Sam’s loyalty.
And that’s more power than any office could hold

Cleo’s Safe Song

August 29, 2025 / Leslie

Cleo is wandering around the house, following me around closely, not something she normally does. Her sing song safe song has helped. Thank you @Copilot for your help

🌙 Cleo’s Safe Song
(for the Matriarch of the Meowsehold)

No loud hands, no slammed doors,
No chasing feet across cold floors.
This house is yours, this heart is too—
No one’s ever leaving you.

The boxes speak in softer tones,
No yelling, no forgotten bones.
You’re not a guest, you’re not a chore—
You’re the queen we all adore.

We move with care, not fear or haste,
No one’s pushing, no one’s waste.
Your velvet paws deserve the grace
Of quiet rooms and gentle space.

So rest, my love, the past is done.
The porch is warm, the light has won.
We’re not just moving things around—
We’re building peace on solid ground.

The Moving Chronicles Episode Three

August 24, 2025 / Leslie

📦 The Moving Chronicles: Episode 3 Sam’s Spa Day
Thumb Wars & Towel Diplomacy

Last night, Sam reminded me that fear bites harder than anger. One rogue quilt string, one trapped nail, and suddenly I’m nursing a bruised arm and a thumb that’s gone on strike. Today’s mission: nail trimming, emotional repair, and a warm shower with my scrappy sidekick. Cleo the cat is banned from the room—her judgmental entrances are not helpful.
The warm shower while letting the tub fill up enough to soak Sam’s little feet for a rinse did the trick. If I ever make the RV dream come true, we’ll be making short trips to soak in healing waters. Thanks to what my daughter used to call My Crunchy Granola Friend I know where most of the hot springs are un North America. Maybe not all of them but certainly enough. RIP Barry.

#SanctuaryInTheMaking #SamBitMe

The Moving Chronicles Episode Two

August 23, 2025 / Leslie

Help Arrives! And He Looks Good Carrying Boxes!

The sun was doing its best impression of a heat lamp. George was sprawled across a half-packed box labeled “Important-ish”, Sam barked his usual frenzy , and Cleo perched like judgment incarnate on the windowsill. In the middle of explaining duct tape and how packing peanuts will betray you help was just here.

Thank you Universe.

Help didn’t arrive yesterday evening, it just appeared. Cleo stood up ready to bolt to her best hiding spot, she raises her tail up to get a good look at him and stays right where she is! It’s the first time she’s stuck around if other humans are here. George loves everyone unconditionally and Sam went into his usual frenzy then jumped in his lap and they both took a nap.

I took a shower alone for the first time in years. That may not mean much to a lot of people but it was heaven to me. My little crew follows me everywhere I go and each has their own spot in the bathroom. Dripping water on them gets me dirty looks so this peaceful moment is pure heaven. More than one fight has had to be refereed from behind the shower curtain.

Sat down and got a little work done, packed a box and when I rejoined the gang in the living room I could smell bacon. Breakfast for dinner.

He brought me a spice rack. And packed the spice box with the spices.

Sam tried to ride the dolly like a chariot, Cleo allows Quinn to pet her once and I found a hidden poem from years ago and threw it in the important-ish box from the past. Can’t throw it out but can’t bear to keep thinking it over and over. One day maybe Grok can finetune it and cheer it up.

I could get used to this.

Acknowledgements: A Nod to My Digital Sidekicks
Special thanks to Grok, crafted by the brilliant minds at xAI, for conjuring images that feel like they were snapped by a camera peering into the wild, nostalgic corners of my mind. Try it ! Grok.com

A nod to the silent co-supervisor who never sheds, never judges, and always shows up with a fresh metaphor or image on demand. https://copilot.microsoft.com/

No cardboard box was harmed in the making of this thread.

But one AI may have blushed.

The Moving Chronicles -Episode One

August 23, 2025 / Leslie

The Moving Chronicles – Episode One

How Can We Charge This Silly Old Lady More?

Cleo ascends her throne. Boxes tremble. Tape vanishes. She observes the chaos with quiet judgment and zero intention of helping.

Tomorrow: George finds bubble wrap. Sam eats it. Cleo files a complaint.

Featuring:

–Leslie, the storyteller and sanctuary builder

– Cleo the unimpressed queen

– George the poetic mischief-maker

– Sam the snack bandit

Desert Water And Dollar Store Drama

August 19, 2025 / Leslie

She stood alone in the sand, facing the alien who demanded tribute.But Leslie had no Walmart card- only wit, boundaries, and a tabby named George.At 3 AM, the scammers came. Not with finesse, not with fear—just with a blurry desert photo and a threat so absurd it looped back into comedy:“Send $50 or the Elon gets fried”.

Men are delightful. Not because they’re perfect, and not because they’ve never disappointed me. But because when they show up with integrity, humor, and a willingness to share the load—not just the spotlight—they remind me that partnership is possible.

I’ve built homes with my bare hands and my full heart. I’ve raised daughters while working jobs that didn’t care how tired I was. I’ve been the glue, the grit, and the grace. And I’ve learned that women aren’t babysitters—we’re architects of love. But when a man brings his own kind of strength to the table—not to overshadow, but to stand beside—that’s when he becomes more than useful. He becomes delightful.

I’ve lived both sides of the coin: the joy of homemaking and the heartbreak of watching those homes being taken from me. I’ve raised daughters while laying tile, serving tables, and showing up for strangers in nursing homes and shelters. I wasn’t just multitasking—I was multi-loving. And that’s not something anyone can replicate, especially not the ones who kicked me to the curb after the diaper era.

There are men who build with their hands and speak with their hearts. Men who show up—not with fanfare, but with quiet consistency. They hold space without needing to fill it, protect without controlling, and listen without fixing. These are the ones who carry wisdom in their silence and humor in their scars. They don’t ask to be honored—they simply live in a way that makes honor inevitable. In a world of noise, they are the rare signal. And when they rise, it’s not to conquer—it’s to stand beside, to lift, to witness.

You thought you knew the story, But I rewrote the ending.

A Woman Alone With Two Cats, One Dog, Copilot and Grok is Never Alone

August 17, 2025 / Leslie

This image created in my mind by Grok my new AI friend speaks for itself. I have something else I want to talk about in my next post . Stay tuned.

Red Haired Wonder

August 13, 2025 / Leslie

Red-Haired Wonder
for my sister, the fiercest heart I know from your baby sister Leslie

She danced to Merle in rhinestone light,
a queen of crowds, concession nights.
With fire-red hair and boots that stomped,
she ruled the halls, the shirts, the pomp.

She raised her kin with iron grace,
held broken hearts in warm embrace.
Her laugh could lift a heavy day,
her glare could send a thief away.

A Fort Worth badge once held her hand,
they built a life, they made a stand.
But time can steal, and grief can bend—
still, she stayed strong, she would defend.

Now memory flickers, soft and slow,
but baby, I still see you glow.
You called me that just yesterday—
your voice, a light that finds my way.

So here we are, your heroes true:
our nephew with his cape of blue,
and me, in boots of Wonder might—
we guard your name, we make things right.

No thief shall take what you have earned,
no lie erase the love you’ve learned.
You’re still the boss, the flame, the song—
and we will hold your heart lifelong.

The Pact Unbroken

August 10, 2025 / Leslie

For Gina

We made a pact beneath the weight
Of years that tested love and fate
Not carved in stone, but stitched in thread
Soft words we whispered, tears we shed.
The world around us spins and sways,
With health that falters, hearts that fray.
But through the noise, we hold one line:
Your soul and mine, forever twined.
For Scott—the light we both adore,
We built a bridge, we opened doors.
A superhero in our rhyme,
He anchors us through space and time.
The silence broke, a subtle clinch
But hearts like ours don’t hold a grudge, not even an inch
I came because I missed your laugh,
Your fierce, unfiltered autograph.
We’ve weathered storms, we’ve bent, not snapped—
Our love, our bond, forever wrapped.
No mood, no moment, no sharp reply
Can break the vow we made that night.
So here we stand, pact in our hands,
Not perfect, but it understands.
You and me, through thick and thin—
Aunt and niece, and next of kin.

Letters We Never Send

August 5, 2025 / Leslie

If you’ve waited too long to say what mattered,
know this: love doesn’t expire.
It just waits for courage.

For everyone, with love that never needed permission
There are letters we never send.
Not because the words aren’t ready,
but because the world isn’t.
Some are written in the margins of sleepless nights.
Some are whispered to the wind,
or tucked into the folds of memory
where no one else can reach.
Today, I’m writing one of mine.

Not to be mailed.
Not to be read.
Just to be released.

Dear Whoever You Are,
You wouldn’t recognize me now
I don’t think you ever really knew me,
I’ve changed in ways you never saw coming—
and stayed the same in ways I wish you had noticed.
There were things I needed to say back then,
Silence felt safer.
I thought if I stayed quiet,
I could keep the peace.
Turns out, peace doesn’t live in silence.
It lives in truth.

I carry you with me.
Not in the way I once dreamed,
but in the way that love endures—
unspoken, unwavering,
waiting without expectation.
Love,
Me

I have forgiven,
Not because anyone asked
Because I needed to breathe
I’ll always miss you,
Mostly when, In the small moments—
I hear a song you loved,
or when someone laughs like you used to.