Jill Sheet's Blog

A Picture Can Say Many Things Written by: Jill Sheets Picture credit:   https://freesvg.org/sad-manga- girl   Thinking about when I was younger, and what I put my mom through, this memory popped up. One that is not a good one for either my mom or me, but we can laugh about it now. I was not the easiest of children. Getting a hair cut was a nightmare for my mom and me. There was a lot of frustration for both of us. Before I went into the Salon, I would find pictures of an actress I like. When I found her, I would cut out a picture of her with the hairstyle that I wanted.   I would hand the poor lady who would be cutting my hair the picture. She had no idea what she was getting into. It never seemed like it took a long time for the lady to finish my hair. She would give me a mirror to look at so I can see the front and back of my hair. Before I gave the mirror back to her, I would start to cry because I did not look like the person in the picture. Before I fin

I Will Never Do Written by: Jill Sheets We all have things that we will and will not do. We all have our boundaries. Here are 14 things that I can guarantee I will not do. Some may overlap. Just a funny side note, I had a problem coming up with what I wouldn’t do, until I decide that 14 was a good number. But now more keep popping up in my head and the bad part is that I am trying to sleep when that happens. I will have to keep a notebook by my bed from now on.                                          Picture source:    https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bird_scooters_on_the_sidewalk_in_San_Jose.jpg Some of you may have seen this downtown or on a busy street off in the snow-covered grass — bird scooters. Before I go more on to more details, there are some things I do not understand. Are they supposed to be ridden on the sidewalk or street? What about wearing a helmet? Body gear? I am old enough to know better to entertain the thought of using one.

It Will Get Better Written By:   Jill Sheets It hurts me that I cannot talk Not to sing. Only a whisper  Or a gravel voice coming out. I answer the phone at work No one knows it is me Or call me sir. I close my mouth quickly So I do not force out “I am not a guy.” Or “My name is not Joe.” Trying to find the humor in the situation There is none. My heart is crumbling with desperation. Trying to force my voice out To do what the speech therapist wants. My face Neck All of my muscles tight. Stress Should be a bad word. It only makes things worse. How am I suppose to distress? It will get better. Please God, Make it better.