Long story, short…. Josephine was going to be booted out of her title as Mistress by her lover. He wanted a new mistress, so he introduced Josephine to Napoleon, who was instantly smitten!
Josephine….. not so much!
Rather than face living in the streets with her two children, she decided to marry Napoleon,  although she did not love him. In fact, she did everything in her power to be as far from Napoleon as possible, even feigning pregnancy to forgo traveling with him. While he was away she would attend balls and parties and was known to have many lovers.

When Napoleon finally caught word of her behavior he rushed home to confront her telling her she had killed his heart. The irony?  Josephine had finally fallen in love with Napoleon… too late!
It’s said that as she lay dying of diphtheria, “Napoleon” was her last uttered word.

Now that’s a juicy diary!!

The letter says:

I wake filled with thoughts of you. Your portrait and the intoxicating evening which we spent yesterday have left my senses in turmoil.
Sweet incomparable Josephine, what a strange effect you have on my heart!
Are you angry?
Do I see you looking sad? Are you worried? …
My soul aches with sorrow, and there can be no rest for your lover; but is there still more in store for me when, yielding to the profound feelings which overwhelm me, I draw from your lips, from your heart a love which consumes me with fire? Ah! it was last night that I fully realized how false an image of you your portrait gives!
You are leaving at noon; I shall see you in three hours.
Until then, mio dolce amor, a thousand kisses; but give me none in return, for they set my blood on fire.

Bonaparte

Every beetle is a gazelle in the eyes of its mother.  ~Moorish Proverb

Vulcan ~ Wani Ra Yana Ro Aisha

No matter how you say it, it still means I love you!

The theme over at Monday Artday is “Goddess” this week. After mulling over all the usual ideas that come to mind for this subject, I began to think of two people that met when they were fifteen and sixteen. They made a life together, bought houses and made five children together. Fought a lot and loved a lot.

These two people won’t be spending Thanksgiving together. He’s far too ill to be taken care of at home. Diabetes, Parkinson’s disease and a few other ailments have taken his leg and taken him away from her. She wouldn’t be able to take care of him like she used to anyway. She forgets.
They miss each other.
They are my parents.