tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46554576084288368022024-02-07T08:26:44.201-06:00Fresh ...(and a little Funky!)Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.comBlogger104125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-71071530788959605952012-12-21T07:08:00.000-06:002012-12-21T07:08:48.311-06:00I've Moved!Come join me at my new blog site! <a href="http://raeslifeletters.blogspot.com/">http://raeslifeletters.blogspot.com/</a>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-14050954054269608132011-09-19T18:56:00.002-05:002011-09-19T18:56:49.305-05:00Detour to My Newest Blog<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My new blog is up and running and I hope to post at least three days a week now.</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Please join me at BLOGARITA!</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I would love you to visit and leave a comment when you can. Thank You!</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://myblogarita.blogspot.com/">http://myblogarita.blogspot.com/</a></div>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-70099192131165486542011-06-23T12:13:00.000-05:002011-06-23T12:13:19.292-05:00Summer Reruns- New BlogI've got my summer blog up and running. I've titled it <i>Tokens</i>. Lots of memories here and some old favorites. Please bookmark me at: <a href="http://blogtokens.blogspot.com/">Tokens </a>http://blogtokens.blogspot.com/Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-19089239837497971722011-06-22T10:05:00.000-05:002011-06-22T10:05:13.494-05:00Fresh Is StaleI'm getting really tired of my blog lately. I don't like the layout or the design or the colors. I don't even like the name.<br />
I suppose I'm notorious for changing backgrounds and for having more blogs than one crazy women should ever attempt to have. Yet, all the others are pretty much dormant...<br />
<br />
I have decided that starting July 5th, I will create a side blog that is merely the best of my other blogs combined. I'll select one of my favorite posts from the other four and start a scrapbook of sorts- mainly less personal stuff- but a mix of humor and sentiment.<br />
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I figure this will get me through most of the summer (without losing my thimble full of followers)- and in early September I hope to start something better- a new blog that I've spent time considering, designing and being faithful to on a regular basis.<br />
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Check back here next week for the new blog address if you're interested. Until then, I'll be scrubbing the toilet, hoeing the garden and mowing the yard- and wracking my brain for a great name and design. Thanks to all my wonderful followers. I appreciate the comments!<br />
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Have a great 4th of July! God Bless America.Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-20615394261830094822011-06-21T08:18:00.002-05:002011-07-01T09:50:52.776-05:00The First Day Of Summer<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://listsoplenty.com/pix/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Hungry-Baby-Birds-being-fed1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://listsoplenty.com/pix/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Hungry-Baby-Birds-being-fed1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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Even if no one had told me that it's the first day of summer, I think I still might have guessed. There's something in the air. A dusty breeze of fresh hay and rain clouds- a puff of honeysuckle and the chirp of new born birds.<br />
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There is a type of quiet that lays on the land. It is green and gorged- bursting with secret gardens and tangled forest- impregnated with fragrant bouquets and skies as blue as cornflowers.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dreamstime.com/corn-flowers-thumb15680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.dreamstime.com/corn-flowers-thumb15680.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
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Summer seems to be satisfied- proud to be the reigning season. As though she knows her control is short-lived. That autumn will eventually swallow her up completely and she will rest in a dormant grave.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://us.cdn2.123rf.com/168nwm/clheesen/clheesen1003/clheesen100300028/6703440-summer-hay-bale-in-field-of-green-on-cloudy-summer-day-in-northern-minnesota.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://us.cdn2.123rf.com/168nwm/clheesen/clheesen1003/clheesen100300028/6703440-summer-hay-bale-in-field-of-green-on-cloudy-summer-day-in-northern-minnesota.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
But for now there is celebration and triumph- giddiness and giggles- freedom and frolic- as the landscape unfolds into a masterpiece.<br />
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The pond is thick with fat grasses and lean cattails- popping with hungry fish and sparking with dragonflies. The garden spot spits out plump plants that hang with blooms. The night sky opens up like a black velvet hole, scattered with glitter. And fireflies beat like tiny glowing hearts in the nearby fields.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dnr.state.oh.us/Portals/2/kidsthings/200807jul/Flickering%20Fireflys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.dnr.state.oh.us/Portals/2/kidsthings/200807jul/Flickering%20Fireflys.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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I touch the clover with bare feet- dig my toes into dew covered grass- lift my eyes to the treetops- and breathe deeply all that is Summer.<br />
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Clouds threaten rain today- roll like gray cotton- and hover like indigo tents stuffed with raindrops. Lightning stabs the sky and I run for cover.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2446/3719583983_22cab257d1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2446/3719583983_22cab257d1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Copyright by Martin Liebermann / zeitspuren" http://www.flickr.com/photos/liebermann/3719583983/</td></tr>
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This is a good day- this first day of Summer. It is sweet and real and soft with life.<br />
<br />
And I celebrate all that it brings me.Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-22731982515459373252011-06-20T10:21:00.000-05:002011-06-20T10:21:01.718-05:00Picking Priorities<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1bmLXT4DVwS9LN-rLJ7C3zYPyZaWiIP9q4u5OXluvpDC41epN0Yi5e6-S6e6x95fg1od9tLVwy0XtupSsWtxAjSQn3WM1cpemrqEEBL7Q01c6rLwzLfLF5NQU9zt_MPdjBHkuCHi7BdK/s1600/thank-you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1bmLXT4DVwS9LN-rLJ7C3zYPyZaWiIP9q4u5OXluvpDC41epN0Yi5e6-S6e6x95fg1od9tLVwy0XtupSsWtxAjSQn3WM1cpemrqEEBL7Q01c6rLwzLfLF5NQU9zt_MPdjBHkuCHi7BdK/s320/thank-you.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I appreciate all the thoughts and prayers for my sister Jewel. Thank you. She had a four hour surgery on Friday and the outcome is not what we had hoped for. But at least the doctors believe there was no cancer- just severe infection in her colon that had to be removed. She seems to be resting more comfortably now and the pain level has decreased a little more each day. Your comments helped get me through the emotional weariness of the situation and I know your prayers will help the healing process. I love you all.<br />
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****<br />
When family situations like a serious illness occur, it makes us all put things into better perspective. We draw closer to our family members- think about our own lives- review our personal fears- and consider changes in our lifestyles and habits.<br />
<br />
I know I have been more critical of my food choices lately- not only for weight loss- but for the pure health factor. What am I putting into my body- and what are the effects?<br />
I hate the thought of growing old, but I know it would be a more pleasurable process if I am healthy and strong for the rest of my life.<br />
<br />
These times also make us appreciate our siblings, our spouses, and our parents. I had an opportunity to spend the weekend with my sister-in laws, brother-in-law, and niece and nephew. Afterward, I felt so loved and so relaxed and so thankful for new memories. It made me realize that these days are important. We cannot get them back. God does not want us to spend all our time working and separating ourselves from those that care about us. Family interaction helps us grow in both gratitude and faith. And I do know I am blessed with a wonderful family that makes me happy.<br />
<br />
And as I sit here worrying about bills and money and other problems, I try my best to put myself in my sister's shoes and I know she would trade her situation for mine any day. It's all a matter of perspective and we all simply need to be reminded once in awhile what is most important.<br />
<br />
As you go through your day, please take time to think of your loved ones and let them know in some small way that they are appreciated. Plan to spend some time together soon.<br />
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When you plan your meals for this week, consider what you are feeding your body and try to make wiser choices. I know from experience that it is easier said than done, but eventually it will get easier to do.<br />
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And, lastly- don't forget to feed your soul...With thankfulness, prayer and generosity.Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-71117525926288249642011-06-16T14:26:00.000-05:002011-06-16T14:26:41.707-05:00Dreams Interrupted<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://jasonbrooks.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/dreams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://jasonbrooks.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/dreams.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I was hoping to share my dreaming with you a little longer, but sometimes it can be pretty depressing- seeing all those cool and wonderful things that are beyond your reach. Besides that, my internet connection makes it a day-long process just to get pictures posted. And what's a dream without the pictures, right?<br />
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But thanks for letting me share my vision with you. I've never been one to want a matchy-matched house of furniture or rooms from House Beautiful magazine. I just want a place that is different and quirky and full of creativity- splashed with color and salvaged items and textures that reek of comfort- lots of art and lots of nature and a place that says, "Welcome".<br />
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**********************<br />
<br />
My older sister Jewel is having major surgery tomorrow and I'm asking all of you who know The Big Guy Upstairs to please put a little prayer in for her. She's one of those gals who would give you the shirt off her back- <i>after</i> she washed it and ironed it -and added a big kettle of homemade soup and lemon bars to it!<br />
<br />
Long ago I started out by writing a little piece called "Ponderings By The Poolside". After she read that, she kept pushing me to write more. It eventually turned into "Porch Ponderings" and became a weekly column in the local newspaper (for the 4 months I stuck it out in that crazy place!)<br />
She has always been my biggest fan. She has encouraged me to keep writing- and playing with my art - and following through with my daily blogging.<br />
<br />
<br />
We sisters get together for Sister Weekend every year, and this May we all knew that Jewel was not feeling like herself. The spark, the smile, the adventurous spirit was missing. She thought it was a simple bladder infection, but it has become a more serious situation that will entail fairly invasive surgery to her colon. She's been in the hospital and on morphine for over a week now.<br />
<br />
<br />
Her surgery is scheduled for tomorrow -and it is also her birthday.<br />
Happy Birthday Jewel! I'll be there when you open your eyes and smile that sweet smile for us again.<br />
I love you!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib0o4ra0PwXffEQzfbVc05F2Hli4cf3kezgPbaQp-OtHL5mGCqAymRW3oTjlcSClURzqVhvNXyP5ng2eI63It5VLyTkREV3e4fsLIewglNSPH6mTqviyuutuU40js2WQyURXtIPY6drpiq/s1600/219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib0o4ra0PwXffEQzfbVc05F2Hli4cf3kezgPbaQp-OtHL5mGCqAymRW3oTjlcSClURzqVhvNXyP5ng2eI63It5VLyTkREV3e4fsLIewglNSPH6mTqviyuutuU40js2WQyURXtIPY6drpiq/s320/219.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-16755174754176533332011-06-15T10:55:00.000-05:002011-06-15T10:55:21.071-05:00Subconscious Decorating Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.shelterness.com/pictures/secret-doors-into-hidden-rooms-10.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">I drift off to sleep again and my dreams take me to where:</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;">There's a neat hidden room...<img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.shelterness.com/pictures/secret-doors-into-hidden-rooms-10.jpeg" width="213" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.shelterness.com/pictures/secret-doors-into-hidden-rooms-9-500x621.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.shelterness.com/pictures/secret-doors-into-hidden-rooms-9-500x621.jpg" width="257" />Or two...</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA-L2dpxla5iYpPesSzJeJn60_2Z2dnDUJ2V0BSFrq_BBIuEVIyhkQ5xFPdLSJ_Ew05AIl-xQaN5oUFts5Z05ZCxpx1hN5Zx80pvSLOTFAEQtxkUQWznsQ8JeByHTsJDVs9b8AF-3_DXMy/s1600/316415052_6NeS7-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Bunk beds<img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA-L2dpxla5iYpPesSzJeJn60_2Z2dnDUJ2V0BSFrq_BBIuEVIyhkQ5xFPdLSJ_Ew05AIl-xQaN5oUFts5Z05ZCxpx1hN5Zx80pvSLOTFAEQtxkUQWznsQ8JeByHTsJDVs9b8AF-3_DXMy/s320/316415052_6NeS7-O.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4FCrQ8qkZc8/S8xOnZ8wn_I/AAAAAAAAAiM/4WU1mBEvesY/clip_image001%5B17%5D%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4FCrQ8qkZc8/S8xOnZ8wn_I/AAAAAAAAAiM/4WU1mBEvesY/clip_image001%5B17%5D%5B5%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="400" />in the basement...</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWuQ2BTRqu2Y0b3mQ-yRC_Pyy6v_VNO6tLWz5ec0h-Grcz666Qcj8_f3R2J5clRqtL7c5-Otaq10DCQ2ICMo0xg5ZmjUsEC0u7MXi-ZJ9J0TOuobRg7j_aThdLvOYYt08LXS4gTTjhOzk/s400/IMG_1418+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">A neat headboard...<img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWuQ2BTRqu2Y0b3mQ-yRC_Pyy6v_VNO6tLWz5ec0h-Grcz666Qcj8_f3R2J5clRqtL7c5-Otaq10DCQ2ICMo0xg5ZmjUsEC0u7MXi-ZJ9J0TOuobRg7j_aThdLvOYYt08LXS4gTTjhOzk/s320/IMG_1418+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVh53s3MXOOkSNgcXfauaniZV1_VJZ2yJ_qy-T0Tjn_2Gl-LD0d_06tl-YtkTyioamdezECcnxXHVW351eXi72Qr-55Ew7K6CqDfzY2thDv5ctOew-vq4RQP8zb8ZokDlAoKZGRZBe1jq/s400/DSC08320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVh53s3MXOOkSNgcXfauaniZV1_VJZ2yJ_qy-T0Tjn_2Gl-LD0d_06tl-YtkTyioamdezECcnxXHVW351eXi72Qr-55Ew7K6CqDfzY2thDv5ctOew-vq4RQP8zb8ZokDlAoKZGRZBe1jq/s320/DSC08320.JPG" width="240" />And a chandelier made of Mason jars!</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://rawsonstockyard.com.au/img/general/bar02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">I can belly up to the basement bar...<img border="0" height="240" src="http://rawsonstockyard.com.au/img/general/bar02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hbSipSjYd6E/TPh_3Axxd1I/AAAAAAAAAEk/_wyCQkLQCiw/63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hbSipSjYd6E/TPh_3Axxd1I/AAAAAAAAAEk/_wyCQkLQCiw/63.jpg" /> Or water my funky herb garden...</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.housebeautiful.com/cm/housebeautiful/images/9-comfortlasts-bath-0108-xlg-40419647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Then soak in the master bath...<img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.housebeautiful.com/cm/housebeautiful/images/9-comfortlasts-bath-0108-xlg-40419647.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://hgtv.sndimg.com/HGTV/2003/12/21/masterbed6_lead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://hgtv.sndimg.com/HGTV/2003/12/21/masterbed6_lead.jpg" width="320" />And take a sweet afternoon nap.</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.housebeautiful.com/cm/housebeautiful/images/hbx-0210-ranch-neunsinger-de-85621329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">(I like this one, too!)<img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.housebeautiful.com/cm/housebeautiful/images/hbx-0210-ranch-neunsinger-de-85621329.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.homedesignfind.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/stairs7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.homedesignfind.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/stairs7.jpg" width="309" />What a kooky staircase!</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.atticmag.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/kit-fea-pantry2-435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">And a practical chalk board on the pantry door-<img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.atticmag.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/kit-fea-pantry2-435.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.countryliving.com/cm/countryliving/images/country-bathroom-13-de-35346391.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://www.countryliving.com/cm/countryliving/images/country-bathroom-13-de-35346391.jpg" width="320" />A rustic bath to keep it real-</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://style-files.com/images/blackboard447.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">And with a blackboard like this- I'd never misplace my To Do List!<img border="0" height="286" src="http://style-files.com/images/blackboard447.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://woodlotwoodworks.com/images/stairs1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://woodlotwoodworks.com/images/stairs1.png" width="240" />My dream likes these stairs, too....</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.phillystine.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2005/01/mum_puppetheater_cheese_grater_light-150x150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">And wall sconces made from cheese graters!<img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.phillystine.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2005/01/mum_puppetheater_cheese_grater_light-150x150.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2200/2493762544_38ab8aae7e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2200/2493762544_38ab8aae7e.jpg" width="320" />In my kitchen, there's a giant blown up photo of this...</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;">More tomorrow!</div>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-57075210404749341022011-06-14T09:00:00.000-05:002011-06-14T09:00:18.052-05:00Subconscious Decorating Part 1Sometimes when I can't sleep, I close my eyes drift away.<br />
If I just let my imagination take over, I find myself creating a new place.<br />
Somewhere in that limbo between wakefulness and sleep, I build my dream home...<br />
<br />
I drive through the woods down a winding gravel road. I can smell the pine trees and hints of honeysuckle. The sky is baby blue with puffs of white clouds. It's a perfect 70 degrees with a slight breeze. I can hear the birds singing in the treetops. There are plump, wild blackberries arching over the roadside and I pass a patch of wild roses, their sweetness filling the car for a moment.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mooseheadrusticart.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/btb2008-075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.mooseheadrusticart.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/btb2008-075.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Around the final bend and past the gate- the crunch of gravel smooths into a silent sound of tires on asphalt- a driveway bordered by a green manicured lawn- and before me stands my dream house. Two things stand out most. It's red -and it's full of wonderful windows.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://athatcher.co.uk/images/pic_farmhouse2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://athatcher.co.uk/images/pic_farmhouse2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I find the big brass key and twist in in the lock. A familiar click opens the front door and sunshine pours into the entryway. The floor is irregular slate tiles and to the right is a white hall tree with hidden shoe storage. There's a row of odd shaped hooks for hats and jackets- and there's a vintage shawl draped over one.<br />
<br />
To the left is a small area with large windows. There's a homemade desk with a computer station and the window shades are old school maps that pull down to block the sun.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://nibsblog.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/opt-window-maps_2222.jpg?w=500&h=374" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://nibsblog.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/opt-window-maps_2222.jpg?w=500&h=374" width="320" /></a></div><br />
On the wall is an antique clock and some hand painted signs. All my office supplies are in baskets or salvaged containers and there's a row of old globes on a shelf above the windows. My desk chair is a painted find from Goodwill- with new wheels and a flour sack seat cushion to make it more comfortable during a long day of blogging. Three old galvanized funnels hang over the desk as pendant lights.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.omegatoo.com/beta/files/Repurposed_lighting-old_funnel_cord_pendant-omega_too-mark_bell-amazing_light-modern_farm_house-rustic_light-bar_light-kitchen_light-vintage_industrial_lights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.omegatoo.com/beta/files/Repurposed_lighting-old_funnel_cord_pendant-omega_too-mark_bell-amazing_light-modern_farm_house-rustic_light-bar_light-kitchen_light-vintage_industrial_lights.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Straight ahead is the living room. Soft with cushy chairs, a coffee table- and big art.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://cache2.artprintimages.com/LRG/17/1728/WH63D00Z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="http://cache2.artprintimages.com/LRG/17/1728/WH63D00Z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The windows look out on the woods. There's a rustic brick fireplace and shaggy rugs.<br />
<br />
A door on the left leads to the screened in porch. There's a feather bed with crisp white sheets that smell like lilacs. And a silly little bathing area...<br />
<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/AVvXsEhHkQtvETe08IHMCSjRlsy6pz0dGIF77TbKWg6tNHpfs87CWtfuaN6gj4SImq65b9Hr-WkNva-oE_bqRdMD-zjJ88sw8wjovSwbZawqRarjFLdatQO9mR5wA-NguyIxMhNbiyYwu5H9H4gh/s1600/519961602_3207629b92_o.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHkQtvETe08IHMCSjRlsy6pz0dGIF77TbKWg6tNHpfs87CWtfuaN6gj4SImq65b9Hr-WkNva-oE_bqRdMD-zjJ88sw8wjovSwbZawqRarjFLdatQO9mR5wA-NguyIxMhNbiyYwu5H9H4gh/s320/519961602_3207629b92_o.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://remodelista.com/img/sub/nytimesbath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="http://remodelista.com/img/sub/nytimesbath.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I step into the doorway on the right instead- entering the kitchen. It's flooded with sunlight and fresh baked cinnamon rolls fill the air. In my dream it looks something like this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://cantyshanty.com/i/7-giant-spring-barstools.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://cantyshanty.com/i/7-giant-spring-barstools.jpg" width="312" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6RuB-MyU_O4/S5hUjXoQy1I/AAAAAAAAHXk/bDX7Kw9plcE/s800/wilton_house-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6RuB-MyU_O4/S5hUjXoQy1I/AAAAAAAAHXk/bDX7Kw9plcE/s320/wilton_house-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Oh, my...I'm getting sorta sleepy now.... (Yawn...)<br />
<br />
To Be Continued...Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-80788524468176846522011-06-09T06:58:00.000-05:002011-06-09T06:58:26.312-05:00Pictures Can Say A Thousand Words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdttiSS4azpqOO2ZSa8QzGqSbGxIpix5fvz74Q1U2RSWWxu5RJKvHwvxbWgoU6s6akjB1K4Cz_cV8Gm3P9JWIbvID7JH7xQNvieeUcNkrp7OxRX2jUnAhHSvE5Aa-dD7Rvxpe0IrcEmz0p/s1600/cabinandgraduation2011+042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdttiSS4azpqOO2ZSa8QzGqSbGxIpix5fvz74Q1U2RSWWxu5RJKvHwvxbWgoU6s6akjB1K4Cz_cV8Gm3P9JWIbvID7JH7xQNvieeUcNkrp7OxRX2jUnAhHSvE5Aa-dD7Rvxpe0IrcEmz0p/s400/cabinandgraduation2011+042.JPG" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyT7qQq39L6F3zJfdXzFAh46u-asKnHwt_DtKkfFdm52zlfjQMZmTv7Amfrj3XSV-HsVWOqwyFXjN2HMFUTcTFgW8GWuTBSgrGeQumqkDYehAG6_fOjsLeLmSAY6pHHarR_U6a_ndSCk2/s1600/cabinandgraduation2011+064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyT7qQq39L6F3zJfdXzFAh46u-asKnHwt_DtKkfFdm52zlfjQMZmTv7Amfrj3XSV-HsVWOqwyFXjN2HMFUTcTFgW8GWuTBSgrGeQumqkDYehAG6_fOjsLeLmSAY6pHHarR_U6a_ndSCk2/s400/cabinandgraduation2011+064.JPG" width="318" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAq9rObRV736bkWllFuFbyE9di570ddcNs8GUdHLv26FUsIHd13RhcldQ-Js2heHmhyDFCst55mMUrcS6G6STn-l38eA8lMfuc2OSS1q2u9TsxAYYbxDGLXcsTskP82y-6crpqWbQyt1m/s1600/cabinandgraduation2011+036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAq9rObRV736bkWllFuFbyE9di570ddcNs8GUdHLv26FUsIHd13RhcldQ-Js2heHmhyDFCst55mMUrcS6G6STn-l38eA8lMfuc2OSS1q2u9TsxAYYbxDGLXcsTskP82y-6crpqWbQyt1m/s400/cabinandgraduation2011+036.JPG" width="298" /></a></div><br />
I love you, Doctor Jake!Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-8609462384430610132011-06-08T09:46:00.002-05:002011-06-08T11:35:58.738-05:00Proper Mowing Attire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.preferential.co.uk/blog/image.axd?picture=2009%2F2%2Fj0384718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://www.preferential.co.uk/blog/image.axd?picture=2009%2F2%2Fj0384718.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I'm pretty sure that most of you don't even think about the outfit you wear while mowing the yard- but, hey- I didn't either-until my sister Linda described her "mowing outfit" to me in great detail. It seems that somewhere along the line- in her many yard sale adventures or junking escapades- she happened upon a tube top.<br />
<br />
Yes. I said <i>tube top</i>. And a pink striped one at that.<br />
<br />
Now, I've been known to make my share of fashion mistakes, but it's pretty much a fact in better circles of society that tube tops are just not acceptable. If you're thin, they make you boobless. If you're shapely, they make you saggy. If you're fat, they make you look like the Epcot ball in a tube sock.<br />
<br />
Linda says that she resembles a beach ball. A beach ball riding a lawnmower. And probably smoking a cigarette and chugging a beer at the same time. It's the National Inquirer's dream photo, for sure.<br />
<br />
So, today is my day to mow and I've spent the last hour trying to select a tasteful outfit to mow the yard in. Usually it's old jeans and a too-big tee shirt- worn Nikes and a pony tail. But now Linda has me second-guessing my choices in mowing attire.<br />
<br />
Being that it will get near 100 degrees today, I've opted out on the long jeans, but am considering a faded pair of Capris. Except that they are a little snug and cause a double muffin top that cannot even be hidden beneath a boy scout tent. Swim suit tops, halters- and yes- even tube tops are out of the question. Why? Because I'm 55, lily white, and have age spots the size of Australia on my shoulders. Not to mention the elbow wings that catch the breeze like a para sail once in awhile...<br />
<br />
I do believe it's about time for some fashionista to design a special line of mowing clothes. Something attractive, but sensible- conservative, but breathable- loose, but not like a parachute. Something like a tube top.<br />
But not.<br />
<br />
And footwear? We need a light weight airy shoe that will be safe if we have to step off the mower to move the patio furniture- and something that will cover our toes so they won't still be green at the family reunion in July.<br />
<br />
I'm stressing here. Because apparently I do not own a suitable "mowing outfit". I'm almost sick and jealous of Linda and her beach ball blouse... as she putters along in the hot sun... getting waves and honks from strangers...developing absolute zero tan lines...taking the age factor and simply tossing it from the equation...getting the job done with not one iota of concern about her fashion choices...<br />
<br />
Hummmmm...You know- I think I saw I really cute tube top at Goodwill yesterday. I just might have time to run there before the day starts heating up!Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-5631138605419263132011-06-07T08:53:00.020-05:002011-06-07T10:21:20.344-05:00The Coat Closet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://assets.curbly.com/photos/0000/0013/4432/nana_s_coat_thumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://assets.curbly.com/photos/0000/0013/4432/nana_s_coat_thumb.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The other night I was watching an old black and white movie and there was a scene where a woman was wearing a long fur coat. I was suddenly transported to another time and place.<br />
<br />
The place was the hall closet of my childhood home. A small,dark space with a naked bulb and a floor carpeted with musty shoes. And I was seven or eight years old again.<br />
<br />
The clothes that hung in that closet smelled of time and mothballs and most were rarely worn. The closet was actually a hideaway for Mom's canister vacuum- a greenish metal cylinder that sounded like a freight train. I can still see her pulling on the long hose and rolling it out for an afternoon of domestic chores.<br />
<br />
And even though she hadn't worn it in years, there on the wooden pole hung my mother's fur coat. A shiny, brown, once-elegant and expensive mink that Mom wore in her younger days. A coat that I saw her wear in old photos- (her smile happier than any I had witnessed while she mopped or washed dishes.)<br />
<br />
Sometimes I would open the little wooden door to the hall closet and pet Mom's coat. Slightly balding and a bit dusty, it still held that magic of a beautiful mother whose life was different before giving birth to nine children. The coat symbolized dreams that were now faded- days that were now gone- years that hung forgotten in the closet of her heart.<br />
I would stretch my arm up into the coat- and rub the red satin lining that stayed cool and smooth in the darkness. It was a peaceful and soothing feeling to pretend that I was my mother and that coat belonged to me.<br />
<br />
Inside that hallway also hung my dad's navy uniform, a black wool set of itchy pants and pull over top that once held medals and pins- awards that had long ago been plucked off and put away for safe keeping. The bell bottom pants had two rows of a dozen buttons and it stretched our imagination to the limits wondering how Dad could possibly have worn something so small.<br />
<br />
I don't know what else was in that closet because nothing mattered except the past of my parents- of that odd, bittersweet twinge of loving sadness that crept through my veins as I stood with one arm in Mom's mink coat.<br />
<br />
I can still feel that worn brass door knob in my hand- hear the sound of the pull chain light- smell the dampness of old leather shoes twisted in mildewed corners.<br />
<br />
And I can still see my mom and dad- him as a dashing and handsome sailor- her as a blushing young bride... in a very special coat.Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-89213232794242100542011-06-03T10:17:00.001-05:002011-06-03T10:17:31.440-05:00Hole In One<p> </p> <p> </p> <p>Today is National Donut Day!!!!</p> <p>It's very difficult for me to avoid celebrating today. Because today is donut day! </p> <p> </p> <p>It's a day long tribute to those delicious calorie-laden breakfast bombs that make you want to lick your fingers and collapse into a food coma until the sugar rush wears off. </p> <p>It's a day to honor sweet glazes, rainbow sprinkles, jelly fillings, Bavarian creams, whipped up fluff, and pudding perfection.</p> <p>It's a day to be thankful to all those bakers who rise at the crack of dawn to knead that yeasty dough into works of culinary art, not to mention terrific tummy treats.</p> <p>I believe that a road trip is not complete without a stiff white box of a dozen assorted donuts, a cup of hot coffee, a cardboard carton of cold milk, and a handful of napkins. Easy to eat, filling, and right within most budgets. What's not to love?</p> <p>What other food would we accept with a giant hole in the middle? If we were served hamburgers, steaks or chicken with the center missing, I know massive riots would occur. We would demand that the hole be filled!</p> <p>But donuts are so delectable and so sweet that we accept their faults- we adore them with their finger-holding holes and their stuffed insides- with no questions asked. We love their quirky missing middle !</p> <p>I've had my share of donuts, and believe me, I've never met one I didn't like. From homemade to gourmet, donuts are universally well-loved and millions are consumed each year. And approximately 111,000 by policemen alone!</p> <p> </p> <p>So, as you start your morning, please honor the beloved favorite for dunkin' and devouring! Celebrate Donut Day!</p> Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-40390234916059776142011-06-02T12:11:00.000-05:002011-06-02T12:11:05.841-05:00And So It Begins...I could hardly let the month of June arrive without somehow placing words on paper that portray my pleasure over summer's arrival. It has been a cool and rainy spring, scattered with storms and floods, so I treasure even more these soft mornings that smell like sweet air and buzz with the sounds of birds. I have finally shed that winter cloak, unveiled my sleeping heart, and risen to feel the wonder of this season. Thank you, God.<br />
<br />
I had a wonderful time with the family over the holiday weekend. Two of my sister-in-laws and a brother-in-law, plus my kids and two grand kids, (and four dogs)- all gathered at the cabin for rustic relaxation and a time of laughter and good food.They say that a crowded cabin is worth more than an empty castle- and I agree. What we lacked for privacy and elbow room, we gained in bonding and making new memories.<br />
<br />
The air was thick with honeysuckle and pine, a constant fire in the rock pit gave off smokey perfume, and stars hung heavy in the night sky like a shroud of jewels. There was the clang of horseshoes being tossed, the muffled pop of croquet balls being sent across the lawn, and the gentle music of a guitar strumming. It was the first song of summer- and what an orchestra it was!<br />
<br />
The kids took turns blackening marshmallows over the flames, eating bags of salty chips, and riding on the four-wheeler to explore the woods. We did tick checks, bug spraying, and even chased a large black snake from the whiffle ball field.<br />
By days end, we were hot, tired, but full of exuberance for another day ahead. Time usually passes slowly down there, but this weekend it sped so fast that I hardly had time to catch my breath.<br />
<br />
Home again, I spend hours washing damp towels, muddy shoes, and luggage full of campfire smells. I stored away uneaten hotdogs, crumbles of stale chips, and hauled three trash bags to the dumpster. I took a long hot bath, conditioned my hair, and sat in a comfortable chair in front of the TV. I sighed with relief that the weekend was over, but somewhere in my heart, I yearned to go back.<br />
<br />
So, summer begins.<br />
Pulls us along on this mighty train of humid days and firefly nights, of pink perfumes and <br />
turquoise skies. Blackberries ripen in the sun, farmers mow their hay, hummingbirds tweet among the scarlet flowers...it's time for bare feet, iced tea, a good book and a head of dreams...<br />
<br />
Welcome, Summer.<br />
I have always loved you.Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-46415572074789753042011-05-27T10:13:00.000-05:002011-05-27T10:13:39.127-05:00Packed & Pooped<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://thatwoman.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/messy_suitcase_blog.jpg?w=300&h=219" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://thatwoman.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/messy_suitcase_blog.jpg?w=300&h=219" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I love the idea of getting away for the weekend, but I'd rather have a root canal than try packing for a three day adventure. I'm not organized, patient, or very innovative. And the bed of the truck ends up looking like my linen closet when I'm all done- wadded up, packed to the hilt, and ready to cause a major catastrophe when the tail gate is opened.<br />
Because of possible rain issues, I had to pack by myself this morning while my husband was at work. You would think we were moving. Or homeless. Or trash men.<br />
Seriously.<br />
I loaded three large coolers, one tent, a small recliner, 2 corn hole game boards, a guitar, a bag of bedding, tools, karaoke machine, three bags of luggage, a bag of food, extra shoes, tractor battery, air mattresses, and all other kinds of "I -just- can't-do -without- that" stuff.<br />
It took me over an hour. I broke two nails, stubbed my big toe, sprained my back and ripped my jacket.<br />
Okay. Maybe I'm exaggerating just a bit.<br />
But one thing I did do was step in a big pile of fresh dog crap! (It did not belong to my dog, either!) Talk about stinky! I almost added puke to the list of items in the truck.<br />
I was wearing my favorite, most comfortable flip flops, too, which I will most certainly have to scrub down before I get set off down the road.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://ip727.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/dog-poop1.jpg?w=300" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ip727.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/dog-poop1.jpg?w=300" /></a></div><br />
Sure- it will be nice to get this all loaded and go relax for the weekend, but somehow it must all be packed again for the trip home. Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it...<br />
<br />
What are you having for your Memorial Day cookout? We are smoking a fresh ham and chickens, pork butt, and hot dogs. I made potato salad, buffalo chicken dip, cowboy beans, and deviled eggs. Family members are bringing s'mores, lemon bars, mint brownies and fresh fruit. Yum-O. Rachel Ray- eat your heart out!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.who-sucks.com/wp-content/uploads/icons/2007/06/1rr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.who-sucks.com/wp-content/uploads/icons/2007/06/1rr.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I hope you all enjoy the last few days of May- and please take the time out from your fun holiday to remember the men and women who have served our country. Those who have protected our freedom, risked their lives, and made us proud. We salute you!<br />
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Wear your sunscreen or pack an umbrella- depending where you live. But be sure to relax, enjoy the beginning of summer- and do like I do- Eat Till it Ouches You!<br />
See you all soon!Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-35308537292662982842011-05-18T05:18:00.000-05:002011-05-18T10:44:47.142-05:00Circle of Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;">I arrived in this world in a nutshell,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">swimming in a sea of only "me".</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And so, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I floated quietly into the light-</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and was born...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My mother took me in her arms,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">placed me softly in a big ship called "Family"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and I sailed happily through life</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">on a calm and beautiful sea.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then I met a man who smiled and said, "Come with me."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and his heart swept me up into a canoe called "Marriage". </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">we paddled together through hurricanes</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and golden sunsets</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and held tightly to this journey called "Love".</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When our children were born, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">we built our own ship called "Family".</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And every day was an adventure- every ocean a wonder.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Years passed and seasons changed....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">one by one, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">our children left the boat-</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">navigating their sails to other seas-</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">as I watched them fade on the horizon like a milky dream.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We moved back to our little canoe</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and let ourselves drift in peaceful waters-</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">no longer in a hurry to reach the shore...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Someday, I will return to my nutshell.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When I am old and gray and my days are no more-</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I will swim in a sea of only "me",</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> float quietly into the light-</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and be born again....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-50026079572825969172011-05-16T13:31:00.002-05:002011-05-16T13:35:20.098-05:00Happy Birthday, Son<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKCaGxq6nRtVO_Kt5-d_naUyRrJeqqzg2GvJeG_3_hZwD8var1HT8cpl0lEZAe4Kbd4iaAPT5XdSwXvVYLu8FKsT7fgy_ZgedaZUeAwJxGpxrErM2vVIO1K8x9v1B1EuWpt-y4nuzWF2S7/s1600/jake2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKCaGxq6nRtVO_Kt5-d_naUyRrJeqqzg2GvJeG_3_hZwD8var1HT8cpl0lEZAe4Kbd4iaAPT5XdSwXvVYLu8FKsT7fgy_ZgedaZUeAwJxGpxrErM2vVIO1K8x9v1B1EuWpt-y4nuzWF2S7/s400/jake2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Twenty-seven years ago next Saturday (May 21st) , I gave birth to my third child (and my only son).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I had been confined to bed rest since my forth month due to a complication called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Placenta_praevia">placenta praevia</a>. And my doctor informed me that I would require a C-section when the time came to deliver, because a natural birth would put both the baby and I in jeopardy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The morning I arrived at the hospital for my scheduled C-section, the doctor decided to do another series of ultrasounds to determine the exact location of the placenta. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It had moved! I was free to go home and wait for the labor pains to begin on their own. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(Which proved to be a few days later.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">However, my regular doctor was out of town and his replacement was apprehensive about delivery because of my history. So, they ordered an ambulance to transport me to another hospital about twenty miles away that provided a specialist who was brought in to confer.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Another series of sonograms were taken and I was assigned a comfortable room where my labor pains became more regular. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then the specialists came to my bedside and he told my husband and I that the sonograms showed a deformity. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We were told that the baby's head was small, although the arms and legs were of normal proportion. He suspected that the "soft spot" had fused together, and in the process, the brain had failed to grow. Four other professionals had studied the tests and they all agreed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Are you saying that the baby will have mental challenges?" We asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Your child will have to be put in a home- an institution of sorts- where you'll be able to visit. The defect will be too extreme for you to provide care on your own." We were told.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was in shock. It just didn't soak in at first. But then I saw my husband sobbing as he stood staring out the window and I knew I wasn't dreaming.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then the doctors decided to slow my contractions down in order to do an <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amniocentesis">amniocentesis</a> because they suspected that the baby was not yet developed enough to be born.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Five doctors formed a circle around me as a large needle was inserted into my abdomen and fluid removed. And when those tests proved that the lungs were fully developed, they allowed me to continue the labor process.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I prayed. More than I ever prayed in my life. I just would not let myself believe that this baby would not be one I could cradle in my arms and watch grow up into a normal child.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My husband told his mother what was happening- and soon a prayer chain was started.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There were hundreds of people praying for my unborn child to be healthy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When I came closer to the delivery stage, the doctor gave me something to relax because my husband was told, "we don't want her fully conscious- she shouldn't see the baby."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I can go in the delivery room- right, Doc?" my husband asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"It's not advisable." they said, "it will probably have an open spine and other abnormalities."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But my husband insisted. He told the doctor that he witnessed all his other kids being born and he was going to see this one, too.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Although I was in pain -and in a fog, I remember seeing my husbands face covered by a green surgical mask- his eyes swollen with tears as he bent down to kiss me before they asked me to push.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
A few minutes later, our baby was born. I fell back against the pillow, exhausted.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"It's a boy," my husband cried- his eyes smiling at me from beside my bed, his voice shaking.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Doc- I don't see anything wrong with him. He looks normal to me," I heard my husband say.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes, he seems to be very healthy. And no apparent problems..." the doctor agreed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It would be a few hours before I could hold my son. I drifted in and out while in the recovery room, my husband appearing now and then with a happy smile on his face.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The doctors said our son was fine. Absolutely normal. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">They admitted that they only took one view on the sonograms- which showed a small head. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If they had taken another view, they would have seen that the head was simply "molded" -and otherwise normal in size.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">They apologized. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Five doctors. Dozens of tests. All in agreement.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But all wrong.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Call it the answer to prayer. The power of positive belief. God's blessing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Whatever happened that day- it will always be considered a miracle to me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>In eighteen days, my son Jake will graduate with a doctorate in dentistry. </i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Happy Birthday, son. I love you beyond imagining.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdejrKmBR_PCj7RFQ6nEabiDGq7xXifywv5cRjW4vOoTdpzmW5ZFUCUVA-TxB9yrLAYwdaVIIJb1xQLcr5jtG9-rxROSFuS-R0bo-Q4y2BzgHqX4I8khqNjM7NUCobEHseI8QehNUtPf14/s1600/DSCF1218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdejrKmBR_PCj7RFQ6nEabiDGq7xXifywv5cRjW4vOoTdpzmW5ZFUCUVA-TxB9yrLAYwdaVIIJb1xQLcr5jtG9-rxROSFuS-R0bo-Q4y2BzgHqX4I8khqNjM7NUCobEHseI8QehNUtPf14/s320/DSCF1218.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
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</span>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-61579521598479174952011-05-09T07:57:00.001-05:002011-05-09T07:58:40.343-05:00Time Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://brownroadchronicles.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/sign2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://brownroadchronicles.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/sign2.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I've done a little soul searching lately... Tried to spend some quiet time in reflection... Meditated on my life and future and plans and dreams... Opened myself up to critical self-examination...Stopped awhile to smell the roses...and I realize there's much to be done.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe it's the beauty of spring...new beginnings...days that flirt and beckon for attention...air that smells sweet like youth- tart with memories- clear with goals...open with possibilities.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe it's hormones... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But I really feel as though I need to step back from the computer for a week or two. Let my writing go dormant... hoping it will flourish like that wild tangle of honeysuckle... telling myself that I'm digging a big hole the wrong direction...that perhaps I should open a new door...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">...and fly...</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.explodingdog.com/dumbpict51/learntofly.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.explodingdog.com/dumbpict51/learntofly.gif" width="261" /></a></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then again, maybe it's because I have so much to do... gardening...yard work... planting... painting... bookwork... dieting...organizing- that it makes blogging seem so selfish and juvenile...I feel like I've exposed my heart here and it's drying out a little.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, I'm going to take a week or two hiatus. A mini vacation. A section of time to relish in the beauty of early morning...to listen to the birds...walk in the cool breeze...smell the greenness of new grass...watch the stars as they line up across the heavens...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">...find a little part of me that feels so lost.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Check back in a few weeks. Maybe by then I'll have revived my good mood and hopefulness. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sorry I won't be checking your blogs while away, either. But I will return, my friends. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Now- it's out to inhale this wonderful day and all the gifts it has for me.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXoOqgI6WMZJCWd_ap7tlT3xlfMkgyx24sdDC_f_H3mjQNcmYetpSzNX8hQjhYoR3aurHdVP-S_Do32ZHfN24jDXOXu_WX7pB8-9Up0wCU2FXLKt_sW6wP20wWhTe3fZCplyrOEXW9yte/s1600/hiatus2copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXoOqgI6WMZJCWd_ap7tlT3xlfMkgyx24sdDC_f_H3mjQNcmYetpSzNX8hQjhYoR3aurHdVP-S_Do32ZHfN24jDXOXu_WX7pB8-9Up0wCU2FXLKt_sW6wP20wWhTe3fZCplyrOEXW9yte/s320/hiatus2copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">See you soon.</span>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-18425486801994293172011-05-05T06:37:00.000-05:002011-05-05T06:37:00.779-05:00Saving Snowflakes<h3 class="post-title"><a href="http://rae-tenin2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/saving-snowflakes.html"><br />
</a> </h3><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwjw4PBnUMBL-X3jP7-kLrsNy6kAMj_h6uBo7hfDCPBiNWPsuPI-QZ8DbOQUcz2nrZdO87dmfCsgcmQEfP_vU_mGCXBNyoJNG0svYsE-qhAHaG-51xNjymFQL2HsTHSfejnZUfQ-2dGs/s1600-h/snowflake2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435865794617306786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwjw4PBnUMBL-X3jP7-kLrsNy6kAMj_h6uBo7hfDCPBiNWPsuPI-QZ8DbOQUcz2nrZdO87dmfCsgcmQEfP_vU_mGCXBNyoJNG0svYsE-qhAHaG-51xNjymFQL2HsTHSfejnZUfQ-2dGs/s400/snowflake2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<span class="sqq"><span style="font-style: italic;">(</span>As a tribute for Mother's Day, this is a re-posting from my blog<span style="font-style: italic;"> Ten in '10.)<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A mother is a person who, seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie. ~Tenneva Jordan<br />
<br />
*****</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span class="sqq">Being a mother is never easy. Right from the start, it's a challenge. A nine month journey of morning vomit and aching bones and the private knowledge that you are officially bigger than Shamu. Your sexy walks becomes a waddle, your tiny belly become a blimp, and your attitude toward time is "Hurry, hurry, hurry."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="sqq"><br />
Not until you have that baby- cradle that little human in your arms, do you finally say, "Slow down,Time.Please slow down..."<br />
*****<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Most of all the other beautiful things in life come by twos and threes, by dozens and hundreds. Plenty of roses, stars, sunsets, rainbows, brothers and sisters, aunts and cousins, comrades and friends - but only one mother in the whole world. ~Kate Douglas Wiggin<br />
<br />
****</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="sqq">Being a mother cannot be fully described. There is no set definition, because mothers are as different and unique as snowflakes.<br />
I think the word mother is not a noun, but a verb. I <span style="font-style: italic;">mother</span> my children. It's a process- an invisible blanket of incubation that never fades- a halo of love that is never broken. A daily piece of your heart that is divided and freely given.<br />
Sometimes that piece of your heart returns to you full of pride and joy. Other times, it's a bit broken, fractured, or a tiny bit bruised. But you never stop giving it. You hope. You love. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="sqq">You <span style="font-style: italic;">mother</span>.<br />
*****<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">“I want my children to have all the things I couldn't afford. Then I want to move in with them.”</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"> Phyllis Diller </span><br />
<br />
*****<br />
If they gave awards for mothering, my mom would surely have a giant one. Because everything I do in my adult life- my choices,my attitude and my convictions are all based on how she raised me. A mothers heart and hands never leave ones memory.<br />
My mother's heart was as big as all the world, and although she had nine children- it was never too crowded or too busy or too tired to fit us in.<br />
And her hands are wings now- still guiding me with an unseen gentleness that propels my life.<br />
There is no blueprint, no instruction booklet, no expert that can tell you how to be a mom. It just happens. Just as simply and as quietly as stars appear in a darkened sky. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="sqq">And as miraculously.<br />
*****<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts. ~Washington Irving<br />
<br />
*****</span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="sqq">I like to think that I am a good mother, but it is the final outcome- the end result of my mothering that will matter in this world. If I have raised intelligent, independent, compassionate, and happy children, then I have succeeded on my part. Yet, ultimately their own choices will shape their lives.<br />
Mothering well- is knowing that those choices will be based on what you have taught them, shown them, and been for them.<br />
It is knowing you did your best even during the rough and dark times. That you didn't loose courage or determination or affection. That you kept right on walking through the storms because you knew the sun would shine again, brighter than ever.<br />
*****<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">“Every mother is like Moses. She does not enter the promised land. She prepares a world she will not see.”</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> Pope Paul VI<br />
*****</span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="sqq">I know that I won't always be here for my children. I realize that Time didn't really slow down like I asked it to. I see that my babies are adults- and memories are all I have of their Story of Growing Up. But they sure are good ones.<br />
*****</span><span class="sqq"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="sqq"><span style="font-style: italic;">I cannot forget my mother. She was my bridge. When I needed to get across, she steadied herself long enough for me to run across safely. ~Renita Weems<br />
*****</span></span><br />
<span class="sqq">I vow to be a better mother. To listen more closely. To criticize less, hug more, give a little breathing room. To adore and memorize my adult children from afar-as well as I did when they were clinging to my neck or sleeping in my lap.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="sqq"><br />
Definition of <span style="font-style: italic;">children</span>: The same as the definition of <span style="font-style: italic;">mother</span>:<br />
They are as different and unique as snowflakes. Handle them with care. They will too soon drift away.<br />
*****<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall; A mother's secret hope outlives them all. ~Oliver Wendell Holmes<br />
*****</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="sqq">Here's to you, Mom. For warm memories of home. Of kitchen tables and fresh coffee- of jelly donuts and pork chops in grease gravy- of gardens and tulips and bleeding hearts- of blue dresses and garters and fuzzy pink house slippers- of powdered donuts and soap operas and visits to the neighbors- of Christmases and fireworks and Croatian bread- but mostly, Mom, thank you for your mothering. Your endless love. Your lessons.<br />
<br />
Funny... after all these years, I still keep saying the same thing over and over-</span><span class="sqq"> "Slow down,Time. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="sqq">Please slow down..."</span><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">*****<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. ~Rajneesh<br />
*****</span></span></span>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-39781148260046850882011-05-04T05:45:00.000-05:002011-05-04T06:08:10.308-05:00Cha-cha-cha Chicken!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.kidsarus.org/images/kidsgo4it/raiseit/chicken_animated.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.kidsarus.org/images/kidsgo4it/raiseit/chicken_animated.gif" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Today is <i>International Respect for Chickens Day</i> - and I'll be the first one to admit that I am not a vegetarian, vegan. nor do I partake in any protests that boycott KFC. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In fact, I rather enjoy the flavor of chicken skin- deep fried in a thick, crispy batter of seasoned flour. And the plump, white breast barbecued in a tasty mix of hickory-honey sauce. Mmmmmm...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But we are not here today to revel in the deliciousness of the chicken. We are here today to pay our tribute and respect for a terribly misunderstood farm animal.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Domestication of wild fowl began in Asia some 8,000 years ago. However, most experts think that chickens were not introduced to North America until some 5,000 years later.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It soon became a convenient source of food- one that could be used for both meat and eggs. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The average hen lays nearly 265 table eggs a year. And it takes her 24-26 hours to lay a single egg. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If fertilized by the male chicken (also known as the rooster, or cock), the eggs will hatch in 21 days. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And in the United States alone, 80 million eggs are produced a year and over 9 billion chickens are raised for food.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And that's no yolk!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(Just had to throw that in there. I was getting painfully serious for a moment, wasn't I?)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I bet you didn't know that the egg laying process for a chicken begins in its eye. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Chickens lay eggs only after receiving a light cue, either from natural sunlight entering a coop or artificial light illuminating a commercial egg hatchery. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The light stimulates a photo-receptive gland near the chicken's eye, which in turn triggers the release of an egg cell from the chicken's ovary. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I just wonder about the first human that decided to crack an egg and eat it. Especially witnessing its emergence from the birth canal into a bed of poopy straw. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Did he say, "Wow! I think I'll eat that!" ? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And later, did he drop a bit of raw egg on a hot rock by the fire and decide to taste its scrambled form? (It was probably the same fellow who decided to squeeze cow teats and enjoy a warm glass of milk.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Last week, my husband and I were actually discussing the idea of raising chickens when he retires.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh, won't that be cute! A little hen house with red window boxes and plump, white chickens laying on fresh nests...Dozens of eggs a week for breakfast, brunch and tuna salad!" I said excitedly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes- and they'll help eat table scraps and unwanted bugs - and we can butcher and freeze them, too," he said.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, then came the reality of the whole giant chicken dream.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>" What about coyotes and foxes?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>" Who will chicken-sit if we go on vacation?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>" How many times during a snow storm will we have to check their water and food supply?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>" What if we become emotionally attached to them and can't force ourselves to eat them?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>" What if the sky is really falling?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Forget it," I said, suddenly deciding that the price of eggs and fryers were not really that expensive. Considering.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I suppose the best way that chicken-eating-lovers like me can show their respect today, is by abstaining. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Skip KFC and eat fish. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Nix the chicken burrito and go for the beef. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Choose tuna salad over chicken salad and ask for pancakes instead of eggs, sunny side up.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Give poultry a day of rest, celebration and respect!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Now- let's shake our tail feathers, shall we?</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/kYiUBwsP9oM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-31107401573082698132011-05-03T04:47:00.000-05:002011-05-03T04:47:34.281-05:00Us<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is Us. We duck taped our overalls to keep the ticks out.</span></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">The rain drips</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">like silver beads</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">off the green metal roof.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">We sit side by side</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">on the old cushions</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">of the porch swing,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">gazing at the wet world</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">that explodes with new life.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">You chug a beer.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I sip wine from a Mason jar.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Your hand touches mine.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yours,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">calloused and tan-</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">freshly washed clean</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">of tractor oil and gasoline.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mine,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">nicked from thorns</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">and pink from slicing strawberries-</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">fingernails still unpainted</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">since last summer.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-size: large;">I smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You grin.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And we stare through the damp screen</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">in silence.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I pick a tiny tick</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">off my ankle.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You cross your arms.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A wren rests on the branches of an oak tree</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and thunder growls softly in the gray clouds.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We begin to swing in rhythm-</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">slowly rocking our feet-</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">leaning back against the flowered pillows</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">in weary surrender.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The chain creaks and groans</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and we laugh.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I love you," I say.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I love you more," You reply.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You drink your beer.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I finish my wine.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The day fades as we watch</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">shadows fill the woods.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And suddenly </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I </span><span style="font-size: large;">know for certain</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">this is all </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I will ever need. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
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</div>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-18292974606566722952011-05-02T09:34:00.000-05:002011-05-02T09:34:38.447-05:00Now I Know My ABC's<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfcw5RfAHJ-becvihNsZa1kAJNmxlxQKtPOiRjSGp0fNRxG4h_zUwxcRm_I3_-2Dph1078L5AOmxkJzOxAZ9JoUayO-i70MOwqM3aorSoE089xGOK3oE8Ee8OxkUKsCqbfr8-BR8oxr4_A/s1600/WinnerBadge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfcw5RfAHJ-becvihNsZa1kAJNmxlxQKtPOiRjSGp0fNRxG4h_zUwxcRm_I3_-2Dph1078L5AOmxkJzOxAZ9JoUayO-i70MOwqM3aorSoE089xGOK3oE8Ee8OxkUKsCqbfr8-BR8oxr4_A/s400/WinnerBadge.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For the second year, I've just completed the A to Z Challenge- the brainchild of <a href="http://tossingitout.blogspot.com/">Arlee Bird</a><i>Tossing It Out</i>. I don't think he even realized how popular and widespread this blog challenge would be. Congratulations, Arlee- to you and your associates for a successful job. It's been a fun learning experience.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">First off, I want to offer my sincere thanks for all of you who visited, left comments, or simply lurked in the blogasphere checking things out. I was a lurker, too- trying my best to fit in blog visits to new people- between dusting, laundry, weekend trips, and day to day obligations. I apologize if I never got to your blog or failed to comment very often. Because I know there are some talented and creative folks out there who deserve to be heard. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Keep writing- all of you. Your voice is important.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't have a problem posting every day. (I usually do that anyway.) The real challenge was forcing myself to find a subject that matched the specific letter, and trying to write about it in a fresh and entertaining way. And even if I failed on that note- at least I got through the alphabet with more followers than I ever imagined!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">However, from last year's experience, I realize that those followers die off slowly- and I understand completely. There are only so many blogs you can visit and comment on in a typical day. Plus the fact that over time, a reader may realize that certain blogs just aren't "for them". If that's how you feel about my blog- then you're excused. Go dust that bookshelf or fold those towels- it's okay- really.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It amazes me how many great unknown bloggers that are out there! How can one voice be heard among so many? There really is no way to research this. It's all trial and error. I've found some of my favorite blogs on the sidebars of other bloggers. And I try to visit most on a weekly basis, if not more often.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">From last year's challenge, I've kept sweet friends whose writing inspires and amazes me. And luckily, this year has been no exception. I'm following people who will now be part of my morning routine for as long as they keep sharing their written thoughts.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I loved the way that some challengers developed a theme (and I may try that next year). I'm constantly in awe of photos, drawings, quotes and personal experiences. And I always love to learn new things, discover writing tips, shed a few tears, and laugh out loud. Thank you to all of you talented writers who gave me the gift of all those wonderful things.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There are days when I was tired. Lazy, too. Days when I did not want to hear another letter of the alphabet ! ...or go to bed dreaming about what to write the next day. But the A to Z Challenge was a necessary push to help me grow. Not only as a writer, but as a person. One who isn't afraid to open their heart and let out both good and bad stuff.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I found that some of my more serious and intimate writes got the most comments, but <a href="http://raefrazier.blogspot.com/2011/04/s-social-anxiety-disorder.html">one particular post</a> that I held dear to my heart had only four comments. It just goes to show how varied reader's interest can be.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was also sorta hoping that writing religiously every single day and stressing myself out over subject matter would keep my hands busy so that I would lose weight. But, that backfired big time! There was nothing more comforting than a big bowl of cheesy chili and a Mounds bar to help the words flow more smoothly... Rats! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, now that A to Z is over, it's back to the Wii and Weight Watchers! Arghhh!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Some suggestions would be to list the blog challengers by genre. For example: I wouldn't be interested in a blog about recycling or biology, but I adore decorating blogs and down to earth experiences. This might help to alleviate some of the time involved in visiting other bloggers. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Also,I like the idea that this is done in April. It helps rid the cobwebs of winter- and is still early enough that it doesn't interfere with yard work and gardening.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I do want to say that I would keep blogging even if no one followed, although it is an extra bonus to be heard and enjoyed. I am hoping my writing will be cherished and loved by my children and my family- that my words will live on someday, even after I am gone. Hopefully they will be able to laugh and cry and see a part of me that only writing could express. I can't stop writing, though I have tried. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's like breathing. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And what a breath of fresh air this A to Z Challenge has been! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you all for joining me.</span>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-9731705839141444472011-04-30T04:11:00.006-05:002011-04-30T04:11:00.119-05:00(Z) Zuzu's Petals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5019/5418488583_e7eea2fdc7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5019/5418488583_e7eea2fdc7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We are all familiar with the great classic movie, "It's A Wonderful Life".</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Every Christmas holiday my family curls up near the tree with a bowl of popcorn and a box of tissue. And then we act as though we've never seen George Baily before- or felt that familiar twinge of wishing we had a "do-over"...of wondering what life would be like if our choices had been different.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There are still parts of ordinary days when I have regrets - mostly about the things I didn't do. What if I had finished college? Pursued my writing or art? Put off marriage and raising a family? Started a healthy lifestyle years ago? Saved my money wisely?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But, yet, I know that all my choices overlap... that they are pieces of a bigger puzzle,woven tightly into my happiness and my well-being... that my experiences are layers of lessons that make me who I am today.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I think we always assume that given the opportunity, a "do-over" would bring nothing but a more desirable outcome. We rarely imagine that changing the past might offer us only heartache and struggle.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But we'll never truly know.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That's why we should embrace every day. Don't wait till it's over to do the things you want to do. Take chances. Be bold. Reach out. Dance.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You lose 24 hours of your life everyday. It gets shorter, older, less full of energy and power.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And you've only got one chance at it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It took George Bailey a trip back in time to be grateful for the present.And he came to realize that there will always be struggles, misfortune, and unfinished dreams.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Feeling Zuzu's petals in his pocket made him aware of the <i>moment</i>. The <i>now</i>. The chance to make this day better. He suddenly knew that nothing is sweeter than family and friends and the reality of new possibilities.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So-</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hold tightly to your Zuzu petals. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Grasp the moment.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Be happy. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sing. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Fly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Don't live in regret, but rejoice in today.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Because after all, it is <i>a wonderful life!</i></span>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-31658823333773827692011-04-29T04:08:00.001-05:002011-04-29T04:08:00.085-05:00(Y) Yesterday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.chicagonow.com/blogs/reinvention-of-life/assets_c/2010/05/old%20woman%20and%20young%20girl%20in%20mirror-thumb-640xauto-133113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://www.chicagonow.com/blogs/reinvention-of-life/assets_c/2010/05/old%20woman%20and%20young%20girl%20in%20mirror-thumb-640xauto-133113.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: large;">Today is brought to you by the letter “Y”</span><span style="font-size: large;">…</span><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">(And</span> <span style="font-size: large;">I beg forgiveness from the Beatles…)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Please sing along with me today, won’t you?</span></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: large;">**********************************</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday...</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">I could run and laugh and I could play-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now I'm thick and soft and turning gray-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, where the heck is Yesterday?</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Suddenly,</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am twice the gal I used to be-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">and there are wrinkles hanging over me-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, how'd I change so suddenly?</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why I</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">had to grow- I don't know-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm not that wise-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">I did something wrong, now I long</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">for thinner thighs.</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: large;">Yesterday. </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was firm and set like hardened clay-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now it really sucks to feel this way-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, please come back, my yesterday!</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: large;">How I </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">got so old, no one's told- they didn't say-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">I wonder why -and now I cry</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">for Yesterday…</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday,</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">I smelled like flowers, bright and gay-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now it's beans and sauerkraut and hay! :(</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, where the heck is Yesterday?</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday,</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">I could hear and see and dance away-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now I'm bent and blind and... <u>“What'd you say?"</u></span><u> </u></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, how it sucks to feel this way...</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday,</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">There were no chin hairs in my way</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Or those flashes- (hot as Bobby Flay)-</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, how did I lose my Yesterday?</span> </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: large;">Yet, </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: large;">I know days will go-And I, with them- </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: large;">So I'll stay- But I will pray </span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: large;">For yesterday…a.a.a....</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: large;">...yesterday. </span>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4655457608428836802.post-40087887379901610032011-04-28T06:32:00.000-05:002011-04-28T06:32:03.642-05:00(X) Xylopyrography<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.whimsicalwood.com/Scrollsaw%20and%20Fretwork%20Pages/Resources/owlpussycatdetaib.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.whimsicalwood.com/Scrollsaw%20and%20Fretwork%20Pages/Resources/owlpussycatdetaib.jpeg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">David Stanley</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">Xy`lo*py*rog"ra*phy </span>( <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">n.</span><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;"></span>) <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">The</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">art</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">practice</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">of</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">burning</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">pictures</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">on</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">wood</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">with</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">a</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">hot</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">iron.</span></span></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">Remember wood burning kits when you were a kid ? </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">You usually got to practice burning a peace sign into a sliver of wood or on a leather patch. The smoke was stinky- and the result ? Not so good...</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">Many artists have taken that simple tool and created intricate and beautiful works of fine art. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">Here are a few of my favorite examples. <span style="font-size: small;">(Click on photos to see detail)</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/golden-eagle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/golden-eagle.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif; font-size: small;">Nedra Denison</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.whimsicalwood.com/Scrollsaw%20and%20Fretwork%20Pages/Resources/olddogwaitingpyra.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.whimsicalwood.com/Scrollsaw%20and%20Fretwork%20Pages/Resources/olddogwaitingpyra.jpeg" width="253" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">David Stanley</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.whimsicalwood.com/Scrollsaw%20and%20Fretwork%20Pages/Resources/ironfencewithspaa.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.whimsicalwood.com/Scrollsaw%20and%20Fretwork%20Pages/Resources/ironfencewithspaa.jpeg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">David Stanley</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/PY4nude.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/PY4nude.jpg" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif; font-size: small;">Dino Muradian</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/celtic-clock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/celtic-clock.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Frank Drummond</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/eroglu/eroglu2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/eroglu/eroglu2.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif; font-size: small;">Kenan Eroglu</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/Otter1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="183" src="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/Otter1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif; font-size: small;">Pierre Larribau</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif; font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif; font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/m-boxes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="202" src="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/m-boxes.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Daniel Wright</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/female-mallard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://www.patrickfaleur.com/pyrography/gallery/female-mallard.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Roy Hewson</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span id="hotword"><span style="font-size: large;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">So- next time your little cub scout asks for a wood burning kit for Christmas, you might indulge him. </span></span></span><br />
<span id="hotword"><span style="font-size: large;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">Who knows where it might take him? Maybe to explore xylopyrography! </span></span> </span>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05891208362992412147noreply@blogger.com16