tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39256107239249272422024-03-13T05:29:26.318-04:00Generally speaking...This, that and another thing...or maybe nothing et al!Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-45104253644669736092019-01-17T17:54:00.005-05:002019-01-17T17:54:52.526-05:00Emotion. Sometimes it lies.<div class="clearfix" style="caret-color: rgb(29, 33, 41); color: #1d2129; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 12px; zoom: 1;">
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<a class="_39g5" href="https://www.facebook.com/notes/pam-geniac/emotion-sometimes-it-lies/302487460128/" style="color: #90949c; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; text-decoration: none;">January 17, 2010 at 7:46 PM</a><span class="timelineUnitContainer" style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="_6a _43_1 _21o- _fol" id="u_fetchstream_8_3" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Like blackbirds feasting on my bones. </span></div>
Apathy to joy. Happy to sad.<br />
The cause unknown.<br />
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They rise and fall, carnivorous flock. </div>
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Flipped over, turned back. </div>
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My heart once soft, becomes a rock. </div>
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Fooled by these capricious fiends, </div>
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All of my compassion gone.</div>
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They pick me up, to throw me down.</div>
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Heart first full, now empty, bleeds.... </div>
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Wallowing helpless in my pit, </div>
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I whisper out my prayer to you.</div>
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Please. Pull me up to where you sit. </div>
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Your love forever strong and true. </div>
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I do myself continual harm, </div>
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then reach out bleeding, for your arm. </div>
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Gently speak you, One Most High. </div>
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Again you find me where I lie.</div>
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Retrieving me from self-made pain, </div>
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You draw me up to purest air.</div>
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Emotions now caboose my train.</div>
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Truth alone, this atmosphere.</div>
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Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-65143242506944590432017-03-29T16:54:00.002-04:002017-03-29T16:57:03.908-04:00Words.<div class="_1dwg _1w_m _2ph_" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: 'San Francisco', -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, '.SFNSText-Regular', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: -0.23999999463558197px; padding: 12px 12px 0px;">
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One spoken, they dance like <span class="_5mfr _47e3" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;"><img alt="" aria-hidden="1" class="img" height="16" src="https://www.facebook.com/images/emoji.php/v8/ff4/1/16/2728.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span class="_7oe" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">✨</span></span>fireflies <span class="_5mfr _47e3" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;"><img alt="" aria-hidden="1" class="img" height="16" src="https://www.facebook.com/images/emoji.php/v8/ff4/1/16/2728.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span class="_7oe" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">✨</span></span>in the twilight of the recipient's thoughts forever. Considering this, let us speak words that build up, not crush. May we fill the air around us with words of <span class="_5mfr _47e3" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;"><img alt="" aria-hidden="1" class="img" height="16" src="https://www.facebook.com/images/emoji.php/v8/ff4/1/16/2728.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span class="_7oe" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">✨</span></span>sweetness<span class="_5mfr _47e3" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;"><img alt="" aria-hidden="1" class="img" height="16" src="https://www.facebook.com/images/emoji.php/v8/ff4/1/16/2728.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span class="_7oe" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">✨</span></span>light and above all, the <span class="_5mfr _47e3" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;"><img alt="" aria-hidden="1" class="img" height="16" src="https://www.facebook.com/images/emoji.php/v8/ff4/1/16/2728.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span class="_7oe" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">✨</span></span>kindness<span class="_5mfr _47e3" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;"><img alt="" aria-hidden="1" class="img" height="16" src="https://www.facebook.com/images/emoji.php/v8/ff4/1/16/2728.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span class="_7oe" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">✨</span></span>that gives wings to <span class="_5mfr _47e3" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;"><img alt="" aria-hidden="1" class="img" height="16" src="https://www.facebook.com/images/emoji.php/v8/ff4/1/16/2728.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span class="_7oe" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">✨</span></span>hope. <span class="_5mfr _47e3" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;"><img alt="" aria-hidden="1" class="img" height="16" src="https://www.facebook.com/images/emoji.php/v8/ff4/1/16/2728.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span class="_7oe" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">✨</span></span></div>
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Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-75056352843535032512016-01-08T22:01:00.002-05:002017-03-29T16:58:19.178-04:00Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNv8RXjqiThyphenhyphenAjUrclEDQcsd6l79C5gjt-OC0JpCuY04aFzHqaY_AuwVg5IesC5KurvqbV6igOFFA1oyTTcV4SdiL74ayCnEBA_uaHMA9X-rEklbf-cozD75ee4Dr1_82gPe1kkFa1CuZH/s1600/every-new-day-is-another-chance-to-change-your-life-quote-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNv8RXjqiThyphenhyphenAjUrclEDQcsd6l79C5gjt-OC0JpCuY04aFzHqaY_AuwVg5IesC5KurvqbV6igOFFA1oyTTcV4SdiL74ayCnEBA_uaHMA9X-rEklbf-cozD75ee4Dr1_82gPe1kkFa1CuZH/s320/every-new-day-is-another-chance-to-change-your-life-quote-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
My life has been pretty much the same for years and years. I've lived in this town since 1987. And while I LOVE Kalamazoo, changes seem to be afoot. My hubs is starting to talk about retiring. That's all well and good, but he's talking about retiring somewhere besides here. <br />
<br />
At first it was Traverse City. I really like that town, but I wasn't sure I wanted to live there. But that doesn't matter anymore because now he talking about moving west to be out in the wild. Idaho to be precise. That will put us SO much closer to our sons that live on the west coast. At first I was like What?? No way!!! What's in Idaho besides potatoes?? But now I'm starting to embrace the idea.. Turns out Idaho is amazing!!! It's home to the largest forested wilderness in the lower forty-eight. 2.3 million acres to be exact!<br />
<br />
We aren't leaving tomorrow or anything. A whole bunch of things need to transpire before this move can take place, selling the farm being the biggest hurdle. But that's fine by me. It will give me the time I need to say my goodbyes to the Mitten, and this amazing little city I love...<br />
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<br />Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-54189540084313602282016-01-07T22:07:00.000-05:002016-01-08T17:40:56.870-05:00Fill in the blank.. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Green with ____. Most people have no trouble finishing this sentence.<br />
<br />
"Envy is the art of counting the other fellow's blessings instead of your own." Harold Coffin<br />
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I think we can agree that everyone has felt envy at one time or another. It's not pretty. Or healthy. In this world of social media I think envy may be more prevalent than ever. We see SO MANY details of other people's lives. Mostly the great stuff that is happening for them.<br />
<br />
It all seems to begin with comparison. So there I was, happily tra-la-laing along with my gizmo. Then I checked in on Facebook and saw that someone else has the newer, bigger, better, more expensive model. I looked down at my gizmo and was not quite as satisfied. The gizmo I loved just a few moments ago had suddenly fallen short.. So and So has the new model, and it's beautiful. Suddenly, out of nowhere, up pops that niggly, painful feeling..I want what THEY have! And just like that, envy is born, with maybe a teeny tiny bit of resent thrown in. Ugly emotions both!<br />
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Comparison is a dead end street. There is no way we can be happy for others or content with our place in this world if we are always comparing. Someone will ALWAYS have MORE than us. More money, be more beautiful, more fit, travel more..<br />
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To nip envy in the bud I need to be proactive. Figuring out the "triggers" that set off this negative feeling is top priority, then I can avoid getting into those situations. For example, we don't have to follow every single one of our "friends" on Facebook. <br />
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I have found that keeping a sufficiency journal where I list my blessings, and practicing the ole daily "attitude of gratitude" is what works best for me.<br />
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That..and staying off Facebook, lol! ;)<br />
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Journal Journey Day 7<br />
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Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-75401868384249198432016-01-06T21:48:00.001-05:002016-01-08T22:03:45.786-05:00It's a dog's life.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUZZZVQ3mgMP5Ad91PDTzekJE3cp4RC4t-EJL1KcCUZTpkIhPE6pQP0dIvoEhUYf8WGLY5464IpdBi8GLXNe9tzOE4DBfpFz9cNBfue6WJjtBbuQ0vP2wdKrCz2u5nfiU0jq1yqFJQ1LYu/s1600/IMG_1119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUZZZVQ3mgMP5Ad91PDTzekJE3cp4RC4t-EJL1KcCUZTpkIhPE6pQP0dIvoEhUYf8WGLY5464IpdBi8GLXNe9tzOE4DBfpFz9cNBfue6WJjtBbuQ0vP2wdKrCz2u5nfiU0jq1yqFJQ1LYu/s320/IMG_1119.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I crave a life like my dog's. He is just so chill. His world is what it is. Snoozing in the sunny spot, sniffing for rabbits along the trail to the barn, assisting me in the kitchen as clean up crew.<br />
<br />
He's not worried that yesterday he begged WAY too much or that tomorrow he has a vet appointment. He seems content no matter what he is doing. Sure he has his favorite things to do that make him happy and satisfied, but even so, he has has this easy-going attitude that I admire greatly.<br />
<br />
Living in the moment. That's what it is. Finding joy in just being. Content in the now-ness. No matter how badly yesterday went or what's on my plate for tomorrow, I have decided to see every day as a treasure. Even the ones that seem somewhat mundane.<br />
Let them ALL be dog days..<br />
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Journal Journey Day 6Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-31192609251588110622016-01-05T21:39:00.002-05:002016-01-08T12:49:36.266-05:00Outstanding in my field<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpUUdeIi3gffg7zNWeziimJklnYmCIdLvtsOO35rGdwKYS9c2DNbTA7y_8UwovUXQ2QnbLlQusNBPW19Xuxde-UQif4n_nTucPhuhSKlGzlJTXEgRtFSNhK1z8_6A9YwbOwGKI_Zy-zTBG/s1600/IMG_5177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpUUdeIi3gffg7zNWeziimJklnYmCIdLvtsOO35rGdwKYS9c2DNbTA7y_8UwovUXQ2QnbLlQusNBPW19Xuxde-UQif4n_nTucPhuhSKlGzlJTXEgRtFSNhK1z8_6A9YwbOwGKI_Zy-zTBG/s320/IMG_5177.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
By nature I am more than a little laid back (slothful). I am practically a professional in my area of expertise (doing nothing). My husband thought maybe I would like to get a job (since I don't seem to be getting anything done around the house).<br />
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But there doesn't seem to be many jobs that allow for my kind of skill (snoozing), so I have struggled (procrastinated) to find a new career path since my kids have grown up. (never even tried).<br />
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I am considering (no I'm not) going back to school to gain more education (do students still play cards in the cafeteria?) I just haven't decide what I'd like to go into yet. (And probably never will)<br />
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Until then, to show my husband that I am a team player (get him off my back), I am considering a job at Marshalls or TJ Maxx (where I will spend more money than I will ever make).<br />
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Journal Journey Day 5 (and already slaphappy) ;)<br />
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<br />Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-65913993208517707292016-01-04T22:29:00.000-05:002016-01-08T12:58:28.411-05:00I have nothing to say.Journal Journey Day 4<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1BzXNwr3QJh5ELsHQWIi3RddpV_EwzqSIoV4fRJjKjoKfXsJStMuo2Vz3Meml-aXRyiITeZCwFJHuit1DffrizHNGkheIKr8yfZK3ymapnSbQCkiblCNKisKJoVLgucZw9V-6Z-b8cg1U/s1600/funny-dog-tired-sleeping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1BzXNwr3QJh5ELsHQWIi3RddpV_EwzqSIoV4fRJjKjoKfXsJStMuo2Vz3Meml-aXRyiITeZCwFJHuit1DffrizHNGkheIKr8yfZK3ymapnSbQCkiblCNKisKJoVLgucZw9V-6Z-b8cg1U/s320/funny-dog-tired-sleeping.jpg" width="308" /></a></div>
Hmmm.. I don't think I have what it takes to journal much tonight. I'm kind of exhausted it would seem, I have nothing to say. Well that's never stopped me before. Soooo...<br />
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I feel like I woke up tired and it has taken every ounce of resolve not to just lay down and pretend I'm sick. First day back to reality after the holidays....I was up and at 'em early-ish. Rufus had a vet appointment for his ongoing allergy issues, poor old guy. I had laundry up to my eyeballs and NO hubby friendly food in the fridge. I can't even remember how I used to do all this with four little boys at home. Where did I get that kind of energy? (Where did it go???)<br />
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Anyhoo, I fed the horses their breakfast, then I was off to have Rufus tortured at the vet, followed by the bank and the grocery store. One thing I love about winter is Rufus can tag along on errand days without fear of coming back to the car with the window busted out and a crowd standing around because I was accidentally cooking the dog in the car.. <br />
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By the time I got home with the groceries I didn't even feel like I had the energy to unload them. I did, but in that weird, take forever, leave them in the bags for an hour way that I hate. There was a patch of sun on the great room carpet that kept calling to me, but I resisted.<br />
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I kept the laundry going (while watching Downton Abbey. I can't believe this is the last season..sad!!) Made a huge pot of spaghetti so my man won't starve and FINALLY made a batch of kombucha. <br />
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Back down to feed and close up the barn. The cat ate a mouse in what appeared to be two large bites, then barfed it up on the feed room table..that was fun to clean up.. Ah farm living!!!! <br />
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Now I am sitting on my bed surrounded by four huge baskets of clean laundry that need to some how fold themselves and jump into the dresser. <br />
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Another early day tomorrow. Picking the kiddo up at 8 am.. So tired. Must. get. laundry. done...<br />
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Zzzzzz....<br />
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<!--3-->Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-72128630198166179962016-01-03T21:56:00.001-05:002016-02-05T21:51:17.439-05:00I have a confession..Journal Day 3<br />
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I have a confession to make. I'm not proud of it. In fact it's extremely embarrassing. If you came to my house, I doubt that you would even realize it. I hide it well...<br />
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Welcome to my home, pretty orderly and neat, right? A place for everything and everything in it's place, (perennially in need of a good dusting though). Would you like a cup of tea?<br />
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WAIT!!! PLEASE!!! Don''t open that CLOSET!!! Ooh, too late.. Hehe. It's ok, really. No worries, I'll put all that stuff back in there later.. Now, what about that tea?<br />
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Open just about any closet or drawer in my house and the ugly truth reveals itself. I am a muddled messy. My closets are in chaos, the drawers disorderly, the paperwork punch-drunk. Being so disorganized means that I cannot locate anything in a timely manner. Important things. Tax forms, insurance records, the snorkel gear. Things my husband asks for, things he needs me to find right now. I'm breaking out in a nervous sweat just thinking about it.<br />
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This monster problem has been on my New Year's Resolution list for so many years, that it has just automatically started showing up on it's own every January 1st. I think I may have tried just about every self help book out there. I get better for awhile, but I've never been able to maintain neatness and inevitably I fall back into my same hurried, cram it somewhere patterns. <br />
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But wait folks, there's more! And this part is really awkward.. My husband is neat. He is VERY neat. And orderly. I know it must drive him crazy that I am messy. Bless him, he has tried to help me. He has organized me with lists and charts and colored stickers.. We make plans for me to have a garage sale, put items on Craig's list and eBay. And it works! At least it works while he's helping me.<br />
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But when I am again left to my own devices, I feel overwhelmed with the enormity of the tasks before me. Opening boxes to find that my mother actually saved every one of my art projects from kindergarten?? Well maybe I was no Picasso, but those have to worth something, right? Did I mention that I also have a bit of a problem with procrastination and am easily distracted? Trying to decide what stuff is important to keep and what to actually let go of seems gargantuan. I struggle in fits and starts, and eventually everything quietly falls back into disarray. <br />
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I guess you don't need to be an Einstein to grasp this, but I believe the biggest problem to overcoming messiness is "stuff". And I have SO. Much. Stuff. Years and years and YEARS worth of stuff. Since I live in a large home I have always gotten away with this secret messiness by just putting this stuff in "the storage room"(read: black hole). The room is lined with shelves all the way to the ceiling. In there I have stuff I haven't needed or looked at in years. It's nice stuff. Good stuff. Precious stuff and unnecessary stuff. Stuff I keep because it was my mother's, or maybe even her mother's. Stuff that I have some weird emotional obligation to hold on to forever. All this stuff has begun to feel like a ball and chain. But it doesn't matter because it is out of sight and out of mind. No need to even think about that room or what's in it. Right?<br />
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Well guess what.. my husband wants to downsize. Put the farm on the market, move to a smaller no upkeep place so we can travel. He said he might even like a condo. A CONDO?? I can't fit all this stuff into a condo! The truth is all this stuff is weighting me down, I can't drag it around with me anymore. I truly want to get free!<br />
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And now it's real. I have a deadline. We are putting the house on the market May 1st. I like deadlines, they help me to focus, they get me motivated! I can do this!!! Yes! I will be organized by May 1st!!! I gotta go get started!! I should make a list. And get some stickers. Let's pop the top on this first box...MY kid's kindergarten artwork. Nice! Gotta keep that!<br />
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And ooh, look at this! Something shiny..<br />
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<br />Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-19191947947572360852016-01-02T23:29:00.000-05:002016-01-08T13:19:03.517-05:00My fade into Facebook<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #454545;">Journal Day 2</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For some time now I've chosen to ignore the fact that Facebook has a tendency to undermine my sense of well-being. Still, I seem drawn to it like a moth to flame. Last night I once again admitted that FB, and to some extent the whole of the Internet does little to enhance my life. The negatives always seem to outweigh the positives. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I love keeping up with family and friends through Facebook, the net (how apropos) is thrown wide and I am pulled into what has become for me, a time sucking black hole. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I will think I am hopping online "real quick like" to check my email and FB, but what inevitably happens is I click on something interesting. Then I click on something else "interesting". Then I click, click, click, click... By the time I come up for air, my coffee has gone cold and 45 minutes will have passed without me, 45 minutes I won't get back. I've decided I want to be more present in ALL my minutes, so.. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 2 of my journaling journey is also a bit of a "goodbye for now" to my Facebook friends. I will miss you all terribly, but I am in need of a break. I'd like to see something outside this little box I've been staring into. To live a bit more of a natural existence out here in the fray. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I will probably keep tossing the odd journal entry up onto my blog, and I if you need me, I think my private messenger will keep working since it is supposedly separate from Facebook now, so please feel free to contact me there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wish you blessings my friends, I will be thinking of you! </span></div>
Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-24568705501032884562016-01-01T15:51:00.000-05:002016-01-08T13:26:04.288-05:00Happy New Year! Sweet 2016!My Journal Journey Day 1: Well hello there stranger..<br />
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Just about my one and only resolution for this coming year is to write in a journal every day. That and no more negativity. And to get more exercise, And to eat better. And to...oh you get the idea. Same resolutions, different year. ;)<br />
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I didn't intend to journal here, but since I can't find even ONE of my many paper journals, I realized I HAD to write somewhere today or I will have failed my only resolution on Day One. So here goes somethin'..<br />
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A new year lays out before me like a freshly discovered path. The anticipation of finding out what's around this next bend is almost palatable. Exciting! And scary!! So many opportunities to be a better me! To stretch, grow, get out of my rut. To get it right this year!<br />
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But really, I can't launch myself into this new year with out a glance back at the year just passed. So many great experiences. HUGE birthday. (Age is just a number right?) Sweet moments with some heartbreaking times mingled in. But isn't that the way life is? Whether it's easy breezy or the toughest day of our lives, every second of time we have here is precious.<br />
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So my REAL New Year's resolutions? Be present in every moment. Look for the good. Bless others. Seek peace. Chase joy.. <br />
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<br />Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-41065906907104447762013-05-09T14:08:00.003-04:002013-05-11T21:47:54.299-04:00Mama<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">I miss my Mom. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Always. But especially on Mother's Day. And her birthday. And my birthday, and Christmas and Easter and all the other holidays. I miss her when I have my coffee in the morning, thinking back to years long past..tiny tea cups filled to the brim with warm milk and just enough coffee to make it the lightest tan. </span><br />
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I miss my mom in the evening as I reach for needle and thread to replace a missing button or repair a seam. I recall my mother patiently teaching my little sister and me how to sew. My mother's hands were never still. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Her needle work was a wonder to all, but especially to those of us lucky enough to wear the work of her hands, or to sleep snuggled under one of her homemade quilts.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">I miss my mom in autumn, while crunching leaves beneath my feet, I gather them into piles, the fragrance of their burning filling the air. I miss watching my mom can bread and butter pickles. I miss her fresh from the oven crusty bread, eaten with huge steaming bowls of beef stew or bean soup. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">I miss my mom in winter, when I come in from hours out in the snow with frozen fingers, nose and toes and warm myself with hot </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">cocoa and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I miss watching with anticipation, as she made our Christmas outfits from the most beautiful fabrics, green velvet, antique lace and satin. I miss rising in the morning to the smell of freshly baked pecan rolls that were impossible to eat without everyone ending up in sticky disarray.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">I miss my mom in springtime, when the early flowers start to bloom and even though I don't have any, I know it's time to plant the Canna bulbs. I miss watching her sew matching Easter dresses for herself, my little sister and me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">I miss my mom in summer, when I wake to the sweet scent of the lilac bush and hear a cardinal trilling among its branches. When a back door bangs, w</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">hen I hang freshly washed sheets on the line, when I </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">work in my garden, I miss her. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">And when look across the porch and see my jug of sun tea turning amber in the afternoon light..</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">I miss my Mom.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"> </span><br />
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Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-26003406475809466842011-01-20T18:33:00.006-05:002011-02-20T16:39:43.222-05:00Blue like a river<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Sweet peace slides through my fingers like river water.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">I can feel it's ebb and flow,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">tugging at my heart, my mind.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">There and then gone,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">It leaves behind a sad hunger in my soul,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">and a longing for it's cool refreshment.</span>Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-51933801478293992742011-01-19T09:22:00.004-05:002016-01-11T10:06:34.168-05:00January<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Another January day,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">The sky hangs low and dripping.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Colorless themes, white, brown and gray.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">This winter holds us in it's vise,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">the bleakness dull and gripping.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">My eyes are starving for hues of spring,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">but nowhere to be found.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Just dirt on snow and barren trees.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">This winter raw and brown.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">As my spirit threatens to reflect this day,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">my heart becoming blue,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">a scarlet bird comes streaking in,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">to chase the sad from view.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span>Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-89125832788115801832011-01-19T09:10:00.005-05:002016-01-05T22:41:58.362-05:00Calling me..<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix" style="color: #333333; display: block; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 20px; padding-right: 100px; word-wrap: break-word; zoom: 1;">
<div>
Sweat mingled with curry on smoky air,<br />
humanity overflows at every turn.<br />
Tunics and turbans. Punjabis and saris. Lehengas, salwar kameez.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoae8HIrfx9a-o_t6TocRwrK7ZrUhtJSpQi1qOmLnLzDpa7Vd27IwFxfqD5HgjZ0GuGi8UD9h0XqwA8a9x7f72le4Zia7p9oc531qnFogewXDNbC3xA0PlLZSyBTCjPdwN0dLX-tZfUWeS/s1600/4853_1082233335638_1220477780_30213177_3671725_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoae8HIrfx9a-o_t6TocRwrK7ZrUhtJSpQi1qOmLnLzDpa7Vd27IwFxfqD5HgjZ0GuGi8UD9h0XqwA8a9x7f72le4Zia7p9oc531qnFogewXDNbC3xA0PlLZSyBTCjPdwN0dLX-tZfUWeS/s200/4853_1082233335638_1220477780_30213177_3671725_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Color. Color everywhere. A rainbow bursting from every crowd.<br />
<br />
Naked toddlers, bellies bulging,<br />
A people malnourished from rice alone.<br />
Cattle wander loose and honored.<br />
Pots filled with water to lure them near,<br />
hoping they'll bring good luck with their thirst.<br />
<br />
Painfully skinny, men run barefoot, down the rock strewn road.<br />
Pulling rickshaws full of boxes and people. Delivery trucks. The human kind.<br />
<br />
Chickens so lean they resemble road runners,<br />
scatter in panic,<br />
from those that would twist their necks.<br />
Tonight one may lay on the table.<br />
By tomorrow, nothing but feathers and bones.<br />
<br />
Glorious chalk art filling the road,<br />
leading the way to windowless dwellings.<br />
Protection from evil, honoring gods.<br />
Every god and no god, even the unknown god.<br />
Lest they miss one<br />
and in anger it reign down disaster on their home.<br />
<br />
They walk to the well, pots balanced. Amazing.<br />
The beautiful women, as slender as reeds.<br />
They walk, hope balanced heavy on their hearts,<br />
for food and clean water, that their babies might live.<br />
<br />
Beauty and poverty abound in this land<br />
of lovely, gracious people.<br />
They offer you the honored seat at their table.<br />
Cook their last egg and smile as you eat it.<br />
<br />
Later they'll go to their bed mat and lay listening<br />
as hunger, in it's dialect of pain,<br />
speaks in their bellies once more.</div>
</div>
Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-57658166616919224242010-10-19T11:50:00.015-04:002011-02-20T16:43:21.084-05:00Wild Places<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2IloBbS8z8KHcdR-BdrnoU7zpDs-p01pcDWlBMpLF1vEGDymXES_JvRCkVYSUw2XgGyhRE07dzIYmYEo2B8g3MH9mR3K6HAa2XeTRP9YVs7VCaXcO0gpQKnz0jR3hZbO5HYM7GnGaCcO/s1600/Fall+morning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2IloBbS8z8KHcdR-BdrnoU7zpDs-p01pcDWlBMpLF1vEGDymXES_JvRCkVYSUw2XgGyhRE07dzIYmYEo2B8g3MH9mR3K6HAa2XeTRP9YVs7VCaXcO0gpQKnz0jR3hZbO5HYM7GnGaCcO/s400/Fall+morning.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I am most truly content when I'm in the great outdoors.<br />
It's where I commune best with my Creator.<br />
I am convinced that the meadows are His antechamber and the forest His temple.<br />
The wilderness? His cathedral.<br />
<br />
In it, He has created for me a soothing sanctuary,<br />
a calm hiding place, a wondrous playground.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I hear His voice most clearly in these untamed places. Calling me. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Speaking my name from the woodland, He draws me out..</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I follow His voice, seeking Him. Never has He hidden.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Always I find Him. Here.</div><br />
I see His craftsmanship at every turn.<br />
The sky is His canvas.<br />
The heavens and earth His artistry.<br />
He adorns the field with bird, butterfly and berry.<br />
He washes my eyes with colors, blue, green, gold.<br />
Shades so familiar yet unnameable, even though I try.<br />
His palette defies replication, the tone and hue known only to Him.<br />
<br />
His fragrance, the air itself, a sweet scent on the wind.<br />
His incense is the pine forest, <br />
the honeyed aroma of the wildflower.<br />
His spice, the shaded glen.<br />
In winter He speaks to me in the hushed tones of snow on pine. <br />
The woods are tranquil and sleepy. I hear Him whisper...peace..rest. <br />
<br />
Listen. do you hear?<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">All the earth and every creature that on it dwells,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Exalting Him in their own tongue.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The wind whispers His name. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Holy. Holy. Holy is the Lord God Almighty.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Bees hum, birds sing His praises.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The high whinny of the horse announces His glory!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Holy! Holy is the Lord God almighty. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Even the rocks cry out His name.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My spirit quickens within me to join the song.</div><br />
The trees begin to bow and sway, applauding His presence.<br />
He is here. He is here!<br />
My heart lightens as I run to Him,<br />
For tranquility and rest are in His bosom.<br />
Safety and love are found neath the shelter of His wings,<br />
My one true home is in His arms...<br />
<br />
Here. In the wild.Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-61565609961660189742010-07-26T12:46:00.031-04:002016-01-03T20:02:46.992-05:00My Heart's Song<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Awareness beckons. <br />
Calling my mind to the surface,<br />
towards consciousness,<br />
away from dreams of the night. <br />
<br />
Unwaveringly, my mind sets off on a road all it's own.<br />
I travel a well worn route, walk it daily.<br />
Down the miles and the years to where my children dwell. <br />
But they are children no longer, these sons of mine.<br />
Men now, years past mothering and the need for one.<br />
<br />
Still it is a mother's heart that beats in my chest.<br />
A drum pounding a song to my sons grown so far from me.<br />
An anthem that could not be stopped if I desired it so.<br />
The lullaby they listened to under my ribs<br />
as they lay waiting to burst forth into the world.<br />
My heart will sing this litany<br />
till the last beat quiets in my chest. <br />
<br />
A canticle so familiar and true,<br />
strummed on my heartstrings <br />
the moment I first beheld them. <br />
When my heart swelled beyond reason, <br />
so full of amazement and joy<br />
that it must surely burst.<br />
<br />
The lyrics never change. <br />
They are the same, enduring. <br />
Words of love and hope.<br />
An acclamation brimming with motherly pride..<br />
It is an ode full of joy and anticipation,<br />
for who they are and who they will become.<br />
<br />
It is a quiet hymn of thankfulness.<br />
For I am blessed to know them, <br />
to have held them in my arms.<br />
It is a chant to the world<br />
that I am holding them still.<br />
In my heart. In my mind.<br />
In my prayers.<br />
<br />
My song is full and pouring over, <br />
an aria that runs in an endless river<br />
from my heart to theirs. <br />
I am convinced this refrain will echo<br />
down the years.<br />
Long after I am gone from this place.<br />
<br />
If they listen closely,<br />
with their hearts open wide.<br />
I believe.<br />
They will catch the melody<br />
of my heart's song,<br />
<br />
Still drifting to them on the breeze...Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-24413634930416419932010-05-21T12:17:00.038-04:002011-04-24T16:47:37.252-04:00Just an old chunk of wood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNZ1ypNwb3Xz4j-Wfx66dwi6nyVyC8Mr_8aXNPQZ-L7kFGK2k_bEZ0vu4w-fN68Ie-4UD2eiWvp050u60bkepnOIRNQqtH2L4xl9Rd2IBfo6JNM65Iqf9xAGWxfmXJM7wA2ippmCNsrIt/s1600/wood+log.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNZ1ypNwb3Xz4j-Wfx66dwi6nyVyC8Mr_8aXNPQZ-L7kFGK2k_bEZ0vu4w-fN68Ie-4UD2eiWvp050u60bkepnOIRNQqtH2L4xl9Rd2IBfo6JNM65Iqf9xAGWxfmXJM7wA2ippmCNsrIt/s320/wood+log.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">At first I see nothing beyond the familiar form. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The "me" I have become over the years.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The hardened block of who I am.</div><br />
<br />
Recently though, life has come at me like an axe.<br />
The first swing sliced cleanly through the branches of who I believe I am. It is now busy lopping away the bark covering the persona I have unknowingly created. <br />
<br />
This slashing is painful to the extreme. <br />
I wonder if can survive this much chiseling and gouging. It seems there may be nothing recognizable left.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I study my reflection.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It's still me that stares back, yet not me.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Hmm, something new there, just behind the eyes.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Though still raw and rough hewn to behold,</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">it's evident. A transformation is taking place.</div>An epiphany surfaces,<br />
I am being sculpted.<br />
<br />
A craftsman has eyed this timber it seems.<br />
Considered it's natural shape and bend.<br />
Determined the best means to free the heart within.<br />
Artistic license is being taken.<br />
<br />
This artist will shape me as he sees fit,<br />
skillfully carving me into something useful.<br />
My true grain is slowly beginning to show.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I am more than a little surprised.</div>The color is deeper and richer than I thought likely. <br />
Much more real this "new" me.<br />
<br />
I know this transformation is nowhere near complete.<br />
So much more work to be done.<br />
I can't imagine what the sanding process will entail.<br />
When finished, I cannot fathom who I will be,<br />
or what I will look like. <br />
<br />
Though still painful to endure, <br />
I think I've found the key.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">To abide this refinement, </div>I cannot not fight against my sculptor's hand.<br />
I must yield to his touch. Trust the skill of his knife.<br />
I will wait patiently.. <br />
<br />
and let the chips fall where they may..<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSinZrMmJu6kUE9-xVTYSNRQBpbUuDwNiwQlsAbgHuFAChV27ZBL_NbWo6OrJ_ozQSqNJfV-YDMyu2z69wv1ieGYTo2ol5UPbs58voG10qwr3oQav3i1gt_pY19LQMUMEnxuSIDGDkcaNW/s1600/wood+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSinZrMmJu6kUE9-xVTYSNRQBpbUuDwNiwQlsAbgHuFAChV27ZBL_NbWo6OrJ_ozQSqNJfV-YDMyu2z69wv1ieGYTo2ol5UPbs58voG10qwr3oQav3i1gt_pY19LQMUMEnxuSIDGDkcaNW/s320/wood+woman.jpg" /></a></div>Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-62411992461833944232010-05-19T23:37:00.007-04:002010-05-22T17:53:56.299-04:00Hello...hello? Is anybody here?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuH787-Glug220ozo4WBbtY307gG5DitYsg6Cba3_1ZXAutpjsX8v6YoGkKxysOndpHyyn2NB-iD6s1lhav2dy6lkNrX3vHMQTdR2rjsAsT2NS9JAKJtRuRY9SlIDk0Jw4VmQDV_u9DWN/s1600/pb-stairsdoor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuH787-Glug220ozo4WBbtY307gG5DitYsg6Cba3_1ZXAutpjsX8v6YoGkKxysOndpHyyn2NB-iD6s1lhav2dy6lkNrX3vHMQTdR2rjsAsT2NS9JAKJtRuRY9SlIDk0Jw4VmQDV_u9DWN/s320/pb-stairsdoor.jpg" /></a></div>Creepy sounds echo down an empty hall..a key scraping in the lock, the turn of a rusty knob. A door creaking open on corroded hinges.. A violent, maniacal scream ringing out. (Mine. I am draped in cobwebs as I poke my head in the door.) I peer into murky darkness. The air is stale and lifeless. My eyes adjust, a forlorn atmosphere of neglect permeates the space. Hello? Hello? Is..is anybody here?? <br />
<br />
This is where I used to live. The place I called home for a wonderful season of my life. I spent some of my most satisfying times here. It was a comfortable place, one where felt free to express my <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2009/02/butterfly-love-waiting-game.html">opinions</a> and <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2008/10/bella-breeze.html">emotions</a>, <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/he-just-doesnt-get-it-why-i-blog.html">highs</a> and <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/when-did-i-become-butterball.html">lows</a>, on a regular basis. I had thoughts <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2008/09/bitter-root.html">profound</a> (and <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/ive-got-lizard-eyes.html">not so much</a>), and shared them with anyone that would listen.<br />
<br />
I started with such promise. I was just getting to know myself as a writer, just spreading my wings, <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2008/10/wild-fire.html">finding my voice</a>, memorizing the home keys... Then <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/novel-endeavor.html">this</a> happened and everything fell apart. I have not written one blog word since I burned out with that "novel". <br />
<br />
I have gone so far as to purposely avoid other's blogs so I wouldn't feel the "pull". Then my friend <a href="http://imnotinkalamazooanymore.blogspot.com/">Tori</a> announced on <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/facebook-floozy.html">Facebook</a> that she had written a blog about <a href="http://imnotinkalamazooanymore.blogspot.com/2009/06/gardening.html">Perennial Pete</a>, dang it all! I have such a soft spot for that guy, I had to read it! Then of course, I wanted to comment on her post, but couldn't even remember my blogger name. I had to go to my account to look up my info, that's when I saw it. My blog. Sad and empty with the screen door hanging askew on it's hinges.. The whole thing slowly sinking into blog oblivion.<br />
Such a waste.. No. Wait. I can't let it end like this, can I? I LOVED my blog! It was so important to me once, maybe it could be again. I should at least give it a try I think. Expressing myself through writing was good for my soul. <br />
<br />
It will definitely take some elbow grease though. I now tend to write in a monotone, and I'm still having trouble forming sentences over six words long. But here I am, screwdriver in hand..the tool not the drink..ready to attempt a restoration on my little blog. Have patience and wish me luck! (and don't expect anything impressive for awhile, okay?)<br />
<br />
Oh, by the way, Tori? Thanks. <br />
Say hi to Pete for me. :)Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-32030411903059443652009-10-23T15:46:00.005-04:002016-01-03T23:03:21.565-05:00Shh...I have to whisper..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglcwM0tpgNa1RNOc_ZDulfFhG_xNOfTB24-xG_6tAMmfKFBWomsZsjoeRz1ULjiMRtR4sOEdNsv_72kk21tMcL3A3gHIplt79OWjXvooea2X8c5E1jWXPYLM2bogoHmiAP6iRVQxpP4CG7/s1600-h/prisoner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglcwM0tpgNa1RNOc_ZDulfFhG_xNOfTB24-xG_6tAMmfKFBWomsZsjoeRz1ULjiMRtR4sOEdNsv_72kk21tMcL3A3gHIplt79OWjXvooea2X8c5E1jWXPYLM2bogoHmiAP6iRVQxpP4CG7/s200/prisoner.jpg" vr="true" /></a></div>
I have to whisper...I can't let my captor know I am trying to contact the outside world on company time. You read it right...I am at work. Wait a minute, you say...you don't have a job do you? Aren't you retired? YES, yes I am..or I was, it would seem. Now here I sit, trapped in this office.<br />
<br />
Time is dragging by. No, it's crawling. Actually, it doesn't seem to be moving at all.. I keep acccidently looking at the clock. It's like poking something dead with a stick. It's disgusting, but I can't stop myself.<br />
<br />
How did this travesty happen you might ask? Well even if you didn't ask, I'm going to tell you. And since I don't know how to do one teeny, tiny little thing that would be even remotely helpful to anyone here at this office, I'm going to start at the beginning and give you the really, really long drawn out version.<br />
<br />
Many years ago, in a land far, far away (Cooper Michigan) there was a happy mom with four VERY rambunctious little boys that took up all her time and energy..<br />
<br />
Oh rats, here comes the boss.<br />
<br />
They grew up. Her husband forced her out into the work world..<br />
<br />
The End.Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-76600239194198052412009-10-11T14:25:00.012-04:002016-01-03T23:08:11.689-05:00A "novel" endeavor..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGs-YxfOAMk2PM2z1V3nMTuEHwAPjKTfDSdiFGBgLzm9_QQc0NTncRfV64TH5BuELTWtJ4wiOoAhO_bx1Vf37AUYCgzPFnKb_ydks5Ic5FfIApSr7762hPk_RmzEu6ipJvwxjG6RtMULjn/s1600-h/tearing-my-hair-out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGs-YxfOAMk2PM2z1V3nMTuEHwAPjKTfDSdiFGBgLzm9_QQc0NTncRfV64TH5BuELTWtJ4wiOoAhO_bx1Vf37AUYCgzPFnKb_ydks5Ic5FfIApSr7762hPk_RmzEu6ipJvwxjG6RtMULjn/s320/tearing-my-hair-out.jpg" /></a></div>
No, no, no,no, nooo!!! Why, oh why?! I can't believe it! What was I thinking?? I'm doomed! <br />
<br />
It all started last night. There I was minding my own business. Reading a blog, choosing another from the ones that commented, going to their blog, picking another from the commenter’s, going to their blog... I was so far into the deep recesses of Blogdom, I could NEVER have backtracked my way out.<br />
<br />
Suddenly up pops a little message on my screen. I have a note from <a href="http://imnotinkalamazooanymore.blogspot.com/">Tori</a>. Ah Tori, a dear friend and fellow blogger, she has been most helpful in guiding me through the do's and don'ts of blogging. Well let's see what "The Tor-ster's" up to tonight:<br />
<br />
Hi Pam,<br />
I don't know if you've ever heard of this: <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/">http://www.nanowrimo.org/</a>. You write a novel in a month. It starts November 1 and ends on the 30th (duh) . I am seriously considering doing this. I'm wondering if you'd like to take this crazy journey with me.<br />
Tori<br />
<br />
Let's see what I said: <br />
Gee Tori, I’ve never even considered writing a book, I've got no ideas. 50,00 words? Wow. That seems like a lot of time and effort to put into something that would be awful. (See? See my response right there? I am using my deductive reasoning skills. It doesn't happen often. It's my inner-self quietly telling me no. No Pam, don't.)<br />
<br />
Tori: Most of what results is CRAP, but that's half the fun. They expect crap. I have no idea what I would write either. I think that's part of it, just letting go, concentrating on hitting the word count goal w/o worry about the content. <br />
<br />
Me: Hmmm ...I don't know...the time commitment.. the fiction thing. I wouldn't even know what to write about... (See, here again, that inner voice of reason)<br />
<br />
Tori: We could encourage, commiserate, celebrate, procrastinate with each other! We could set small rewards for goals met. We could celebrate huge if we succeed. It would involve carbs....lots and lots of carbs...and alcohol {and maybe strippers}<br />
<br />
Me: drooling slightly..Carbs? Oh my. Dang it all, she <i>KNOWS</i> I'm in the carb-less hell of Phase 1 on the South Beach Diet! (This is when I start to hum a little. My inner-voice is still talking but I can't quite make out what it's saying. )<br />
<br />
Tori: Maybe something surprising would come out of it, ya know. Bragging rights that you wrote a novel is one! No pressure really... I could do it alone I guess...I'd still luv ya...<br />
<br />
Oh no! Poor Tori, I can't let her be alone in this. (My inner-voice is now screaming bloody murder, "She LIKES being alone! She WANTS to be alone! Let her do it .. ALL alone!!!)<br />
<br />
Me humming loudly..Well, I guess it might be fun...and if there's carbs involved and they really just expect drivel... then, ...Okay, I'm in. (My inner voice is now crazily rattling around in my mental cupboards looking for a VERY sharp knife with which to cut off my two typing fingers.....)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomRDzfia7N7FUN5zV-5XjNnkbaHPLKxDTeAnYYRHUoNltTRDJTmS8rK0EVZAXl6y5lxwiBegh5S1K6avYTU37AN-UsLnZfy0ciYkqK__Y7ksw4s4Ns_kwhOBzSUdWxjiFnmHq_3f5QpbG/s1600-h/woman+with+knife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomRDzfia7N7FUN5zV-5XjNnkbaHPLKxDTeAnYYRHUoNltTRDJTmS8rK0EVZAXl6y5lxwiBegh5S1K6avYTU37AN-UsLnZfy0ciYkqK__Y7ksw4s4Ns_kwhOBzSUdWxjiFnmHq_3f5QpbG/s320/woman+with+knife.jpg" /></a></div>
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I am not really a writer, I am a yammerer (this probably isn't a word, but you get the idea). My mind flits around like a butterfly, never landing in one place for too long. I think that's why I enjoy blogging. An idea comes, I ruminate on it for awhile, spit it out into the blogosphere and viola! I'm done and it's gone, never needing to be thought about again. </div>
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But another thing about me..I'm faithful. Once I tell ya I'm there, I am (just usually 15 to 20 minutes late). </div>
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I told Tori I would do this, and so I will. I will write a REALLY crappy, confusing, jumbled novel in 30 days time. So here I go: "It was a dark and stormy night..."</div>
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Sounds fun... doesn't it? :-/</div>
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Care to join us?</div>
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Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-56000009970304028282009-10-09T11:21:00.019-04:002009-10-09T14:08:35.417-04:00He just doesn't get it. Why I Blog...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWrbbCgPXas3Ojo0x5t0vnu3MK229QR33q5wdZ5q8_tka19_GmMm3NzFGsEFHiSaDBTJFAeqf0JOYPn2e8RKvqpjZvNGVOElDNxN5ccqt7FJd1Gkjy-TMDTWAzPnWVTWP4IvpZqdPekUMw/s1600-h/he+doesn%27t+get+it.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWrbbCgPXas3Ojo0x5t0vnu3MK229QR33q5wdZ5q8_tka19_GmMm3NzFGsEFHiSaDBTJFAeqf0JOYPn2e8RKvqpjZvNGVOElDNxN5ccqt7FJd1Gkjy-TMDTWAzPnWVTWP4IvpZqdPekUMw/s320/he+doesn%27t+get+it.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>Last night in bed, my husband turned to me. I could tell by the look on his face that this was not going to be the usual bedtime question (you know the one I mean). "Oh no", I thought, "here it comes". I had been dreading this elephant in the room for weeks, dancing around it, all smoke and mirrors. He leveled his gaze looked deep into my eyes and asked... <br />
<br />
"Why do you blog?" <br />
<br />
I was a deer caught in the headlights. "Well, I blog because I...because it..." I sputtered. "Ooohhh, I don't know why!!" He just looked at me. "Oh" was all he said poor guy. But how can I tell him why, when I don't even know the answer myself?<br />
<br />
I <em>have</em> been spending a lot of time on my laptop lately...I mean A LOT of time...hours...days..weeks. I felt a little obsessed and slightly out of control. Sitting here tapping away with the dishes and laundry piling up around me. Still in my pj's at noon. It's been my guilty little pleasure, my "new love". <br />
<br />
I have a better handle on my priorities now. I'm showering regularly again, the house is back in order. But still, even with the house sparkling and dinner in the oven, I have a tendency to jump up from the computer the minute I hear his truck in the driveway. (I have no idea why I do that.)<br />
<br />
But back to the other why. Hmm... blogging...why.. Well, it started by chance. An adorable, young college friend of mine began <a href="http://carlyfirstsummer.blogspot.com/">blogging </a>and I really wanted to know what was going on in her gifted mind. I read her blog, loved it and wanted to tell her so. To do this it seems, I had to have a bloggy thingy of my own. No problem. I filled out the form, came up with a name off the top of my head, and posted a comment to my darling friend. There. Done. Wait... <br />
<br />
My blog looked so empty compared to hers. All of a sudden it was like getting a new apartment. I had an empty space to fill, colors to choose, little gadgety furnishings to place here and there. SO FUN! I loved it.<br />
<br />
When I was finished, I thought it was beautiful. But now what? What would I do if this really was my new apartment? I'd have some friends over! I'd invite them. But to what, a blog with no blogs? No words, no thoughts..oh, I couldn't have that. That would be like having no wine in the fridge! I decided then and there that I'd better write something. <br />
<br />
I sat down at my computer with a nice hot cup of coffee, put my fingers on the keys and ....nothing, not one word, thought or idea. Eww. I found this a tiny frightening.. I tried harder...still nothing. When did I stop thinking, I wondered. Trying not to panic, I was finally able to bang out <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2008/07/writers-block.html">a few words strung together</a>. But the fact that I couldn't come up with any thoughts profound or otherwise worried me. Was this the start of my downward slide toward slack-jawed drooling in front of the TV?? <br />
<br />
I needed to do something to get my my mind ruminating NOW! So every few days I sit down to write. At first, thinking was a challenge (I can't believe I am even telling you this!), but I'm finding, the more I do it the easier it becomes. Kind of like exercising...only for the brain..<br />
<br />
As a somewhat newly <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2008/09/sighting-of-ever-elusive-grown.html">empty-nest</a> mom, blogging has helped me get through some tough times. Times of <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2008/09/bella-ella.html">family moving</a>, <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/two-ships-in-night.html">hormonal issues</a>, <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2008/08/snowits-just-around-corner.html">Michigan winters</a> and having <a href="http://wonluckygirl.blogspot.com/2008/10/bella-breeze.html">my only grandchild</a> live far away.. But in reality, more than anything else, I blog to keep my mind humming on all cylinders. <br />
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And to keep this from happening to me:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFsGszTa57Y7HIOGRGsDhr00GMnEiGc_dgb6izSmw3cl-Bu-agV6v1fCx0azncIFByYkJNCp63ik9V2WcJIteGrAMFE3z_0s7r7jA4d8m3AWr0D1rxEBYQDUvbZib_GJOTpgJiYjbtIiQg/s1600-h/mummy-tv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img $r="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFsGszTa57Y7HIOGRGsDhr00GMnEiGc_dgb6izSmw3cl-Bu-agV6v1fCx0azncIFByYkJNCp63ik9V2WcJIteGrAMFE3z_0s7r7jA4d8m3AWr0D1rxEBYQDUvbZib_GJOTpgJiYjbtIiQg/s320/mummy-tv.jpg" /></a> <br />
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Wouldn't you??Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-53245304062658296272009-10-06T12:53:00.036-04:002012-02-23T20:50:33.701-05:00You've Been Warned..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is your daily "what to wear" update from the good folks over at WWMT Weather: <br />
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<strong>Good morning West Michigan!</strong> How can they always be so lively? <br />
(Massive amounts of <a href="http://www.waterstreetcoffeejoint.com/">Water Street Coffee</a> me thinks!) <br />
Anyway, back to the forecast: "We're all waking up dry this morning, by the end of the day though, <em><strong>we will all be much wetter</strong></em>.<br />
<br />
<em><strong>A strong, fall storm </strong></em>will spread <strong>rain</strong> into West Michigan this afternoon. This <strong>rain </strong>will get steady during the evening and may bring a <strong>thunderstorm</strong> or two. Another big story will be<strong> winds</strong>. <strong>Winds will rip across Lake Michigan tonight</strong>. <strong>Gusts could easily reach</strong> <strong>40 mph</strong>; with a <strong>WIND ADVISORY</strong> expected for us."<br />
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Have a nice day. (What??)<br />
WWMT Weather Team<br />
<br />
This is very clear isn't it? It plainly states "There is a storm on the way. You've had fair warning, get ready now."<br />
<br />
If I were like most horse owners, I would spend the rest of the day bringing horses in to put their rain sheets on them, securing the barn doors and making sure all hay feeders and water tanks are full. But that's not the way I operate. I am wired (or miswired) so completely different, that MUST wait until the storm is emminent, (lightning flashing on the horizon) before I even begin this process.<br />
<br />
Then when the time is right, (wind, rain, thunder, darkness perhaps), out I'll go with an armful of rain sheets whipping in the wind behind me. I head out to the field, talking softly and cooing to my herd, offering a bucket of grain to their leader, Marq, the oldest and most docile of the bunch. The wind, however, has a way of making horses spooky. It can turn a 25 year old, slowpoke into a fiery race-horse running for the roses. Additionally, this behavior is catchy. All you need is one horse cutting loose, to turn the whole herd into a wild mob of mustangs trying to out run the Bureau of Land Management helicopters.<br />
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It's exasperating to say the least. As I begin the chase, my mood is one of calm, it deteriorates rapidly however, to one of frustration, then anger and finally near panic. Soon I am running after them screaming their names, throwing things and yelling that I hope they ALL get struck by lightning.<br />
(I know. I'm not proud of it.) Ultimately I will collapse in a wet, exhausted, chest-heaving heap. <br />
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That's when it happens. First I'll hear a soft snuffling sound behind me. Then a fuzzy nose will touch my shoulder. I'll turn around and he'll be standing there all wide eyed and innocent, with the rest of the herd on his heels. It melts my heart everytime.<br />
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Rooted there in the wind and the rain, he will look at me with those soft brown eyes as I hand over the bucket of grain. With the storm whirling about us, he will let me halter him and head toward the barn, the rest of the brumbies single file behind us. I'll lead them into the warm bright barn, where bedded stalls and fresh hay wait. So satisfying; the warmth of the barn, the soft snorts and nickering, the sweet smell of hay..<br />
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I wonder what makes me tick. I could save myself so much time and frustration if I would just do things in a timely, orderly fashion. But I don't. Not ever. I know it baffles those who love me. Is it some weird control thing? They don't get it. I am equally disgruntled about my behavior, but seem to have no ability to change these extremely odd quirks I struggle with. I would change if I could, wouldn't I? And if I could, I should...right? Hmm..<br />
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Well looky there, it's hailing...gotta go, it's chore time! ;DLucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-39314651473450335312009-10-05T19:33:00.012-04:002016-01-03T20:22:00.081-05:00Beauty is in the Eye...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A week ago I went to Chicago with a friend to celebrate her birthday. As we were primping and preening to go out to dinner one evening, I began to bemoan my lack of eyelashes. She turned to me, cool as a cucumber and remarked, "What's the big deal about having eyelashes?" What?? Now you have to realize this question was posed by a woman who looks like she has a black butterfly wing attached to each of her upper lids. What's the big deal?? Hello!!! On the left is a photo of my eye. On the right is hers. See any difference between the two???</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdMeHshQR21KteGylUdzErHl58qLqaTre-445QOr3ZNWgt3OvTkdQR-vh2qs7AwrjoxkDOVDVBgCOx422blo1Vr9A-jvJu7awesD3H_Auzq17uf1K-poyA5NuLPT2ae_LxwQ63a-ToejJ0/s1600-h/eyelashes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" r="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdMeHshQR21KteGylUdzErHl58qLqaTre-445QOr3ZNWgt3OvTkdQR-vh2qs7AwrjoxkDOVDVBgCOx422blo1Vr9A-jvJu7awesD3H_Auzq17uf1K-poyA5NuLPT2ae_LxwQ63a-ToejJ0/s200/eyelashes.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lnv_Sh0tIGv_8IP_FWlMppkl212fLrBb9WO89K256ayzonKT_qoq4aCM-dUKmuHMZ66y19v740eC5tBDCPX6fZbbUmA6nQH9f3ihBOxECzPrs7ucorSXVRy_Rn0KLRBJxjqabqE-tWuH/s1600-h/lizard-eye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lnv_Sh0tIGv_8IP_FWlMppkl212fLrBb9WO89K256ayzonKT_qoq4aCM-dUKmuHMZ66y19v740eC5tBDCPX6fZbbUmA6nQH9f3ihBOxECzPrs7ucorSXVRy_Rn0KLRBJxjqabqE-tWuH/s200/lizard-eye.jpg" /></a></div>
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I am English on both sides of my pedigree. Descended it would seems from the Royal House of Hairless. I believe my lines are simliar to say that of the Chinese Crested in the canine world. These guys aren't actually hairless, but are covered in a fine fuzz over their entire body. Like this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw34Tx1SPronHkJ5Cq-vjSRPluezTyTDkKrdgqNq1TLsZWITVmeB2Sob_s2rWwMZ7MS4ync6BsB1ombw9P_dK0udByZijHDaGO5qL7FxhvGm7GS9zphZqBOlHTz5wiBHoYy1_oWKbEuwmh/s1600-h/chinesecrest2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw34Tx1SPronHkJ5Cq-vjSRPluezTyTDkKrdgqNq1TLsZWITVmeB2Sob_s2rWwMZ7MS4ync6BsB1ombw9P_dK0udByZijHDaGO5qL7FxhvGm7GS9zphZqBOlHTz5wiBHoYy1_oWKbEuwmh/s320/chinesecrest2.jpg" /></a></div>
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Sure I can blow, curl, spray, paste and laquer my hair into a style, but I will never have long, luxurious, run your fingers through it locks. My friend on the other hand, has a mane like this to go with her lashes:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiohJaEsfrdGeBboAtY4fsqKculYfAzlL-fwNP_vF9sAnDrrZyJsTrVZ6p1oSoBbnPnckwYPBbW8v0RgWzCEQeptZNY52rjscXyjYRZ8ncjf89aJ3dwrBPDAUx81fqkg9dgr7Fum4EujpZw/s1600-h/afghan-hound-0016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiohJaEsfrdGeBboAtY4fsqKculYfAzlL-fwNP_vF9sAnDrrZyJsTrVZ6p1oSoBbnPnckwYPBbW8v0RgWzCEQeptZNY52rjscXyjYRZ8ncjf89aJ3dwrBPDAUx81fqkg9dgr7Fum4EujpZw/s320/afghan-hound-0016.jpg" /></a></div>
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Want to see us in another species? Once again me on the left, her on the right:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTDDOPSyWLtvtoJMpxx_etGlzYx6VRdH1bPSANMzL5QYD-ZjtLeynTWdxrPtmznJNEDDQDK607oBCgn9fVwgE8nhH15Azl0TJohB9FLusNLd0qx-2hGPLx7GwC8fL9gVdL9J7MWjEqSS_J/s1600-h/Sphynx-Cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTDDOPSyWLtvtoJMpxx_etGlzYx6VRdH1bPSANMzL5QYD-ZjtLeynTWdxrPtmznJNEDDQDK607oBCgn9fVwgE8nhH15Azl0TJohB9FLusNLd0qx-2hGPLx7GwC8fL9gVdL9J7MWjEqSS_J/s200/Sphynx-Cat.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTI4p-N7MCp6jvTHKxp-Ztb3A9V0TRwqHIBU3ea5siBg79AIBKMEywAUx3PfT9xQphyphenhyphenq07fgZTkc-W76zam6q9Q8bFooGtxA2kw_jEBQFDN2r9sQAuBoTHoBVnjgQ5lwsDZGtPZTbKdMHt/s1600-h/norwegian_forest_cat_new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" r="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTI4p-N7MCp6jvTHKxp-Ztb3A9V0TRwqHIBU3ea5siBg79AIBKMEywAUx3PfT9xQphyphenhyphenq07fgZTkc-W76zam6q9Q8bFooGtxA2kw_jEBQFDN2r9sQAuBoTHoBVnjgQ5lwsDZGtPZTbKdMHt/s320/norwegian_forest_cat_new.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNu78WddZIJkNOrydC8mKJLAECneUAc6os-LAeErMNHrfogCA8IZj6O4jO88eb1KUSopRnlhuPpOQIbazXBBK-dhsWvjsWxoFWKqsHiOOaHZEzhzWa89ry_mSym0kA6X9IBTCkF_qhq74z/s1600-h/roached+mane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNu78WddZIJkNOrydC8mKJLAECneUAc6os-LAeErMNHrfogCA8IZj6O4jO88eb1KUSopRnlhuPpOQIbazXBBK-dhsWvjsWxoFWKqsHiOOaHZEzhzWa89ry_mSym0kA6X9IBTCkF_qhq74z/s200/roached+mane.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjenz7TEfxchiOId_2h2tUJ_mfSJwhc99FOMPmb2vBGUe_8ZAqzTnWg0FYOSj0tJm4LESiccj4pNstqAbeJ2XvDyqEBEweXpzLeLnw2gxj-ysnLlbTrXOQRkGXcj7aQYDAtVTq2mNUsVyCh/s1600-h/Zaq+6-07+(23).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" r="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjenz7TEfxchiOId_2h2tUJ_mfSJwhc99FOMPmb2vBGUe_8ZAqzTnWg0FYOSj0tJm4LESiccj4pNstqAbeJ2XvDyqEBEweXpzLeLnw2gxj-ysnLlbTrXOQRkGXcj7aQYDAtVTq2mNUsVyCh/s200/Zaq+6-07+(23).JPG" /></a></div>
I am also a direct descendant of "Ferdinand of the Big Feet", but that's a story for a different day...Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-80632123686429593532009-09-25T22:09:00.023-04:002009-09-27T16:33:55.251-04:00When did I become a butterball?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDQRURAGhFWwyo_8DCL-cXVK5Ahu0xVDMyXIue_dO6OCdGLGM2J27_gFopafd0XQpurTOo8jjWv1cjTpDsQaAukaKqBKTnAhKki5mg6s29KOpqKZAr7HH6C6_CJ-DIkUg5NVkZLff_7j5/s1600-h/wine_cheese.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" iq="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDQRURAGhFWwyo_8DCL-cXVK5Ahu0xVDMyXIue_dO6OCdGLGM2J27_gFopafd0XQpurTOo8jjWv1cjTpDsQaAukaKqBKTnAhKki5mg6s29KOpqKZAr7HH6C6_CJ-DIkUg5NVkZLff_7j5/s320/wine_cheese.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>Actually I am more likely a wine and cheese ball, but either way, these last few years I have let the pounds sneak on and my middle thicken. I think am beginning to resemble a member of the Pillsbury Dough family. Either that or my arms, legs and neck are getting shorter. <br />
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To make matters more complicated, for the last month or so, I have been travelling almost non-stop. Weddings and birthdays are such fun and I love gathering with family and friends. Lots of yakking, lots of food, lots of drinks. And speaking of travel, what about those hotel "all you can eat breakfast buffets", aren't they awesome? Though I doubt you are <em>actually</em> supposed to see how much you can pack away, I act like it's a contest or something. Bleah. I'm starting to feel like I may pop. ENOUGH with the eating already! I will never run a marathon and I do not <em>really </em>hibernate, so there is no reason to eat as if I do.<br />
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I have always gained weight in the winter, lost it in the summer. I've been my own personal sundial. Long days equal slender and fit, short days equal chubby and subdued (read fat and lazy). But somehow my metabolism changed when I wasn't looking and now I gain weight in the winter, don't lose any in the summer, gain weight in the winter, don't lose any... You get the idea, and guess what, winter is coming. If I don't get a handle on this now, you won't be able to see my limbs at all by Spring. <br />
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So yesterday I ate a goodbye Whopper (not the junior), fries and a coke. This morning I signed up for the South Beach Diet online. I didn't have a lot of the ingredients needed for today's meals so I had to modify somewhat, but my body got the point...the "carb party" is over. Although the first two weeks will be pretty tough, (no bread, potatoes, bread, rice, bread, beer, bread, wine or bread. Did I mention no bread?), I like the over all looks of the diet, very balanced, satisfying amounts of food, some sweets.<br />
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Here's a problem though, I don't usually cook, I graze. So today was spent shopping and chopping and prepping so it won't take me hours to make my meals, because when I <em>do </em>cook, I have a tendency to nibble (read: gobble) while I work. <br />
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Another problem? I haven't been getting any exercise. So today I went back to the gym...Wow have things changed there since my last visit. New machines, an awesome coffee bar, a ..<em>WATER PARK?</em> Cheez! How long has it been since I worked out last?? If you know the answer to that, please don't tell me, I don't really want to know.<br />
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I went to a class called BODYPUMP. Each person grabs a barbell and then weights it up according to their abilities. The instructor then puts you through <strike>hell</strike>, a full body workout, yelling <strike>insults</strike> encouragment while she <strike>attempts to kill you</strike> works you for 45 minutes to an hour. There were little bitty grey haired women with more weight on their barbells than me. I looked like I was holding a really long silver Q-Tip, and I still struggled to get it over my head. Tomorrow I will be so sore I won't be able to use my pudgy little arms at all. Sad.<br />
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I have always taken my health and my slender frame as a given, like the color of my hair (don't go there..that's a topic for another day) or the color of my eyes. It seems pretty arrogant when I look back on it, but here's the cold hard fact, it isn't easy anymore, and now I'm scared. <br />
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I want to be active and healthy for the rest of my life, but in reality it's not going to a breeze like it was before. Now it's going to take hard work and sacrifice (Goodbye curling up on the couch with a good book for hours. Goodbye double bacon cheeseburgers, great big beers and DQ Turtle Sundaes..hello aerobics classes from hell, water, veggies and lean meat in all it's forms...boiled, broiled, baked, stewed and shoe leather). <br />
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Changing my lifestyle for good? Wow, that's daunting, but you know what? I'm okay with it, I just have to be. Hey, I'd better get to bed, I've got to work out in the morning.. :-} <br />
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Hanging tough! <br />
PamLucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925610723924927242.post-73579179120128482412009-08-29T22:17:00.028-04:002010-08-18T22:43:16.214-04:00The Boy's Gone Crazy<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX7TDOQljaQKcOHt67mhVo4rGnQgacwkAssVO3a86hWcSlBweKV4CyO3KYkdchRmKdyxClReTLSWKF8NOay3w6DNitduZTMfSMGuJp7pnvb0UGM-4R7p-s3UUg_qnroAlLoFZXw8_yzNiX/s1600-h/_DSC7269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" lk="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX7TDOQljaQKcOHt67mhVo4rGnQgacwkAssVO3a86hWcSlBweKV4CyO3KYkdchRmKdyxClReTLSWKF8NOay3w6DNitduZTMfSMGuJp7pnvb0UGM-4R7p-s3UUg_qnroAlLoFZXw8_yzNiX/s320/_DSC7269.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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He seemed normal enough. An all-American rough and tumble kid, baseball in the summers, football in the fall. Yes, he <em>was</em> normal. Normal, that is until he got bitten by the bug....<br />
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The way I heard the story, it all started innocently enough. An easy phys-ed option for a homeschooler. It was his mom Jewel's idea, his dad was fine with it. Oh, if only his parents had realized the firestorm that would rain down on their lives, their time and particularly their finances from that point on, they would have run kicking and screaming from the idea. If only...<br />
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They tell me I had something to do with the craziness that followed. I don't remember it that way at all. I am sure they sought me out. I didn't even really know them. I was just trying to be nice...it's not my fault...really... I am innocent...to some degree...<br />
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Here's the way I remember it: Jewels to The Boy: "Would you like to take riding lessons with some <em>really</em> cute blond girls?" The Boy: "Yes." (See? I had nothing to do with it.)<br />
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So off they went to the farm of The Darling Blond Girls for lessons on one of their show horses. It was great, The Boy discovered that he really enjoyed being around the beautiful, fiery Arabs and The Darling Blond Sisters. He also found he had a lot of natural ability and soon became a very capable rider. (Bitten, and I was nowhere around.)<br />
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Once young people learn to ride, the next step is usually showing. I don't know why, I'm just telling you, that's what happens. Darling Girls to The Boy: "Would you like to show our horse, Financial Firestorm at the county fair? We'll be there, we can share him." The Boy: "Okay."</div><div></div><br />
<div>Showing <em>sounds</em> like a fine idea. Let's say you want to show western, you''ll need to get an outfit to show in. You need boots, leather chaps, a belt with a HUGE silver buckle, a hat, gloves. If you are a guy, a western shirt and black jeans. For girls you need more, so much more and <em>so</em> expensive that all horse show mom's are sworn to secrecy about it. And this is just the rider, the horse needs stuff too, a western saddle and bridle (usually loaded down with silver) and a fancy saddle pad. <br />
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Okay, fine you think, although showing Western is expensive, we can swing it... but wait, there's more. Most kids don't want to show <em>just </em>Western. They want to show English too, and maybe jumping, saddle seat, speed and action, dressage. It goes on and on, each discipline needing it's own outfit, boots, saddle and gear. If only they'd known.<br />
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So The Boy shows, and The Boy wins, and The Boy is hooked. It is now <em>too late </em>for Jewels to put a stop to this. The stage is set, and the madness ensues.<br />
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The Darling Girl's horse is old, too old it is decided, for The Darling Girl and The Boy to share it anymore. This is a problem, a big one, because The Boy is hooked. The Darling Girl's mom mentions to Jewels that she knows a person that has talented equids and maybe, just maybe, one might be available for The Boy to use. Here is where I entered the picture:<br />
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I've got ponies. Wonderful ponies. I also have beautiful horses. Too many really. I LOVE them, I NEED them! I CAN'T live without them!!! (I know, I'm working on this area of my life...) So Jewels called me up out of the blue and tells me The Blond Girl's mom has given her my number.. I repeat...I was just trying to be nice. <br />
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You know what? I didn't know what I was getting into either. You can't just say here's a pony, have fun. They didn't have any stuff. No saddle, no bridle, no barn, no fence, no trailer. So The Pony would have to stay on my farm and The Boy would have to come to her. But... He wanted to show.<br />
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Before I knew what hit me I was taking The Boy, The Pony and Jewels to 4-H meetings, riding lessons, horse shows and the county fair. I didn't mind. Jewels is an amazing cook and I'm not. She often paid me in food. She is kind of like a tightly wound Martha Stewart and her husband is the Energizer Bunny Man. Soon my flower beds looked amazing, and my parties and family gatherings were planned, complete with food prepared and delivered. It was AWESOME! (I miss that.)<br />
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Another thing, it is impossible to stay a stranger with their family, before you know it you are on their Christmas list and invited to Easter dinner. I can't even BEGIN to explain them. It's like a modern day Walton Family vortex. I have <em>never </em>seen a family that has so much fun together or likes each other so much. I think they make up holidays just to be together more. And there are <em>so many </em>of them. They pull you in with a tornadic force and tumble you out the other side well fed, laughed out and loved up. You find yourself thinking "Goodnight John Boy, goodnight Mary Sue, goodnight Jewels, goodnight Energizer Bunny Man, goodnight Boy. Anyway..<br />
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So the Boy's father caved in and built some fences and shelters. The pony went to their place. Eventually they bought a horse trailer and they were on their own. The Boy grew. He moved up from The Pony to one of my horses. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ztR7fJe0SB_1X1kO_SoQoAGN3RoyG49bb2gSDjfLXA4ebQj5AuC9sbA1IxRKVdA3gIb43MsCnNJam-uIuB92aWOpu-bE5WN1ooj8FQmgX10TvuOgbvTomPzaJ1GaWfDGRTbvOVDV2t4T/s1600-h/Beaujumping1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" lk="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ztR7fJe0SB_1X1kO_SoQoAGN3RoyG49bb2gSDjfLXA4ebQj5AuC9sbA1IxRKVdA3gIb43MsCnNJam-uIuB92aWOpu-bE5WN1ooj8FQmgX10TvuOgbvTomPzaJ1GaWfDGRTbvOVDV2t4T/s320/Beaujumping1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
In the course of time The Boy's parents bought him his own horse. Not too long after that, his dad even built him a beautiful riding arena, and The Boy proceeded to transform his young, untrained horse into a muscular athlete, competing with him and winning at show after show.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7GDpbCSEQO3jdk9p2SlS4qKvRuoICp-X6llFXsKDxpLjjjKQAFzNp0MoHyruAb7mdCNXoQ0SyGqxb0gpO8AqMcYZPRSLgjbyDWMBLtHjZQPhyphenhyphenRO2bapM9EqPyveVYh5F9ff9dGnbfLaPJ/s1600-h/Taylor+and+Wrigley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" lk="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7GDpbCSEQO3jdk9p2SlS4qKvRuoICp-X6llFXsKDxpLjjjKQAFzNp0MoHyruAb7mdCNXoQ0SyGqxb0gpO8AqMcYZPRSLgjbyDWMBLtHjZQPhyphenhyphenRO2bapM9EqPyveVYh5F9ff9dGnbfLaPJ/s320/Taylor+and+Wrigley.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Now though, The Boy is a boy no more..he is a young man, tall and handsome, an amazingly gifted rider. Today he sold his horse for many times what his parents paid for it, a testament to his talent and his training abilities, as well as a nice nest-egg for college. And guess what. He needs another horse. <br />
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Hmmm, I wonder what Jewels is making for dinner..</div>Lucky Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00005323702335977442noreply@blogger.com2