So, I’ve been seeing a little bit of action on this blog’s posts and I just wanted to let you guys know (some may already) that I don’t think I’ll be adding anything to Invent Your Place.

I had to start over. It just felt right.

Anyway, my new site is at http://aleeyja.home.blog. Similar address to this one, I know.

If you want to know my new stuff, go to Al’s Blog. I hope this post was helpful, and not a waste of time. Either way, thanks for reading!

See ya!

Create A Cafe At Home

I was feeling creative when I arranged a glass table and two chairs this way. I can sit and watch the children playing outside while I imagine myself to be in some cute, outdoor cafe.

What’s Needed for Your Cafe at Home

  • A small table. Preferably round.
  • Some strong coffee, which you can make anyway you like.
  • An interesting book. In my case, I’m reading The Power of Thought by John Algeo and Shirley J. Nicholson. It is quite intriguing.
  • Two chairs. I suppose they don’t have to match.
  • Your laptop or notebook if you’re working on something and don’t have time to read.

And that’s it! A space created.

In my cafe there are toddlers running around so I’m off to help a little one. Ciao.

Skincare Resolution

Back in January (as many did) I wrote a list of goals for this year.

I am happy to announce that the first goal (to potty train Sergio) is complete, as well as the goal of finding a skincare regimen.

I am not sponsored nor affliated by/ with the following company or Birchbox, which is where I found it. I gain nothing from this post.

The skincare regimen that I am now following is with products from AirRepair. I love the smell of the product and, according to the company’s website, is vegan and cruelty-free. Here is where I bought this kit of travel sized products.

The Cleansing Milk, Hydrating Serum, and All Purpose Skin Salve and Lip Balm are my favorites.

The travel sizes should last me awhile and I am enjoying taking care of my skin. What’s your favorite part of your grooming regimen?


I awoke in a panic this morning. I am slightly hungover (a feeling I’ve come to despise), having drank about four Miller Lites last night. What really got my head pounding was the crying from last night.

Those are my kids. Their photos were taken by someone else, as part of their “family photo” day.

Those are MY babies. My fuckin kids. And there they are, being assimilated into a new family through picture day. So that’s why I’m upset. Thats why my head hurts and that’s why I’m gonna go outside and tear my garden apart today.

Should I be “calling her out” for this? I dont know and dont give a fuck anymore.

A Song

My mother has always been supportive of me. But now…well, I can’t even explain in words what a blessing she has been to me. While I have struggled she has watched, listened, and added her two cents. I always value her opinion. Recently, she dedicated a song to me. In words and face to face. I am thankful beyond words to her for her dedication. Here it is.

Dedicate this song to someone else for me, because it is powerful and inspiring. I am not entirely deserving of its dedication (no matter how informal) but someone you know may be.

Hard Work

Everyone’s got an opinion on what it is. And I’m over here exasperated. Have you really worked hard lately? Have you torn down any grapevines by hand, just to hurt your hands? Have you driven up and down the highway, for days, for hours, hauling cargo or foster kids? Have you dug anything lately? Have you fixed any vehicles? How bout concrete? Poured any?

Have you forced your own children into car seats and told ’em you’ll see ’em next week? No? Oh well, whew. You’re still able to work then.

Hard work is just life. No one should get an award for it. I usually don’t even get a pat on the back.


Yep, I’m gonna go be a photographer now. Isn’t that artsy? (I respect photographers and know nothing about it. Just bein snarky).

Anyway, let’s not hang around. I know you’re anxious to hear the rest of my story – why I’m in this dark mood. Ugh. I’m workin’ on it. I want you to understand well, so it’s gotta be good. I will tell you. And you can always tell me. Talking about trauma is supposed to help, right?

For now, I’d rather just listen to the radio though. So here’s the aux cord. Put somethin’ chill on.

Remember Me

Hopefully, you do. If not, that’s okay, too. I have been suffering lately from a rare form of Post Partum Depression – something that I thought I had under control. But, looking back on things and the manic writing I was doing (the climate crisis has traumatized me because I am concerned for the futures of our children), I was sick. I am healing by following the advice of medical professionals and will not be sharing every step of the journey.

I did not want anyone to think that I had forgotten them, so this is just a note of “Hey, I’m still here,” for some of you. I hope you have all been taking care of your flowers, yourselves, and your babies. One day soon we will be sharing lots more stories – and all of them will be beautiful, full of hope, laughter, nature, and that bittersweet twang of truth.

Blurred lines in Sand

It was fun. Yeah a girl can write a sex scene okay. Or rap it. Or make it up however she wants. Or dance it. Or strum it beautifully on a guitar. I look at the world literally and figuratively. I look at words and feelings and the past and present and that’s it. Then I try to match my doing to it. Let’s pick up a hammer – girls go steal some nails – and put everything back into figura. En la jaula no ladro Como la Perra. Cuido a Los ninos


We are all introduced. I know who I’m voting for. And I know how numbers can lose. Go tweet @ your person an hola muy Bella. Let’s tell em how we feel. With a twisted misdirect like they do. Always. But naughta. ๐Ÿ’œ๐ŸŒท๐ŸŒบ๐ŸŒผ๐ŸŒป๐ŸŒธ๐Ÿฅ€๐ŸŒน๐Ÿต๏ธ๐Ÿ’ฎ๐Ÿ’๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒด๐ŸŒฟ๐ŸŒฒ๐ŸŒฑโ˜˜๏ธ๐Ÿ€๐ŸŒณ๐ŸŒพ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ‚

Y’all got me….

Efffed up. Who’s tripping who and on what? Your lungs are burning? Well I’m lighting a smoke. Smoke what? Says the devil. Or wait. Was that you?

Love amor amour j’adore and all the rest that I don’t know but can inherently understand. Came to find you. You found me. Who was leading who. It’s just the bitch in me.

Basta o baila