tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84149963763753711712024-03-19T00:33:43.378-04:00Self-Disclosureautobiographical notes of a psychotherapistRWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-70015549868183144482010-03-04T01:36:00.020-05:002010-03-23T16:52:40.028-04:00Moving On<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCWr5g3BZ3f4Qb0lDyGsu5NQJXKXyMY8W-CTbfqKpMlrL3hTN5F03Ty0UZQlhZuLxl4Htm9ZlJyZZIplzLwjlMhJDhc0wq2-9GEQ-VJ2yCtbD7azX2kpeEfZL1vzKZTAo0p2ch0B8LL0/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+037.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCWr5g3BZ3f4Qb0lDyGsu5NQJXKXyMY8W-CTbfqKpMlrL3hTN5F03Ty0UZQlhZuLxl4Htm9ZlJyZZIplzLwjlMhJDhc0wq2-9GEQ-VJ2yCtbD7azX2kpeEfZL1vzKZTAo0p2ch0B8LL0/s400/older+pictures+-+037.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451911827735881234" /></a><br />Dear Readers,<br /><br />If you happen to notice this after giving up on me in my long absence, please know I am forced to take a break from the blogging world because I have become completely overwhelmed with work responsibilities since I was cast on an upcoming television program as their mental-health expert - which I had them re-label as "Emotional Wellness Coach." The program is a women's health public service endeavor and will be aired on cable in a number of major US metro areas and everywhere via the internet. I will come back to this blog and give details when I'm allowed to do so. Meanwhile, forgive my retreat from this venue. I am writing a great deal for the tv program, filming, etc., takes at least one full day a week, and the rest of my life is pretty busy, as always. Let me give an update:<br /><br />Business in my DC office picked up and I did not have enough time available in my shared office space. Not being able to afford my own office and my living expenses in two places, I got the idea that if I had the right office of my own, I could live and work in the same place in DC. A friend I've known for about 9 years had just advertised offices available in his suite, very close to the shared Georgetown office. The available office is perfect for me and so I broke the lease on the row house - moving out with the help of a dear friend - paying the upcoming months' rent, and forfeiting the deposit. I ended up paying rent/mortgage x6 that month between my Valley home and office, the row house, the old office, and the new place's deposit and rent. But the increased business and the savings of having only one place in the city should quickly make up for the losses. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6sthw3ZI82qEu7jGuwuR4kp-pzI8p5H-bVSKlulKtoivc9hqHMZktkzQIGiIEgjOMLTspBQhjzSpQmjDWftaiG84TMroq9uNOc4b-e0SGmcApjsZ2RbnKVtX-x40fW5doFqcGMw0OAQ/s1600-h/Mar+2010+office+003.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6sthw3ZI82qEu7jGuwuR4kp-pzI8p5H-bVSKlulKtoivc9hqHMZktkzQIGiIEgjOMLTspBQhjzSpQmjDWftaiG84TMroq9uNOc4b-e0SGmcApjsZ2RbnKVtX-x40fW5doFqcGMw0OAQ/s400/Mar+2010+office+003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451912771980409954" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrhDA9J0f_fp3gWFo63ZElZ6RDsn9r-A2NMg4i0wyM15UCCtzf4T4ItY1CdaYXsDZ7eBZ6VXVzX4fWxwdWgYR3Jcd9hD6D8XY2R6QhJff_oHiUyQAV7nQPLBIDiL5rjxJe8GA916TAXY/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+006.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrhDA9J0f_fp3gWFo63ZElZ6RDsn9r-A2NMg4i0wyM15UCCtzf4T4ItY1CdaYXsDZ7eBZ6VXVzX4fWxwdWgYR3Jcd9hD6D8XY2R6QhJff_oHiUyQAV7nQPLBIDiL5rjxJe8GA916TAXY/s400/older+pictures+-+006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451913334898243490" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPwEWx6SDqsUCfToa0TRF-Du1pNaYDiYx9SeAQ-lMfEDCqrCeV5kLw3PBRcVzC4sTMoW4I7Drp1-XgKrIQKrEZxmuK3X0SzDRPfrDpxsV5cOgKP0sidTn1e2A3d-S2F3YlUaTdImmmD4/s1600-h/Mar+2010+office+006.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPwEWx6SDqsUCfToa0TRF-Du1pNaYDiYx9SeAQ-lMfEDCqrCeV5kLw3PBRcVzC4sTMoW4I7Drp1-XgKrIQKrEZxmuK3X0SzDRPfrDpxsV5cOgKP0sidTn1e2A3d-S2F3YlUaTdImmmD4/s400/Mar+2010+office+006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451913996672396130" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JE9eDZvbVeIPAi7Vze7C0cNqwRW27pDp719f1IXdOOUpfqjDgGEDpIOkm_b3mr9i7hyphenhyphenvN0yWPvnNZyAXQhBpcT4NR8LMcNBsj1RgEkGAd1-zzJrsBh_gdXrpWyU46edDaRRJAgDqwiY/s1600-h/Mar+2010+office+005.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JE9eDZvbVeIPAi7Vze7C0cNqwRW27pDp719f1IXdOOUpfqjDgGEDpIOkm_b3mr9i7hyphenhyphenvN0yWPvnNZyAXQhBpcT4NR8LMcNBsj1RgEkGAd1-zzJrsBh_gdXrpWyU46edDaRRJAgDqwiY/s200/Mar+2010+office+005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451915346696266642" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJcJq8IDtyJkoeivKE-TMfDfoFy-i_M2dvx9Gob1dAd1b5wAFRtwuEGTv8RZpu3OqusnPd9djj58Iq8V6ALERKVpwTjrmuKf2Smo-4Eu0AWilu1mB1BuQ4jULwiqGEJGv1VorWvlniziw/s1600-h/Mar+2010+office+009.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJcJq8IDtyJkoeivKE-TMfDfoFy-i_M2dvx9Gob1dAd1b5wAFRtwuEGTv8RZpu3OqusnPd9djj58Iq8V6ALERKVpwTjrmuKf2Smo-4Eu0AWilu1mB1BuQ4jULwiqGEJGv1VorWvlniziw/s200/Mar+2010+office+009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451914857652767730" /></a><br /><br />Concurrent with my decision to move, the tv program asked if we could film some of my role in the show in my office - so the pressure was on to move and settle quickly! I saw the new place and made the decision to move on February 26th. I moved out of my row house that night, staying in the new place immediately. I then returned for EG's 5 year old birthday party the next day. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPXZCRNOyRdsgSJt589tIBNq5XrVuC-kjYA5h0uSQ_ncu6YcZT0kXzRVkjGIQ_6D1BPbCZHE7DyumDQLiI8SSzoW8IMY12qRau2iFqU64bHnQEb_OVFFFKxYcqlf_2Poa2ROx_oPxfl8/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+054.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPXZCRNOyRdsgSJt589tIBNq5XrVuC-kjYA5h0uSQ_ncu6YcZT0kXzRVkjGIQ_6D1BPbCZHE7DyumDQLiI8SSzoW8IMY12qRau2iFqU64bHnQEb_OVFFFKxYcqlf_2Poa2ROx_oPxfl8/s400/older+pictures+-+054.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451917808091901442" /></a><br /><br />On the 4th of March, my next visit to DC, I had a pick-up truck loaded down with things to take to the new office, when I discovered that one of my cats, Mulberry, had snuck outside and had been hit by a car. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBRfqAi0VKG6tN9xSqgImoTRv-tm7pizZQf04R5MOXrWf98lh8Bic7sKcxQfzue33Qx7MlnN3P_8DGDey2ZrT2X6PUCAX0vAbGaZetsMf-nckQYa7vARGit604NwTDc9JZa1t0OukaN8/s1600-h/mr.+Mulberry.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBRfqAi0VKG6tN9xSqgImoTRv-tm7pizZQf04R5MOXrWf98lh8Bic7sKcxQfzue33Qx7MlnN3P_8DGDey2ZrT2X6PUCAX0vAbGaZetsMf-nckQYa7vARGit604NwTDc9JZa1t0OukaN8/s400/mr.+Mulberry.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451916140901909826" /></a><br />Having clients scheduled in DC, some with emergencies going on, I had to care for his body, suppress my emotions, and make the drive to DC. When I arrived I caught a UPS delivery man near my office and paid him to help me unload the truck. When I saw my first client in the new place that afternoon, I'd barely had time to wipe my tears (about Mulberry) and the sweat off my brow from carrying things up 5 flights of stairs (Yes five. No elevator.) <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqEychNa7RSGBFY9LqAbfgilNwcGSC9pTTiBkoaDflpDanU00fpcP_f0PISXqG3gPvULWWDvf8AcXiAhKhJzFCUFNBEP6fFO__hFOgTZWBvP-zDn8wP53rZJJTO1yjTHD-n-JoORnudU/s1600-h/Mulberry.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqEychNa7RSGBFY9LqAbfgilNwcGSC9pTTiBkoaDflpDanU00fpcP_f0PISXqG3gPvULWWDvf8AcXiAhKhJzFCUFNBEP6fFO__hFOgTZWBvP-zDn8wP53rZJJTO1yjTHD-n-JoORnudU/s400/Mulberry.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451920171572336738" /></a><br /><br />I had more clinical emergencies going on that week than ever before in my almost 14 years of seeing clients, and with the pressure of the move and the death of that sweet cat, I was overwhelmed. I should have post-poned a blind date that had been set up for that evening, but I had to be in DC. I had clients until 7:30 that evening and again the next morning, and was too exhausted to make the drive home, and back. To do that 6 hour commute would have been dangerous, but I contemplated it. I'd have to tell the girls about Mulberry over the phone, having made sure they were surrounded with others' support, in person. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNhkv77fweoMOk0JRhCBfHuzcUaEye5yyS146NRTwZV7xlGFmGtwvMIYlIUIGhVGd4iWLf-0NJmpx9jWoZCGAliLKYTzlcboECuLkwf-y-Y3lFlcrKeVyBvv_2sfVBdaPcsDuZ7No6dXw/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+394.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNhkv77fweoMOk0JRhCBfHuzcUaEye5yyS146NRTwZV7xlGFmGtwvMIYlIUIGhVGd4iWLf-0NJmpx9jWoZCGAliLKYTzlcboECuLkwf-y-Y3lFlcrKeVyBvv_2sfVBdaPcsDuZ7No6dXw/s400/older+pictures+-+394.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451920713938683762" /></a><br /><br />And so, selfishly, I wanted a distraction, company, and the chance to meet this person, and I could imagine what the guy would think if I used a dead cat as an excuse for cancelling! So instead I showed up at 7:45 for a dinner date at a terrific wine bar/bistro - Vinoteca - http://www.vinotecadc.com/ <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JqQk_CO6eM4ztbp7Stebex0OBeSVjszxbjfNcEHKgjGn0Ma-SIEzlwrhquiaXa8kRpaP6VdnrnRhVTOANWFxPglsu0lGetP2ZXGveqSeGCJSrO8ZlNWR9wpWbIEJg-1S94Wl_NGkO5U/s1600-h/vinotecastore.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JqQk_CO6eM4ztbp7Stebex0OBeSVjszxbjfNcEHKgjGn0Ma-SIEzlwrhquiaXa8kRpaP6VdnrnRhVTOANWFxPglsu0lGetP2ZXGveqSeGCJSrO8ZlNWR9wpWbIEJg-1S94Wl_NGkO5U/s400/vinotecastore.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451930929981797250" /></a><br />with dark circles under my eyes and the need to interrupt things 15 minutes after meeting - in order to call my children and tell them about their pet. That was awful - their horrified sobs over the phone - my wanting to hold them - knowing I had a very long weekend of patients ahead - needing to hold myself together - desperately needing the money to cover my gamble on the new place - and ultimately to ensure my children's security, their future.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRWG2h_uqLJ7ysH2HZ7R-esfHRmqLSEbtpeZxFnHzU-Gusl6tTdYnJQKf9n7Ll0P8dIxIat6ttB1rOT13V6lmyuZZYs69nI3X0S5Oro1Tc7o0PZDIP-VMDw0tdwg09cj5hbSvrbYnCz8E/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+047.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRWG2h_uqLJ7ysH2HZ7R-esfHRmqLSEbtpeZxFnHzU-Gusl6tTdYnJQKf9n7Ll0P8dIxIat6ttB1rOT13V6lmyuZZYs69nI3X0S5Oro1Tc7o0PZDIP-VMDw0tdwg09cj5hbSvrbYnCz8E/s400/older+pictures+-+047.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451926468628460434" /></a><br /><br /><br />I'm so glad I did not eat alone that evening and that I met my new friend, M. Though he admitted later to thinking the date might end up being a "worst" because of my condition about the cat, he did not let on and was very warm and understanding. He is a person full of life and energy, he's funny, intelligent, creative, and wise. He is Italian, from Rome, same age as me, a veteran of the Italian Air Force, first Gulf War, and a single father to a one year old and a four year old. He has a good and interesting job in DC, he brings out the best in me, and we have had several marvelous weeks of dating . . . romantic evenings trying great restaurants around the District, walking together, holding hands, under dripping tree lights in the lovely courtyard at my new place - M asking, "Are you sure we're not in Rome?" . . . We're taking it slow, but it would sure be nice to be done with dating and to have such a wonderful companion in my life, long-term. I met up with him and his children one afternoon in Old Town, as his friend, and loved seeing his parenting side. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcvmcX1bhd1DyUMUJIu3SGRAXHFlaq1z7hxMfoUjn_aJBubAdFYLLoIxkkODHSDDuKPoUXV91UcMMCGKsuzt2P4KkD-2RjeGWyMXP-V_Sc2TgzWN6YzcAr8hL10j8z0xYnh1VqKJMCes/s1600-h/Mar+2010+004.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcvmcX1bhd1DyUMUJIu3SGRAXHFlaq1z7hxMfoUjn_aJBubAdFYLLoIxkkODHSDDuKPoUXV91UcMMCGKsuzt2P4KkD-2RjeGWyMXP-V_Sc2TgzWN6YzcAr8hL10j8z0xYnh1VqKJMCes/s400/Mar+2010+004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451918566792455074" /></a><br /><br />M and I are contemplating a quick spring break together. . .the French West Indies, perhaps . . .<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmc6WOB2jjq46EANkWlrHSRx8RIRLuE2Ek9HKDX3BKZg-qMPXyxHAO9EN1O-bulkwAXx8P5omuwF0hJzj2XSAW3SLd_v94isWCuATG_yv-MRFUmbUMMR0ckuKfP2SlQmXcTP6xzipuuoM/s1600-h/grand-case.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmc6WOB2jjq46EANkWlrHSRx8RIRLuE2Ek9HKDX3BKZg-qMPXyxHAO9EN1O-bulkwAXx8P5omuwF0hJzj2XSAW3SLd_v94isWCuATG_yv-MRFUmbUMMR0ckuKfP2SlQmXcTP6xzipuuoM/s400/grand-case.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451927855165320290" /></a><br /><br />My little darlings are doing good, following the great sadness about Mulberry, they recovered quickly, as children do. With filming television show taking so much time, I've been taking time off in middle of week and doing things with the girl's at school, like field trips. Here is a fun story of a recent (mis)adventure with them: <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAhbKQBoxOfFYJ_d0lsKonv9DCV003mYRB4r-nATG796eybz4f7dW_tsiWd7LiT7Iwp4wXWnNdqMn_yEQC7lO4a2NfBNAzBcV_lte3rn66Lads_rQJq5sw7HqGiIvNcUI6y9yQZPcvkw/s1600-h/Jan+2010+024.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAhbKQBoxOfFYJ_d0lsKonv9DCV003mYRB4r-nATG796eybz4f7dW_tsiWd7LiT7Iwp4wXWnNdqMn_yEQC7lO4a2NfBNAzBcV_lte3rn66Lads_rQJq5sw7HqGiIvNcUI6y9yQZPcvkw/s400/Jan+2010+024.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451921573808362818" /></a><br /><br /><br />I'm in Target with my girls, shopping for my new place. The store is packed with people and my cart is packed with large items. We are in the section with office chairs and other furniture.<br /><br />Back up, remember the darlings' father has recently had surgery on his Achilles tendon. He has moved from a wheelchair, to crutches, to still limping about in a cast across this whole blasted blizzardly winter. (Karma for making me a soccer widow all those years?) Seriously, I've tried to help by increasing my chauffering of the children duties, carrying in a few of his groceries, and offering assistance, but he's proud of being independent inspite of limitations, so that it hasn't been a top issue for ME. So he's had a wheelchair at work and has been wheeling about in an office chair at his home. He's used the desk chair so much, the arm has broken off, but it still works. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxT7pIZVsLNhCF-kn1wYyzgfVumUASeoYoy1mw7UHuC9fGEE3XsOhVSNgtABOudPg5I9ZSJgDEhYuAInNTV8l6-dwEpP42ke5SrIx0-fpN5TuF4gUzsawzOBeio1PNQ2l1J6JAhNei2io/s1600-h/Mar+2010+013.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxT7pIZVsLNhCF-kn1wYyzgfVumUASeoYoy1mw7UHuC9fGEE3XsOhVSNgtABOudPg5I9ZSJgDEhYuAInNTV8l6-dwEpP42ke5SrIx0-fpN5TuF4gUzsawzOBeio1PNQ2l1J6JAhNei2io/s400/Mar+2010+013.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451922132871862642" /></a><br /><br />So here are girls and I in Target and one of them announces loudly: "Mommy, you need to get daddy a new wheelchair." And my response as I focus on lamps or something I need for my office is: "I'm not buying your daddy a wheelchair." Innocent response from a young child who routinely manifests her thinking that if I'm at a store, whatever is needed or wanted by anyone can and should be purchased immediately: "But mommy, his is broken". Me: "Honey, I'm here to get stuff for me, I'm not buying your daddy a wheelchair." Four year old: "But mommy, how is Daddy supossed to move around?" At that point I look up from my lamp comparisons and notice the scores of shoppers surrounding us, staring with dropped jaws. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGy1oQaCQjvxfLHyA-uuuTkJhyphenhyphenuWJJX303WmL13GjrgheIJTdQ7DMvD9PYL7_7DM9q0Z9GrsshTm6kxLmGLe9RMkxuXAlRdO4faVYTHw2tdh1h-5AfCr67gooseKP5bUAUJyCKqkDMCXs/s1600-h/Mar+2010+017.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGy1oQaCQjvxfLHyA-uuuTkJhyphenhyphenuWJJX303WmL13GjrgheIJTdQ7DMvD9PYL7_7DM9q0Z9GrsshTm6kxLmGLe9RMkxuXAlRdO4faVYTHw2tdh1h-5AfCr67gooseKP5bUAUJyCKqkDMCXs/s400/Mar+2010+017.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451924067837440514" /></a><br /><br />Really, folks, I can explain. . .<br /><br />Hopefully none of them were potential clients. "Yes ma'am, I'm a very empathic psychotherapist. I will help you deal with your grief about the loss of your ability to exercise, like you once did, since your hip replacement." Great marketing in a small town, just fantastic. Next time I'll be sure to put sandwich boards over the kids, before we go out in public - something like "Mine or my mother's behavior in public has absolutely nothing to do with what life wisdom and guidance she can offer you as a client. Please call ........" <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMqyrMGmVGOo9BOC_EOHJ7pkDZdx-IcJE_YJw5rVXWlKm1bf-vPW-tvNOPo5vmin3XY4n4x-0iL1oE8JtR809jqrrfn-0xIvbUIjDsmBCJ1hXmnKEaHL0jQ06qewN5iUu9cj-U8awsHk/s1600-h/Mar+2010+010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMqyrMGmVGOo9BOC_EOHJ7pkDZdx-IcJE_YJw5rVXWlKm1bf-vPW-tvNOPo5vmin3XY4n4x-0iL1oE8JtR809jqrrfn-0xIvbUIjDsmBCJ1hXmnKEaHL0jQ06qewN5iUu9cj-U8awsHk/s400/Mar+2010+010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451924581910212434" /></a><br /><br />So, for now, I'm signing off. I've seen 30 patients since Saturday, it is Tuesday afternoon. I need to do laundry, and cook, and sleep as well as preparing for the filming of this weeks' episode. Feel free to keep in touch, and I will resume blogging when I can.RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-25111057038195407032010-02-21T09:45:00.045-05:002010-02-21T20:04:45.513-05:00Flaming Volcanoes and Receeding Glacial Ice<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcz0SVKK0RqMMSQJtw-cNiIITx-eE0vjpNTKNi_sOEmAt0EA0eFQ8dABN8GIeehTzvhfVkIhCe_CSo4BmCFIrMxbnCzbMFi803M-ddzrCcic5NSNbHlI7ItT5LEBiteTjoGMhi_5Omq8/s1600-h/haleakala_snow.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcz0SVKK0RqMMSQJtw-cNiIITx-eE0vjpNTKNi_sOEmAt0EA0eFQ8dABN8GIeehTzvhfVkIhCe_CSo4BmCFIrMxbnCzbMFi803M-ddzrCcic5NSNbHlI7ItT5LEBiteTjoGMhi_5Omq8/s200/haleakala_snow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440838777043863426" /></a><br /><strong>Fire and Ice </strong><br /><br /><em>Some say the world will end in fire,<br />Some say in ice.<br />From what I've tasted of desire<br />I hold with those who favor fire.<br />But if it had to perish twice,<br />I think I know enough of hate<br />To say that for destruction ice<br />Is also great<br />And would suffice. </em><br /><br /><strong>Robert Frost </strong><br /><br />On my birthday, over a week ago, for the first time in recorded history, there was snow in all 50 states, if you count snow capped mountain peaks in Hawaii (Haleakala, Hawaii pictured above.) Meanwhile, the Winter Olympics were going on in British Columbia, and the US was actually having to send snow to Canada because they did not have enough for the events. I don't have television, so I haven't seen much of the Olympics. At a friend's place the other evening, I did enjoy watching some Ice Dancing and the Women's Skeleton. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-IyhlMKAZlMSFM1PTXPPMx0ReoVOmKgJ8j9efEBGhJXt9eECcYmhc-lCjrHk8PPNuR8RHVtTRKZKFhWWgxVCMAnNvPGINjxSUeq9y8QTCr-xdVizoWpkCed24HFdrBqFPA0QmrmGG1fs/s1600-h/Jan+2010.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-IyhlMKAZlMSFM1PTXPPMx0ReoVOmKgJ8j9efEBGhJXt9eECcYmhc-lCjrHk8PPNuR8RHVtTRKZKFhWWgxVCMAnNvPGINjxSUeq9y8QTCr-xdVizoWpkCed24HFdrBqFPA0QmrmGG1fs/s400/Jan+2010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440840087681997250" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhrRM6_5TvdL0hfYpSC5KM9n0kJsvmrNKvp_6GtSENMFgT2oTJZ4LmgpuxtJjEbCqYmAomoJvcALDE_IYaQxIhW_HhQYAeE2GXKCcO77tIH98N0fi02b4XPHPa4W0A5n8feRAhFUTXSw/s1600-h/Jan+2010+001.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhrRM6_5TvdL0hfYpSC5KM9n0kJsvmrNKvp_6GtSENMFgT2oTJZ4LmgpuxtJjEbCqYmAomoJvcALDE_IYaQxIhW_HhQYAeE2GXKCcO77tIH98N0fi02b4XPHPa4W0A5n8feRAhFUTXSw/s400/Jan+2010+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440841848500167154" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I had the opportunity to do the Skeleton on the track in Calgary, about nine years ago. What a thrill; though I spent more time signing waivers than it took to descend on the sled! I have been to 7 of Canada's provinces and to 49 states, Hawaii is the only state I'm missing. I'm hopeful for a vacation with a romantic partner there someday. I just have to finish interviewing applicants and hire someone for the position. (Please note, cooking skills required.)<br /><br />I've been makin' bacon (ok, burning it) and eggs for my younguns and just generally enjoying a lazy Sunday morning, reflecting on the week, catching up on reading other's blogs,the news, listening to my 9 year old practice piano, and looking forward to a day of flying around these beautiful snowy mountains, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUdZbyx_E2vEEaKbWDyDIuza70AwXwHrsDuMQakFwPKT3odz6uo5AOuYCGmdqFqsZ2OtM1SvoW8GtRi0glu7VM_FCVmthjRyuC4tMNhZRGNyuMVksgFNL2AffPgzIu5aWtM-AQMJIvXA/s1600-h/Jan+2010+007.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUdZbyx_E2vEEaKbWDyDIuza70AwXwHrsDuMQakFwPKT3odz6uo5AOuYCGmdqFqsZ2OtM1SvoW8GtRi0glu7VM_FCVmthjRyuC4tMNhZRGNyuMVksgFNL2AffPgzIu5aWtM-AQMJIvXA/s400/Jan+2010+007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440847106038877666" /></a>doing aerobatic stunts, like the one EG calls the <em>Negative G Remover</em> (a <em>Maneuver</em> that temporarily defies gravity, <em>removing</em> one from their seat), and landing at a local ski resort's airstrip for some tubing with my daughters and one of the best friends ever, BB. (O.K. - here are pictures, I wrote in the morning, added photos at the end of the day.)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDHC7BhWhK3oz_X0HW66lUBcqpXdrI5F-J3Y4pBtdncH-Gt8_Tfft2eKLS9TiDNovXsPRdkC22pQUu7pz11iQqkZOoa0FifrX60XQuwWQs_YMUfm7PdF6MB4uC2PcpQnxVoPlS8K9_xnc/s1600-h/Jan+2010+009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDHC7BhWhK3oz_X0HW66lUBcqpXdrI5F-J3Y4pBtdncH-Gt8_Tfft2eKLS9TiDNovXsPRdkC22pQUu7pz11iQqkZOoa0FifrX60XQuwWQs_YMUfm7PdF6MB4uC2PcpQnxVoPlS8K9_xnc/s400/Jan+2010+009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440847593293368306" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbH3LhdVU1RcOHdmDF0dtR856fcl_7kUhZWLu5gh9_N9HRat3I5J4IOJ7eyarSX8-AhQ2_GdbSUad0sES34pTFi-m1CuzitPtGOsmU_qCclLNPaHZywsozI0Z-d6G9BI6vJwxozj3pDbc/s1600-h/Jan+2010+011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbH3LhdVU1RcOHdmDF0dtR856fcl_7kUhZWLu5gh9_N9HRat3I5J4IOJ7eyarSX8-AhQ2_GdbSUad0sES34pTFi-m1CuzitPtGOsmU_qCclLNPaHZywsozI0Z-d6G9BI6vJwxozj3pDbc/s400/Jan+2010+011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440848356746338018" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGeuxrPVoar2QUzFIZkvQpJfQJCQ-TGJUtESr7uZ_ZUyg8Qdk_Gjojw7vyhpJ_ueEUIFOTy3LKaytOQJT8hbAk5InC3CRJ7kkBwqmIuHtsbSgZ-ICSmsx5yMi6qqWwCqUlOnPL33UErzo/s1600-h/Jan+2010+012.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGeuxrPVoar2QUzFIZkvQpJfQJCQ-TGJUtESr7uZ_ZUyg8Qdk_Gjojw7vyhpJ_ueEUIFOTy3LKaytOQJT8hbAk5InC3CRJ7kkBwqmIuHtsbSgZ-ICSmsx5yMi6qqWwCqUlOnPL33UErzo/s200/Jan+2010+012.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440848820891651938" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLn7pT3qa6dgWJlSGa-8ZOkqV0bECMGwX_wzuGw8tDGT67Nk5f5tJOBQpmsHo9GzedvIXcEHQs15DBM-xX7RXAI4MjRkIE9d98TfIUXFJSpaXQmGRvLw8Bh0yV9F_7e75kQam878_xNJE/s1600-h/Jan+2010+013.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLn7pT3qa6dgWJlSGa-8ZOkqV0bECMGwX_wzuGw8tDGT67Nk5f5tJOBQpmsHo9GzedvIXcEHQs15DBM-xX7RXAI4MjRkIE9d98TfIUXFJSpaXQmGRvLw8Bh0yV9F_7e75kQam878_xNJE/s200/Jan+2010+013.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440849337323114850" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHTEKQhWcd3LuZNVXTjCGTNx36Pif3HUX_9CGz-dXDLxgF-0-GeWYQKyrqDVXgF1j6UZq7nD26o8Z-JV7iYX9keFwGwWedeB90RFeaGLGdea_8ZinxClmMTfXn2Q0Gxm1H6RQLnqma3lA/s1600-h/Jan+2010+014.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHTEKQhWcd3LuZNVXTjCGTNx36Pif3HUX_9CGz-dXDLxgF-0-GeWYQKyrqDVXgF1j6UZq7nD26o8Z-JV7iYX9keFwGwWedeB90RFeaGLGdea_8ZinxClmMTfXn2Q0Gxm1H6RQLnqma3lA/s200/Jan+2010+014.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440850282541436562" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidxORBjqHibLYZN9pD4xVXxNeCHjIQiLJSFMePoGIHvD3Zxojh_ghDePNcBnF9F8IjJah2zkqxdA3qPKZ_bvexb4ACfKVvwnRA_aPIroMPuN-XwCc55mHOY46PZiuwFJyGuk5pWyooUs8/s1600-h/Jan+2010+017.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidxORBjqHibLYZN9pD4xVXxNeCHjIQiLJSFMePoGIHvD3Zxojh_ghDePNcBnF9F8IjJah2zkqxdA3qPKZ_bvexb4ACfKVvwnRA_aPIroMPuN-XwCc55mHOY46PZiuwFJyGuk5pWyooUs8/s200/Jan+2010+017.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440850659088516514" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygaV33SzO5KlRU_2SxRpKHYwPl0skVVWPgdunWw9kOYKK2sWOhyphenhyphenjf6llxB7jSMA_E7tAuaCfP7wbb8G3YxLeeqYC0BkHAbfPVEBvFsHOBLqxC7Q-_kF36U2j_TfBa3VtcdOk1W3u6_TQ/s1600-h/Jan+2010+016.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygaV33SzO5KlRU_2SxRpKHYwPl0skVVWPgdunWw9kOYKK2sWOhyphenhyphenjf6llxB7jSMA_E7tAuaCfP7wbb8G3YxLeeqYC0BkHAbfPVEBvFsHOBLqxC7Q-_kF36U2j_TfBa3VtcdOk1W3u6_TQ/s400/Jan+2010+016.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440850853458046898" /></a><br /><br />It has been a quite difficult week, actually. I'm distressed, worried about my mom who has just gotten a diagnosis of chronic pulmonary embolisms (emboli?). She is just 57, and I hate that she is struggling so much, so young. I fear her loss. My dad died 10 years ago. He was only 51. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6x0rf-5jBfKHag0Fds5YVuRBC4muM2d8wnheX4YhKQGRO-j4dwlO5bgPj2axJpOwJeG9RBp1yQfk19rTHi1DNV1m4qbxcR20eHtg9FNdFczfzozgrOQEtZNCqjvRECZ6wROWrC9qHjQ/s1600-h/Jan+2010+038.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 291px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6x0rf-5jBfKHag0Fds5YVuRBC4muM2d8wnheX4YhKQGRO-j4dwlO5bgPj2axJpOwJeG9RBp1yQfk19rTHi1DNV1m4qbxcR20eHtg9FNdFczfzozgrOQEtZNCqjvRECZ6wROWrC9qHjQ/s400/Jan+2010+038.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440845149792326498" /></a>I feel powerless to do anything at all to help my mom. Here is a picture of her with my youngest, about 4 years ago. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_oABt07gwpME14dQxt_0w5U9hjCoCrLfU1y6L4chC5RCZujagyQSH8Eqp_ykNP0X3rac4Cqf6vJdilbKUkCMU-CBnBziB1YiVfyoBukLSbD4unAr_k-qVy4hupYhYUAhb2e19RmH3PWY/s1600-h/AAP+pics+013.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_oABt07gwpME14dQxt_0w5U9hjCoCrLfU1y6L4chC5RCZujagyQSH8Eqp_ykNP0X3rac4Cqf6vJdilbKUkCMU-CBnBziB1YiVfyoBukLSbD4unAr_k-qVy4hupYhYUAhb2e19RmH3PWY/s400/AAP+pics+013.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440843822418049138" /></a><br /><br />The week was also laden with heart wrenching client trauma: Haitian earthquake relief workers returning, more war stories (Afghanistan), children's deaths, suicides, rapes, so much suffering. I feel at times eviscerated. There is nothing left in me to give. <em>Compassion fatigue</em> is the clinical term. By the end of this week, I was on the verge of tears constantly, such that any personal emotional provocation nearly sunk me. This is a time when having good friends, moms, sister to talk to is critical. Thank you each and everyone.<br /><br />I also utilize my own therapy and supervision to absorb the overflow. My sister is a constant source of support. BB is a tireless confidant. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiws_F2wf2_SBUHl8nylVZ8hV15iZCxyowrs59s2d7bA2vMpGJYKo8N9GeqUaDqbzX9XmXxmG7gGXrnOeSSBmmpvt0nQiZJ6axwDXIBglauDOCPbCjnadiWG8461rCCLKP1wR-A2RQROBo/s1600-h/Jan+2010+022.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiws_F2wf2_SBUHl8nylVZ8hV15iZCxyowrs59s2d7bA2vMpGJYKo8N9GeqUaDqbzX9XmXxmG7gGXrnOeSSBmmpvt0nQiZJ6axwDXIBglauDOCPbCjnadiWG8461rCCLKP1wR-A2RQROBo/s400/Jan+2010+022.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440851346701944834" /></a>(In case you're wondering, BB & I tried the romance thing, but I've found that with him as a friend I can love him unconditionally. As boyfriend/girlfriend - we were oil & water, cats and dogs, all the cliche's - it was fabulous in some ways, but in important others, it just did not work. I am grateful to have him in my life in ways that do work.) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3LmiPuG79M7kLPz578clugNMfmxrAhG07-HLB57awBshAnNId_si99K_wgbqesO-XxVOPsr984n7Y03MAb65H2kT_6o40kSWBxFir_WRjTPtyU4S6hVXoPKaTGjkYWSSj2X-RZP7cf4Q/s1600-h/Jan+2010+023.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3LmiPuG79M7kLPz578clugNMfmxrAhG07-HLB57awBshAnNId_si99K_wgbqesO-XxVOPsr984n7Y03MAb65H2kT_6o40kSWBxFir_WRjTPtyU4S6hVXoPKaTGjkYWSSj2X-RZP7cf4Q/s400/Jan+2010+023.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440851562982733010" /></a><br /><br />I have new neigbors who are becoming good friends, too. GW moved in right across the street and we were saying initial hellos and were surprised to find out we are both psychologists practicing psychotherapy. (My two other closest neighbors coincidentally play in the community band with me.) Last night we went out with GW and her boyfriend for a very fun dinner at a Hibachi place. EG was enthralled by the chef's food aerobatics - particularly his creating a volcano from an onion. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtAJsskYnv3PVS9Y-LN7auO1KF9ETWm336pcFTeRzVgfKLnGA12SMNFnOIsGAQBNxUwuSkiwhTFYb4OvclM_H1LdbuVyBNq9UkLpWsdv-kTKwPzdsYbqzMfVGFf-4ChAACD52a20be-nk/s1600-h/Jan+2010+002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtAJsskYnv3PVS9Y-LN7auO1KF9ETWm336pcFTeRzVgfKLnGA12SMNFnOIsGAQBNxUwuSkiwhTFYb4OvclM_H1LdbuVyBNq9UkLpWsdv-kTKwPzdsYbqzMfVGFf-4ChAACD52a20be-nk/s400/Jan+2010+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440851906295059490" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTs3RLSHQ3ufpzYZWYc54LUUSuTY6UjYG7qPj5rFH1qyU8bXd1kzlRkjolBh-Ql7oag9gUtkJVQD_tBVXSSXrLo3ePOuhdJVvrPwU7LVq2xSo8YcmwBGl08mkSY2m36N7MAtiFj7E-f4/s1600-h/Jan+2010+004.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTs3RLSHQ3ufpzYZWYc54LUUSuTY6UjYG7qPj5rFH1qyU8bXd1kzlRkjolBh-Ql7oag9gUtkJVQD_tBVXSSXrLo3ePOuhdJVvrPwU7LVq2xSo8YcmwBGl08mkSY2m36N7MAtiFj7E-f4/s400/Jan+2010+004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440852171643206818" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26Jhx8oESrorx0dO0P5THu_uLIjP6L2Z_nwp9o_pw9LRLjUECCNvg5IsRSAgW1jwB8bZ2vPFL1oi4pv49yuayGZWbmbE-pelDbgi_L5i_LCetlgxwpMaIrcHbujZKvDmL_z0Lr9sZHnY/s1600-h/Jan+2010+003.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26Jhx8oESrorx0dO0P5THu_uLIjP6L2Z_nwp9o_pw9LRLjUECCNvg5IsRSAgW1jwB8bZ2vPFL1oi4pv49yuayGZWbmbE-pelDbgi_L5i_LCetlgxwpMaIrcHbujZKvDmL_z0Lr9sZHnY/s400/Jan+2010+003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440852384096397570" /></a><br /><br />GW and I discussed how being a therapist, listening hour after hour each week to others' lives, creates a need in our off-time to be a bit narcissistic. It's my turn to be heard some, when I'm off work! And we talked about how our expecting our patients to disclose so openly elicits within ourselves a freedom of speech and sharing, perhaps an openness that other, non-therapists would not find comfortable. Privacy? I have to worry about it too much with others' stories. This self-disclosure is also part of the recharge process, for me; I empty out the overflowing tanks and make room for more. If I can cathart all of this about myself, it refreshes me enough to keep going - keep containing clients' stories and pain. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNaNMs3rXhuCgNVr_7Fq6aF99zWnF4BTEpDdQlRXcArKOphkvnBBT2z4TNByOaL1rtr4PuaGzCCrYvwFE3XCrCD2SZBDI3KSERUU__P8Q0C-1NcElWZQWYYU8KbFuLM2oG0r0UIPqwmTI/s1600-h/Jan+2010+021.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNaNMs3rXhuCgNVr_7Fq6aF99zWnF4BTEpDdQlRXcArKOphkvnBBT2z4TNByOaL1rtr4PuaGzCCrYvwFE3XCrCD2SZBDI3KSERUU__P8Q0C-1NcElWZQWYYU8KbFuLM2oG0r0UIPqwmTI/s200/Jan+2010+021.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440854113624273586" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSbcZO3jS6COYoF_RFbfCSxNB4TtJTsmhhvpeu0W8PrOKjXXd06J1w90xBANFKkrgKlKdF3PJhyO6GeOGJ6myfBOT8Up-EiLKo2Y4vm2DQYnJoXjDiqfcLHB14OrQYePLJlJJaDLPdJU/s1600-h/Jan+2010+020.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSbcZO3jS6COYoF_RFbfCSxNB4TtJTsmhhvpeu0W8PrOKjXXd06J1w90xBANFKkrgKlKdF3PJhyO6GeOGJ6myfBOT8Up-EiLKo2Y4vm2DQYnJoXjDiqfcLHB14OrQYePLJlJJaDLPdJU/s200/Jan+2010+020.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440853530795364850" /></a><br /> <br /><br />Another bonus to my energy store: a budding friendship/romance was recently tested and has resurfaced. This person has been my muse. Each encounter with him seems to recharge my creative batteries. I need to thank him for his wisdom, his effortless and nearly constant subtle humor, and his shared, vulnerable, humanity . . .oh, and for cooking Southern comfort food for me when my strength falters. I wrote the following to my muse:<br /><br /><em>. . .So, I really long for physical contact, giving as much as receiving - it seems the only unguent for all the emotion that I take on each week . . . I give a lot to my daughters, but also want/need adult, mindful contact - the feeling of someone's skin - someone warm and breathing, sighing, snoring, the simplest touch is curative for me. When I'm beside you, maybe just our feet touching or my hand on your arm, I'm in touch with life, it is not removed. I am part of the world, grounded that way. Sometimes when I'm in the office sitting across from a client in so much pain, I feel almost as if I'm floating above the scene - so that I do not become overwhelmed in empathy and can continue to access the knowledge, skills, etc to help them in the way they need help from me. It is hard to be so close and yet so distant from 20 - 30 human beings each week. I don't know if someone who is not a therapist can understand what I'm talking about. . . </em><br /><br />For my blog follower, James, who felt my cliffhanger was unfair: This is the same muse who inspired the letters copied in <em>California Dreaming</em> post. I told you the story was ongoing - who knows where, but I'm gaining a lot just by having this person in my life for whatever season(s) he remains, in whatever form our relationship evolves. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSeTn2KsHuvLfa5Y5Cvdz0Q5MECKostgFgSPCSovcfNO79fB_J4L0jrLMFhGtFllGWtJXsnRIInGhppY1EAYLxOUKKkdp77SOL4_Y61J3C9FiINWdeIx8eMOyUdSccEfZw9Q_Thj4X7s/s1600-h/Jan+2010+029.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSeTn2KsHuvLfa5Y5Cvdz0Q5MECKostgFgSPCSovcfNO79fB_J4L0jrLMFhGtFllGWtJXsnRIInGhppY1EAYLxOUKKkdp77SOL4_Y61J3C9FiINWdeIx8eMOyUdSccEfZw9Q_Thj4X7s/s200/Jan+2010+029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440854819425932722" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3OBr25yntv29qw_tMYduPyowyovgyfbbbiahfxHbw8gjkP04tnOjx_ci-kKcsp3ILj57rXK4xg_a8cQvm3HZUyz6z0So29DPZL5SCNKp22-DIA1MUmNf5ISfLauMESzInEGHygdv1RIs/s1600-h/Jan+2010+006.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3OBr25yntv29qw_tMYduPyowyovgyfbbbiahfxHbw8gjkP04tnOjx_ci-kKcsp3ILj57rXK4xg_a8cQvm3HZUyz6z0So29DPZL5SCNKp22-DIA1MUmNf5ISfLauMESzInEGHygdv1RIs/s200/Jan+2010+006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440854385047494562" /></a><br /><br />It has been nearly 50 degrees Farenheit at my home today. The ice is melting. Much has calved off the roof and re-covered previously cleared pathways, so more shoveling is in the forecast. However, it is going to thaw, eventually, this tundra will be no more. The permafrost will recede into a muddy soup, and then, I'll probably miss it. A few more things I want to say before I sign off:<br /><br /> Remember that anger is usually a mask for hurt. Hurting people hurt people. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi32kqoq4s5Kopo2qCjKGln57zniEEpHoh_j6OBmN0bzDM2sxlE-5XMO_N3K-d05RUsEyYrf1G_e-2tGIlEx2VpnOGs83Iym6KEktSe3uglNMiJNTBFpPx_PFmPL5QKmcFCgkTlHfvk7fQ/s1600-h/Jan+2010+031.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi32kqoq4s5Kopo2qCjKGln57zniEEpHoh_j6OBmN0bzDM2sxlE-5XMO_N3K-d05RUsEyYrf1G_e-2tGIlEx2VpnOGs83Iym6KEktSe3uglNMiJNTBFpPx_PFmPL5QKmcFCgkTlHfvk7fQ/s400/Jan+2010+031.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440855262173802482" /></a><br /> <br /> Every relationship, every person you encounter leaves a mark on you, and you on them. Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself. Almost any ice can be melted with a healthy amount of forgiveness. Not every relationship need return to previous incarnations, but any relationship that has impacted us deeply may have a place in our lives. (There are obvious exceptions, but I'm speaking generally.) Reconnect, forgive, love your history, it has made you who you are now.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBhWauJYB4BCtNEqu-nq4GQjwUd-qz6QopwIJfRG7pFE7Hu1u7bEVlLA332rtd-DN6tkjTIba2xrLkPbuRrU6ZmbAPjXFJXZt9FoHuaGfEvqqesrzHDVcYD3LPcX6QdLLEXs8ARniY0g/s1600-h/Jan+2010+033.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBhWauJYB4BCtNEqu-nq4GQjwUd-qz6QopwIJfRG7pFE7Hu1u7bEVlLA332rtd-DN6tkjTIba2xrLkPbuRrU6ZmbAPjXFJXZt9FoHuaGfEvqqesrzHDVcYD3LPcX6QdLLEXs8ARniY0g/s200/Jan+2010+033.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440856068110984210" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_g3QATJ1PjbhyphenhyphenMfVLJzokbSA38nJcbcKbVW3lfhYDcBeC1gYVm-R3zQIOcH70U-x2tRnM-95JN37KcV_9TYxbH1F1Pyd7RhMySkQH9UF56Egc7ZI_IfbABdSvOpCp8xzZop_LRvXLzUg/s1600-h/Jan+2010+032.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_g3QATJ1PjbhyphenhyphenMfVLJzokbSA38nJcbcKbVW3lfhYDcBeC1gYVm-R3zQIOcH70U-x2tRnM-95JN37KcV_9TYxbH1F1Pyd7RhMySkQH9UF56Egc7ZI_IfbABdSvOpCp8xzZop_LRvXLzUg/s200/Jan+2010+032.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440855644374335314" /></a><br /><br /> Saw at ski resort restaurant at lunch today. <em>Being Important is Nice. Being Nice is More Important.</em> <br /><br />(look at the skiers on the slopes in pictures above, they look like tiny ants!)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeq6Lm5KcZ8GlDC1g1Qk3CWc6EWsBxzuQRgecNi2q7X61vi_YtsiSMXuFuT2LtVUWSZZQBhSIYif9c7R8xp_GJ0qHr2QrxhUFUGu-U_WQl1hnCJ0FfTAz09BftE8lb_LUgV3Prlix3v2o/s1600-h/Jan+2010+034.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeq6Lm5KcZ8GlDC1g1Qk3CWc6EWsBxzuQRgecNi2q7X61vi_YtsiSMXuFuT2LtVUWSZZQBhSIYif9c7R8xp_GJ0qHr2QrxhUFUGu-U_WQl1hnCJ0FfTAz09BftE8lb_LUgV3Prlix3v2o/s400/Jan+2010+034.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440856552370125010" /></a><br /><br /> And finally, more lyrics/poetry, shamelessly copied but with attributions to the source. <br /><br /><strong>Everybody Get Together<br />(Chet Powers)</strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsijkPp-cp4Ts-mbOrBvMhV-60ikqeqCaUR1OdZzn0-xpYcGI8L1pDLDRqMTOV2W_3454OUxU2C2KFeQdBJUMYTd70pqaOv3tGbXnp7KYuWefGedh-_vKBnVv78S3-2w79f32XGrBbxPY/s1600-h/Jan+2010+004.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsijkPp-cp4Ts-mbOrBvMhV-60ikqeqCaUR1OdZzn0-xpYcGI8L1pDLDRqMTOV2W_3454OUxU2C2KFeQdBJUMYTd70pqaOv3tGbXnp7KYuWefGedh-_vKBnVv78S3-2w79f32XGrBbxPY/s200/Jan+2010+004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440856731165253490" /></a><br /><br /><em>Love is but a song to sing<br />And fear's the way we die.<br />You can make the mountains ring<br />Or make the angels cry.<br />Though the bird is on the wing<br />You may not know why.<br /><br />C'mon, people now<br />Smile on your brother<br />Everybody get together<br />Try to love one another right now.<br /><br />C'mon, people now<br />Smile on your brother<br />Everybody get together<br />Try to love one another right now.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqGPew7r6Hyv1Yn4TPG2Nzc0lc2hdEoDyupbg6dQ7knigQtlwBrWM-CccSXsT5AJ4BaQrIKBnlv7akEeWvUjaBx3x9_rHWATN_WXymK6UH7BhdP8BKN7Wou0cq_oUIecgCKZ2oy23Gc4/s1600-h/Jan+2010+026.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqGPew7r6Hyv1Yn4TPG2Nzc0lc2hdEoDyupbg6dQ7knigQtlwBrWM-CccSXsT5AJ4BaQrIKBnlv7akEeWvUjaBx3x9_rHWATN_WXymK6UH7BhdP8BKN7Wou0cq_oUIecgCKZ2oy23Gc4/s200/Jan+2010+026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440858240431696834" /></a><br /><br />Some may come and some may go<br />He will surely pass.<br />When the one that left us here<br />Returns for us at last.<br />We are but a moment's sunlight <br />Fading in the grass.<br /><br />C'mon, people now<br />Smile on your brother<br />Everybody get together<br />Try to love one another right now . . .</em>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-10382339289709506742010-02-17T10:00:00.001-05:002010-02-17T10:06:49.295-05:00Evidence<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkQcmzO3DMNNxgBWy59sTqRP-B97fHPALKfeKkamiiJLpxsgK1uORrid-dcvCa0QhSm9zpBrGdtcyUzr6uWXm7LBswxAch5hZKecyTQ4ChacDfkvh0QSj0ua1h9Ur233Pu0zhyphenhyphenb2aBTw/s1600-h/Jan+2010+021.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkQcmzO3DMNNxgBWy59sTqRP-B97fHPALKfeKkamiiJLpxsgK1uORrid-dcvCa0QhSm9zpBrGdtcyUzr6uWXm7LBswxAch5hZKecyTQ4ChacDfkvh0QSj0ua1h9Ur233Pu0zhyphenhyphenb2aBTw/s200/Jan+2010+021.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439036609547206658" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhyphenhyphen1X9HJCF2U5HDgcbTbkWmvCq4j1JN6mzMqa_cbqjd1m53GniZPpqZttjYUvGW6fca5BZLNXYqLShMMYj7OleWWTp9UGAW3BsQWsBFop5yBsmFcQQB9JVWLSxNSaKMb40zlCEjGpM6g/s1600-h/Jan+2010+014.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhyphenhyphen1X9HJCF2U5HDgcbTbkWmvCq4j1JN6mzMqa_cbqjd1m53GniZPpqZttjYUvGW6fca5BZLNXYqLShMMYj7OleWWTp9UGAW3BsQWsBFop5yBsmFcQQB9JVWLSxNSaKMb40zlCEjGpM6g/s320/Jan+2010+014.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439034616779376018" /></a><br /><br /><br />I've been terribly remiss in my blogging. There have been two blizzards since my last blog. Above are photos of the paths to my two offices - several days after the last big snow. Every task of my day-to-day living has been redefined by the <em>"Snowpocalypse</em>, or <em>Snowmaggedon</em>", as this winter, can boast the most snow in recorded history for the region. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiONhAWW5ooCGhhUp7Uo8pe_2yQqNNQJ_jLN0CU3nhfe57XtazWIJKVXZJxjOGZVWy7E1tHCT-pl8GcpWb0_EXuqtb5LrJHJzX187KOBVAHaEkfzQNsLSUyfTTLDaNjBYoOFl4Kf_-PY/s1600-h/DSC06679.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiONhAWW5ooCGhhUp7Uo8pe_2yQqNNQJ_jLN0CU3nhfe57XtazWIJKVXZJxjOGZVWy7E1tHCT-pl8GcpWb0_EXuqtb5LrJHJzX187KOBVAHaEkfzQNsLSUyfTTLDaNjBYoOFl4Kf_-PY/s400/DSC06679.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439039704943821714" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6x4SHVWesjurVO-E017PHCrpTasUtgAxI90vSW_RDOieSd_t8AO9KpYdT9zRHMmtyPFtBw7W3me9axLngGvmF8SBKW5xtSLwzkPVYD5Dg1dRC4YoI_ZGdLTYfIflT0dzHGUBjRugRB8A/s1600-h/DSC06695.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6x4SHVWesjurVO-E017PHCrpTasUtgAxI90vSW_RDOieSd_t8AO9KpYdT9zRHMmtyPFtBw7W3me9axLngGvmF8SBKW5xtSLwzkPVYD5Dg1dRC4YoI_ZGdLTYfIflT0dzHGUBjRugRB8A/s320/DSC06695.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439041382289936626" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUxxBQ9lQBas-EntmJO-CD3mG4q4Ds5_Nra9rhRW1usUmiK1T58tg1AbXnb_CsxBegtXc9AYeKX8Jj8gCOgWfUV6yEXYUPGO2SHTYwsjQwiwjSEFXRs0WehiMIXQ7qsfBojFwych-5DE/s1600-h/DSC06696.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUxxBQ9lQBas-EntmJO-CD3mG4q4Ds5_Nra9rhRW1usUmiK1T58tg1AbXnb_CsxBegtXc9AYeKX8Jj8gCOgWfUV6yEXYUPGO2SHTYwsjQwiwjSEFXRs0WehiMIXQ7qsfBojFwych-5DE/s200/DSC06696.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439041759777357986" /></a><br />This particular blog piece has been in the works for a couple of weeks, taking a backseat to shoveling, saving my home from the ravages of ice, having the darlings out of school, and a bit of dating adventure/(misadventure? :) . . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcr6KFVR1EV0-0sA1_1crcRXFZo72jSpvCPoE7KfxSy5Vz7KKR-s83sZ4fD1q3YwI0vektTnyk32qNLckub-r3vupYA8KEXj7u0TxQcMEv0qsNI86Pd-jYv3YklzxSQmxRW6f1-icfHKk/s1600-h/DSC06680.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcr6KFVR1EV0-0sA1_1crcRXFZo72jSpvCPoE7KfxSy5Vz7KKR-s83sZ4fD1q3YwI0vektTnyk32qNLckub-r3vupYA8KEXj7u0TxQcMEv0qsNI86Pd-jYv3YklzxSQmxRW6f1-icfHKk/s200/DSC06680.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439040160888347682" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVY-WlyfaOakJMI81V0cPR3jZJwHcRUAsvIgqY-JFg8yUEvvk3ONd9a1-jci5BerSIN9lAxZ-qqpnwP4iT50fC5OzXZZXGDsFnP1-cwCe7IHX7pUGvXGjxDRlZWEdo8qcf-t37oraqtCI/s1600-h/DSC06698.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVY-WlyfaOakJMI81V0cPR3jZJwHcRUAsvIgqY-JFg8yUEvvk3ONd9a1-jci5BerSIN9lAxZ-qqpnwP4iT50fC5OzXZZXGDsFnP1-cwCe7IHX7pUGvXGjxDRlZWEdo8qcf-t37oraqtCI/s200/DSC06698.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439040716572077682" /></a>This writing was inspired by photos retrieved from my cell phone after it took a plunge and was on the blink; so many of the pictures here are candid shots, the ones for which I'd never have the camera ready, but since I'm on call 24/7, I could capture the moment. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRnPwaORo5l0W2i78Jy_Lm7ysyHLw_fN1IGY6QgrwFzDOAvomJNp1NLfUTgXfEjvjtiY8qnezPeg5Gi92tL8UDbl9uEQL1JStxND9SQAogqihWqoxXbRqlRXwGcEGAgdgDLxo3N62vIY/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCAMS2EGQ.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRnPwaORo5l0W2i78Jy_Lm7ysyHLw_fN1IGY6QgrwFzDOAvomJNp1NLfUTgXfEjvjtiY8qnezPeg5Gi92tL8UDbl9uEQL1JStxND9SQAogqihWqoxXbRqlRXwGcEGAgdgDLxo3N62vIY/s320/GetAttachmentCAMS2EGQ.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438878699776445618" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu83mK-RPPeLlNI2sxUsXp532hGQ2bxIU78jmbyufXTnqrOW1x0zlnHg7Ghk81GAYJprqYOJl95lWvrgWvtjbEsjc77-FnSFCEtMp28NM2WdRYuKPCiOQmVEoxjEs5_1igs0Sx-hbYwmo/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCA9FGGBH.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu83mK-RPPeLlNI2sxUsXp532hGQ2bxIU78jmbyufXTnqrOW1x0zlnHg7Ghk81GAYJprqYOJl95lWvrgWvtjbEsjc77-FnSFCEtMp28NM2WdRYuKPCiOQmVEoxjEs5_1igs0Sx-hbYwmo/s200/GetAttachmentCA9FGGBH.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434162824924849026" /></a> <br />My daughters love to hate one another. They can squabble and fight and even injure one another on almost a daily basis. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4857br3OKZtMdl8uFtCJdJ2lxj-oQC_yXF4ZouCKfMX0h_n4VDEVmz9B8xaShSnKkxeYtD8vIrp7SlDmMVXWHjoGsFQqVAvS9XJfq7sRDH5o1T5KK9hyphenhyphen9TLBJJF5jGEDGI4q7Imws2SM/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+271.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4857br3OKZtMdl8uFtCJdJ2lxj-oQC_yXF4ZouCKfMX0h_n4VDEVmz9B8xaShSnKkxeYtD8vIrp7SlDmMVXWHjoGsFQqVAvS9XJfq7sRDH5o1T5KK9hyphenhyphen9TLBJJF5jGEDGI4q7Imws2SM/s320/older+pictures+-+271.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438893234975378370" /></a> <br />And yet, they can be so sweet and loving to the other, and God forbid anyone else threaten the sister! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKC3PQYszUZyaYA9hiOeFEM_x0UaryiWA9AfSSRDd9aLliKSOHzrMmLGbO1_rcCub72SRI4cEGbB-8qL84htWD60_BeDkrd7g16a6QNCdsJ8rZcVcQAI0bGzuMZLtScSqEqARlBC_LPNw/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCA7AI10Z.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKC3PQYszUZyaYA9hiOeFEM_x0UaryiWA9AfSSRDd9aLliKSOHzrMmLGbO1_rcCub72SRI4cEGbB-8qL84htWD60_BeDkrd7g16a6QNCdsJ8rZcVcQAI0bGzuMZLtScSqEqARlBC_LPNw/s200/GetAttachmentCA7AI10Z.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434162570639845746" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />When there is a difficulty, like the death of a pet, their solidarity stands in stark contrast to the bickering that dominates most days. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXh7JbQPuCtMZ70pOITe1gef514mUA7oe1uGOtSSekUd73gIgIfBcH6L6uzvi8w_S082QRYQsZG2MWwhjZZXVg14Tk0TosIHSflWCb6h5ihRuYQ4H9fqi3jGNpB1jV1xqThpdXsyRRxLU/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCA7VOCWD.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXh7JbQPuCtMZ70pOITe1gef514mUA7oe1uGOtSSekUd73gIgIfBcH6L6uzvi8w_S082QRYQsZG2MWwhjZZXVg14Tk0TosIHSflWCb6h5ihRuYQ4H9fqi3jGNpB1jV1xqThpdXsyRRxLU/s320/GetAttachmentCA7VOCWD.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438877210741923682" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_9x2Ft3G9V_lErhJBx_c_A233dXDdh9xiheCxpat84AjuRvaXolWiOUJqV9hokogm8npFlxiZo62_DOgst8qG2zAXAqbm_yRosSknmfrs0omM6_gyFpZid_wO0zpJ2QwauROFwNgX_Z4/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCALBTL0I.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_9x2Ft3G9V_lErhJBx_c_A233dXDdh9xiheCxpat84AjuRvaXolWiOUJqV9hokogm8npFlxiZo62_DOgst8qG2zAXAqbm_yRosSknmfrs0omM6_gyFpZid_wO0zpJ2QwauROFwNgX_Z4/s320/GetAttachmentCALBTL0I.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438877588957991346" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQR4baV-PeyyNaPwVHZxOMQBCuFSdF8M6ozDvZfJteJWIOMiHzq3T2xzr7YR3SsCpfBXtblM_ZirXLloffJcP0FfhN6C8bhoxpC4wA0ZaotggVoJMXbgE5fsAl3-hOXJzmlCJJ3-8-_0/s1600-h/Jan+2010+028.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQR4baV-PeyyNaPwVHZxOMQBCuFSdF8M6ozDvZfJteJWIOMiHzq3T2xzr7YR3SsCpfBXtblM_ZirXLloffJcP0FfhN6C8bhoxpC4wA0ZaotggVoJMXbgE5fsAl3-hOXJzmlCJJ3-8-_0/s320/Jan+2010+028.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439046576574310050" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ScPuOgC1aWlj16vaZEi08wqqlHiXKgK4wgx38eK0K1juMeRWKiRk6Ta34CpbCbN7UHUE0eLLN1E_ZR3dg5eDMjw0eHK1DZmZrEaTS8u1ZXcQa0WkX230FdFkVIRT7qjiBHlwohDkKPY/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+026.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ScPuOgC1aWlj16vaZEi08wqqlHiXKgK4wgx38eK0K1juMeRWKiRk6Ta34CpbCbN7UHUE0eLLN1E_ZR3dg5eDMjw0eHK1DZmZrEaTS8u1ZXcQa0WkX230FdFkVIRT7qjiBHlwohDkKPY/s320/older+pictures+-+026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438876804877135218" /></a><br /><br />My relationship with my sisters was much the same. Now in adulthood, my younger sister is one of my best friends, though I would never tease a girlfriend as rudely as I do her, and she me. (Above, I'm pictured with my younger sister on a camping/hiking trip in Glacier National Park, in 1999, and here is a photo of me, my mother, and my younger sister at Thanksgiving, 2009.) I have brothers, too, who are much younger. I learned a lot about parenting, looking after those two during my teenage years. Now they are fascinating young men who I look forward to knowing more as adults. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUfcVM8urpp07NPTHpfJII2gvm33nMEF7PQZofh0Vq1cWuPTOHlO2eSCJum4n07ZN-f6DcM2hfAT9LpNJRpuBu2-V43UDzV9Wq8JV7fT2Mo1_X2HDuAN8bMSbO1-syAUvrhKczq6wKVOU/s1600-h/Jan+2010+026.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 316px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUfcVM8urpp07NPTHpfJII2gvm33nMEF7PQZofh0Vq1cWuPTOHlO2eSCJum4n07ZN-f6DcM2hfAT9LpNJRpuBu2-V43UDzV9Wq8JV7fT2Mo1_X2HDuAN8bMSbO1-syAUvrhKczq6wKVOU/s400/Jan+2010+026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439042949051251362" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeERANpkVnQlrt20XDRq8CepoN8FTA4EXPkH2cXsSJjmDoJAd-1VcezUb5bHKs-aLL3Z8DxGIBvTiXXqYtPo3pmVuu_OxH9sMUR0Mc7UjnfQ-ooeS_D_NAuzeiFBNIPxc3R_SXlBJVdEw/s1600-h/Jan+2010+027.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeERANpkVnQlrt20XDRq8CepoN8FTA4EXPkH2cXsSJjmDoJAd-1VcezUb5bHKs-aLL3Z8DxGIBvTiXXqYtPo3pmVuu_OxH9sMUR0Mc7UjnfQ-ooeS_D_NAuzeiFBNIPxc3R_SXlBJVdEw/s400/Jan+2010+027.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439043150318275282" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRX0a13fjjqpL0WEKgdUcNSzo2VsSPNOvFpVAaIWj1wrVDyUr5mphCvXzyL_1IXJOFTOTM8THClApntJugMKxdh3JWSubYSjJzk1sSBzMxoEbM9D2MkhkB8yk6AcgVOe-eW3853IwnG1s/s1600-h/Jan+2010+029.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRX0a13fjjqpL0WEKgdUcNSzo2VsSPNOvFpVAaIWj1wrVDyUr5mphCvXzyL_1IXJOFTOTM8THClApntJugMKxdh3JWSubYSjJzk1sSBzMxoEbM9D2MkhkB8yk6AcgVOe-eW3853IwnG1s/s320/Jan+2010+029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439043716587886578" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEwgSUBzo-M1ADd_xRprLivrgCqDzys5jxStNWYmsgqT3uIgDjWoI_9TSogTeg6i-j0gYPArhZxK5N4J6rK2_ybVjF7gRTHRxadlgPgwhUUU8uPpMhIw7UrilqRvUl7_3cw8iD4zEqgY/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCAXP3JM9.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieEwgSUBzo-M1ADd_xRprLivrgCqDzys5jxStNWYmsgqT3uIgDjWoI_9TSogTeg6i-j0gYPArhZxK5N4J6rK2_ybVjF7gRTHRxadlgPgwhUUU8uPpMhIw7UrilqRvUl7_3cw8iD4zEqgY/s320/GetAttachmentCAXP3JM9.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438892460120592450" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoj5wvjJIYGC4I9crL1yimRbz-DtJiUs6M-ZcEzfsfvMlZ3uUNyTVQxOLqYLeyJbzrQIZ0Fq6J00HtNYjfbvJydURIycZupG9mZjHbRg232X4ByXQKVTbL6VrP1ods7qb5d2NTa6L0dO0/s1600-h/10133_100102786676793_100000312150206_37_2918224_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoj5wvjJIYGC4I9crL1yimRbz-DtJiUs6M-ZcEzfsfvMlZ3uUNyTVQxOLqYLeyJbzrQIZ0Fq6J00HtNYjfbvJydURIycZupG9mZjHbRg232X4ByXQKVTbL6VrP1ods7qb5d2NTa6L0dO0/s320/10133_100102786676793_100000312150206_37_2918224_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439044166559741202" /></a><br /><br /><br />This blog entry is dedicated to siblings. (The youngest of my three sisters pictured left.) Below are some recollections from my childhood, regarding my sisters, and I'm including a good bit of photographic evidence that siblings do, indeed, love one another. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJPMNmHT4Yz2VTh3ZtFjwR0SuWuCgdj8YibJT5tC1yPd8fxoPspbgmAKy5X_1p-Rers1HOksQWgOQ84W_04RJZFl0jeVuDqiI1GJZnkEcEJE9RGhg3Tnx6BiaIvvMoKImPK3X1rBeb0oo/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCAXYWLT0.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJPMNmHT4Yz2VTh3ZtFjwR0SuWuCgdj8YibJT5tC1yPd8fxoPspbgmAKy5X_1p-Rers1HOksQWgOQ84W_04RJZFl0jeVuDqiI1GJZnkEcEJE9RGhg3Tnx6BiaIvvMoKImPK3X1rBeb0oo/s320/GetAttachmentCAXYWLT0.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438883556475518450" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ReNIkCTjpyLakVlSHq1ViqRWllQL09vxju3ZOvNFCqYLzG25PP_VCpOUWhqA8sjh6eNmK8gn0DRyLZjJbDUlCXa6PL9_wQ-OfkL0EV9TUFz1RUPZy-lwWTVhyphenhyphenfnCTPvVxbLP1TG4xWQ/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCAXKT2E0.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ReNIkCTjpyLakVlSHq1ViqRWllQL09vxju3ZOvNFCqYLzG25PP_VCpOUWhqA8sjh6eNmK8gn0DRyLZjJbDUlCXa6PL9_wQ-OfkL0EV9TUFz1RUPZy-lwWTVhyphenhyphenfnCTPvVxbLP1TG4xWQ/s320/GetAttachmentCAXKT2E0.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438883390112522914" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwYqE4gYKB9U2us2f6VmMpa2YT6snTb9t7KQK41q5DkYVCCnyajgUm3lwKRLutK8lbRHmtXEFyry1sMQRIIDKr06yzL5w03Kvy1jixUsngU7qW1NOovVZ_qzGtDZBkLv0ZUEh_aKLCJC8/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCAMGYM21.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwYqE4gYKB9U2us2f6VmMpa2YT6snTb9t7KQK41q5DkYVCCnyajgUm3lwKRLutK8lbRHmtXEFyry1sMQRIIDKr06yzL5w03Kvy1jixUsngU7qW1NOovVZ_qzGtDZBkLv0ZUEh_aKLCJC8/s320/GetAttachmentCAMGYM21.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438879081796341138" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj95Cb7P_r7XYR8_UNXMXTTHh1l1LpWVsWG0SFg7pN-pye4hbsvT5-xRTJRKLBS6Vvfk9tXXx_qgBQ6tEZXQGqflgCOU2RFg-q7PYDngrV_546pvswOWr1M5EkC32ilj2XO4D_0HGC_4RY/s1600-h/Jan+2010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj95Cb7P_r7XYR8_UNXMXTTHh1l1LpWVsWG0SFg7pN-pye4hbsvT5-xRTJRKLBS6Vvfk9tXXx_qgBQ6tEZXQGqflgCOU2RFg-q7PYDngrV_546pvswOWr1M5EkC32ilj2XO4D_0HGC_4RY/s400/Jan+2010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439044704443154386" /></a><br /><br />Around 1980: <em>I remember sobbing as mom left for a long shift on a weekend, begging her not to leave. I stood at the window, wearing my nightgown, the one she’d gotten for me when I was in the hospital; it now came down to my knees instead of my ankles. When mom worked, my older sister (With long, dark hair in the picture above, and the one below) was in charge of “babysitting” my younger sister and me. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDpS1JGG2J2TiLyhLjVe4cj7wAJ4Jd8enPRn9WoXFH6Jg3htN_rRoceTARIrL248pyza-zVAyLkCTCdLFvurpf9nPjK-HknNHDN8sZNXEaQR85j7kG6aOhTAszWqu1csx3qzzfXYLUKr0/s1600-h/Jan+2010+022.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDpS1JGG2J2TiLyhLjVe4cj7wAJ4Jd8enPRn9WoXFH6Jg3htN_rRoceTARIrL248pyza-zVAyLkCTCdLFvurpf9nPjK-HknNHDN8sZNXEaQR85j7kG6aOhTAszWqu1csx3qzzfXYLUKr0/s400/Jan+2010+022.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439048147585336482" /></a>The oldest would have been 11 or 12 at this time. She would lock us out of our single-wide trailer and not let us back in, even to go to the bathroom, for hours on end. My younger sister started taking off. I was usually too scared to go with her and would stay in a favorite tree. I worried terribly about my little sister and felt sick. I was angry as hell at my older sister and would throw rocks at the trailer to disturb the quiet she said she needed. On weekends, my younger sister would be gone all day sometimes, and I would putter around in the immediate vicinity of the trailer, bored, worried, and angry until my imagination would overcome this and I would drift off in daydreams, often of how I would avenge my mean and betraying sisters. I would outdo them, they would see. I would leave them behind in the dust. Lock them out of my house. They were not really in cahoots against me, but sometimes it seemed that way. The older would just order the younger to help hold me down and tickle me until I cried. I dreaded being pinned down and humiliated. I was very ticklish and felt so out of control. My younger sister caught up and surpassed me in size at a fairly young age, despite that I was almost four years older. I was scrawny and tough, but together, they out-did me. The oldest was extremely spiteful and hateful in her pre-teen years. I was the most likely target for her rage and if I told on her, I was called a liar, or, even if mom believed me, I was a tattle-tale. She was very good at being sneaky. So I didn’t usually speak-up. <br /><br />My little sister, a kindergartener, meanwhile, became a master storyteller, and on her forays, would beguile neighbors into free meals and toys, coming back a pretend orphan or victim of a terrible illness, but also a victor, sometimes even bringing bribes so we would not tell on her for being gone so long. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVE8BvH2eppLAKIoaj73L2TO1fxS08G7-ZdOMeY_yfY1E1j4mSJriE_hgpYfvbVSBjocHQN500ZMBK9nxovJvV2pA4geZak6wITkoP0f8ioPEjmrZbs1hnyoqP5JJFN2hF4GYw4xX2ZpM/s1600-h/Jan+2010+025.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 389px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVE8BvH2eppLAKIoaj73L2TO1fxS08G7-ZdOMeY_yfY1E1j4mSJriE_hgpYfvbVSBjocHQN500ZMBK9nxovJvV2pA4geZak6wITkoP0f8ioPEjmrZbs1hnyoqP5JJFN2hF4GYw4xX2ZpM/s400/Jan+2010+025.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439050619005751826" /></a>When she did hang around, we would play together, pretending, creating elaborate worlds of make-believe where there was lots of food, fun things to do, where we were grown-ups and in charge. A few times we took off together. We’d venture across the road and pick handfuls of wild violets from an empty lot, or we’d sneak across the fence into the neighboring trailer park and climb into this wonderful rope hammock together, swinging between two trees..."</em><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK2H96ivapKUtxphK7KZaCDCLU8al5SA-vyp3l8thZ_Ek_8myBGzqZbN2kQLa4UBk5QFJtOYW224-8bZ1aBfDZMWD_bxtSS2gZWYCq1NQbk0ZdFANE2fGnmQheK6vw8EnBbB1vvG58kEc/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+207.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK2H96ivapKUtxphK7KZaCDCLU8al5SA-vyp3l8thZ_Ek_8myBGzqZbN2kQLa4UBk5QFJtOYW224-8bZ1aBfDZMWD_bxtSS2gZWYCq1NQbk0ZdFANE2fGnmQheK6vw8EnBbB1vvG58kEc/s320/older+pictures+-+207.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438892144301314626" /></a><br /><br />Many of my clients bring sibling issues into the consulting room. This work is rich with opportunity for personal growth, as well as positive changes in families. It is with our siblings that we first learn to relate with others, as caretakers are perceived as an extension of self in early life. Much of our development of identity happens through our comparisons and contrasts with our siblings or close in age peers. The closeness and conflict are both critical in building our personalities and lifelong coping skills. As adults, sibling relationships evolve, and often end up being the longest term relationships we have. Taking care of these bonds between sisters and brothers, is paramount.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9XmJH1Psg5g_DO8PpplBdy5loqmsUsV1XZdivCjMe2ckVOR5O1uEXSPYs-i67zoAO6tOQIpEKhVbnP-7lz61CMGfIhPhe2gk2uOlsDDnrohBe9DGBoVR2Yz-rpq4aFcyej4nP2agyZo/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCA3LZXAG.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9XmJH1Psg5g_DO8PpplBdy5loqmsUsV1XZdivCjMe2ckVOR5O1uEXSPYs-i67zoAO6tOQIpEKhVbnP-7lz61CMGfIhPhe2gk2uOlsDDnrohBe9DGBoVR2Yz-rpq4aFcyej4nP2agyZo/s320/GetAttachmentCA3LZXAG.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438877802016108642" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAV1Rd9Bw5atwHU1n5_ywM7ZTIZHiRc1g4w0z1d3nrxeLAsRNJ4ahPN-KinC_j9ASj4gT0_cIGBSLDu6XNxJBWCYCMnln37iRsvBk-2Hu1Kl1uL8KDSSptib-dw1WSmXPE2uLbhdZwybw/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCAQ850K1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAV1Rd9Bw5atwHU1n5_ywM7ZTIZHiRc1g4w0z1d3nrxeLAsRNJ4ahPN-KinC_j9ASj4gT0_cIGBSLDu6XNxJBWCYCMnln37iRsvBk-2Hu1Kl1uL8KDSSptib-dw1WSmXPE2uLbhdZwybw/s320/GetAttachmentCAQ850K1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438878910285400642" /></a><br /><br /><br /><em>"To the outside world, we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time."<br /><br />~Clara Ortega<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmADQmHkySa_EKSFbSqXPzfvbboghPEjFvfE4AuPBGZCMqII3LCWeVjV0mMT7p9TUiyVVTPNdstzqJR1H8BF85LnUGTMLbgR-O8Y4jZBK48uWOXWcET2q6bKJEfpjWNkG8VTRX2eYWXiM/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCAB5DQ9N.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmADQmHkySa_EKSFbSqXPzfvbboghPEjFvfE4AuPBGZCMqII3LCWeVjV0mMT7p9TUiyVVTPNdstzqJR1H8BF85LnUGTMLbgR-O8Y4jZBK48uWOXWcET2q6bKJEfpjWNkG8VTRX2eYWXiM/s320/GetAttachmentCAB5DQ9N.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438891270907826658" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWwbMGJTCt4RdQPmqRcx-uv9fu9jZcZIhCQfZj04Mcy9maCPa1CQJ_1A47_4E2mW3wxLejc7BGnLdVsnAG1Lz9-WnRgT5gvfSaDdmBXxnVbNf7LX1_Pk8javw6vLeI7G3QOYlark_Jrs/s1600-h/m&E.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWwbMGJTCt4RdQPmqRcx-uv9fu9jZcZIhCQfZj04Mcy9maCPa1CQJ_1A47_4E2mW3wxLejc7BGnLdVsnAG1Lz9-WnRgT5gvfSaDdmBXxnVbNf7LX1_Pk8javw6vLeI7G3QOYlark_Jrs/s320/m&E.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438883781912994226" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNxLcmhVo8nFMvbhEOnI9eXWekXpMrAf-m5jBeFxwPzCOcD3RKOx8Swwf_7YI0YRU6BEBSN9dHgcsOpUUQtqDYbFsjCA34pokOTlPDCwO7Ah00GIOPWCtb3-5AyjITwdEcV9dwiujSzxY/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCAEEJU5L.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNxLcmhVo8nFMvbhEOnI9eXWekXpMrAf-m5jBeFxwPzCOcD3RKOx8Swwf_7YI0YRU6BEBSN9dHgcsOpUUQtqDYbFsjCA34pokOTlPDCwO7Ah00GIOPWCtb3-5AyjITwdEcV9dwiujSzxY/s320/GetAttachmentCAEEJU5L.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438878478019468242" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5rg8ukLXJ2j6qw2THjEmVHleuaec40pae-f629iXusX7JB-jsNO0aAfZW6GdIPfHiwRBHD8F9xgLA67YyU3VHeySyIXeGAme6fpH7aVSyIcWZkxN0Mi29hv1JqLGvqmjwlft1cQJI8s/s1600-h/GetAttachmentCA55LEMC.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5rg8ukLXJ2j6qw2THjEmVHleuaec40pae-f629iXusX7JB-jsNO0aAfZW6GdIPfHiwRBHD8F9xgLA67YyU3VHeySyIXeGAme6fpH7aVSyIcWZkxN0Mi29hv1JqLGvqmjwlft1cQJI8s/s320/GetAttachmentCA55LEMC.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438878044231128946" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-DkZd2T9ORk7EO7gFyk447aDpoIY7KpH_88IQ6_CHzJyBVRdHwJpMMOu7MBObHRgchfgf3bXg9HkCECxk_xpnX3pxR2lhyDdWHCAvNUcG6uIvUfbf-q6xmufP4Ji6VNjOUAwCwjkRHo/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+254.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM-DkZd2T9ORk7EO7gFyk447aDpoIY7KpH_88IQ6_CHzJyBVRdHwJpMMOu7MBObHRgchfgf3bXg9HkCECxk_xpnX3pxR2lhyDdWHCAvNUcG6uIvUfbf-q6xmufP4Ji6VNjOUAwCwjkRHo/s320/older+pictures+-+254.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438873271765744642" /></a> <br /><br />"Sibling relationships - and 80 percent of Americans have at least one - outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust." <br /><br />~Erica E. Goode, "The Secret World of Siblings," U.S. News & World Report, 10 January 1994</em><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbkAZ4LceaG1UtUAd_Y3EsWeidHFumJrEQvnLe76STcbeyvXwDLVOH6p211iAhW0AK3L4rkjdAeSXSee5u8lf6uD7lYxgSVkT89gvLyZpbBIciXLjfbBB_OcfeFCOGYE2C25hiAlRe4Y/s1600-h/GetAttachment.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbkAZ4LceaG1UtUAd_Y3EsWeidHFumJrEQvnLe76STcbeyvXwDLVOH6p211iAhW0AK3L4rkjdAeSXSee5u8lf6uD7lYxgSVkT89gvLyZpbBIciXLjfbBB_OcfeFCOGYE2C25hiAlRe4Y/s200/GetAttachment.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434170044688957682" /></a> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6leD12sZv7Pn06vRwEFx_zVHbVbbaguOq0Ghi0B0W73YKPfqPy6X6gn9uOJUxPcOi_OnehSh4RLAyGmCyvsyAEr0HpOe-buMlEKaIc7y6skGL2RFRfhdCdXFT5bptglqWOfYTrttEcfA/s1600-h/July+09+258.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6leD12sZv7Pn06vRwEFx_zVHbVbbaguOq0Ghi0B0W73YKPfqPy6X6gn9uOJUxPcOi_OnehSh4RLAyGmCyvsyAEr0HpOe-buMlEKaIc7y6skGL2RFRfhdCdXFT5bptglqWOfYTrttEcfA/s320/July+09+258.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438929493363920786" /></a><br /><br />With love to each of my five siblings, and to my two daughters - encouraging you to nurture what you share. The years of distance between you now seem at times a gulf that cannot be bridged. As you age, this gap will seem trifling, and your common history will bind you, like no other tie.RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-40585893236026335002010-01-28T15:56:00.030-05:002010-01-29T04:55:32.314-05:00Shenandoah Winter<strong>"Life is old there, older than the trees, younger than the mountains, growin' like a breeze . . ."</strong> From <em></em>Take Me Home, Country Roads<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxIc6VR6AUhch-ZIPKt4R0bMtYha_Y6wuS2neoT_MW0fvg98RNYnS2FGX7ybi2z7B2ui_j06urCgGexnxTzpbY-RyFsAOzgaPyvLWGu3BQqPodHnFe69YMibQsyc7XfAMTodFwiBX5ko/s1600-h/January+09+109.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxIc6VR6AUhch-ZIPKt4R0bMtYha_Y6wuS2neoT_MW0fvg98RNYnS2FGX7ybi2z7B2ui_j06urCgGexnxTzpbY-RyFsAOzgaPyvLWGu3BQqPodHnFe69YMibQsyc7XfAMTodFwiBX5ko/s400/January+09+109.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432079447112341746" /></a><br />The recent season of my life has been somewhat of a winter - my (now ex-)husband's aneurysm rupture, the subsequent divorce and loss of my family as I knew it - dreamed it would be, starting over, so many changes, transformation . . . and now that it feels that spring may stay for a while and summer is even possible . . . I want to celebrate the winters we all experience, rejoice for what they bring.<br /><br />Scattered throughout this post are photographs from the Shenandoah Valley in the winter. Some of them were taken from inside a Comanche Piper, single-engine aircraft right after this year's first snowfall.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjTgLQi-bUjZAHV6FZtTvVZ0vd3-_QNWLZ__2glL81wrt1dyNBtjIj_QdxjwDpGkTYMwabM1FZrSKxb5IjHd82vuEZpnhyphenhyphenSWbua28cNQswygk6iP-ryowEumZm7izBJ9Dh7_JzG_JnLn8/s1600-h/January+09+096.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjTgLQi-bUjZAHV6FZtTvVZ0vd3-_QNWLZ__2glL81wrt1dyNBtjIj_QdxjwDpGkTYMwabM1FZrSKxb5IjHd82vuEZpnhyphenhyphenSWbua28cNQswygk6iP-ryowEumZm7izBJ9Dh7_JzG_JnLn8/s200/January+09+096.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432080605831650498" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2pO7nGgr_Ep5G8FnGayoZXW2PWL9bTckfG9n0PszQ87cu7TSc1UC97eNXG8_Vu3dBU_5fPvoZJdvfhvvBjLHKwTxlV0yWyalkj6EUpW0RABDdCixFyA6JOLc7orgZFVWiHFxB1LFHpZ8/s1600-h/January+09+098.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2pO7nGgr_Ep5G8FnGayoZXW2PWL9bTckfG9n0PszQ87cu7TSc1UC97eNXG8_Vu3dBU_5fPvoZJdvfhvvBjLHKwTxlV0yWyalkj6EUpW0RABDdCixFyA6JOLc7orgZFVWiHFxB1LFHpZ8/s200/January+09+098.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432083349053675842" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAB5FpP4ja_TkvEMKbuGlo8EfB1_D5GjJBgAdq1ngPvouRZUst6ap7gdLb2HfrMefvy5i3vRblZGl5OgiBlhu5IrFpk6dFE8FhuRyXzWfa9Yz_nmR9TLE3BDUBaE7NW_XwY3e9VWyWHY8/s1600-h/January+09+095.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAB5FpP4ja_TkvEMKbuGlo8EfB1_D5GjJBgAdq1ngPvouRZUst6ap7gdLb2HfrMefvy5i3vRblZGl5OgiBlhu5IrFpk6dFE8FhuRyXzWfa9Yz_nmR9TLE3BDUBaE7NW_XwY3e9VWyWHY8/s200/January+09+095.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432083737398691586" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tI8oclSy27tL5jOTCpFCkPLFaPMt9KKo0esjLK7ApPV19hBSvG2P87xWwermF8PR0rMzV9j6rsaPXM0i0bMu6m5aqHwsMfBrbNAdR8QrzTKpcq_5FVDIjQJktZRERhI7DxFPquQTqjg/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+016.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tI8oclSy27tL5jOTCpFCkPLFaPMt9KKo0esjLK7ApPV19hBSvG2P87xWwermF8PR0rMzV9j6rsaPXM0i0bMu6m5aqHwsMfBrbNAdR8QrzTKpcq_5FVDIjQJktZRERhI7DxFPquQTqjg/s200/older+pictures+-+016.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432084196930824322" /></a><br /><br />In a previous post, I quoted from the off-Broadway classic, <em></em>The Fantasticks<br /><em></em>, and it is worth quoting again: <br /><br /><strong>"There is a curious paradox that no one can explain, for who understands the secret of the reaping of the grain, who understands why spring is born out of winter's laboring pain, or why we must all die a bit before we grow again?" </strong>(From the Fantasticks by Tom Jones & Harvey Schmidt)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeOViZofYSWGWJlWv0fEoEOOj_WMiLa0BREfbbY4_NgIGihpKXyCI_M9eYQwQnnxK44lc5WpQ8ApMBYbFMMxhXqQQRgdAP5g-y6prX91LP2LMCkwKPorP29rhzqWmgkeiYcd4MjmAbKM/s1600-h/January+09+112.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeOViZofYSWGWJlWv0fEoEOOj_WMiLa0BREfbbY4_NgIGihpKXyCI_M9eYQwQnnxK44lc5WpQ8ApMBYbFMMxhXqQQRgdAP5g-y6prX91LP2LMCkwKPorP29rhzqWmgkeiYcd4MjmAbKM/s320/January+09+112.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432085100808353314" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioZJcBPe86by5pj_WYLDr__bi4ZILkTXxf2g070uie0_YyoSouQyG2Ee_gC-uZyL6ewaeuSMxz7m1RJwlQVWYKFpEUIyAi9hzFjIzeBDmDzV-Lxjb3Joksg4bMDzAfe_AuPUKZPfZetdQ/s1600-h/January+09+115.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioZJcBPe86by5pj_WYLDr__bi4ZILkTXxf2g070uie0_YyoSouQyG2Ee_gC-uZyL6ewaeuSMxz7m1RJwlQVWYKFpEUIyAi9hzFjIzeBDmDzV-Lxjb3Joksg4bMDzAfe_AuPUKZPfZetdQ/s320/January+09+115.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432085509143749074" /></a><br /><br />Today I'm working in D.C.. Another blizzard is expected to come up through the Valley, and I'm hoping I can both get in the work I need to do here, and get home again before I'm snowed out. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMr6FiaBLaCG9OhElcbdHGHzehTFYxO6Z_oQewOnSWsCSMnmJeltYKL6ehdkAw0EUCg5fLfw5Zy32M7O8fCJ3RJWsh1zo2wUXur0kqjzdsuE1pbJLpUpJYpLniLmDUv82PdfV20rURqO4/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+014.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMr6FiaBLaCG9OhElcbdHGHzehTFYxO6Z_oQewOnSWsCSMnmJeltYKL6ehdkAw0EUCg5fLfw5Zy32M7O8fCJ3RJWsh1zo2wUXur0kqjzdsuE1pbJLpUpJYpLniLmDUv82PdfV20rURqO4/s400/older+pictures+-+014.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432086232836719250" /></a><br /><br />Winter, winters . . . some winters are longer and harder than others. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63wHq8SO-qTdC7M-ahxleIr1cpcxJ8Sw74bch5N80yg_X0HqoCiCCGKHVje3j1O1w8a_aJeS7qSjJeXzOn_gPqmLrLXhd8vu6PJt_QHsH3BydSQGjpVnvKV7LtqqIKCmqghwG2tEK-QQ/s1600-h/January+09+102.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63wHq8SO-qTdC7M-ahxleIr1cpcxJ8Sw74bch5N80yg_X0HqoCiCCGKHVje3j1O1w8a_aJeS7qSjJeXzOn_gPqmLrLXhd8vu6PJt_QHsH3BydSQGjpVnvKV7LtqqIKCmqghwG2tEK-QQ/s320/January+09+102.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432086846834460658" /></a><br /><br />I received an email today from a former client. A war vet. I've worked with a lot of them, so this could be anyone of many. This particular vet was worried about sharing with his fellow soldiers, in a very exposed way, how he has struggled with post traumatic stress. He spent a good bit of time in Iraq or Afghanistan or both or somewhere else . . .I won't specify much to protect his identity. . .but war was hell for him. Hearing his stories was hell for me at times. Helping him begin the healing process was a gift to me, but he moved away, and the work has felt unfinished. We have kept in touch periodically. This is what I wrote to him today, with identifying details deleted. Please tolerate grammatical errors, etc. - the letter was written in relative haste, and with the desire to be like a conversation:<br /><br />"Dear . . . <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRJ5zf0X4Kl_eDhNHcXM5cF1aTncNRrLnBS88obP-02Km47bibQFmlHO-rzUpI4aMKdpLdMoIWkXvhhouhOc1a069B-cJDZ3Ym_aqKJ0WPUIO8hyzhvfMlNhGWhDqr-dA8SXhvxEZlRaY/s1600-h/January+09+103.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRJ5zf0X4Kl_eDhNHcXM5cF1aTncNRrLnBS88obP-02Km47bibQFmlHO-rzUpI4aMKdpLdMoIWkXvhhouhOc1a069B-cJDZ3Ym_aqKJ0WPUIO8hyzhvfMlNhGWhDqr-dA8SXhvxEZlRaY/s320/January+09+103.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432088055107558738" /></a><br /> <br />Maybe you can work on reframing these things as ways you've survived - versus failed.<br />ok - so here is this bottled up hypervigilance, anxiety, angst, anger from the war and other traumatic experiences in your life - lets call this "You post-war"<br />"You post-war" meets with an unfair, personality disordered job supervisor and does well in many ways until a certain level is reached, and You explode. You pre-war would not have exploded, even if the situation was such that it made sense to blow-up, but You've used up your tolerance, your ability to hold things in.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-7tx2ofNkInVEopBT3gGK2QdjG7Xf0s4MSGVQhY8g1tEZW8JfRK2WDeRvbSHjpfipaJRgbC35MS2WdkBMbvOCsQj-71H_t1uRUsV27myqzJGMikcwVYm6PTIsAe4_fkkhiTrk7htLWY/s1600-h/January+09+108.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-7tx2ofNkInVEopBT3gGK2QdjG7Xf0s4MSGVQhY8g1tEZW8JfRK2WDeRvbSHjpfipaJRgbC35MS2WdkBMbvOCsQj-71H_t1uRUsV27myqzJGMikcwVYm6PTIsAe4_fkkhiTrk7htLWY/s400/January+09+108.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432088611449273074" /></a><br /> <br />Each new thing, post-war difficulty, adds on to the stress within you - you have to figure out some way to get back to baseline - but that is not going to happen over night. How long did you spend in theater? How intense were those days and nights and weeks and months? It took a lot to get you where you are. Have you really had the chance to work that intensely on tackling your recovery? I don't think you have. You've had to worry about raising a son and caring for you both financially and the day to day events of life PLUS recovery. You're fighting an uphill battle. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7yxsz9-VjcFQh76GEbA3p8lDdHBlWlYwyKkWHubS0grtBAXWTU_KF-qhdEM1tKxciNoF5ynDH5_9qYe7ATjyoun-f0RtK6diYs5Hor14g1fTQ1xABjP-2fH0rA6jk_SQ-wDMKbPfmSmE/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7yxsz9-VjcFQh76GEbA3p8lDdHBlWlYwyKkWHubS0grtBAXWTU_KF-qhdEM1tKxciNoF5ynDH5_9qYe7ATjyoun-f0RtK6diYs5Hor14g1fTQ1xABjP-2fH0rA6jk_SQ-wDMKbPfmSmE/s400/older+pictures+-+009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432089361373636834" /></a> <br /> <br />What you could say to those who you're afraid might judge you, could very well convey the message that you are slowly winning - that you are still in a race even though you've been shot down multiple times. You hang in there, you keep working at it, and little by little, with some downturns, of course, you will eventually make it through. Making it through does not mean perfection - it means a life worth living. These are not failures, this is a journey against the current. How many of your peers are going to know this about you, who have been through as much as you? Do you really think those who have been through as much are going to judge you? Don't you know many other soldiers who went through a lot and have their own struggles? I do - they struggle in private and in shame and until some of you who look like you've got it together, who did a great job in theater, who are cool in so many ways - until more of you who are the walking wounded point out your hidden wounds, everyone who is struggling in private shame will keep doing so. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjthcH5vYyYU7jv0HQ7GfslVg3Xhih6DgX197KDb3zuoNk-hUkWWBPhkOr4GfnsV4bV_3Oy8JJYz6JV0tOYKOCMwR4Au4jFI_qNMRYT-FcMGTszgzkUFlmOTGySVu9vtpgbtBsfpDSDDhE/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjthcH5vYyYU7jv0HQ7GfslVg3Xhih6DgX197KDb3zuoNk-hUkWWBPhkOr4GfnsV4bV_3Oy8JJYz6JV0tOYKOCMwR4Au4jFI_qNMRYT-FcMGTszgzkUFlmOTGySVu9vtpgbtBsfpDSDDhE/s400/older+pictures+-+010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432090168079127218" /></a><br /> <br />You don't HAVE to "come out" about the post traumatic stress, of course not, but it could be a very big piece of your recovery. Both on a psychological level, but also on a practical level. This may lead to opportunities that you would never have found. I can't make any guarantees, but must say YOU have a terrific charisma, magnetism, personality that shines through all the shrapnel that has hit you, it just needs to be seen, recognized. Here is a quote for you:<br /> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhal63YjluMocs2xT4YcS900zGk3udjU745sDkd3EIP8-tDQsRpiEwH-Y_AOEIXQCDfTOTN2zey8wkJg9BA02QS93TAZ4j_OK8Nuv-4aSFR3YDK833kEL_OczLGJ8fYFXD05drdm4aWRt0/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhal63YjluMocs2xT4YcS900zGk3udjU745sDkd3EIP8-tDQsRpiEwH-Y_AOEIXQCDfTOTN2zey8wkJg9BA02QS93TAZ4j_OK8Nuv-4aSFR3YDK833kEL_OczLGJ8fYFXD05drdm4aWRt0/s400/older+pictures+-+011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432090500147794546" /></a><br /><br /><strong>"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do."--</strong>Eleanor Roosevelt.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNNfIgIke-l93DSaP4RDqjEL0iIm_8vMb5T9HLEmPPwSvWs197_7mXx9QDKWjQG8nkIhxlSFHMSClzmSRaDtwQbcGrbuFSxo81a1JYlTiRSBWR1DgDpyiCnSQxoR_wUDIEgmU0JSnUxA/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+015.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNNfIgIke-l93DSaP4RDqjEL0iIm_8vMb5T9HLEmPPwSvWs197_7mXx9QDKWjQG8nkIhxlSFHMSClzmSRaDtwQbcGrbuFSxo81a1JYlTiRSBWR1DgDpyiCnSQxoR_wUDIEgmU0JSnUxA/s200/older+pictures+-+015.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432090933612877826" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIps6kM5RrcA4ko8KXhh8WY8dcNNB1-OyORX55qIlXRffgu3DWc7k1lHGi-EIIhHRdCYih1D6V1hgEB-S6Ul-Mxl6JvELlvkmE_A3fmdyAwouHomsJt08TQSS6ynK4lpmriU_1_OrVhNE/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+017.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIps6kM5RrcA4ko8KXhh8WY8dcNNB1-OyORX55qIlXRffgu3DWc7k1lHGi-EIIhHRdCYih1D6V1hgEB-S6Ul-Mxl6JvELlvkmE_A3fmdyAwouHomsJt08TQSS6ynK4lpmriU_1_OrVhNE/s200/older+pictures+-+017.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432091285360195010" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhub5jPgqdKV48fx7oIC4GrM9kkVDzGtaf5MYtpWtCRPhayxJ95UIuKcAgm9IKu_e1LpvLbtAuaRa2ehFZsJfd38uNt7O-is_VFbO1TrjFrmOP-uCrHV4ebCqdJZe1KacHZpk6Qb265vNg/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+018.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhub5jPgqdKV48fx7oIC4GrM9kkVDzGtaf5MYtpWtCRPhayxJ95UIuKcAgm9IKu_e1LpvLbtAuaRa2ehFZsJfd38uNt7O-is_VFbO1TrjFrmOP-uCrHV4ebCqdJZe1KacHZpk6Qb265vNg/s200/older+pictures+-+018.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432091574470905522" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJfgZ0tU2TfoQCg9dFCcngvsC7mMNbhl7TXhICjADWyYVNAl3wSZE546aJ2VxqVrIHBw8T6-ZzFkff1Jcw-zvY9zajEy6t9LhpiS7odcrpSdDiNtvGwgHEnszwkdzSGX0i0ISdcDLQZ3Q/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+019.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJfgZ0tU2TfoQCg9dFCcngvsC7mMNbhl7TXhICjADWyYVNAl3wSZE546aJ2VxqVrIHBw8T6-ZzFkff1Jcw-zvY9zajEy6t9LhpiS7odcrpSdDiNtvGwgHEnszwkdzSGX0i0ISdcDLQZ3Q/s200/older+pictures+-+019.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432091885908303202" /></a><br /><br /><br />. . .I came across this quote the other day and you're the first person I thought of - you have embodied this many times in your life. I'm scared shitless to be on a TV program as an "expert" - but I'm going to face the fear and make my life more and more what I want it to be. I know you can do that, too - you are so strong, so smart, so capable. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8gBJHdAzJcHq63s6hvNeXhA6mGQkkF9KJ2NMizqXtKgkxiNhuFrDQtkF8LoVDQRoUrN_M0FimIKYOUJF3HwDHbvgxFr9BnmBulmUNY2cdWoJfCEdVQ7Qoko95uHPcMMpX8QYZNuhdBA/s1600-h/older+pictures+-+008.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8gBJHdAzJcHq63s6hvNeXhA6mGQkkF9KJ2NMizqXtKgkxiNhuFrDQtkF8LoVDQRoUrN_M0FimIKYOUJF3HwDHbvgxFr9BnmBulmUNY2cdWoJfCEdVQ7Qoko95uHPcMMpX8QYZNuhdBA/s400/older+pictures+-+008.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432096922309541474" /></a><br /><br />Listen, call me if you need - - come out to DC and give this thing a go. It may be transformative, and if it isn't working when you're here, you can say so to them. They're dealing with ALL PTSD cases - they get it. You aren't dealing with a hand grenade; you'll get more than one chance. O. K.- seriously call if you need.<br /> <br />I'm thinking of you,<br /><br />RWG"<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi53b97j-wFiGg3sESTb9xJEg90eLSx3vPi0gVRe3ft94ZoH0So5ot7oZB-B8vzl6Ao63tGXPJ8ymEtuYi43zCf5GHQgWzAtxa8xttOztCqYQa0uqnyqX5D-QM6iOj7VuPq_DXjpa4VBWs/s1600-h/January+09+117.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi53b97j-wFiGg3sESTb9xJEg90eLSx3vPi0gVRe3ft94ZoH0So5ot7oZB-B8vzl6Ao63tGXPJ8ymEtuYi43zCf5GHQgWzAtxa8xttOztCqYQa0uqnyqX5D-QM6iOj7VuPq_DXjpa4VBWs/s400/January+09+117.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432097488393164834" /></a><br /><br />Shortly after, he responded, encouraged, and said to me "you rock." I wrote back:<br /><br />"My clients teach me to be a better therapist everyday. You gave me a gift in our work together - because it challenged me, because you showed courage in the face of fear, and also because of the sacrifices you made in the name of our country -you rock, you are a rock - maybe pushed around by glacial forces, but a rock all the same. Here is another quote from Albert Schweitzer, Nobel Peace Prize recipient: <br /> <br /><strong>“At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.”, </strong><br /> <br />Hang in there - and let me know about next week as soon as you can, so we can meet in DC if possible.<br /><br />RWG"<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_WgKFZp43UOGKROKXUnwvKLfhGyAQi8VGS2SBovRMBDf1J8EJjgGK2iqdQb_SKUoayjmtrpU-6-ltu5mkY9qgGkzQo9tC51k-NIU_y6GXSMApI-Lv_3GyBvbSsfk1i20bFYgxqFIurE/s1600-h/January+09+116.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_WgKFZp43UOGKROKXUnwvKLfhGyAQi8VGS2SBovRMBDf1J8EJjgGK2iqdQb_SKUoayjmtrpU-6-ltu5mkY9qgGkzQo9tC51k-NIU_y6GXSMApI-Lv_3GyBvbSsfk1i20bFYgxqFIurE/s400/January+09+116.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432095968090480178" /></a><br /><br />Finding the beauty in winter, the promise, the hibernation, the recovery.RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-21934718552573885712010-01-23T11:42:00.040-05:002010-01-25T13:38:10.111-05:00Art Therapy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisIGoiN8c2JYkFLewHaKpeIa6NkjZ-_NHlGEhatFbTZQlz1bkgYwK5l3ihqur5_MzSYWZn1mNH-MYkt425W-gxaOY7KuzPJausI5uvFuFwjQGNnFCUS69aKFXX8iRfCkFSE1UaTYEWDHE/s1600-h/Jan+2010+230.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisIGoiN8c2JYkFLewHaKpeIa6NkjZ-_NHlGEhatFbTZQlz1bkgYwK5l3ihqur5_MzSYWZn1mNH-MYkt425W-gxaOY7KuzPJausI5uvFuFwjQGNnFCUS69aKFXX8iRfCkFSE1UaTYEWDHE/s400/Jan+2010+230.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430721958173446562" /></a><br /><br /><strong>"The process of art therapy is based on the recognition that man’s most fundamental thoughts and feelings, derived from the unconscious, reach expression in images rather than words."</strong> (Naumberg 1958: 511).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPqlx4yaBDZ7SMYsWi4EPQFtogvxwK-TrB8aYKZoIDgHXRxZvWklh49p-MINkZETy0a0X_GZfdxlVlo042EoPLjbYkEBuy4cO822PhyphenhypheneIlUKhbvtLSnF8yN288lAMZcd3scYolw0c-jmU/s1600-h/Jan+2010+210.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPqlx4yaBDZ7SMYsWi4EPQFtogvxwK-TrB8aYKZoIDgHXRxZvWklh49p-MINkZETy0a0X_GZfdxlVlo042EoPLjbYkEBuy4cO822PhyphenhypheneIlUKhbvtLSnF8yN288lAMZcd3scYolw0c-jmU/s320/Jan+2010+210.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430696509893464482" /></a><br />It has been a long and very busy week including seeing around 30 patients between my two locations, working on my taxes, and all the joyous exhaustion of parenting my two daughters. This was made slightly more complicated this past week because their father had (successful) surgery. EG is pictured here, having a tea party, outside my shower. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJMeet7d7-E48N263CAOXTxUb25Md36fWPsKMMNoR9hS6r4VTmX7bImRDLdmvjwXFkWCY16y7iC_meudQZtrFIzXHe8kGScjr-kjBIA17BdMdGS436aHgzgblXnJn1HtbSbJ3RASKAPM/s1600-h/Jan+2010+211.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJMeet7d7-E48N263CAOXTxUb25Md36fWPsKMMNoR9hS6r4VTmX7bImRDLdmvjwXFkWCY16y7iC_meudQZtrFIzXHe8kGScjr-kjBIA17BdMdGS436aHgzgblXnJn1HtbSbJ3RASKAPM/s320/Jan+2010+211.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430699200575697378" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH0pVNYVcP1C5LAzH5GB_eGnzr8gnG9JjmbwCvO6LZWOowF6516qhrfvDeIXnG9eMoFGb4xCwiR-nR8I0-6UEsB8Nk-8mCOFf-b8fftuMLruaQYkA-A2tCcOpSOkp2Sw7Lu-RL_jyZ22c/s1600-h/Jan+2010+220.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH0pVNYVcP1C5LAzH5GB_eGnzr8gnG9JjmbwCvO6LZWOowF6516qhrfvDeIXnG9eMoFGb4xCwiR-nR8I0-6UEsB8Nk-8mCOFf-b8fftuMLruaQYkA-A2tCcOpSOkp2Sw7Lu-RL_jyZ22c/s320/Jan+2010+220.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430699837590729154" /></a><br /><br />My mom is home from the hospital and doing better, and she will probably be able to visit this weekend. My sister will drive her here, with my niece, and if I'm lucky a brother or two. I have left the Christmas trees up, with gifts beneath, and am ready to finally celebrate with my family. This week promises to be almost as hectic as last and I am attempting to start it off with peace, mindfulness, appreciation and joy.<br /><br />I want to blog about a sustaining force in my life and in many others' lives. Art. Art is essential, I believe, to the human spirit. For many, creating is therapeutic. Many psychotherapists I know regard it as a critical, tangible part of their lives - to create something visible (or heard), in contrast to the very private, confidential, and often intangible work of psychotherapy. <br /><br />My friend, Ken, who I've mentioned before, does amazing photography. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSLdE4hNjGfYSHekEtu1Z0P9v_-EIxseJYenMKi-V_zhDETKyvD6hsA2tf-fWxnbRIoud16fc-Esj8WYX923EFfausogte3C-HXo2XE8ip991Yo5Zb8k_U88kH2IcYXLdrvxyErWt2z5U/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSLdE4hNjGfYSHekEtu1Z0P9v_-EIxseJYenMKi-V_zhDETKyvD6hsA2tf-fWxnbRIoud16fc-Esj8WYX923EFfausogte3C-HXo2XE8ip991Yo5Zb8k_U88kH2IcYXLdrvxyErWt2z5U/s400/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430703917953260274" /></a>He took a National Geographic cruise/tour around Alaska with his wife for their 50th anniversary, and he spent a lot of time with the photographers, learning new techniques. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2mzqDuyzOCXpBeaG810C36p9k6qgvTmQdw_zcSoBjUXkLnZ2rgwwKGjoBiXYXiCBWHgRQTYIPIvyECkRwB0wYHomj3ZfisDmBx_VOlbaChN2ZsVsyCF7w10l_acOC1BHbvKdAXM68Xs/s1600-h/bike.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2mzqDuyzOCXpBeaG810C36p9k6qgvTmQdw_zcSoBjUXkLnZ2rgwwKGjoBiXYXiCBWHgRQTYIPIvyECkRwB0wYHomj3ZfisDmBx_VOlbaChN2ZsVsyCF7w10l_acOC1BHbvKdAXM68Xs/s320/bike.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430704649056443442" /></a>When we were together at a conference recently, I grabbed him, our cameras, and a taxi, and we headed off to Siesta Key, near Sarasota, where we rented bicycles and rode for a few hours, stopping for lunch, riding on the beach, and taking pictures. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij0WoleeI_yGGMDTTqs3bpCZXL7qw5h9MJWldMMN9dI9wQ-lNwkYyC2Y3Z_4n8jb5b-clzAlfEmZFzoYXdBL4aVXia9bmU1dc0mCpPn_UTC8EEK3v40m7wfsKgsChvEkzpG7MiVPtWPhY/s1600-h/Ken's+gulls.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij0WoleeI_yGGMDTTqs3bpCZXL7qw5h9MJWldMMN9dI9wQ-lNwkYyC2Y3Z_4n8jb5b-clzAlfEmZFzoYXdBL4aVXia9bmU1dc0mCpPn_UTC8EEK3v40m7wfsKgsChvEkzpG7MiVPtWPhY/s320/Ken's+gulls.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430704979246298546" /></a>I stopped suddenly in the middle of the road making Ken think something was amiss, and I quietly pointed him to a great white egret, nearby. <br /><br />He got his camera ready and started shooting - catching this:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAU9LG9cGcIUcj2e9dbXf5EKkXzT29H_qh3QGSCqg18UGJ0M6SOSv_9FShQFLtB2rSu9HVRfSQVhMW-9VGqnjprbSnKSdZwfoOG0QyzXbX0cG50hyatp21IbIVZrKzPio4X_gzgcRloIA/s1600-h/Ken's+photo+of+Egret.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAU9LG9cGcIUcj2e9dbXf5EKkXzT29H_qh3QGSCqg18UGJ0M6SOSv_9FShQFLtB2rSu9HVRfSQVhMW-9VGqnjprbSnKSdZwfoOG0QyzXbX0cG50hyatp21IbIVZrKzPio4X_gzgcRloIA/s400/Ken's+photo+of+Egret.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430704312626649986" /></a><br /><br />Over the years, for me, my art therapy has assumed many mediums. I have mentioned playing the bassoon. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57BuyD6SBMPD3fPfjklyygBNGKOE7c07tL0Mil_KROg24_CE722_T_bMtY_hXM-Ku52EiCtGv5o1OUXYFF6vrHpeF3EhEujB_Hh0fHR7WEIzuaYYu0YQZiKXQZc08k3It-H1tPtUJpE8/s1600-h/Jan+2010+235.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57BuyD6SBMPD3fPfjklyygBNGKOE7c07tL0Mil_KROg24_CE722_T_bMtY_hXM-Ku52EiCtGv5o1OUXYFF6vrHpeF3EhEujB_Hh0fHR7WEIzuaYYu0YQZiKXQZc08k3It-H1tPtUJpE8/s320/Jan+2010+235.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430723431152829954" /></a> And, obviously, dabbling in writing and photography are important to me. <br /><br />I have painted, oil on canvas, giving most of my paintings away to other psychotherapists. Here is a photo of one of my favorite paintings now owned by a friend/colleague whose name includes the word "Fox". <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCxXqKzF6KdTYw5Hcyj8n-SYGofhqVXr4iQeJO-l_boA3L2fDpgzFhHF3NLpJC_n3MTaU0DTEACyOyUUwW9LCXiQV7Epcilhcd8yrr-IeNQg3eFS1SHlQNH8zXGobmXBiuqXkN7wvqQcA/s1600-h/Jan+2010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 289px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCxXqKzF6KdTYw5Hcyj8n-SYGofhqVXr4iQeJO-l_boA3L2fDpgzFhHF3NLpJC_n3MTaU0DTEACyOyUUwW9LCXiQV7Epcilhcd8yrr-IeNQg3eFS1SHlQNH8zXGobmXBiuqXkN7wvqQcA/s400/Jan+2010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430724554813384802" /></a><br /><br />I love gardening - creating an ever changing flower garden where there was just dirt, weeds, rocks. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCsEP5XvxK8BJ5Q7StzCrwX-5b7Jvf9l5Q8cyKsxSpEHFHScAPLNx9zXGJ-WLt1c7G5MzW762dUuGPZu-jsmVLtbHyWjCCCV9D9TLdnfm2hjqiC5tggDoJZnzn48NixwvTdMKdV0s5q6w/s1600-h/Jan+2010+236.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCsEP5XvxK8BJ5Q7StzCrwX-5b7Jvf9l5Q8cyKsxSpEHFHScAPLNx9zXGJ-WLt1c7G5MzW762dUuGPZu-jsmVLtbHyWjCCCV9D9TLdnfm2hjqiC5tggDoJZnzn48NixwvTdMKdV0s5q6w/s320/Jan+2010+236.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430724990114840434" /></a>The ground becomes a canvas, but the process is dynamic, taking many years to get to its full glory. Here are some photos of my garden at my last home: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JEQACGA2xsSlJSGL6HfXJgp9DuEvS4Y-oEbNqQwyS58RX_IFZILEkEdcu1cnNgKxObxUZ_BVTtK39NA7rD05RShYA0G3WZbaQwJkwE7K_-n_uKVS8hNhwavPsyGYbV5E52Qm_Aeo3RI/s1600-h/Jan+2010+237.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JEQACGA2xsSlJSGL6HfXJgp9DuEvS4Y-oEbNqQwyS58RX_IFZILEkEdcu1cnNgKxObxUZ_BVTtK39NA7rD05RShYA0G3WZbaQwJkwE7K_-n_uKVS8hNhwavPsyGYbV5E52Qm_Aeo3RI/s320/Jan+2010+237.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430725446749159410" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYfbYziHi3VcUy7LWTnbEfPDxKLJjtWab3RvsILBSJ3sNSps1YMku8rwlzbGkIEAZt7v5z6zj6OnsA3TT4Mu99uIGtNHtw763mmKyOgVkix9Q1MXjYUHgIXrfsdYtMesadqi4OIFEhfQ/s1600-h/DSC04918a.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYfbYziHi3VcUy7LWTnbEfPDxKLJjtWab3RvsILBSJ3sNSps1YMku8rwlzbGkIEAZt7v5z6zj6OnsA3TT4Mu99uIGtNHtw763mmKyOgVkix9Q1MXjYUHgIXrfsdYtMesadqi4OIFEhfQ/s320/DSC04918a.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430730593973425122" /></a><br />And the beginnings of one at my current place.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7yTWvnnYAWWxeQzYG9hgjryZTa6Dr0_y4VvIU88LNr-QcCArq8H7O9R_5zfJ4wu1GSP1rPzE1Rc09ilMN0hTMp8P33RcDU7q7oauLW0woTvrrlh7gtEhtJ_AFq1jeI3csTC1HA76WaM/s1600-h/Jan+2010+229a.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7yTWvnnYAWWxeQzYG9hgjryZTa6Dr0_y4VvIU88LNr-QcCArq8H7O9R_5zfJ4wu1GSP1rPzE1Rc09ilMN0hTMp8P33RcDU7q7oauLW0woTvrrlh7gtEhtJ_AFq1jeI3csTC1HA76WaM/s400/Jan+2010+229a.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430737111730955090" /></a><br /><br /><br />My children create a good bit, too, and my breakfast room serves as a gallery for some of their creations: <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhebA2QUy9ZM4K22rTQWu95NQtmaXmxJfLnO0vhztnLj3oYyZ2KwRqd6dhYNhdYea-NsgKWPNNUwsF0UG90T95oV4PMiWR__UxUnxm53DOCucmlBkan9MjmE1HXf6BAbmYVDDQ3B-ZqM68/s1600-h/Jan+2010+231a.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhebA2QUy9ZM4K22rTQWu95NQtmaXmxJfLnO0vhztnLj3oYyZ2KwRqd6dhYNhdYea-NsgKWPNNUwsF0UG90T95oV4PMiWR__UxUnxm53DOCucmlBkan9MjmE1HXf6BAbmYVDDQ3B-ZqM68/s320/Jan+2010+231a.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430737464216982690" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrYpr9gLXphMpXxG-X8eVRSTAwEbO_sSAn9XPOCHyz9QQ2jnBF4QKLls6y5d4lwtqe2Cfc1YMcthaIOmHJiqGlrDPShVgvBI1Ax7hFqxESoFdsN6COY2vI3J0TpT9LDOYKuXh4gL-mP0/s1600-h/Jan+2010+233a.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrYpr9gLXphMpXxG-X8eVRSTAwEbO_sSAn9XPOCHyz9QQ2jnBF4QKLls6y5d4lwtqe2Cfc1YMcthaIOmHJiqGlrDPShVgvBI1Ax7hFqxESoFdsN6COY2vI3J0TpT9LDOYKuXh4gL-mP0/s320/Jan+2010+233a.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430737968468409346" /></a><br /><br /><br />The girls make music with piano, lap harps, harmonicas, recorders. They love to dance and sing, and the 9 year old, MG, has recently been taken with acting. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzPJXpOb8lrTmbHIcw-kP6lcMfauwiSxY84xQFdxRBtQlIzLTgnTd7NCC3BxPyvH59KDtIWkB-yqeD7qO0HITah8_c5XA6ukavhKhdf4MD0lrmFeKBVqCjLGPe7suEUh3MaIL5Ac0Ln4w/s1600-h/Fall+09+114.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzPJXpOb8lrTmbHIcw-kP6lcMfauwiSxY84xQFdxRBtQlIzLTgnTd7NCC3BxPyvH59KDtIWkB-yqeD7qO0HITah8_c5XA6ukavhKhdf4MD0lrmFeKBVqCjLGPe7suEUh3MaIL5Ac0Ln4w/s400/Fall+09+114.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430738807979800434" /></a><br /> She narrated her school play this year and had a small role in the high school's production of <em>Julius Ceasar</em>. <br /><br />Here is a photo of the stuffed elf MG made for me - on my new, and very comfortable, bed in my DC room. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUJM2ztDexNJsagnV4UfZDOG23A6HfvfIs-NqpgKuuyc08iJSBrPfFGoGoMLF-xZJzQ4mKGssQftEXjnePUY2B6_cAMYe-jfiNvNq-vj58cjnJq5eMmYmQk15WmNXu3nOtPlAevIkask/s1600-h/Jan+2010+216.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUJM2ztDexNJsagnV4UfZDOG23A6HfvfIs-NqpgKuuyc08iJSBrPfFGoGoMLF-xZJzQ4mKGssQftEXjnePUY2B6_cAMYe-jfiNvNq-vj58cjnJq5eMmYmQk15WmNXu3nOtPlAevIkask/s400/Jan+2010+216.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430739174516534706" /></a> The place is feeling very cozy. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6lqS_V9wO-XJx1XjHXktckJGbQ-B17v_eiVB-9XXIi6-M6fT8kCmwW9_ezpEL4APbGKSlI5tTPBYZQQaxo7GB5lXvHZ-Z0uaowjy-CIssa2OCtKGzVqUCQxWsjeBSt8mdejO1NFTSpk/s1600-h/Jan+2010+217.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6lqS_V9wO-XJx1XjHXktckJGbQ-B17v_eiVB-9XXIi6-M6fT8kCmwW9_ezpEL4APbGKSlI5tTPBYZQQaxo7GB5lXvHZ-Z0uaowjy-CIssa2OCtKGzVqUCQxWsjeBSt8mdejO1NFTSpk/s320/Jan+2010+217.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430739520471362402" /></a>It is so nice to now feel at home in both places. The Big Sur art in the room is beautiful, too.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Another friend and colleague agreed to contribute to my blog several photographs of some of his recent work: below are dancers and a standing long jump:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjV3JHZg4goYeNsQlM3uBZ2Edv0mcZEHOIcYnZ1nDi3GInBhGGL5XBZoH2nkm5K0iVpdICr3hLmvHgZHtFB8eur2bdigTllEm6vMcQg5QbSz4etDu2vLykaWkakWQR7wmkuyol04eWLho/s1600-h/dancing+forks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjV3JHZg4goYeNsQlM3uBZ2Edv0mcZEHOIcYnZ1nDi3GInBhGGL5XBZoH2nkm5K0iVpdICr3hLmvHgZHtFB8eur2bdigTllEm6vMcQg5QbSz4etDu2vLykaWkakWQR7wmkuyol04eWLho/s400/dancing+forks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430502036460892946" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv4yLg4STk-dYSlJImCQ-pKT-6KZyNnVTW7sJWoRapXK0Sh8Dsm7uimgv5lKfsXJWQTLoS8LxOd0keUrsGqRNA7Dbkw1MXCQBaJxW501E60jPY2MayOFmdac_ziZrflafzLTG1zM9aapA/s1600-h/dancers.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv4yLg4STk-dYSlJImCQ-pKT-6KZyNnVTW7sJWoRapXK0Sh8Dsm7uimgv5lKfsXJWQTLoS8LxOd0keUrsGqRNA7Dbkw1MXCQBaJxW501E60jPY2MayOFmdac_ziZrflafzLTG1zM9aapA/s400/dancers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429978831841592610" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPFYiYeltTZU9kbDnCBPOsQ1mQwnRUZPop4RhxtrRxddlaHrf404WBGBYcYnsrJWgPgw-wf5jBKR14a8s1g1mCs3KuVUNf7N1AINgxM7cFzDby7Tvig90oi07PTHPGMuJ7T4SI5X56TM/s1600-h/broad+jump.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPFYiYeltTZU9kbDnCBPOsQ1mQwnRUZPop4RhxtrRxddlaHrf404WBGBYcYnsrJWgPgw-wf5jBKR14a8s1g1mCs3KuVUNf7N1AINgxM7cFzDby7Tvig90oi07PTHPGMuJ7T4SI5X56TM/s400/broad+jump.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429978479888488082" /></a><br /><br />He writes regarding the works photographed below: "Somewhere I heard the quote; 'A good artist borrows and a great artist steals.' In this iteration of the quote these figures were inspired by my 86 year old aunt who has developed the habit of stealing forks from every restaurant that she and my uncle have gone to in the past two years. When she said she did not know what she would do with them, I asked if could make her a gift of love. Her favorite pastime is to play her Steinway which she does with passion." <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidne3PyxBOIqhHZ06rNEshk3KMYdz0WJWwkDnUSzqaGfzR2CU5atfUp26i5WBXPeik6v0zS7yU_l2pPDiMb2EK4Gg0VC5wxlIkh78JsnPcnMQikroUQdq_2F_KVVOosGJWAxGOopzpiE4/s1600-h/Jan+2010+215.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidne3PyxBOIqhHZ06rNEshk3KMYdz0WJWwkDnUSzqaGfzR2CU5atfUp26i5WBXPeik6v0zS7yU_l2pPDiMb2EK4Gg0VC5wxlIkh78JsnPcnMQikroUQdq_2F_KVVOosGJWAxGOopzpiE4/s320/Jan+2010+215.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430739914064371458" /></a><br /><br />"Working with the forks has deepened my appreciation for the process of human perception. We can see nothing into which we cannot project our best aspirations, most tender feelings or our worst fears. These simple pieces of bent tableware only come alive when we imbue them with the music of our own souls." EGSharp<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSEFNVenXvuNMEwQIGB0wraBSaqgr01P9S5M5fPuXIK3pO0PUEDKJ8iLA7B0DNmjDmJiiIt8gz2aKvVVu2eqSVCR4qbffLGVTSmVQlM_AjPx0ocdou1FHpwg2POiW4s0qXG3Lg5mPgvM/s1600-h/piano.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 391px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSEFNVenXvuNMEwQIGB0wraBSaqgr01P9S5M5fPuXIK3pO0PUEDKJ8iLA7B0DNmjDmJiiIt8gz2aKvVVu2eqSVCR4qbffLGVTSmVQlM_AjPx0ocdou1FHpwg2POiW4s0qXG3Lg5mPgvM/s400/piano.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429979269984600642" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWTYkjN7H6d6SJRb2W8BfEmcwLhk3s5p79S6KbM1pPyBL22EFJlxj_J9QcryyogO8K-gcdjFD9nRAfdfeHS_fJItrTdPjzZK_7aS5TcdmjvCrLAlawVcLNljHfLlgFeZpiKFq3zKOcw4/s1600-h/Benihana.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWTYkjN7H6d6SJRb2W8BfEmcwLhk3s5p79S6KbM1pPyBL22EFJlxj_J9QcryyogO8K-gcdjFD9nRAfdfeHS_fJItrTdPjzZK_7aS5TcdmjvCrLAlawVcLNljHfLlgFeZpiKFq3zKOcw4/s400/Benihana.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429978330867882114" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMC8cGT0IC_3B3j_u2WillLOICgFf8WJfo4dAIDybhxhBdgx3z_2ihJsLKpdcJtOlWYdQMtpMCMQrLZqghaBfBk6CIpTEUTmfDBeGvson2ZSXi9AEidKxbq-Va0SBG9LFUJyhX3h19BFE/s1600-h/forchet.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 358px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMC8cGT0IC_3B3j_u2WillLOICgFf8WJfo4dAIDybhxhBdgx3z_2ihJsLKpdcJtOlWYdQMtpMCMQrLZqghaBfBk6CIpTEUTmfDBeGvson2ZSXi9AEidKxbq-Va0SBG9LFUJyhX3h19BFE/s400/forchet.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429978982558478562" /></a><br /><br />Time to finish up and get on with the less artistic chores of laundry and bills. Again, reminding me of how essential it is to creat something lasting. Talent doesn't matter so much (though maybe I'm just saying this to make myself feel better :) It is the impact it has on you . . . Make something!!<br /><br />Here are two more of my creations, made about 15 years apart:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6jRgRe4ULf3u8cyoJvFNQWeeMCCUWIYx4XPBSGyTlWGecCZGOcnMURR1v7xX-jdWc9QZtwFJEbhgXiE-CRF3TQOIwCSIGmIthnHozi2UC8pgxFGOn_hxG7oDUt6zSoSlyQqNNGpdy6ZY/s1600-h/Jan+2010+238a.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6jRgRe4ULf3u8cyoJvFNQWeeMCCUWIYx4XPBSGyTlWGecCZGOcnMURR1v7xX-jdWc9QZtwFJEbhgXiE-CRF3TQOIwCSIGmIthnHozi2UC8pgxFGOn_hxG7oDUt6zSoSlyQqNNGpdy6ZY/s400/Jan+2010+238a.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430744955139902562" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs85x6-UAMDOlMawO4ybV7xDuR-mLX8Ljq6rI18Ejfq2cf8fq3K7lhkP7H30GujRCxShENdLi1POwVlE0dtHMV4HwN5BC8fJIZpciJ_Lmtg8XLirokBmqP3dji1RccFmo9Tdq722sNmeE/s1600-h/Jan+2010+239a.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs85x6-UAMDOlMawO4ybV7xDuR-mLX8Ljq6rI18Ejfq2cf8fq3K7lhkP7H30GujRCxShENdLi1POwVlE0dtHMV4HwN5BC8fJIZpciJ_Lmtg8XLirokBmqP3dji1RccFmo9Tdq722sNmeE/s400/Jan+2010+239a.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430745506944799234" /></a>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-41185921588287788012010-01-17T22:47:00.004-05:002010-01-18T17:22:26.348-05:00Juxtapositions<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdIp8PWtHfNbyQ1pUyk7kd9g5RdKtMPYIkmE4wWrsjG72c0EYZKMQlaVpXOIFQA40c2PwKR3AR4ESD5C4z5yBUS7aeB-UgGtGr7OUIG2ZB8DFid1k6ke175T0Myd9Ivk0ksrwhhfIdOM/s1600-h/art_book_XIX_pai_stevenson_robert_by_sargent_john.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdIp8PWtHfNbyQ1pUyk7kd9g5RdKtMPYIkmE4wWrsjG72c0EYZKMQlaVpXOIFQA40c2PwKR3AR4ESD5C4z5yBUS7aeB-UgGtGr7OUIG2ZB8DFid1k6ke175T0Myd9Ivk0ksrwhhfIdOM/s200/art_book_XIX_pai_stevenson_robert_by_sargent_john.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428134765875689506" /></a><br /><strong>"The best things in life are nearest: Breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, <br />flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of right just before you. <br />Then do not grasp at the stars, but do life's plain, common work as it comes, <br />certain that daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest things in life."<br />- Robert Louis Stevenson </strong> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMfKXGH7Ma4TAapSfQucOJWu9Aq2XKySVlEyzBMkTMa6-JkB9QTOO2Ec4AT3E1tLcsMpZcOV-VOdjRhV4CRsIh1Xf0ILmW6ZEiMlFRuLDQ6PCyIOY8-mUlm8GeXY8shcOVrjI4-xRLBPA/s1600-h/harriet_tubman.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 168px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMfKXGH7Ma4TAapSfQucOJWu9Aq2XKySVlEyzBMkTMa6-JkB9QTOO2Ec4AT3E1tLcsMpZcOV-VOdjRhV4CRsIh1Xf0ILmW6ZEiMlFRuLDQ6PCyIOY8-mUlm8GeXY8shcOVrjI4-xRLBPA/s200/harriet_tubman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428193098808715650" /></a><br /><br />and <strong>"Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world." - Harriet Tubman</strong> <br /><br />Finding the right balance between reaching for the stars and living simply can be a challenge. It seems to me that both are important and that the quest for each can complement the other, rather than be mutually exclusive. <br /><br />In fact, I believe that on many fronts, it is the juxtaposition of different worlds that instills a deep appreciation for each. For me, each week, it is life in two places, small town versus city, having children with me versus not, staying home versus being on the go. . . and over the course of my life have stood the contrasts of poverty versus relative abundance, connection versus loneliness, strength versus surrender. I could go on, ad nauseum, but am reigned in by the constraints of time and mental energy. My ruminations today are even more loosely tied, perhaps, than usual, so take from them what you will. . .<br /><br />Following a blur of days in the capitol, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBLSAJhhP6Q8jv-D7FKU4MqjD4J3gP7Dti5e_WpRvQPOZnxte8TeqiE6Dk7Hww6Pv1eHe6Y6L8Itswb2tWPg9t9NIQSldMP7aWJp-dYaelSfsPu5Ga5UnGox0Ki4knq4wYLlxVC-vhumY/s1600-h/United_States_Capitol_(Winter).jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBLSAJhhP6Q8jv-D7FKU4MqjD4J3gP7Dti5e_WpRvQPOZnxte8TeqiE6Dk7Hww6Pv1eHe6Y6L8Itswb2tWPg9t9NIQSldMP7aWJp-dYaelSfsPu5Ga5UnGox0Ki4knq4wYLlxVC-vhumY/s200/United_States_Capitol_(Winter).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428135488682480706" /></a>it was refreshing to spend the rest of the weekend at home and near about with the darlings, doing chores and crafts and visiting with friends. <br /><br />The blur:<br /><br />I have a number of new clients in my DC practice. This means information overload: so many stories, so much to absorb and conceptualize. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisp4eOPwBN_WIXlK5uolVRI2qd9D_ylNZhUXWvEbNReXbkd63IbC_RXmnXTUta4UIEB4PjBMVcWc1qzhABUVUxhU-5z_GNkeRY94M60j-pu3L1DJSKRPd8EcRW_o2qz1e6HlMN1QVQQ6U/s1600-h/Winter+09+338.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisp4eOPwBN_WIXlK5uolVRI2qd9D_ylNZhUXWvEbNReXbkd63IbC_RXmnXTUta4UIEB4PjBMVcWc1qzhABUVUxhU-5z_GNkeRY94M60j-pu3L1DJSKRPd8EcRW_o2qz1e6HlMN1QVQQ6U/s200/Winter+09+338.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428132615820364994" /></a><br /><br />My mom was hospitalized over the weekend for a pulmonary embolism. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwl0FbjwKhdpzx7dIlqKPnlZpXZADxGRhE1JBeS7Odh7ecYagoS-Gk6-A-52DKOktjhfTybjvLFPIORCqy88-8VKZULZ6lwC_XsZ7rNjKelqQnWWObRepwF35GqcFibdcwRWJYQnMmSZE/s1600-h/mom.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwl0FbjwKhdpzx7dIlqKPnlZpXZADxGRhE1JBeS7Odh7ecYagoS-Gk6-A-52DKOktjhfTybjvLFPIORCqy88-8VKZULZ6lwC_XsZ7rNjKelqQnWWObRepwF35GqcFibdcwRWJYQnMmSZE/s200/mom.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428146908656044242" /></a>She is doing well now, on blood thinner, but the concern is, as this is the second clot in a few months' time, that she may have a genetic predisposition to such clotting and may have to remain vigilant and on Coumadin. <br /><br />Since I could not get to visit her, I found myself wanting distraction. So I worked hard, called mom a lot, spent time with friends, stayed out late, and worked some more. Here is the lovely V as we are wrapping up our evening at 1:30 Saturday morning. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WePxEC34BuaekgV25nhto0i57vVovtQL3V4iKE7H40jlxTK6VFvokulZKT0JZjIBFNBUPQZbqMsir4Ojl1uOl5BU8KaitVGVb0kYnpyl2PXcmG_lxAD7JrnAI-ja3ZN00TNvc9dHJT4/s1600-h/Jan+2010+001.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WePxEC34BuaekgV25nhto0i57vVovtQL3V4iKE7H40jlxTK6VFvokulZKT0JZjIBFNBUPQZbqMsir4Ojl1uOl5BU8KaitVGVb0kYnpyl2PXcmG_lxAD7JrnAI-ja3ZN00TNvc9dHJT4/s200/Jan+2010+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428149823358047970" /></a><br /><br />By the time I got back to my daughters on Saturday afternoon, I'd accomplished a great deal, but felt emptied out, depleted. It helped to have dinner with neighbors, at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in town that is a favorite meeting place. I can never go there without running into friends, neighbors, and clients, and the food is cheap and delicious. <br /><br />This morning, the rain came down steadily, beating a hypnotic rhythmn on my tin roof. It was overcast and the darkness and rain sound helped keep the girls asleep until almost 10:00 a.m. I relished the opportunity and did absolutely nothing with the found time, drifting in and out of a pleasant, dreamy sleep. The rain is washing away the snow that has been on the ground here for six weeks. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuRBUGjf1967Y94FQ54uH8CRjW9WgcMNXsUeoNLdIMOSsUZXh7vjBi5O3zUJDcsUMmn23Pjz23N7yCYhuKscpIbYKQbbgO_AdYL5nCheNVRrUv0tQUmYlihh1rtbTty7t7YI6R_J3OO4/s1600-h/Jan+2010+020.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuRBUGjf1967Y94FQ54uH8CRjW9WgcMNXsUeoNLdIMOSsUZXh7vjBi5O3zUJDcsUMmn23Pjz23N7yCYhuKscpIbYKQbbgO_AdYL5nCheNVRrUv0tQUmYlihh1rtbTty7t7YI6R_J3OO4/s200/Jan+2010+020.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428150813919629346" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkFo6R-YaixgS7sgvPnT07b_xoWvWdKA0tagJSJb6wn6ngiBn0So9YqmUmqCtiyO4OS1Bkr-trkB62v-Qc1uvr4QDxgalf2b7Ff7SLpgJftqS17pTfIO4cFteXZjwINMpkRuTn2xnMqQ/s1600-h/Jan+2010+018.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkFo6R-YaixgS7sgvPnT07b_xoWvWdKA0tagJSJb6wn6ngiBn0So9YqmUmqCtiyO4OS1Bkr-trkB62v-Qc1uvr4QDxgalf2b7Ff7SLpgJftqS17pTfIO4cFteXZjwINMpkRuTn2xnMqQ/s200/Jan+2010+018.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428158926382847666" /></a><br /><br />When we were all awake, EG & MG wanted nothing more than to cuddle in my bed and tickle and giggle and talk. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nEY15xVyD36h3n2hjK8rVf6DdHDaUgSg0lHnQ-nknzYEZsyyElEGc88fpUEyXbwa9eWAPg64FTuXzhVYIfjvO4KuuZQYqTTxxKnf9RIbCpMI4jETEY0k2WZMukoQnQZvfsaND9stYig/s1600-h/Winter+09+341.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nEY15xVyD36h3n2hjK8rVf6DdHDaUgSg0lHnQ-nknzYEZsyyElEGc88fpUEyXbwa9eWAPg64FTuXzhVYIfjvO4KuuZQYqTTxxKnf9RIbCpMI4jETEY0k2WZMukoQnQZvfsaND9stYig/s200/Winter+09+341.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428152552072995170" /></a>This is what heaven must be like, and only hunger eventually forced us to get up and begin the day. Having not yet completely unpacked the car, and having an ever mounting pile of chores to overcome, I tried to get motivated and make progress. The day's accomplishments, however, were minimal. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8onoXLAlzyR9fEM7rtR3NvgcAREFj68vODVGu6gp5uvPVcYLul-rwIlkRScey5UU4SOZxt7-WfuixvVSPXiL-lR33z4NNeMwWVN5Uoc6LfMyOQxiFkBkC_tsgIIb18ZueqESu-rQTIUw/s1600-h/Winter+09+343.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8onoXLAlzyR9fEM7rtR3NvgcAREFj68vODVGu6gp5uvPVcYLul-rwIlkRScey5UU4SOZxt7-WfuixvVSPXiL-lR33z4NNeMwWVN5Uoc6LfMyOQxiFkBkC_tsgIIb18ZueqESu-rQTIUw/s200/Winter+09+343.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428153352366214594" /></a><br /><br /><strong>"Besides the noble art of getting things done, there is the noble art of leaving things undone. The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of non-essentials." - Lin Yutang</strong><br /><br />EG was all about changing in and out of some new clothes we'd purchased for her the night before. She exclaimed, "Don't I look amazing?" MG claimed boredom and was looking for something to do, so we got out the cement mix and she made a stepping stone inlaid with a fish mosaic from beach glass we collected on our 2009 summer vacation. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ix_uFF_3kzlhcXYiacjoWxX6gU25cnaxogO0Ee63OKoBeR3_8nnMD0PHq7L1g7t6pvB46F-S7x9AwUnq0pyVGFBiOttzPfw7R8oMJgqE7yDiWA7gPAD5qeXLiHQFdIsFD3bilI1j_7g/s1600-h/Jan+2010+013.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ix_uFF_3kzlhcXYiacjoWxX6gU25cnaxogO0Ee63OKoBeR3_8nnMD0PHq7L1g7t6pvB46F-S7x9AwUnq0pyVGFBiOttzPfw7R8oMJgqE7yDiWA7gPAD5qeXLiHQFdIsFD3bilI1j_7g/s200/Jan+2010+013.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428156153749713714" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7osBeHYfl0oMZWkchS89Ba2iAu1zRq4mDepbcnIvENDGAUVMSV2vi0e4UoU6c-uyaJhrxeeT2uHHPGDkuo44oKCX_8BJ6GeiSkhM7ywkvV5nbfnupu2zCQP74JojhyYTwr6xiUlmXds/s1600-h/Jan+2010+042.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7osBeHYfl0oMZWkchS89Ba2iAu1zRq4mDepbcnIvENDGAUVMSV2vi0e4UoU6c-uyaJhrxeeT2uHHPGDkuo44oKCX_8BJ6GeiSkhM7ywkvV5nbfnupu2zCQP74JojhyYTwr6xiUlmXds/s200/Jan+2010+042.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428158019140087570" /></a><br /><br />We ended up going out for lunch and for dinner with grocery shopping in-between. Dinner was with SP and her two little ones. We had picked up candy canes on sale at the craft store and made a fleet of candy cane reindeer as we ate our enchiladas. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXQjkZUMAlSbaF0aDXRH1Ju-Wwzbr20mg9J1bJf3_zMdgh-xOZSIf-BMV8vD-8c0rVU9uTvNuNDBfrgTWZ5N1qMo2-H9xWtKK73wE9e9C2Cq-UkNywSX7EedqJbx2SDKYYh3zG7eVkws/s1600-h/Jan+2010+025.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXQjkZUMAlSbaF0aDXRH1Ju-Wwzbr20mg9J1bJf3_zMdgh-xOZSIf-BMV8vD-8c0rVU9uTvNuNDBfrgTWZ5N1qMo2-H9xWtKK73wE9e9C2Cq-UkNywSX7EedqJbx2SDKYYh3zG7eVkws/s200/Jan+2010+025.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428160944340539778" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNg6eEsRBaODbEDwElHJEbJlDIkzKpoWYBBxnN1pj45ZtyCSUAy9uFeIHoiKys4O8e9rn_3H_qEKNlCrVBWHabPpNra9ZqYjzhbk-TlJBsuUCJz4kxDsQ4n-eA6t8jhVt9i9xOPYFXao/s1600-h/Jan+2010+028.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNg6eEsRBaODbEDwElHJEbJlDIkzKpoWYBBxnN1pj45ZtyCSUAy9uFeIHoiKys4O8e9rn_3H_qEKNlCrVBWHabPpNra9ZqYjzhbk-TlJBsuUCJz4kxDsQ4n-eA6t8jhVt9i9xOPYFXao/s200/Jan+2010+028.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428162162887934370" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTp3Wz-VPJmO4Gr0nbUmdxnKadSSspDxngsWJ8sZuaPCYJmigD-6UAqxNx4Q8qoAtrLi6P6fzTWpZ8Uf2SKWiIHJ7sOxM99LxXUf5oH9BgPbCGi2XF9UJ6o43coGAPqT2ZIjg9VEvP2s4/s1600-h/Jan+2010+029.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTp3Wz-VPJmO4Gr0nbUmdxnKadSSspDxngsWJ8sZuaPCYJmigD-6UAqxNx4Q8qoAtrLi6P6fzTWpZ8Uf2SKWiIHJ7sOxM99LxXUf5oH9BgPbCGi2XF9UJ6o43coGAPqT2ZIjg9VEvP2s4/s200/Jan+2010+029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428162611915464786" /></a><br />Halfway through the meal, EG had to change her outfit. She'd packed extras in the car, and wanted to make sure her best friend got to see the new dress, modeled. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn35X4FazQZrLMjC7upXSlCVnFMEkzk02NexDhi1QzxpZI6BvwVWZzZoFmhx26JWsrlA3GcEM7EZpWojs1bBABnKP1fyvMc-r7u-s_9dIajv4TIsiCXMQF5WiFk5rxGlxm4dH3KhRc4ZQ/s1600-h/Jan+2010+031.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn35X4FazQZrLMjC7upXSlCVnFMEkzk02NexDhi1QzxpZI6BvwVWZzZoFmhx26JWsrlA3GcEM7EZpWojs1bBABnKP1fyvMc-r7u-s_9dIajv4TIsiCXMQF5WiFk5rxGlxm4dH3KhRc4ZQ/s320/Jan+2010+031.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428163002601600690" /></a> The puffy dress led to dancing, and all the kids got involved. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4nVaVAMYfcZaI7EgsvoF8fMiAlmj-g0dh5HIxjxbENkNiREaC_e312OGHFSZsrnANhgcvRk1Au3STDm5grEXgm-VKOv37_EoUljKVDD0HJT-Dfo-jblpR2RUqdNZ9ODMhyLpMljd9OsQ/s1600-h/Jan+2010+034.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4nVaVAMYfcZaI7EgsvoF8fMiAlmj-g0dh5HIxjxbENkNiREaC_e312OGHFSZsrnANhgcvRk1Au3STDm5grEXgm-VKOv37_EoUljKVDD0HJT-Dfo-jblpR2RUqdNZ9ODMhyLpMljd9OsQ/s320/Jan+2010+034.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428163644934975922" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBUWCDZNE6nljMQpE60La7V95GfkCkj2_7jr7KED5RDr1GxtqaHAXM5K3Tylkzmod9ach_cvFNl98UYSpWsDWdvvPfG4URGAz-Va_g-BOqNIPy5JqeGX3wvwrOzCC8F-PyBCP-8ocq_AE/s1600-h/Jan+2010+035.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBUWCDZNE6nljMQpE60La7V95GfkCkj2_7jr7KED5RDr1GxtqaHAXM5K3Tylkzmod9ach_cvFNl98UYSpWsDWdvvPfG4URGAz-Va_g-BOqNIPy5JqeGX3wvwrOzCC8F-PyBCP-8ocq_AE/s200/Jan+2010+035.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428163898233310770" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0To7jr7MOJ4wNTzRmdazjepp8bkfiEHas8rDqpxZKiZC2il8c0CtPdJ_t8FgGZXLwlR8v89DYlTM2j4XmEwUZUdcgneCquKW-DHIpog4lhbmlQQiLI-opKZh3tJha45Km8zaG-1ylEo8/s1600-h/Jan+2010+036.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0To7jr7MOJ4wNTzRmdazjepp8bkfiEHas8rDqpxZKiZC2il8c0CtPdJ_t8FgGZXLwlR8v89DYlTM2j4XmEwUZUdcgneCquKW-DHIpog4lhbmlQQiLI-opKZh3tJha45Km8zaG-1ylEo8/s200/Jan+2010+036.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428164205228824498" /></a><br /><br />We topped off the frolic with fried ice-cream . . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnT4e8mxvG6h1OVtVT62nd8VhZuKkx5ZmOsduPL6tT9cRNZmSn9NRaNu1rEhQXyHRkX4FS2IDGpouL7mMxcOZ1dfSBngqsP8IKZlN0UGBRwDiqjTWabqcUfmEWraWkqmgr3CCgBZP4oy4/s1600-h/Jan+2010+040.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnT4e8mxvG6h1OVtVT62nd8VhZuKkx5ZmOsduPL6tT9cRNZmSn9NRaNu1rEhQXyHRkX4FS2IDGpouL7mMxcOZ1dfSBngqsP8IKZlN0UGBRwDiqjTWabqcUfmEWraWkqmgr3CCgBZP4oy4/s200/Jan+2010+040.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428164635171331714" /></a><br /><br />Now it is Monday morning and I'm waiting for clients at my home office. It is the MLK holiday. I'm glad this day is set aside; each year it helps me re-focus on issues of social justice, dreams of positive change, hope . . .<br /><br /><strong>"Life's most persistent and urgent question is, 'What are you doing for others?" - Martin Luther King, Jr. </strong> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfJTlWhRG-AzEgAqTLUfVnv7KWBlsLthHS2hdGqaQm2hRSQyxCx8VrOEoVLcyq0U2xP2wnpOtr8ryO0YY1aZsYvpTdzISiDxHCjz9FGm-CxeaV1hU5PKR99XfMg5M8mxNigKUFUk6DVxA/s1600-h/martin-luther-king-jr-pic.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 167px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfJTlWhRG-AzEgAqTLUfVnv7KWBlsLthHS2hdGqaQm2hRSQyxCx8VrOEoVLcyq0U2xP2wnpOtr8ryO0YY1aZsYvpTdzISiDxHCjz9FGm-CxeaV1hU5PKR99XfMg5M8mxNigKUFUk6DVxA/s200/martin-luther-king-jr-pic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428169608262836290" /></a><br /><br />Last week Haiti was devastated by a horrendous earthquake. If you're reading this, and you haven't already, please make a contribution to benefit the people of Haiti. Even small donations can make a huge difference in the well being of a person. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO62-ZjFhMn4wnDu3tOycUvveYO8aaKPI9DpV8RkhGOQssyTIwoQKcVVz-NG3LOyEjfKbAFvAC-4TfTqT6ivYZDu8EJIKR6KytMWFYAyvVmPT5yn5EuGeq2hosoUX2pxreNDccUx_RFS8/s1600-h/leogane-haiti-pic-dm-ian-vogler-745564000.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO62-ZjFhMn4wnDu3tOycUvveYO8aaKPI9DpV8RkhGOQssyTIwoQKcVVz-NG3LOyEjfKbAFvAC-4TfTqT6ivYZDu8EJIKR6KytMWFYAyvVmPT5yn5EuGeq2hosoUX2pxreNDccUx_RFS8/s320/leogane-haiti-pic-dm-ian-vogler-745564000.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428181518878813826" /></a><br /><strong>Partners in Health </strong>-- http://pih.org/home.html <br />and <strong>Doctors Without Borders</strong> <br />-- https://donate.doctorswithoutborders.org/SSLPage.aspx?pid=197&hbc=1&source=AZE1001D1001 <br /><br />are just a couple of organizations that you could give through. <br /><br />Thanks for reading & if you haven't, sign in to officially "follow" me. And please make comments; I enjoy the discourse, or teasing, or slander, really . . . as long as someone is paying attention :)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em></em>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-74572183179826197492010-01-13T22:02:00.024-05:002010-01-14T01:00:04.800-05:00Everyday Life<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq26P7f0y9Yh7omZajX1f1Qsh0nO8K7SDvl6esiHPXc2W8Tpk5eV6qaWtnB4CBR6yodGL1KpD2soT3bGn58KM-ZC_posGJ5PRMMOTynoB9YSS6y-H5Ldaw6QCzzAXZBNdmadqMcXFpeuc/s1600-h/May+09+024.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq26P7f0y9Yh7omZajX1f1Qsh0nO8K7SDvl6esiHPXc2W8Tpk5eV6qaWtnB4CBR6yodGL1KpD2soT3bGn58KM-ZC_posGJ5PRMMOTynoB9YSS6y-H5Ldaw6QCzzAXZBNdmadqMcXFpeuc/s320/May+09+024.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426467173086677538" /></a><br /><br />There is a bias in the stories we tell. A skew toward the exciting moments, the vacations, the crises. But the mundane events of our lives are worth recording as well. Unglamorous as they may be, these chronicles are essential to an authentic narrative. . .<br /><br />Granted, I have trouble telling any anecdote without some degree of histrionics, which is part of the reason I'm never bored. I can find the excitement in a stop at the 7-11 for Cheetos and gasoline. I'll attach photos of everyday life with this post. They may not follow the report, but they make it pretty. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1klITRCpCk9B74awMPg8bKeoCAMVVXb4Oo0DvLNTZXfe92tId-_m_40Bdxtw-r8YJbmhjZZmeneLrWeMSVxfW0vUS5i3xq7rCJO6zpPc9Fdn68cnY1Bn3S3yE6xmbUg8QZzMf6gDypZw/s1600-h/May+09+025.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1klITRCpCk9B74awMPg8bKeoCAMVVXb4Oo0DvLNTZXfe92tId-_m_40Bdxtw-r8YJbmhjZZmeneLrWeMSVxfW0vUS5i3xq7rCJO6zpPc9Fdn68cnY1Bn3S3yE6xmbUg8QZzMf6gDypZw/s320/May+09+025.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426467536202720626" /></a><br /><br />Here is a glimpse of my week thus far, not atypical, though if you've known me long enough, you've quickly figured out that I have no such luck as to fall into any kind of predictable, conventional grind. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhtlGEfVsXtBmfPMo900oUqJbm2LcHCLqRsJ_n9P_QJk1QPBwPIHG44stKCHBVEyim8nNtlPJozMHfS17wazDqng1X79fIyTEgDN4Z3k3TxSwu1mK2lirBI1Nme_FQ42RgxQ7ExheS9U/s1600-h/May+09+027.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhtlGEfVsXtBmfPMo900oUqJbm2LcHCLqRsJ_n9P_QJk1QPBwPIHG44stKCHBVEyim8nNtlPJozMHfS17wazDqng1X79fIyTEgDN4Z3k3TxSwu1mK2lirBI1Nme_FQ42RgxQ7ExheS9U/s320/May+09+027.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426468226635926322" /></a><br /><br />Sunday I woke late (following the Swing Shift party the night before.) I rolled out of bed, literally, and unintentionally, rolled off of my air mattress in my DC room and onto the hardwood floor. I then deflated the mattress, put it back in its box, and later returned it to the <em>Bed, Bath, and Beyond What you Should Pay</em> store, because the mattress SUCKED - remote control for firmness not withstanding - it BLOWS. Sorry for the slang outburst. I warned you that I can be histrionic. I got showered and dressed, loaded up my Mini, and started the drive west, then south. <br /><br />I gathered up the darlings from their father and then met up with a group of friends from the Stonewall Brigade Band for a few rounds of bowling. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf1LwS_X6aL0IB6WYndihvJ9XoKGQtYpKJIKer6EXAYQqQRFwbUyMZHh017Ekhuien3AFdhyOHNuwEnec7e_FMdhJw6rxgGVA8H5Ac783ocH64RilR574oeIVF4GAlLOKmUtPGmH_H2qc/s1600-h/Winter+09+321.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf1LwS_X6aL0IB6WYndihvJ9XoKGQtYpKJIKer6EXAYQqQRFwbUyMZHh017Ekhuien3AFdhyOHNuwEnec7e_FMdhJw6rxgGVA8H5Ac783ocH64RilR574oeIVF4GAlLOKmUtPGmH_H2qc/s320/Winter+09+321.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426460871651842674" /></a>Speaking of SUCKING. I scored like a 69, even with the kiddie bumpers in the gutters. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKC_RVar08J-_A4bO-cMEu0F7tc5lVoqX-da6FwmT5KqZYkisDwC4ZWcsLQno_gdN3cdAYIVGpT-PkFhyphenhyphenZYIzrLARN3HFds4eYWRFneK4fEXYnuM5BV8IN8L5_hC3Z9jgOK-kdyRi2Mmw/s1600-h/Winter+09+326.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKC_RVar08J-_A4bO-cMEu0F7tc5lVoqX-da6FwmT5KqZYkisDwC4ZWcsLQno_gdN3cdAYIVGpT-PkFhyphenhyphenZYIzrLARN3HFds4eYWRFneK4fEXYnuM5BV8IN8L5_hC3Z9jgOK-kdyRi2Mmw/s200/Winter+09+326.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426461769868094930" /></a>The kiddies love bowling, btw. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijApqWnaDX7Xqo-NSSlZLd51PbrJLlQ3k9r3o8Ul3P8V_Gcw25TP3mjDA2Iyqmlzil6Lao0ut57IbHQVkAX4WlbNFmdMuG_f-6A9_ArRB0l9PfRBXtwGZYDSijOol_ltni1ck3QbNpE8U/s1600-h/Winter+09+329.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijApqWnaDX7Xqo-NSSlZLd51PbrJLlQ3k9r3o8Ul3P8V_Gcw25TP3mjDA2Iyqmlzil6Lao0ut57IbHQVkAX4WlbNFmdMuG_f-6A9_ArRB0l9PfRBXtwGZYDSijOol_ltni1ck3QbNpE8U/s200/Winter+09+329.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426462354822267682" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimV2XVtP6IeZuM6pNrbWeL-unNVO7l2K_8q4jUKF-FbReIu_OJAjq0RfOejJncF4YLYhr-kBcFAYVp2-RtE4hBb4cBJl35sJdvgEQyNp-xE3-Qx_b4zhSr_5nNw1ye6AHEuodijs8gBRU/s1600-h/Winter+09+325.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimV2XVtP6IeZuM6pNrbWeL-unNVO7l2K_8q4jUKF-FbReIu_OJAjq0RfOejJncF4YLYhr-kBcFAYVp2-RtE4hBb4cBJl35sJdvgEQyNp-xE3-Qx_b4zhSr_5nNw1ye6AHEuodijs8gBRU/s400/Winter+09+325.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426463184218552514" /></a><br /><br />Afterwards, I went shopping for the replacement bed, helped yet again by BB, who is clearly the best EX-boyfriend EVER, so shut-up with any comments about his helping me with the bed. We found a great deal on a "Euro Lounger" couch-like thing that opens into a full sleeper. I'm excited about this baby, for its space-saving + multi-position + sleepover (with the kids, of course!) possibilities, but haven't yet gotten it up the skinny, steep staircase and put it together, much less slept on it, so you will have to wait for an official rating. (BB hauled it back to DC for me, coordinating with my roommate for its delivery.) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81VLmn07dFOb2OtC6Oi-G7nnQ6lNHAHjOW-UW2XCZ9PamB-kvUkhweqTIWUe32DwE3pCxW_9aRUfMNHO9EugDaRK6zFI0nLPXH2JHRcjJ9ktYIplfbncavqB1VBQuXeZFBDI337XHEBc/s1600-h/165069-L.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81VLmn07dFOb2OtC6Oi-G7nnQ6lNHAHjOW-UW2XCZ9PamB-kvUkhweqTIWUe32DwE3pCxW_9aRUfMNHO9EugDaRK6zFI0nLPXH2JHRcjJ9ktYIplfbncavqB1VBQuXeZFBDI337XHEBc/s320/165069-L.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426434447259381394" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDRdWJyfLLMyM4GuQ0itfPtd9RVwa798lhF9LdOju9A-fotSx610ccC1MYLJIk5EEUGCpq2m6yRRPCMELtvOs154pY0GGgXcka18dJsOtuhWGTFVbc8lKZmHWwU5fRC_YfFWiq3T8xk4/s1600-h/165069-3-L.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDRdWJyfLLMyM4GuQ0itfPtd9RVwa798lhF9LdOju9A-fotSx610ccC1MYLJIk5EEUGCpq2m6yRRPCMELtvOs154pY0GGgXcka18dJsOtuhWGTFVbc8lKZmHWwU5fRC_YfFWiq3T8xk4/s200/165069-3-L.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426435556061925298" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhqMHblvhmDu-qavVJ3eVWAjL9CBxcGF2fNNASO62FtWPzvNOufrYmP709iuKLuP2oEElf9lZRCfnn5wlu62yoIygnCJGrr98HtnJP1GYP8fBscQQQGAFGd_z9CpHV4PAl0yzDQBUZDsg/s1600-h/165069-4-T.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 75px; height: 75px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhqMHblvhmDu-qavVJ3eVWAjL9CBxcGF2fNNASO62FtWPzvNOufrYmP709iuKLuP2oEElf9lZRCfnn5wlu62yoIygnCJGrr98HtnJP1GYP8fBscQQQGAFGd_z9CpHV4PAl0yzDQBUZDsg/s200/165069-4-T.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426436679367736994" /></a><br /><br />We grabbed a quick dinner while playing tick-tack-toe with EG who is still at an age where you let her win and she truly believes she is the MASTER and consoles you kindly about your multiple losses. Then Sunday night was an exhausted drag things into the house in the icy cold, spill EG's Sprite, which she insisted on bringing from the restaurant, all over the floor, and scramble to get ready for the next day's resumption of school and clients at the house and bills to be paid, etc. (Reminds me of Swing Shift - heard about their rehearsal last night, when someone complained that a song was being played too slowly, and the vocalist turned it into "Dragging (vs Walking) My Baby Back Home.")<br /><br />I honestly feel as if the treadmill never gets turned off. It is still going, right now as I write, I just kind of slide off of it for these moments of sanity producing avoidance of the mega-ton of things that have to be done. Each day is a constant barrage of "What must be done next?" Anything but work and parenting necessities feels like stolen time. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWkc1W5GqyF7x5ZD6vcrOOl_6-pMDZpJ4YxFyQPaH_L7dwCdlq1hq53r1Jxt93iKK1lgmp4QOHlCoMgZypYYMo84KuhADinxhOoNVSVsjz9zb2hO4Qrh5sLT6Lm2Pp4GR_AOe3QMEI_0/s1600-h/DSC05174.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWkc1W5GqyF7x5ZD6vcrOOl_6-pMDZpJ4YxFyQPaH_L7dwCdlq1hq53r1Jxt93iKK1lgmp4QOHlCoMgZypYYMo84KuhADinxhOoNVSVsjz9zb2hO4Qrh5sLT6Lm2Pp4GR_AOe3QMEI_0/s320/DSC05174.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426470375737858530" /></a><br /><br />Monday was a blur of clients. I can be attuned and present in the moment throughout the day, and then at the end of like 9 people in a row, I'm trying to remember who I saw at 10 a.m.. I skipped band rehearsal to work on an application/screen test script for a television program on which I've been asked to possibly appear as an "expert" - HA - I've got someone out there fooled! Its a season-long public-service type thing about women's health. My "expert" opinion will be that there is no such thing as an expert on the human condition, that we are all perpetual students, and that a clients' best wisdom comes from within - psychotherapists are slightly more experienced guides accompanying people on their challenging journeys. Anyway, not sure I will get the part, nor that if it is offered that the commitment will be worth what it takes from my time with my girls. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lGPC21vYvF8wDmnfmS1qgsysQqMkA83mNywxuwoLgeLHyS-1APYGldanFZwnUUm3rD7Ou1JalkVkwFzNxwsVeitdS0__EDV8lyDNz0SDbPC_ggnhfTZgixmxU93BMAqdzoVf-WX16H8/s1600-h/January+09+076.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lGPC21vYvF8wDmnfmS1qgsysQqMkA83mNywxuwoLgeLHyS-1APYGldanFZwnUUm3rD7Ou1JalkVkwFzNxwsVeitdS0__EDV8lyDNz0SDbPC_ggnhfTZgixmxU93BMAqdzoVf-WX16H8/s320/January+09+076.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426465974766989458" /></a><br /><br />I am needed most by the two I brought into the world. They need to be taken to piano and Musikgarten. They need to sit at the dinner table and eat meals as a family. They need to have friends over after school. MG and a neighbor were making videos for You-Tube with the pet rats in their hands as the characters - MG voicing-over with a Texas-twang. EG and her friend put panties and tights on their heads and blankets and capes over their shoulders and were spies on a mission to uncover the filmmakers' true identities. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4INGp-vS7IWUMeY9ie8G9_BpAGw6ILTuvhVMPrwWvoPFWlbySgkY2qetcudocYHeK5DvIf17oP2GPS1y6Fd4b5dGMY4TtpoNwlsUP4FzXAmwc2eIZsDXCthKNS6VHHA6qzWY5ZEu6Ks/s1600-h/Winter+09+334.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4INGp-vS7IWUMeY9ie8G9_BpAGw6ILTuvhVMPrwWvoPFWlbySgkY2qetcudocYHeK5DvIf17oP2GPS1y6Fd4b5dGMY4TtpoNwlsUP4FzXAmwc2eIZsDXCthKNS6VHHA6qzWY5ZEu6Ks/s320/Winter+09+334.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426459719642501858" /></a>And the filmmakers actually turned out to be evil villians, relentlessly torturing the younger children for their espionage. MG got off the bus today and was livid at the younger neighbor who had hit MG with a lunch box for "no apparent region." Of course I knew that MG's teasing from yesterday was provocation enough, but what region should have justified the violence, I don't know. <br /><br />Tuesday's and Wednesday's clinical schedules were lighter, but I've been slammed with the chores that had to be fitted into a shorter than usual amount of time -unpacking, laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, mopping, housework, homework assistance, girls' music practice, business management/marketing/billing, pet care, ad nauseum. . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3bwsceaZ4kLmQDVzQVxuPFjNcy5vJAbBdmVXBGGpwnOfs4fpzwC4owIfsfLNgn4qOQt_zCJLZsX0KKk6SAqKMjP3xDlrT8fgzNZEHL77HEMDM47D5Ts_XZYOWQL9a6J6S409Fzx1PcDk/s1600-h/Winter+09+332.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3bwsceaZ4kLmQDVzQVxuPFjNcy5vJAbBdmVXBGGpwnOfs4fpzwC4owIfsfLNgn4qOQt_zCJLZsX0KKk6SAqKMjP3xDlrT8fgzNZEHL77HEMDM47D5Ts_XZYOWQL9a6J6S409Fzx1PcDk/s320/Winter+09+332.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426459995850825074" /></a>ending up the Wednesday evening with dinner out and a trip to Lowes for window-coverings for the new place. <br /><br />It is quite fortunate, or probably a result of their single parents' status, that my daughters are adept at entertaining themselves. (Their father and I share them approximately 50/50 and so I don't know that I do more than any other parent over the course of a week, but when I'm on, it's all ME - you know if there is say a messy illness on my watch, then I'm the one cleaning it, and losing sleep, and loading up the kids in the middle of the night for a trip to the Walmart for Pepto-Bismol and then working same as usual the next day so I can pay the bills by myself. And the same is true for their daddy, and we're lucky he's a good one. So the girls know how to keep themselves occupied. MG has now voraciously consumed 4 1/2 of the Rick Riordan series and EG is non-stop IMAGINATION. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3P0xITpOFz8phRffA0W-dzMTGleLkd0OwZJtukwve9Slx2DPplAg4EO-JQpsE9NBti00UenXp-65XXzlgGsBrwDPpG5VKKNSDtRWEiajGlcJdPc_8rqOgyiCcsnsL0Mr2YMBt0_eEn-M/s1600-h/DSC04861.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3P0xITpOFz8phRffA0W-dzMTGleLkd0OwZJtukwve9Slx2DPplAg4EO-JQpsE9NBti00UenXp-65XXzlgGsBrwDPpG5VKKNSDtRWEiajGlcJdPc_8rqOgyiCcsnsL0Mr2YMBt0_eEn-M/s320/DSC04861.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426463656193851602" /></a>Today she was pretending that she had four children and was miming gulping down<em> beer </em>with her <em>breakfast</em> because she needed to lose the baby weight (no joke - and no, honestly, there is no role model for this behavior in her life . . .that I know of.) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwddnWj2P7n21hgjeTBIQYY2kGq_-tZc9lR6lEXdbhU-XNIqPSsIuXLdrmhZutDSbGkT3irZOWJ6AhDcUp0aZ4lo69tkpXt979L4TcJbfcUDftKeBDfv4fHXYEU8Ecp1EwlHmfzThfM0/s1600-h/DSC04864.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwddnWj2P7n21hgjeTBIQYY2kGq_-tZc9lR6lEXdbhU-XNIqPSsIuXLdrmhZutDSbGkT3irZOWJ6AhDcUp0aZ4lo69tkpXt979L4TcJbfcUDftKeBDfv4fHXYEU8Ecp1EwlHmfzThfM0/s320/DSC04864.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426464184227417698" /></a>One of her children became ill and had to stay at home in bed, thus she decided she would entertain him. She retrieved a costume from the attic and continued in character going out for Mexican and to the hardware store as a penguin. None of us could suppress the giggling when MG grabbed hold of the beak and controlled her sibling like a puppet. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWEVXPmC6REE_AzLO24pNPmlBAFrAJRy0orhtcHqrZeP9ghpprwY1SffTTzByDlH66t77NnABqmb3MHW5cR50yhEEZ6-Uu8dyKfONTRhjZoES1I-pOV-N9otMgEWbL5Kh79b_UGOHlEO4/s1600-h/GetAttachment.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWEVXPmC6REE_AzLO24pNPmlBAFrAJRy0orhtcHqrZeP9ghpprwY1SffTTzByDlH66t77NnABqmb3MHW5cR50yhEEZ6-Uu8dyKfONTRhjZoES1I-pOV-N9otMgEWbL5Kh79b_UGOHlEO4/s400/GetAttachment.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426458946810426354" /></a> EG soon had a scarf tied about her and was being pulled across the ice outdoors, and at Lowes, they were both "pengrins" - as EG calls them -chasing each other around the store, with their legs together from the knees up, until they actually toppled a cart over on top of themselves, I came running, and found them still laughing, uncontrollably. They have inherited their mother's proclivity for creating fun and humour in most any situation. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ozmb5K9b4p0fPbRexYL9cO9LSBixg8_zPcrnZdvX7-scneCGYPKW4G6_xYs1PWx865DlhV1bLUuc_iPsmIdKPXvXruaPjbDeeo2AdbjkuMRJuA45C6sAWMF1TcP8vQ2nC_l9dZmgvSk/s1600-h/Winter+09+333.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ozmb5K9b4p0fPbRexYL9cO9LSBixg8_zPcrnZdvX7-scneCGYPKW4G6_xYs1PWx865DlhV1bLUuc_iPsmIdKPXvXruaPjbDeeo2AdbjkuMRJuA45C6sAWMF1TcP8vQ2nC_l9dZmgvSk/s320/Winter+09+333.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426459546110735938" /></a><br /><br />Bed time was delayed by my taking a crisis call from a client. In business by myself - I am basically always on call. It is nice now to snuggle close to EG, though it has made the typing more of a challenge. . .<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNOM98_zmBKhRfgJGUx6Oc1bJBJWuuX5T6AHPIuHVfM-kzm0YnIWb8-xvyzCGsHIrCy-PgqhetEgUcFcBgKDVY48WTdfIQRSYDimkl2K1RQRFIAUq1VPw6aYZxA6wrrIzxopXMnGBMuY/s1600-h/Winter+09+335.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNOM98_zmBKhRfgJGUx6Oc1bJBJWuuX5T6AHPIuHVfM-kzm0YnIWb8-xvyzCGsHIrCy-PgqhetEgUcFcBgKDVY48WTdfIQRSYDimkl2K1RQRFIAUq1VPw6aYZxA6wrrIzxopXMnGBMuY/s320/Winter+09+335.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426459291232055730" /></a><br /><br />So, on to the next day - always a struggle to go away for work, three hours from my most precious connections - during their time with daddy. Even though I would not have them with me if I were here, psychologically, being closer feels good. But we do what we've got to do, the best we can, and enjoy all the variety of experiences that everyday brings.RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-30465689744376287312010-01-12T12:51:00.031-05:002010-01-12T18:20:52.466-05:00California Dreaming<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ2xtzSzs3gOD4hnp5VilqYwxg91lv9m9yMPDFLUsbd2O24Y4uN33nnJmVOMTiVF8opi1ebVp5TDno4oYwq88MnAEERYOAmZF1MKomacp4uosHG3EGcsdXl20ejBszx8lsbiU9q51wkK4/s1600-h/May+09+196.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ2xtzSzs3gOD4hnp5VilqYwxg91lv9m9yMPDFLUsbd2O24Y4uN33nnJmVOMTiVF8opi1ebVp5TDno4oYwq88MnAEERYOAmZF1MKomacp4uosHG3EGcsdXl20ejBszx8lsbiU9q51wkK4/s320/May+09+196.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425956220047917842" /></a><br />Last May, 2009, I took a mostly solo trip to California. I flew to LA from DC, rented a brand spanking new British racing green Mini Cooper S convertible with tan leather interior, and hit the road. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw3gerOIX-Q6clGympzRodObqSFbkRTY6cpyZr9ciR0xvrEasN2M_yZG-WF_tJPseDnhF1zb6Bvoaiq_u7lo9-JZa7gKDr7H_1jqsJoN1vcDsic9oKdgVxI2lINKak4-KiELZkWDhM8PA/s1600-h/May+09+044.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw3gerOIX-Q6clGympzRodObqSFbkRTY6cpyZr9ciR0xvrEasN2M_yZG-WF_tJPseDnhF1zb6Bvoaiq_u7lo9-JZa7gKDr7H_1jqsJoN1vcDsic9oKdgVxI2lINKak4-KiELZkWDhM8PA/s320/May+09+044.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425957044674317938" /></a><br /><br />My destination was nature's beauty; my sustenance was visiting with dear friends - particularly friends who are my adopted, extended family from the American Academy of Psychotherapists (AAP). I am in an organization that is central to my practice and personal fulfillment. The Academy, www.aapweb.com, is a professional organization like no other I've ever encountered. AAP provides connection with other therapists from different disciplines, superb and experiential continuing education, and basically group therapy for therapists. Here, copied from our webiste, is a quote from my colleague Howie Halpern, about the Academy, that describes my experience in the group, albeit almost 40 years later: <br /><br />"It was terrifying to be exposed to all that creative craziness, and to expose how I worked. I saw members of the Academy, with great courage, dare to take risks, to step off the ledge, to open themselves to attack and criticism. I saw us learn from each other and bring our new insights back to our homes all across the country, like bees from different locales bringing nectar from a particularly dazzling flower garden back to their home hives. I was never more anxious and never grew so much."<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_gSYwZoS4inICWAHyVNbjmYPYsrKXFEe3INHxDn2nVr8zmPGLUWT3WN_LjaHljKdKRQFYWLskaAbNiNbpQ0AaKaSxpyhaQ0SNXWrOKtPPhZ1s71BJ8Ssk5KF_4euUX44c5dm020nDcg/s1600-h/May+09+218.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv_gSYwZoS4inICWAHyVNbjmYPYsrKXFEe3INHxDn2nVr8zmPGLUWT3WN_LjaHljKdKRQFYWLskaAbNiNbpQ0AaKaSxpyhaQ0SNXWrOKtPPhZ1s71BJ8Ssk5KF_4euUX44c5dm020nDcg/s320/May+09+218.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425968635278400706" /></a><br /><br /><br />Some of my colleagues in the Academy - particularly those in my "family group" - are as close to me as anyone else in my life, and last May I was needing some self-care time - time to be alone in nature and time with people who nurture me. My first stop was Hermosa Beach, and the home of LS & RS. LS is the Academy's current president, joining a long list of distinguished presidents which includes Carl Rogers. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO2uLlCEs3qUczbJYMZr-SPBinG9OtpzRDcKxNYxwQQnOhcqcmNxReZRlryddJ6fV50NtsYw_aMFxa62ohW_l965TR1oj6wtM0B4aU96TGULzfAkCrOvg1H73fU5YkYBZimGC8udKdEYs/s1600-h/May+09+033.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO2uLlCEs3qUczbJYMZr-SPBinG9OtpzRDcKxNYxwQQnOhcqcmNxReZRlryddJ6fV50NtsYw_aMFxa62ohW_l965TR1oj6wtM0B4aU96TGULzfAkCrOvg1H73fU5YkYBZimGC8udKdEYs/s200/May+09+033.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425974469875591938" /></a> I had a lovely dinner with LS and her husband and slept on her therapy couch. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIw2S5M2XPWj6aUlB4x6moQUFtFm7RfN0ezTGuGDRZLbuKujNoqk7b-OrUoOilrdfAXC9xcf9MhbFGQI_obzet9HE9qHNp6VJ8LpKU8f-a9sPdRvmu25rJs41R0O36ovWxpTR30Erp9aw/s1600-h/May+09+041.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIw2S5M2XPWj6aUlB4x6moQUFtFm7RfN0ezTGuGDRZLbuKujNoqk7b-OrUoOilrdfAXC9xcf9MhbFGQI_obzet9HE9qHNp6VJ8LpKU8f-a9sPdRvmu25rJs41R0O36ovWxpTR30Erp9aw/s200/May+09+041.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425975269657140450" /></a>Awakened at 5 am the next morning with a flirty text message from back east, I spent some time with LS & her daughter, looking at the tiny hummingbirds in a nest on her back patio, and walking on the pier before I headed north to Malibu and US 1 <br /><br />I drove the Pacific Coast Highway that day, from LA up to Big Sur, stopping in Santa Barbara, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJzwyYRu9g1neVf5xgEk3aA1XWBPxZcc_qqurhzUpyQSZ7wCp-wfdDIt0vZmTK3-eob_YqO6kwESLNjyagbsDQlJ8juIMh5PKzq7_PwrIwOxrHS8PVIaKV8Am0Q621FOXvCoNgH-tc8E/s1600-h/May+09+140.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJzwyYRu9g1neVf5xgEk3aA1XWBPxZcc_qqurhzUpyQSZ7wCp-wfdDIt0vZmTK3-eob_YqO6kwESLNjyagbsDQlJ8juIMh5PKzq7_PwrIwOxrHS8PVIaKV8Am0Q621FOXvCoNgH-tc8E/s320/May+09+140.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425981119923382802" /></a>and frequently for pictures along the drive. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pfQ-1saYFAh6dL1IhaW7x_-OH4II7DtNNFvk7ymo_4aTWv-aY8Df0-R-GIawY4hvxOZG9Ypsk7i9QGdEtg9nq09ky6vBOC2Ir22GFXkOfepjifE9jTDfvYsTQ3uO2gG4OOdvN1EqO-A/s1600-h/northern-elephant-seal.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pfQ-1saYFAh6dL1IhaW7x_-OH4II7DtNNFvk7ymo_4aTWv-aY8Df0-R-GIawY4hvxOZG9Ypsk7i9QGdEtg9nq09ky6vBOC2Ir22GFXkOfepjifE9jTDfvYsTQ3uO2gG4OOdvN1EqO-A/s320/northern-elephant-seal.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425982704420566418" /></a><br />I visited with elephant seals in the evening and spent the night in a yurt. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTT4TgIyEMdJv9UWdQ7n1byot2Rh7NkarIWpL_dBxQcyh_AUX3rG5YMa1pt0YG4l5MBvH2bcvRRlwJT2EcA7qaH2R0spa3ediN7A3HsAgJOUw_DottCVp5-JnYJE6HmVyvhqH_CthyLZo/s1600-h/May+09+152.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTT4TgIyEMdJv9UWdQ7n1byot2Rh7NkarIWpL_dBxQcyh_AUX3rG5YMa1pt0YG4l5MBvH2bcvRRlwJT2EcA7qaH2R0spa3ediN7A3HsAgJOUw_DottCVp5-JnYJE6HmVyvhqH_CthyLZo/s320/May+09+152.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425981849719435730" /></a>Several phone calls throughout the day, with someone I had started correspondence with in November of 08, but had not yet met, had me longing for romance, for company, and daydreaming such that when I remember this day, I often think of the person I was talking to, as if he had been there with me.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnj_YUKEipHj6UFtmvfMoaLBBvIODaxkm8bCwFNLH81lKM99hJ36D_rXdk2ABTa39FaAz-eR9gRZWZOWUFuRUY8WMCWE9NTE7bGcJzfCxyb2-ySk3PgW4nsEiujiYc5q0J83ruNxzNu0/s1600-h/May+09+183.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnj_YUKEipHj6UFtmvfMoaLBBvIODaxkm8bCwFNLH81lKM99hJ36D_rXdk2ABTa39FaAz-eR9gRZWZOWUFuRUY8WMCWE9NTE7bGcJzfCxyb2-ySk3PgW4nsEiujiYc5q0J83ruNxzNu0/s200/May+09+183.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425984644205153282" /></a><br />The next day was spectacular: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij92h7KbSgip1Vq-yCc6bJslFPxkgzg4RLQP-on5e8Xi8JQZkH8KPE3kGjB0nFdlfieRN5T22Ppz3EIWOh47dBigyOQMyYhS-0Yklgf9g_FnYVK7NplE8hgFaCXy9mireQAjiMF4IPiGA/s1600-h/May+09+189.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij92h7KbSgip1Vq-yCc6bJslFPxkgzg4RLQP-on5e8Xi8JQZkH8KPE3kGjB0nFdlfieRN5T22Ppz3EIWOh47dBigyOQMyYhS-0Yklgf9g_FnYVK7NplE8hgFaCXy9mireQAjiMF4IPiGA/s320/May+09+189.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425985817231866194" /></a> hiking in Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsFPeUAuucnXlkqb47hsPzldAevY4dI9Sysd19GruT8bqy8kmVVQ0Zguz9L9BeBPpFZ0UPWdYO3ZteSljreGP4ZIKd_AtvPXeXNPOouOFs6QBmZ2h21jemApap0-WJSsnIuLEeX0uj0wo/s1600-h/May+09+204.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsFPeUAuucnXlkqb47hsPzldAevY4dI9Sysd19GruT8bqy8kmVVQ0Zguz9L9BeBPpFZ0UPWdYO3ZteSljreGP4ZIKd_AtvPXeXNPOouOFs6QBmZ2h21jemApap0-WJSsnIuLEeX0uj0wo/s200/May+09+204.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425986826821127986" /></a>shopping for artwork in the town of Big Sur, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxdzdY0k-92z3PLY-pXTtLQdSziLJrNV1N8tmUSuTmmV_xWT2Pqog3u_sbDuxkDZJKHT41Zof23_Y5xrf3Gyc12PwLi4KXB-KvX1RBXYODhkEDI7EI-MCcFX8MbcY90zt2bikR6hxl0c/s1600-h/May+09+229.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxdzdY0k-92z3PLY-pXTtLQdSziLJrNV1N8tmUSuTmmV_xWT2Pqog3u_sbDuxkDZJKHT41Zof23_Y5xrf3Gyc12PwLi4KXB-KvX1RBXYODhkEDI7EI-MCcFX8MbcY90zt2bikR6hxl0c/s200/May+09+229.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425987255719757922" /></a>lunch in Monterey, and eventually a visit with two other "family group" members, another LS and his wife DC at their home in the Berkeley Hills. (This initials thing is kind of limiting.) <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpxP7vokox2Kc-Vl66yErnYaLzrOfuZgyYFS1V8rU-kXuJg4JC26x7vryXjKc33gI3K6gCGJmjVH0KRfdRIoLHEC_eyT7hbosOU5c-g75HF7AkOsSpb05a3RvX0OZ_wZOHyyphoa6_Ps/s1600-h/May+09+253.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpxP7vokox2Kc-Vl66yErnYaLzrOfuZgyYFS1V8rU-kXuJg4JC26x7vryXjKc33gI3K6gCGJmjVH0KRfdRIoLHEC_eyT7hbosOU5c-g75HF7AkOsSpb05a3RvX0OZ_wZOHyyphoa6_Ps/s200/May+09+253.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425987894271529186" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71Y2SZVR2Rqd-ecFZW7HAzlptJIKO12wFwZNuuy4IYCV3j-1AiQyw1GvAjjVaZJTERSHhM-Vj7qLyNTL4QUoxBw2dAYL6Tx-RnRTuixcpct_Qo2QA6sx1Gq0eAijONrwOSIvzBsQIYSM/s1600-h/May+09+255.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71Y2SZVR2Rqd-ecFZW7HAzlptJIKO12wFwZNuuy4IYCV3j-1AiQyw1GvAjjVaZJTERSHhM-Vj7qLyNTL4QUoxBw2dAYL6Tx-RnRTuixcpct_Qo2QA6sx1Gq0eAijONrwOSIvzBsQIYSM/s400/May+09+255.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425988401096209330" /></a><br /><br />I spent the night with my Academy friend & sometimes roommate, Gail, who lives in Mill Valley. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwhh3-w8WPLUG39mIsZnVKrM-ZPLxEhh9CTHSZNICxZvqtDh2v6jMU3dbeCFC0YGfhL1deHQEmRQUmHkc6FjHBMwpFGMimnanOkK7XpvCU8I09_4-1ZV2AQPGPupsVn0rYO1Y6Y11CKk/s1600-h/May+09+274.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwhh3-w8WPLUG39mIsZnVKrM-ZPLxEhh9CTHSZNICxZvqtDh2v6jMU3dbeCFC0YGfhL1deHQEmRQUmHkc6FjHBMwpFGMimnanOkK7XpvCU8I09_4-1ZV2AQPGPupsVn0rYO1Y6Y11CKk/s320/May+09+274.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425988992391852114" /></a>We hiked in the Redwoods the next morning before I took off for Yosemite National Park. <br /><br />I then spent about 36 hours in almost complete solitude, no cell phone or email signal. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRU7QVMD0j2zJxu8Mlc8EmmvXnbvT0adrXcO3R9WvrE0tnm1pS_F4Rn3-ffPMeegx5nDfQNMh6JvIWFt3ggvZCMDTcEd1495bvP6ieOXhNq05MQGSar5eGTTDTqTOa5ar7VjTsAeXc8vA/s1600-h/May+09+308.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRU7QVMD0j2zJxu8Mlc8EmmvXnbvT0adrXcO3R9WvrE0tnm1pS_F4Rn3-ffPMeegx5nDfQNMh6JvIWFt3ggvZCMDTcEd1495bvP6ieOXhNq05MQGSar5eGTTDTqTOa5ar7VjTsAeXc8vA/s320/May+09+308.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425990201559563538" /></a><br />I need this kind of retreat, periodically, from the demands of my work and my children. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUGltTWS8Bu5JwTUn4BShpiQ_DuOrb9V7iPrt6dUMc8vpbduPdiU_hj79H0JY5E7nMwCZDqu-x5pozH3Oub4-Gl4hYepztKfQIX53M6EeZpcd75885YeJoFEUXgNYGHMcV7mwLCsfsVr8/s1600-h/May+09+321.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUGltTWS8Bu5JwTUn4BShpiQ_DuOrb9V7iPrt6dUMc8vpbduPdiU_hj79H0JY5E7nMwCZDqu-x5pozH3Oub4-Gl4hYepztKfQIX53M6EeZpcd75885YeJoFEUXgNYGHMcV7mwLCsfsVr8/s200/May+09+321.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425993132094646802" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPAQcmO-VR2P94pM-IdWYUbie6WLC92U2KzmuWW2z6bwJdvWe9TkBm3m6y12jzGUumJ8Bgzen_K_yz1ld83I5rHIcWlYko8aEaxoSyN7v08rGqqdnVjwol8bS2Xy8B5R6zOS2618i63s/s1600-h/May+09+318.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPAQcmO-VR2P94pM-IdWYUbie6WLC92U2KzmuWW2z6bwJdvWe9TkBm3m6y12jzGUumJ8Bgzen_K_yz1ld83I5rHIcWlYko8aEaxoSyN7v08rGqqdnVjwol8bS2Xy8B5R6zOS2618i63s/s320/May+09+318.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425990749290438162" /></a>Time completely alone, thinking of no-one's needs but my own. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiS5mKoyeR9jn24Rv3hcAdBvtr2XkDtOOAY7Bsb-G06ssqc713b59L3pQHYJNSzkffwZaSQDqnDP1sXlb8rx54Yka7T0pTtGgHw8dvYDniWTZZHo2Vu_Tad3NlwWYjKnxQ6ieX43tnke4/s1600-h/May+09+335.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiS5mKoyeR9jn24Rv3hcAdBvtr2XkDtOOAY7Bsb-G06ssqc713b59L3pQHYJNSzkffwZaSQDqnDP1sXlb8rx54Yka7T0pTtGgHw8dvYDniWTZZHo2Vu_Tad3NlwWYjKnxQ6ieX43tnke4/s200/May+09+335.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425991823798263986" /></a><br /><br />Eventually I joined my friend, BB for a day of motorcycle riding in Hollywood, a visit to the Getty, and an Air Show in Chino. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6HJu5njQJTezadoMW7CU2ZLb1yXcCten_UMXcvoAjm0vfWGjhODxnmDLqgIDCpicrKVV6pH9dSp4-5JRsBb1ucPCmHDmzL8tnV96B5eMsnKwEHCkKdZ-62NYHHTwihT9QzFMumxSJR8g/s1600-h/May+09+360.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6HJu5njQJTezadoMW7CU2ZLb1yXcCten_UMXcvoAjm0vfWGjhODxnmDLqgIDCpicrKVV6pH9dSp4-5JRsBb1ucPCmHDmzL8tnV96B5eMsnKwEHCkKdZ-62NYHHTwihT9QzFMumxSJR8g/s200/May+09+360.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425993594720986098" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKR9-rvb8ecN6Ax57fpKUwho2bmEt2pajCU1bDRS3eMxL6HdeRKxil5Ncey651F3DGa0VQhOw6Hx48ti-HirB-UwAZCcFMUotnjFXRf_Q-Mrq0xLVCcMMpvyH2uriWe7cWJ582BBv_vNY/s1600-h/May+09+351.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKR9-rvb8ecN6Ax57fpKUwho2bmEt2pajCU1bDRS3eMxL6HdeRKxil5Ncey651F3DGa0VQhOw6Hx48ti-HirB-UwAZCcFMUotnjFXRf_Q-Mrq0xLVCcMMpvyH2uriWe7cWJ582BBv_vNY/s200/May+09+351.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425994228508947586" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1HwgmhYo_seXhFD9_5FzId_L3qdexTXDzRk8EPxUwoWYcb9wK1_ZLblIY0Pq0Kv8N_HkvuMgPr9osxoRS1O8eHeHXP2x2qoMPnw1oIyMB3v_CR_Xt77_7-h6S9Ybzp82u78rm-Xxuus/s1600-h/May+09+367.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1HwgmhYo_seXhFD9_5FzId_L3qdexTXDzRk8EPxUwoWYcb9wK1_ZLblIY0Pq0Kv8N_HkvuMgPr9osxoRS1O8eHeHXP2x2qoMPnw1oIyMB3v_CR_Xt77_7-h6S9Ybzp82u78rm-Xxuus/s320/May+09+367.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425993880170411858" /></a><br /><br />What a journey. Here are segments of letters written by me to my romantic correspondent around the time of my trip: <br /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAZfGNw1SSEm20Tx_ydkyGY3seSEsSsJcUCAkvot_IUZsqfZssfhcfBnZMUbklXihGLHB3m3YhbDlVtkc1n_IMUftPbML3B6kOi2F1Ldhy-dYg5okRR6M6n-xWt9cy4eCZ2usoDpqBDw/s1600-h/May+09+372.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAZfGNw1SSEm20Tx_ydkyGY3seSEsSsJcUCAkvot_IUZsqfZssfhcfBnZMUbklXihGLHB3m3YhbDlVtkc1n_IMUftPbML3B6kOi2F1Ldhy-dYg5okRR6M6n-xWt9cy4eCZ2usoDpqBDw/s200/May+09+372.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425994805351511298" /></a><br /><br />"At this time, you are still, to me, a chimera, a mirage, like an image in the desert - something that may or may not really be there, behind the swirling dust. I want to meet you in the flesh. . . My planned solitude during the trip to California was punctuated by (welcomed) intrusive thoughts about who you really are, how your voice would sound if you whispered in my ear, how you would smell, what your skin would feel like beneath my hands. Such unaccustomed free time for me is, apparently, dangerous; my fingers dialed your number exigently. What is it about you? . . . your pictures, our beguiling conversations? Or are you just an apparition; my own conception? Probably some of both, but I'd like the chance to rectify my projections with reality. . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgE9Cq21PIRPTtuQYJ7-mtL1Kqg8UneLZ5dDauHznVxdD7DLnC0eZp7C1cKGT2SYCJUI4fXnVS3VuprM58-GkAi-47XSBBsyDiNimMUFPB2Acekr5_HHcDUksqEO6USNDgcWLSW_OI3Y/s1600-h/May+09+373.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgE9Cq21PIRPTtuQYJ7-mtL1Kqg8UneLZ5dDauHznVxdD7DLnC0eZp7C1cKGT2SYCJUI4fXnVS3VuprM58-GkAi-47XSBBsyDiNimMUFPB2Acekr5_HHcDUksqEO6USNDgcWLSW_OI3Y/s320/May+09+373.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425995091521273202" /></a>I can almost taste the hollow of your neck and feel my face against yours as I try to sustain that balance between overpowering arousal and gently relaxing caress. . . I believe we can teach one another how to make love to one another best, slowly, over weeks of serene and tender evenings, such that once we do merge bodies it feels like a Big Sur wave - viewed from a cliff, looking out toward the horizon, watching gentle crests rise and fall, becoming larger and closer, until they crash into the shore . . .and then the cycle repeats. . .and if this is just a mirage, it feels terrific, in and of itself." <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXlJ4SQ71onolM4wLEa99k-fyF7BTk-tu4afSYAYkytc0tVRjT6Vf4j6Qj-PeYQRqbCYmcmLQosNpGs07rOOOUKC2ks5coMODtie8nSJAs6GGtRBrnIhjkRJ5j6biyf300Blve7bqmc0/s1600-h/May+09+188.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXlJ4SQ71onolM4wLEa99k-fyF7BTk-tu4afSYAYkytc0tVRjT6Vf4j6Qj-PeYQRqbCYmcmLQosNpGs07rOOOUKC2ks5coMODtie8nSJAs6GGtRBrnIhjkRJ5j6biyf300Blve7bqmc0/s320/May+09+188.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425996530672983522" /></a><br />I can't paste what he wrote in response, because I don't have his permission.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhteqorjmBSdgHf_10hVqP3zRYZWdIDHWYe2YoDSDcJ-zvfetyhLI58OF5BIzlBP2aowmBohyluA4hO8qP7ScKFHD4wbJDXj-cYNDc_jNDNC7XGGsRcKWOZv_NUM3JOma9WkoRKhPNlSj4/s1600-h/May+09+235.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhteqorjmBSdgHf_10hVqP3zRYZWdIDHWYe2YoDSDcJ-zvfetyhLI58OF5BIzlBP2aowmBohyluA4hO8qP7ScKFHD4wbJDXj-cYNDc_jNDNC7XGGsRcKWOZv_NUM3JOma9WkoRKhPNlSj4/s320/May+09+235.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425997016522880322" /></a><br />Onward . . . back to the present tense.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9p-sELH2MHn4mpz1TT0J4gOIc50jtgx8sym50iPvyB4E18Gcp7H1Jk9-Ce03-YvF_KWlagsCuJ9_z5OlhBBPzEIjeWFdlspfKFdw0R2M9jqArfgiOkeYV6YVqsBA9-LA4AYUeP7qV-A/s1600-h/May+09+234.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9p-sELH2MHn4mpz1TT0J4gOIc50jtgx8sym50iPvyB4E18Gcp7H1Jk9-Ce03-YvF_KWlagsCuJ9_z5OlhBBPzEIjeWFdlspfKFdw0R2M9jqArfgiOkeYV6YVqsBA9-LA4AYUeP7qV-A/s320/May+09+234.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425995652674891778" /></a>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-63453454756251841412010-01-10T10:24:00.007-05:002010-01-11T13:47:21.810-05:00working the SWING SHIFT<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkufRRmTv_0nN238B3zYH0g-xLsmYGhpFaL0Rl9tUcQpFPN8GNclf7TUmi-1-jiS8cu5DqOQesF_ZMa0WMttrSf5-J74SYbWn2bIZ8O4X3v-2mpjaYRws4R-sahLWozXS1eygPvu3Uyw/s1600-h/Barkley.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkufRRmTv_0nN238B3zYH0g-xLsmYGhpFaL0Rl9tUcQpFPN8GNclf7TUmi-1-jiS8cu5DqOQesF_ZMa0WMttrSf5-J74SYbWn2bIZ8O4X3v-2mpjaYRws4R-sahLWozXS1eygPvu3Uyw/s400/Barkley.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425311459822842242" /></a><br />I am a groupie. The band is Swing Shift, a big band based in Northern Virginia, with about 20 members. http://www.swingshiftdc.com/ How my fan status began is one of those long stories that is better left untold - on the grounds that it might incriminate me. The first time I saw them play, in Bethesda, there were a number of GW sorority girls falling all over the band, basically doing strip teases on the dance floor. I am not nearly as brazen. Let me just emphasize that I have only dated two of the twenty members. That's not so bad, now is it? Sounds a lot better when you say it that way. <br /><br />Though I'm not <em><em>currently</em> </em>romantically involved with any Swing Shift members, no, no trumpet players (back right corner) nor vocalists, I managed to kind of crash the group's belated Holiday party. I showed up with my friend who will not let me post a picture of him from the evening - because of a tanning bed incident gone awry, he currently looks rather like an Oompa Loompa.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuL_ehF8Xmhrgf6USmypDcmKdZy2Z2t4Cx0x2jcdLZ-oYfT6tP_ToV6KSiUSjtD77KLPl-10H_6sG6-0mXU73txV5Fm1VKbBXVJZeHIcAivWT86mLpPQr_Ce26X3BdTrgT1XwsV1o17TA/s1600-h/ww_043.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 307px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuL_ehF8Xmhrgf6USmypDcmKdZy2Z2t4Cx0x2jcdLZ-oYfT6tP_ToV6KSiUSjtD77KLPl-10H_6sG6-0mXU73txV5Fm1VKbBXVJZeHIcAivWT86mLpPQr_Ce26X3BdTrgT1XwsV1o17TA/s320/ww_043.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425317357350368882" /></a><br /><br />I brought a couple of Secret Santa gifts that were not at all appreciated by the mostly male band. Bath bombs from the LUSH http://www.lush.com shop in Georgetown are apparently not the thing to give boys. During the Secret Santa game, I first stole a Frank Sinatra compilation, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgVy2cn4BQWJLOfkCegDwF89QOw1Zv87adOVAYj1ynIL6XUNpRiWAkRdcwqKGqFZaWSyQOztdpywnAv799IkNgi-YnfWqcSAmbA7aoxQ_8xEEG4tE3IIV-HrTNUAljLlI-nk-4JAvVUnw/s1600-h/frank%2520sinatra.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgVy2cn4BQWJLOfkCegDwF89QOw1Zv87adOVAYj1ynIL6XUNpRiWAkRdcwqKGqFZaWSyQOztdpywnAv799IkNgi-YnfWqcSAmbA7aoxQ_8xEEG4tE3IIV-HrTNUAljLlI-nk-4JAvVUnw/s320/frank%2520sinatra.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425471257414501346" /></a> only to have it taken away. Then I obtained David Sedaris's new book, <em>Naked</em>, which I'm quite excited to read. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8MeONb6tKN-RL4YaPYPh7o91pYt0eXPL2yKzD5xUIWu_RUhmqX8R0ziWNRff4Y6VxGIYYZlN92DMIqO2JBsw5tGoGxDE3gosCfeaX-YkzxVTjoYJ5zJ0wWI3ybH9AYANg8h7E9espVI/s1600-h/Winter+09+320.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8MeONb6tKN-RL4YaPYPh7o91pYt0eXPL2yKzD5xUIWu_RUhmqX8R0ziWNRff4Y6VxGIYYZlN92DMIqO2JBsw5tGoGxDE3gosCfeaX-YkzxVTjoYJ5zJ0wWI3ybH9AYANg8h7E9espVI/s200/Winter+09+320.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425320119180187154" /></a><br /><br />Somehow, I ended up taking both gifts home and have been humming along to Sinatra since. The book will join a wait list of others and may get its cover creased by the end of 2010. The party was great fun, and my rum helped ease any of the relationship awkwardness that could have interfered. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXHcRQWJ8MzIxUgZhD5iFyAzadNmeAnoqh1qk_jbfKiJPmkyWH2qa3NQjm5ik8igXW0UcNdPV4Ir8MQc0u7AH7iVrgtYzobUbwIDdQKVOXMNCbF3Enqpt4hO9t6zQBRhFQTWNS5XHonQE/s1600-h/rum.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXHcRQWJ8MzIxUgZhD5iFyAzadNmeAnoqh1qk_jbfKiJPmkyWH2qa3NQjm5ik8igXW0UcNdPV4Ir8MQc0u7AH7iVrgtYzobUbwIDdQKVOXMNCbF3Enqpt4hO9t6zQBRhFQTWNS5XHonQE/s200/rum.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425321000392488626" /></a><br /><br />The best part of the party, however, was the darling two-year-old hostess. This girl is a doll and highly intelligent. We took to each other so well, that one of the guests just assumed I was the Daddy's sister and the the baby's auntie. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyYH6q3xsXnWUOvzbQM8h9QfSY-ui5LGby4i1N7ntPChBfHQufN9RTKSxFfYQs3WzjNTcLnN0gHXPsa3w-fmLdmWJqrIrTnKo8J2orJpikabKIKkCGGTuz85RaBbkzq_YLN7VrgqEpzc/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyYH6q3xsXnWUOvzbQM8h9QfSY-ui5LGby4i1N7ntPChBfHQufN9RTKSxFfYQs3WzjNTcLnN0gHXPsa3w-fmLdmWJqrIrTnKo8J2orJpikabKIKkCGGTuz85RaBbkzq_YLN7VrgqEpzc/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425471782842171426" /></a> Well, why the heck else was I at this party? <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF1hj6B553v0qTMr0KRh9a71zDXP6sO8qZOAxGwly-p6YBs-69mWol7V0rtczjBOlNSiqA1Ls6nGbTNjksqS2-sV2Icbj01BGI-qf9NitNr59QcCOnFnyEYoWY5oAPLu0yDmCiABLo-d0/s1600-h/Isadora+%26+her+mom.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF1hj6B553v0qTMr0KRh9a71zDXP6sO8qZOAxGwly-p6YBs-69mWol7V0rtczjBOlNSiqA1Ls6nGbTNjksqS2-sV2Icbj01BGI-qf9NitNr59QcCOnFnyEYoWY5oAPLu0yDmCiABLo-d0/s320/Isadora+%26+her+mom.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425472328390322818" /></a> I was forgiven for crashing and bringing the awful Secret Santa gifts because I kept the baby happy for about two hours, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwanY5fLXzTVtR7z2msRa159zO7B1W9Ykwqx2igQ-uNIJQaUKngJO0mZL8FWKdLjVsn9S_4EckQcp9BEGtrg4LhzQ1m9VPNqteGHJhDaNOdiJ_CFfPU1GRtBuSL92DHuOm4-va3MR8J4/s1600-h/reading+to+Issy.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwanY5fLXzTVtR7z2msRa159zO7B1W9Ykwqx2igQ-uNIJQaUKngJO0mZL8FWKdLjVsn9S_4EckQcp9BEGtrg4LhzQ1m9VPNqteGHJhDaNOdiJ_CFfPU1GRtBuSL92DHuOm4-va3MR8J4/s320/reading+to+Issy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425472770911560418" /></a> until, that is she realized we'd lost the Sinatra CDs, slowly pushed her lower lip out, and then burst into heartwrenching tears. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic9JSOnRtt8sUgd03iRW3iGW0jouDzgHyAo_cTHobtuEx0v_mzEJz7l5BX4qdPlKEPQJZzJJcyLsnH2Im80Kk96l8_z2VE6Qr7QPc_6QSXIZXWXNNvqmMQYh7Oyc1eZ9hxX1gBiYzm86c/s1600-h/Isadora.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic9JSOnRtt8sUgd03iRW3iGW0jouDzgHyAo_cTHobtuEx0v_mzEJz7l5BX4qdPlKEPQJZzJJcyLsnH2Im80Kk96l8_z2VE6Qr7QPc_6QSXIZXWXNNvqmMQYh7Oyc1eZ9hxX1gBiYzm86c/s320/Isadora.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425473715540202626" /></a> I'm certain my capitalizing on the baby's need for Sinatra had nothing to do with the CDs showing up in my automobile at the end of the evening. <br /><br />I was in big trouble when my daughters saw the photos of me holding another child. She will be my last infidelity. I swore to my girls that I will not hold or read to or play <em>this little piggy </em>with any other children, ever.<br /><br />Oh, and the banana pudding brought by the singer -- better than sex -- my mouth is still watering.<br /><br />Hear Swing Shift - (see link below) - and you might just become a groupie, too.<br /><br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XBEgcJIaegw<br /><br />They are next playing at Blues Alley in Georgetown, sometime in February - I'll announce it when I get the date, and I will find out the date -- I have my ways. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYiAqn2jwrtpSrrJL309IzgfwC971ix6sm3iAxPQfXZ_StMdD7lYgCXuDu-zNUgv14PUofUbh0SHAD7EV_Hb5ChY6R_62CcNsFxJQvt1v7aFCdQzFNULsephT2HkLKxwbES-fqPoOwxg/s1600-h/BK.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYiAqn2jwrtpSrrJL309IzgfwC971ix6sm3iAxPQfXZ_StMdD7lYgCXuDu-zNUgv14PUofUbh0SHAD7EV_Hb5ChY6R_62CcNsFxJQvt1v7aFCdQzFNULsephT2HkLKxwbES-fqPoOwxg/s320/BK.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425478600461046658" /></a> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhdAsSKDmSq9fC3HZvO___cLRIrL_6ij7OY4NoBvg_Bqw92xDOBZoFGwFszsy-dd4r-jUWFiTY-T6XKEiBKOYqETgl6a-xEYW0xJ-7BwfQjD1kCH9-_TuSoWmyrj7vqe24oBRxSY9Xa8/s1600-h/birchmere_36265706_std.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhdAsSKDmSq9fC3HZvO___cLRIrL_6ij7OY4NoBvg_Bqw92xDOBZoFGwFszsy-dd4r-jUWFiTY-T6XKEiBKOYqETgl6a-xEYW0xJ-7BwfQjD1kCH9-_TuSoWmyrj7vqe24oBRxSY9Xa8/s320/birchmere_36265706_std.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425478794829801474" /></a>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-78050092414046523682010-01-08T00:41:00.039-05:002010-01-08T17:16:14.220-05:00Urban Graffiti Fantastick"There is a curious paradox that no one can explain, for who understands the secret of the reaping of the grain, who understands why spring is born out of winter's laboring pain, or why we must all die a bit before we grow again?" (From the Fantasticks by Tom Jones & Harvey Schmidt)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDF43gSkQ6CnnxohBPDxzRh3OLUoKtKjl1vGofC7Q9DTegKcBLZ7VTUStaiULkdPFkFA3yQMwA3hwiSlZSbHAXIQ2vgg2Bx6ziL6W5R5C9Nl5K5Br6kGB13okHp3UgNwe-tuWHClsQAKs/s1600-h/Winter+09+298.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDF43gSkQ6CnnxohBPDxzRh3OLUoKtKjl1vGofC7Q9DTegKcBLZ7VTUStaiULkdPFkFA3yQMwA3hwiSlZSbHAXIQ2vgg2Bx6ziL6W5R5C9Nl5K5Br6kGB13okHp3UgNwe-tuWHClsQAKs/s320/Winter+09+298.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424467340556283010" /></a><br /><br />Thursday morning, I loaded Winston, my Mini, chock-full of sundry items and headed up to DC, stopping on my way at Rite-Aid for my sister's (RWH) suggested energy booster - under the tongue dissolvable vitamin B-12 tablets. If you've taken note of the squirrel characters in the movies <em>Hoodwinked</em> ("Twitchy") <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSfpkcqVjOmuXbIJLMi3x5TKDrpmyqg7SrftmgyyMFTmV3rmJjVObY9au0xMTNjcAGPU5QAMWJ6w953Phd-7dmrRAklVPkmzThaavW_E1Dm_zUyR-ZnV7JoBqvjy6iYD2MV4XJm51YVBY/s1600-h/images.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 106px; height: 93px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSfpkcqVjOmuXbIJLMi3x5TKDrpmyqg7SrftmgyyMFTmV3rmJjVObY9au0xMTNjcAGPU5QAMWJ6w953Phd-7dmrRAklVPkmzThaavW_E1Dm_zUyR-ZnV7JoBqvjy6iYD2MV4XJm51YVBY/s200/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424250068899838722" /></a> or <em>Over the Hedge</em> ("Hammy") <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjADImqkpRo1GgRp2qthNPwHe5cnWpa7azu60Cgas1fSLaCbHBMy9FcqinPg7FqdII5T7OLgFoBRgDiGCQ3Q485Y4uCcriL_o1y1O1yjA7jtHXJRzF5Dw-jQvOyGM_uLiQaisVDicdrZ7w/s1600-h/dreamworks-over-the-hedge-20060316055352971_640w.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjADImqkpRo1GgRp2qthNPwHe5cnWpa7azu60Cgas1fSLaCbHBMy9FcqinPg7FqdII5T7OLgFoBRgDiGCQ3Q485Y4uCcriL_o1y1O1yjA7jtHXJRzF5Dw-jQvOyGM_uLiQaisVDicdrZ7w/s200/dreamworks-over-the-hedge-20060316055352971_640w.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424250670748440866" /></a> (Is this possibly a yet unexplored Jungian Archetype?)<br /><br />then you have a a good image in your mind of my temperament today. This B-12 stuff should be a controlled substance. I was totally prepared to use RWH’s testimony in my defense in court for the felony speeding ticket I should have gotten. Seriously, I was almost busted because of the combination of my sister’s recommended energy booster and my unfortunate dyslexic/ADHD condition. I was bopping along, you know, seat dancing, and belting out Mika’s <em>Big Girl ( You Are Beautiful)</em> <br /><br />Big girl you are beautiful<br /><br />Walks in to the room<br />Feels like a big balloon<br />I said, 'Hey girls you are beautiful'<br />Diet coke and a pizza please<br />Diet coke I'm on my knees<br />Screaming 'Big girl you are beautiful'<br /><br />You take your skinny girls<br />Feel like I'm gonna die<br />Cos a real woman<br />Needs a real man is why<br /><br />You take your girl<br />And multiply her by four<br />Now a whole lotta woman<br />Needs a whole lot more<br /><br />Get yourself to the Butterfly Lounge<br />Find yourself a big lady<br />Big boy come on around<br />And they'll be calling you baby<br /><br />No need to fantasise<br />Since I was in my braces<br />A watering hole<br />With the girls around<br />And curves in all the right places<br /><br />Big girls you are beautiful<br />Big girls you are beautiful<br />Big girls you are beautiful<br />Big girls you are beautiful<br /><br />. . .when I passed the state trooper in the median; I quickly reached for the steering wheel cruise control to reduce my acceleration, but instead I increased the volume on Mika, then I decreased the volume, then I increased the speed, then I finally hit it and decreased the speed. This is not rocket science, o.k.. I mean, my Mini is a rocket, but there were four choices, and it took me four tries. I have driven this exact car over 40,000 miles. If I haven’t learned it yet, I’m not going to. The wiring is just not there. (This is exactly why, BB, that I have not taken you up on your offer of flight instruction. Can you just imagine what would happen to your sweet little plane when I tried to bank left to avoid that mountainside?) <br /><br />My specific type of learning disability, or perhaps how I learned to cope with it at an early age, does not impact written language (English, that is) nearly as much as it impacts the interpretation of direction, numerals, symbols, music, etc. I seriously have never had an intuitive or otherwise reliable sense of left versus right. Forget about giving me directions to some place through auditory transmission alone. I cannot do acronyms (a major liability in the military). I can’t retain 5 digits in the correct order, and you’ve already heard about my musical ability. I’m terrible with homophones. No, I did not say I’m homophobic. My father was rather gay. Thus my oedipal induced preference for the metro-sexual male. Back to the dyslexia. I read in big chunks and my fingers do the typing. If left to brief, conscious analysis of what I’m writing, I can have trouble spelling a word like trouble. Of course modern software corrects the many mistakes I make before I can even get a sense of how many there are. When I was young, and less trained, I could mirror write – as have both my daughters. When confronted with my inability to tell left from right, many have tried the old finger trick, but the problem is, I don’t know if this is an “L” or if this is an “L”. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzarud1nSeqIQFWluG8PAVi1aW9WAFsIotEfDEJ9Nj9Ky_3zXjywgSraR9_mvJrtXsLYnXXgvcrHBZsZV-LD1Q1vBfw4cAs1H5TVN8-4nNrj92VkmKY5BXe8lzLfCkwYl-AJ0O_Ty9pFM/s1600-h/Winter+09+317.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzarud1nSeqIQFWluG8PAVi1aW9WAFsIotEfDEJ9Nj9Ky_3zXjywgSraR9_mvJrtXsLYnXXgvcrHBZsZV-LD1Q1vBfw4cAs1H5TVN8-4nNrj92VkmKY5BXe8lzLfCkwYl-AJ0O_Ty9pFM/s200/Winter+09+317.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424487261422474018" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_uJAk3eLRuDIqMenlrPe3Uz0a696ozwGjRE0MJmobbPYQcNqvqXsdNMX-kxNhmoDjwLWTLGRiVNo1LOsG9zHa9urkNkk6AfXs21UWzf-2ZYMf151PBaq0QEkGKALvDCNJ8HCraJfV5s/s1600-h/Winter+09+318.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_uJAk3eLRuDIqMenlrPe3Uz0a696ozwGjRE0MJmobbPYQcNqvqXsdNMX-kxNhmoDjwLWTLGRiVNo1LOsG9zHa9urkNkk6AfXs21UWzf-2ZYMf151PBaq0QEkGKALvDCNJ8HCraJfV5s/s200/Winter+09+318.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424487659395372882" /></a><br /><br /><br />I need mnemonics to operate the shower and I’ve spent more time lost in the District than I have working, or dating. I can’t tell you how much I was like <em>Private Benjamin</em> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_-xPXUm1_iZh8XbxkG-q6tabLzVdawUbdBfKL21RlH-uIFdDet9XnQSnv0yrpNWlxPcsNvjDHkJESqNvU7pwVyul-xYcxsff0uhT6oqKrHwb-4yxc5fMGks4vwrv83GeI0TnjqtdyKo/s1600-h/private_benjamin.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_-xPXUm1_iZh8XbxkG-q6tabLzVdawUbdBfKL21RlH-uIFdDet9XnQSnv0yrpNWlxPcsNvjDHkJESqNvU7pwVyul-xYcxsff0uhT6oqKrHwb-4yxc5fMGks4vwrv83GeI0TnjqtdyKo/s320/private_benjamin.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424252432323741682" /></a>in the Air Force, and Marching Band, how many times did I (think) I followed a command, only to look around and wonder where everyone went. (However, marching and playing, o.k., kind of playing, the Flugelhorn in San Antonio's Fiesta Parade, while I was stationed at Lackland AFB, was one of the highest moments of my life. . .I can still taste the brass at my lips, smell the funnelcake, feel the bass drum beating behind me, my burning arms holding up this marching French Horn thing, hear The Yellow Rose of Texas, and oh the pride of marching in my blues)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WN0NysC2Vlm9deUtfizJO0wro4TBFWnWJEmTGevPqobWItsbLcd4Twd-CO-7W9uY6a8vDqlk5pxOT8riw2Vu065_cMhzQ5yNmQJNvHDqDKmkAqeMi1twW7n6CqGo1P0183_SDWBGnss/s1600-h/United_States_Air_Force_logo,_blue_and_silver.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WN0NysC2Vlm9deUtfizJO0wro4TBFWnWJEmTGevPqobWItsbLcd4Twd-CO-7W9uY6a8vDqlk5pxOT8riw2Vu065_cMhzQ5yNmQJNvHDqDKmkAqeMi1twW7n6CqGo1P0183_SDWBGnss/s200/United_States_Air_Force_logo,_blue_and_silver.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424252879639529874" /></a><br /><br /> . . . So today, by some miracle, perhaps the Mini is so small the cop didn’t actually see me or pick it up on radar, I did not get pulled over. It is my top secret invisibility feature. Thanks M. I continued on my merry way and arrived in DC to unload the car and transform my tiny room into my own urban retreat. Pictures will follow dispersed throughout the rest of this post. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GXNOMz8lFrnsDXWc6Bm5EZ15Yvx13alvUZ8g0bPhrOKF-mFFFaPdK_6fw9IITKc5KieqfJor7njCqiIre7t4-Onx_to9U35teTQ1VyVv0muy61eWg6opL1T-7vQYBMSrJP8dbT1pe5k/s1600-h/Winter+09+203.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GXNOMz8lFrnsDXWc6Bm5EZ15Yvx13alvUZ8g0bPhrOKF-mFFFaPdK_6fw9IITKc5KieqfJor7njCqiIre7t4-Onx_to9U35teTQ1VyVv0muy61eWg6opL1T-7vQYBMSrJP8dbT1pe5k/s200/Winter+09+203.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424259061781220514" /></a><br /><br />So the landlord/roommate of my new abode - a successful young man who is probably reading this blog, so let me emphasize that he is straight, straightforward, very nice, very much a gentleman, quite cute, and a terrific roommate - buys an investment property/home, advertises in a very gay neighborhood, as "gay-friendly" and lands two straight-female roommates. Do you think he was trying a <em>Three's Company</em> plot? "Mr. Roper, of course I can be trusted to live with these two young ladies, I don't swing in that direction!" <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwvCfn-B31pjDc2sBPUIEDNwqF1Et1n9n909ZlFlZAKR4pEWLTnLKHZTePu5SQNXHjB0ixvntGcALsE7GW4xSYcege776fn_e2k6-Uyhv-bq_ZtJuYD73IujW2fK5Yqasto_mo3V0hdg/s1600-h/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 329px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwvCfn-B31pjDc2sBPUIEDNwqF1Et1n9n909ZlFlZAKR4pEWLTnLKHZTePu5SQNXHjB0ixvntGcALsE7GW4xSYcege776fn_e2k6-Uyhv-bq_ZtJuYD73IujW2fK5Yqasto_mo3V0hdg/s400/7.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424256803856117170" /></a><br />I'm very, very happy we found each other. I love the place; you have incredibly good tastes for a straight guy. But seriously dude, I feel like I could be your momma. And I tend to like older men. . . and I won't continue to flatter myself, 'cause I know you're thinking "She could be my momma."<br /><br />Here is a picture of the stairwell with wrought-iron-work original to the row house: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0snlH2eF_fGMQqNWXj7XtQ4Y1LO7n2aFxO9aC84ELeOVuHG3neCvmQhYks37QMDhIxtZb1K2oV7pbmYoR3JCqY66_SSWiZIFR6geivjiTTcHRKKVX1ZSrwrbBd-RlrOG_6mXyF_Gq9Bo/s1600-h/Winter+09+205.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0snlH2eF_fGMQqNWXj7XtQ4Y1LO7n2aFxO9aC84ELeOVuHG3neCvmQhYks37QMDhIxtZb1K2oV7pbmYoR3JCqY66_SSWiZIFR6geivjiTTcHRKKVX1ZSrwrbBd-RlrOG_6mXyF_Gq9Bo/s200/Winter+09+205.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424260449368519442" /></a><br /><br />And the kitchen. (No, I didn't tell my roommate/landlord that I had to get a separate rider on my home owner's policy in order to be allowed to cook, due to the ADHD/fire possibility. Really, it is only a serious risk when I have children and pets distracting me.) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGQTYe8J68EHXixZq_5OgbdbmooFEaP8qO-nqng6r2m611yDzBfz5VBXrHZZjP0SjxaGmIVc1TaAlqT9JOYFMy2qCFXjmJck-YhwFothvTfw_IiqP3yHMk4TNX4Ue9SjX_RP-fhVPGWo/s1600-h/Winter+09+201.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGQTYe8J68EHXixZq_5OgbdbmooFEaP8qO-nqng6r2m611yDzBfz5VBXrHZZjP0SjxaGmIVc1TaAlqT9JOYFMy2qCFXjmJck-YhwFothvTfw_IiqP3yHMk4TNX4Ue9SjX_RP-fhVPGWo/s200/Winter+09+201.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424261309116565794" /></a><br /><br />My first task upon arrival was to bring down the old military foot-locker I'd found last year at a Salvation Army, and paint it to match my decor. Here is a "before" picture of the trunk: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOS4mVE5CB4RSkWlXsTlN_C_Ekzn9HxwESsIb6dH7vskHjOwdeWUsfvYFk9Xl61bFvDK2_9AGqLaAVirQ9oCrx6xjc22nhZtpi_7g29Dcwzj7wUSeO9i55adn43R0aRcwsFIoFCARIdRI/s1600-h/Winter+09+199.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOS4mVE5CB4RSkWlXsTlN_C_Ekzn9HxwESsIb6dH7vskHjOwdeWUsfvYFk9Xl61bFvDK2_9AGqLaAVirQ9oCrx6xjc22nhZtpi_7g29Dcwzj7wUSeO9i55adn43R0aRcwsFIoFCARIdRI/s200/Winter+09+199.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424471589326507490" /></a><br /><br />Here it is in process: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdEddsrxaHoAJ_XjsgSjwBonrItYHTaqDerG2NfTXZQm_GScf4VGUDMqFxlslZUgXkoAK9hq3PX15hmoAo6weQfh7cDU1cFis5GOop2QY9VTs12CQrbk7AzuiM6OjGKjU5jc0LihVA-w/s1600-h/Winter+09+286.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdEddsrxaHoAJ_XjsgSjwBonrItYHTaqDerG2NfTXZQm_GScf4VGUDMqFxlslZUgXkoAK9hq3PX15hmoAo6weQfh7cDU1cFis5GOop2QY9VTs12CQrbk7AzuiM6OjGKjU5jc0LihVA-w/s200/Winter+09+286.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424472561296423330" /></a><br /><br />I was worried I'd get blamed for the other art projects within steps of my back alleyway. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJ-urw7WReHleFKs2OU0niI3WrdXrQAZdlYql7nONhkRi_9UK6BLzssMlcGGNzySpspGB3eWvN6tmVtmjdnuqMtmzVALjxkiMJ39TY9MPe21vunqzST7v7kgrNSTPLF6nLYsFUR7HY3k/s1600-h/Winter+09+285.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJ-urw7WReHleFKs2OU0niI3WrdXrQAZdlYql7nONhkRi_9UK6BLzssMlcGGNzySpspGB3eWvN6tmVtmjdnuqMtmzVALjxkiMJ39TY9MPe21vunqzST7v7kgrNSTPLF6nLYsFUR7HY3k/s200/Winter+09+285.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424473192255438930" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2scS4780ehuXJpnWz8plXRuf7klUqF-jPGehRkMpEj-Mis-WJP5AobxU3PW4uOPMWPaK0hSKP3hNeiBXu6cvrHlUvu-UCePebe8USjujs6Eg08tBhhrcoVJNm-mWY4CR-VXAVEuv2Coo/s1600-h/Winter+09+284.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2scS4780ehuXJpnWz8plXRuf7klUqF-jPGehRkMpEj-Mis-WJP5AobxU3PW4uOPMWPaK0hSKP3hNeiBXu6cvrHlUvu-UCePebe8USjujs6Eg08tBhhrcoVJNm-mWY4CR-VXAVEuv2Coo/s200/Winter+09+284.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424473532719908610" /></a><br /> <br />I feel like I've staked my claim on Washington DC now, by having a room of my own. I've marked my own tiny little territory. With a can of Robin's Egg spray paint from Michael's. <br /><br />As you can see, I'm in a real DC community. People like myself and my roommate are ruining it through gentrification. It is a "transitional" neighborhood. I love it. I grew up in housing projects and trailer parks. This area is a lovely blend of real and pretty. The architecture is sublime. And best of all, I can afford to live here, and own my home in the Valley. I can park Winston and take the bus from the corner stop, to Georgetown, and save a heap on parking. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NlTE3eaoVR60CKJZMKsw1J80S-zR7KkdLvxXNJ8QGwynL8bexttxoV9Gn33qxHxv0dlL6qGSrAXMvZbjDrH6GrK5RHbct45mmQHxBSqLE8FZvKsmcR5tXgwW_6LQyXUMXRGn7Xqje-I/s1600-h/Winter+09+287.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NlTE3eaoVR60CKJZMKsw1J80S-zR7KkdLvxXNJ8QGwynL8bexttxoV9Gn33qxHxv0dlL6qGSrAXMvZbjDrH6GrK5RHbct45mmQHxBSqLE8FZvKsmcR5tXgwW_6LQyXUMXRGn7Xqje-I/s200/Winter+09+287.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424485550775547218" /></a><br /><br />I can also afford the place because my room is 8' x 12' at its widest/longest point, and though it has natural light, my two, six foot high windows look out at a brick wall in a deep alley/window-well. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymcUr_Uctjsrwq319k9vXwW4PsZsYSIHyfJxtKx0lh4_oq8N7gw74122j16vVhoHRe88sT2WGrs0mp_xL5lCuSzUrbaY086Eg4Qkemci7prBJTvrGFG0ZsPEgq6vYYVzIQNuYuPu80gE/s1600-h/Winter+09+291.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymcUr_Uctjsrwq319k9vXwW4PsZsYSIHyfJxtKx0lh4_oq8N7gw74122j16vVhoHRe88sT2WGrs0mp_xL5lCuSzUrbaY086Eg4Qkemci7prBJTvrGFG0ZsPEgq6vYYVzIQNuYuPu80gE/s200/Winter+09+291.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424474972572379746" /></a><br /><br />Here is the trunk, finished, just a few hours later. I love the just-beneath-tropical-water-lies-this-buried-treasure-chest patina. I love it that the whole thing cost me like ten bucks and that it serves as table, desk, seating and storage all in one. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlC0lNYWQTwyW03UCf2UZ8scWAbzP3kmbU54o3EGXgEy3WE3ZMUVJb9zU0kwo0Xsu0pCzugKKov8rCkzb9uVTCqgGfntq9kmQsILM2yI1QLkDXXLDX8EImHg2sw1knryDn141BbnocZTo/s1600-h/Winter+09+308.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlC0lNYWQTwyW03UCf2UZ8scWAbzP3kmbU54o3EGXgEy3WE3ZMUVJb9zU0kwo0Xsu0pCzugKKov8rCkzb9uVTCqgGfntq9kmQsILM2yI1QLkDXXLDX8EImHg2sw1knryDn141BbnocZTo/s200/Winter+09+308.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424475803893925650" /></a><br /><br />I have a lamp/bookshelf, an ottoman/storage/seat, and a closet with a tiny safe.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltwFRTxtp_LsgmT5U18VDzvcQBjsH67r6qwW2qTNxDmAtmKOZ6pNLplvT9v1nwl3eIyV7o_pvUA6Qd4ot2nsbd_ziQGt8o8zIuIo9udh1kDquhiOCBZMCn8h1OvmAU4iCv47O8BV4tLw/s1600-h/Winter+09+309.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltwFRTxtp_LsgmT5U18VDzvcQBjsH67r6qwW2qTNxDmAtmKOZ6pNLplvT9v1nwl3eIyV7o_pvUA6Qd4ot2nsbd_ziQGt8o8zIuIo9udh1kDquhiOCBZMCn8h1OvmAU4iCv47O8BV4tLw/s200/Winter+09+309.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424477282841839634" /></a><br /><br /><br />I spent the afternoon unpacking, framing and hanging pictures. Here is my handy stud-finder. I couldn't get it to work in the Valley. Perhaps I'll have better luck in DC Metro. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3IIVpvwW0iEhEr_q9Eo9XoK8_nGE7k7fu6CPQpsvpavFcIE7rfehUt0-0g6Bp3j2TsvnTNzWAi4NLHGpv5wYJmaStRZv1qydEzpG-6w4sFZYwHzyEWmb4gOwm6Uu_Ibz_s_xTMbOTdo/s1600-h/Winter+09+289.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3IIVpvwW0iEhEr_q9Eo9XoK8_nGE7k7fu6CPQpsvpavFcIE7rfehUt0-0g6Bp3j2TsvnTNzWAi4NLHGpv5wYJmaStRZv1qydEzpG-6w4sFZYwHzyEWmb4gOwm6Uu_Ibz_s_xTMbOTdo/s200/Winter+09+289.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424486150417210786" /></a><br /><br />I have a deluxe, raised air bed that doubles as a sofa for when I entertain. This baby has a remote control to command the mattress firmness. Someone should invent (and get a patent) for such a device to control men's wankers. I might just quit being a psychotherapist and devote the rest of my life to that end. I'd make a fortune. "Hey baby, I'm ready for more (click)," "No-sweety, I don't have a headache, but I don't think you're open for business, anyway, aw shucks (double-click)."<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyag2Gb2z-AQrWhCHd9aa7yWNxVOZz6QzO14EmVy4RpvcW_XRc_nEDl0b5dgYNxHH5ksOV1lQjkYBSGnA-uOvprrSO2ibjbC0GKWugXm0iVN2-C0nhPY9eA02H0uv8BRX5lTKgPaWC9mQ/s1600-h/Winter+09+288.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyag2Gb2z-AQrWhCHd9aa7yWNxVOZz6QzO14EmVy4RpvcW_XRc_nEDl0b5dgYNxHH5ksOV1lQjkYBSGnA-uOvprrSO2ibjbC0GKWugXm0iVN2-C0nhPY9eA02H0uv8BRX5lTKgPaWC9mQ/s200/Winter+09+288.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424486582668811442" /></a><br /><br /><br />I also have a remote for the ceiling fan/light, for when I don't want to get up.<br /><br />The artwork is from my trip to Big Sur in May 09. An artist named Erlinda. Framed and matted myself with supplies from Michael's while I waited for the trunk to dry. Got the pussywillows in the beautiful little vase from there, as well. Vase is from a Torpedo Factory (Old Town, Alexandria) gallery. www.torpedofactory.org -I have a travel Scrabble game, gifted from mom, here, if anyone wants to come over and challenge a dyslexic, attention deficit, old lady like me to a game.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNKoSVTF5nX6wL-OS1L-JDwywZvujquy4TbHCBstn6Dy42uocunc1XIkeVGzhqO-qRNjcOc2LSt3F8cD5Sh3m1mcuE3LJDUB2Ju6pXinTkmtVGexirswRTX1dCnETY6JAlzw9Brxj378/s1600-h/Winter+09+313.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNKoSVTF5nX6wL-OS1L-JDwywZvujquy4TbHCBstn6Dy42uocunc1XIkeVGzhqO-qRNjcOc2LSt3F8cD5Sh3m1mcuE3LJDUB2Ju6pXinTkmtVGexirswRTX1dCnETY6JAlzw9Brxj378/s320/Winter+09+313.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424492906321076594" /></a><br /><br />To celebrate my aquisition of the new room, a very special evening was in order. Dinner at a terrific little place: 1905, which has delicious and multifarious martinis. http://www.1905dc.com/ <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUtoRFATjDTRPDIDNQrXDSOgon86_NA1c0NRFVQ2z1lFxwpM2qilXhRtiEZm4G_Oep9IS6hnYS5Ix25YTQhhUmSMUlAs5ZLOxDqZG4SukHb-0K87vWOV7_K6v2ldaqODDofsI-7Y8T7e0/s1600-h/1905_11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 139px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUtoRFATjDTRPDIDNQrXDSOgon86_NA1c0NRFVQ2z1lFxwpM2qilXhRtiEZm4G_Oep9IS6hnYS5Ix25YTQhhUmSMUlAs5ZLOxDqZG4SukHb-0K87vWOV7_K6v2ldaqODDofsI-7Y8T7e0/s200/1905_11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424267880036519570" /></a><br /><br />And a show. What a show. Now my favorite Musical. If you haven't seen it, you must. <em>The Fantasticks</em>. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuQcT95z7URyR417S0GdPniA8jX1ZSSRAPGHM5sErr5MXXPya4OSREEjePwiQrDVRrxGcZHGiomgjetui65eANggHPSx_rS40WUM8-jorcc8Py58G63RNlNslo_EG5BmG7DYFIYajDHc8/s1600-h/fantastiks-110609.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px; height: 317px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuQcT95z7URyR417S0GdPniA8jX1ZSSRAPGHM5sErr5MXXPya4OSREEjePwiQrDVRrxGcZHGiomgjetui65eANggHPSx_rS40WUM8-jorcc8Py58G63RNlNslo_EG5BmG7DYFIYajDHc8/s320/fantastiks-110609.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424271646741718850" /></a> At the Lincoln Theater, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglHuE66WUzgCbSDWyZR-GJzV2A5F0DaIP84j6-SXL6LuaLbhGCEK8A8PwN2z_xDhOwn2hLEhVq0XKNIGF83hWAgtX1NO8tDBkzHFEEpZrYC6TqXBli74fwCIdjOC7xqJ8Ted7lY-Zzbws/s1600-h/interior.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglHuE66WUzgCbSDWyZR-GJzV2A5F0DaIP84j6-SXL6LuaLbhGCEK8A8PwN2z_xDhOwn2hLEhVq0XKNIGF83hWAgtX1NO8tDBkzHFEEpZrYC6TqXBli74fwCIdjOC7xqJ8Ted7lY-Zzbws/s200/interior.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424271363636263138" /></a> close to my new DC home. It was absolutely magical. Pretty and poignant. They even managed to put the word "bassoon" in the dialog. Rhymed it with "saloon". Brilliant. It was a beautiful love story (Bah-humbug). The effects and staging were such that it was like looking inside an illuminated snow-globe. The illusions were incredible, imperceptible, undetectable trickery. www.arenastage.org/seson/09-10/sub-text<br /><br />Here are some samples of the song lyrics:<br /><br />"Never Say No"<br /><br />Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!<br /><br />Dog's got to bark, a mule's got to bray.<br />Soldiers must fight and preachers must pray.<br />And children, I guess, must get their own way<br />The minute that you say no.<br /><br />Why did the kids pour jam on the cat?<br />Raspberry jam all over the cat?<br />Why should the kids do something like that,<br />When all that we said was no?<br /><br />My son was once afraid to swim.<br />The water made him wince.<br />Until I said he mustn't swim:<br />S'been swimmin' ever since!<br /><br />S'been swimmin' ever since!<br /><br />Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!<br /><br />Dog's got to bark, a mule's got to bray.<br />Soldiers must fight and preachers must pray.<br />And children, I guess, must get their own way<br />The minute that you say no.<br /><br />Why did the kids put beans in their ears?<br />No one can hear with beans in their ears.<br />After a while the reason appears.<br />They did it cause we said no.<br /><br />Your daughter brings a young man in,<br />Says "Do you like him, Pa?"<br />Just say that he's a fool and then:<br />You've got a son-in-law!<br /><br />You've got a son-in-law!<br /><br />Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!<br /><br />Sure as the June comes right after May!<br />Sure as the night comes right after day!<br />You can be sure the devil's to pay<br />The minute that you say no.<br /><br />Make sure you never say...<br />No!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVkcPb2HXy7LTKYJJfnk1hXXqmkm6XqdFhVWq4oDTCHaqlvqSBDFTlOxYSmJaN50835wUURFsPCIWLFnP9kvuqBLhQhn-95uk9T0dCePtLjs0lPo4BOmIGb_IEmVeJp3jVZ8qHhinsr8/s1600-h/Winter+09+295.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVkcPb2HXy7LTKYJJfnk1hXXqmkm6XqdFhVWq4oDTCHaqlvqSBDFTlOxYSmJaN50835wUURFsPCIWLFnP9kvuqBLhQhn-95uk9T0dCePtLjs0lPo4BOmIGb_IEmVeJp3jVZ8qHhinsr8/s200/Winter+09+295.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424491117540450562" /></a><br /><br />and <br />"Plant a Radish"<br /><br />Plant a radish.<br />Get a radish.<br />Never any doubt.<br />That's why I love vegetables;<br />You know what you're about!<br /><br />Plant a turnip.<br />Get a turnip.<br />Maybe you'll get two.<br />That's why I love vegetables;<br />You know that they'll come through!<br /><br />They're dependable!<br />They're befriendable!<br />They're the best pal a parent's ever known!<br />While with children,<br />It's bewilderin'.<br />You don't know until the seed is nearly grown<br />Just what you've sown.<br /><br />So<br />Plant a carrot,<br />Get a carrot,<br />Not a Brussels sprout.<br />That's why I love vegetables.<br />You know what you're about!<br /><br />Life is merry,<br />If it's very<br />Vegetarian!<br />A man who plants a garden<br />Is a very happy man!<br /><br />Plant a beanstalk.<br />Get a beanstalk.<br />Just the same as Jack.<br />Then if you don't like it,<br />You can always take it back!<br /><br />But if your issue<br />Doesn't kiss you,<br />Then I wish you luck.<br />For once you've planted children,<br />You're absolutely stuck!<br /><br />Every turnip green!<br />Every kidney bean!<br />Every plant grows according to the plot!<br /><br />While with progeny,<br />It's hodge-podgenee.<br />For as soon as you think you know what kind you've got,<br />It's what they're not!<br /><br />So<br />Plant a cabbage.<br />Get a cabbage.<br />Not a sauerkraut!<br />That's why I love vegetables.<br />You know what you're about!<br /><br />Life is merry<br />If it's very<br />Vegetarian.<br />A man who plants a garden<br />Is a very happy man!<br /><br />A vegitari-<br />Very merry<br />Vegetarian!<br /><br />The late evening found me with friends at a favorite DC haunt, Zyntanya, www.zaytinya.com Terrific cocktails and tapas. Let me introduce, by photo, V, my friend with whom I share a contract of no committing to a man for six months. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NOxX2VOXaFUDlyTlv5I6STQWOw-0CinEI_8zSHAK0aJ677nDUsjC-Nkf7mgcu1_iTKjiRcn8y2cCG-SMN8ilb_ZiB3902rsFKSNZ1EpMJqoc4ctdgvhsx8rch8DUytkM2xBi28KUieU/s1600-h/Winter+09+300.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NOxX2VOXaFUDlyTlv5I6STQWOw-0CinEI_8zSHAK0aJ677nDUsjC-Nkf7mgcu1_iTKjiRcn8y2cCG-SMN8ilb_ZiB3902rsFKSNZ1EpMJqoc4ctdgvhsx8rch8DUytkM2xBi28KUieU/s200/Winter+09+300.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424489172272023426" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpOc-buWfuxuAZ3QtsI4maeFQDhdzAQph6w9Awr4dAaBS1YIZ2VFYslOlIh3uIXiPl4A-SaRUkNaocFLj7z9P9S9q11S58e32fyNr5jR1gW9kt94wleljd28QSwVpjIr5aw8Ycm1teDk/s1600-h/Winter+09+307.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpOc-buWfuxuAZ3QtsI4maeFQDhdzAQph6w9Awr4dAaBS1YIZ2VFYslOlIh3uIXiPl4A-SaRUkNaocFLj7z9P9S9q11S58e32fyNr5jR1gW9kt94wleljd28QSwVpjIr5aw8Ycm1teDk/s200/Winter+09+307.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424492352253982162" /></a><br />Here she is pictured with one of the (several) men because of whom such a contract was necessary. (Thank you for everything, BB, especially for being such a sport with my teasing.) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtI3QSuVTn7KIT7YDBHtGYYQV3EylRjGUCsfA47CVlFS-DpvFcAWglmpGI-9ikUPYJBW7QEc0hCPeoZKs1I2X73ChERmx6Q3TKbSWodUCLphJqihCI11ydGKfhlwgc30ADr1z_h1HE2U/s1600-h/Winter+09+302.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtI3QSuVTn7KIT7YDBHtGYYQV3EylRjGUCsfA47CVlFS-DpvFcAWglmpGI-9ikUPYJBW7QEc0hCPeoZKs1I2X73ChERmx6Q3TKbSWodUCLphJqihCI11ydGKfhlwgc30ADr1z_h1HE2U/s200/Winter+09+302.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424488684350389714" /></a>We had an uproariously good time, and when we left, the snow was falling, and I came back to my little nest for the first night. It is strange to sleep so alone, no animals, no children, and blessedly, for now, . . .no man.<br /><br />Picture of the Key Bridge across the frozen Potomac, <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSwURhlb9PVXDER3pNecDqUIfSUsvWYT5CBaqyXuYM75ux9X_8ODmc4fzqJULYnuTVM_Q4vZGMmFb94YScShhohLe5EMjPeiRoSmo40hjZNZKbjKntUwgiiFBVvO7FGGH1lPDFxmg5jlY/s1600-h/Winter+09+316.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSwURhlb9PVXDER3pNecDqUIfSUsvWYT5CBaqyXuYM75ux9X_8ODmc4fzqJULYnuTVM_Q4vZGMmFb94YScShhohLe5EMjPeiRoSmo40hjZNZKbjKntUwgiiFBVvO7FGGH1lPDFxmg5jlY/s320/Winter+09+316.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424493265924505698" /></a>to go along with one more, from the Fantaskicks:<br /><br />Deep in December, <br />It's nice to remember,<br />Although you know the snow will follow.<br />Deep in December, <br />It's nice to remember,<br />Without a hurt the heart is hollow.<br />Deep in December, <br />It's nice to remember,<br />The fire of September that made us mellow.<br />Deep in December, <br />Our hearts should remember<br />And follow.RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-79031533017432260552010-01-07T08:27:00.006-05:002010-01-07T08:47:25.130-05:00We Always Want What We Don't HaveThis should be just a quick addendum to last night's post. Once again, there is something to this hair thing that my momma knows and I don't. Here is MG this morning, after the curling rags were removed: <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYT241yXfOrEjmOAqUUnWigFOokM4aELU0FSrRbtoJB1Wh35IFF8cwo-P2roEr3FPoQGW56mG4XpunGRFyk7HL5Y1hAc_TXy7NZ4nk8IMeQSfWUQi7_BJxNinULl-02SCZDZdNMOxeXkY/s1600-h/Winter+09+280.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYT241yXfOrEjmOAqUUnWigFOokM4aELU0FSrRbtoJB1Wh35IFF8cwo-P2roEr3FPoQGW56mG4XpunGRFyk7HL5Y1hAc_TXy7NZ4nk8IMeQSfWUQi7_BJxNinULl-02SCZDZdNMOxeXkY/s200/Winter+09+280.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423990142348977810" /></a><br /><br />and here she is after the tears and hysteria, her insisting that everyone in 4th grade was going to laugh at her kinky, frizzy hair. So we wet it, and straightened it and blow dried it: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghr0Wj4FyhnBQjy7C-i96CiiBucOemtjw2wXi5Oiq3E44b0uJwFSLAtvKdTBTpstq8ec67Rkr5YvBOruD4wnM_IW6ZHJ4nmmhS6ZY8K0YDTUjAWZcZ46wzgurjjCOINLUoqmjL0tgZpHU/s1600-h/Winter+09+281.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghr0Wj4FyhnBQjy7C-i96CiiBucOemtjw2wXi5Oiq3E44b0uJwFSLAtvKdTBTpstq8ec67Rkr5YvBOruD4wnM_IW6ZHJ4nmmhS6ZY8K0YDTUjAWZcZ46wzgurjjCOINLUoqmjL0tgZpHU/s200/Winter+09+281.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423990430289588866" /></a><br /><br />EG simply refused to look at her hair and as I carried her out to the bus in my jammies and slippers, she was yelling for a pony tail to "hide it." "I hate curls!" She had, however, forgotten about the dress. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjop-56vWWl6HlbBM5y_o9Eque2bTUeyCrbWBJCs6VrzQA_rody-XVUCabbRw-gTRbEoQPmftuJ0f5tBywmb2CC0Oej0f3i5wm_rtn9DqlQehhWEpIxorcdTrKWL4pb-IzzY0IN9iibmow/s1600-h/Winter+09+282.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjop-56vWWl6HlbBM5y_o9Eque2bTUeyCrbWBJCs6VrzQA_rody-XVUCabbRw-gTRbEoQPmftuJ0f5tBywmb2CC0Oej0f3i5wm_rtn9DqlQehhWEpIxorcdTrKWL4pb-IzzY0IN9iibmow/s200/Winter+09+282.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423991319721859122" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirCIBOHikPLULv9VAuLdOlCGjodqH4O1Qy6uh17dn9WTIU83zdR2hZNgUx081TzEAy-7vWm11eep218wM9GoG6BPNuSINPT4-7aW4a7fz90DndWB786ZByTm9UuuIEpQgxWjWIY53T4-Q/s1600-h/Winter+09+283.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirCIBOHikPLULv9VAuLdOlCGjodqH4O1Qy6uh17dn9WTIU83zdR2hZNgUx081TzEAy-7vWm11eep218wM9GoG6BPNuSINPT4-7aW4a7fz90DndWB786ZByTm9UuuIEpQgxWjWIY53T4-Q/s200/Winter+09+283.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423991545394615650" /></a><br /><br />And a few more notes about school lunch. I have said before that it is the most expensive meal I ever eat. The lunch itself only costs two bucks, but if my schedule is full, it is two hours of lost billing. Yesterday, with Winston's (the Mini's) ice skating stunt, it could have been even more costly! The childrens' father is a phenomenal cook. Once MG was complementing his food and said, "Daddy's is very good, almost as good as my school's."<br /><br />So, I must pack - more than usual this Thursday - as I'm settling into my new pad. And guess what?? More snow is in the forecast! Maybe I will get lucky and get snowed in again, with some well-dressed gentleman.RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-79672082471057898722010-01-06T21:40:00.018-05:002010-01-06T22:49:33.380-05:00School LunchThe Stonewall Brigade Band's Christmas concert went quite well, in my opinion. I would upload a sound file, but I don't know how, and I'm too lazy to learn tonight. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7M6hK0wkRQt0ktB_z4bTS85Dh2TQ0UJa7oTh8EtpjBBz7tcvEAApnpfy-IByvUIItKz2BqmzQBP7WdxuaGJOba15IWhXRWMy5mHgDWo_jGOwknzXrxxirBSCda2mR-uia9USYJHQaDS0/s1600-h/Winter+09+238.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7M6hK0wkRQt0ktB_z4bTS85Dh2TQ0UJa7oTh8EtpjBBz7tcvEAApnpfy-IByvUIItKz2BqmzQBP7WdxuaGJOba15IWhXRWMy5mHgDWo_jGOwknzXrxxirBSCda2mR-uia9USYJHQaDS0/s320/Winter+09+238.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423823107772053106" /></a> Each year, admission to the concert is free, but we take an offering to benefit a local charity. This time the proceeds went to Valley Mission, a local homeless shelter.<br /><br />I enjoyed playing, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUCHEPtXz_Vk805MUfTFbRgP8VqJRMUSv2GQ3KccUmZTXVVARYc4X0dXB6Rl1XlZB2lTtIKmDz82y74nsUgyGjQFeZytHnyFVHhLFNYMwtk2-w68w3ywSwNLOMItlCug7M-iPRR5gHLU/s1600-h/Winter+09+241.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUCHEPtXz_Vk805MUfTFbRgP8VqJRMUSv2GQ3KccUmZTXVVARYc4X0dXB6Rl1XlZB2lTtIKmDz82y74nsUgyGjQFeZytHnyFVHhLFNYMwtk2-w68w3ywSwNLOMItlCug7M-iPRR5gHLU/s200/Winter+09+241.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423825449381496722" /></a>though I have to say it is much easier to do summer concerts, when I don't have to worry about getting the girls up for school the next morning. By 9 p.m. on a school-night, I have the attention span of a moth.<br /><br />Today, I had scheduled to join both girls for lunch at their school. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7uSrr-6LSmOhACjpY53QTA0jyvStpH3UHGSoaoXMCwduKlZrK97KuVgLuIXwWMovat0J8qhzBJyYCyAcNH-LUgOJy-AC0BzxU3mfJv_WvPBogJL1znnE1vKKMWcOEhX9QLJCXeNnkcwA/s1600-h/Winter+09+263.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7uSrr-6LSmOhACjpY53QTA0jyvStpH3UHGSoaoXMCwduKlZrK97KuVgLuIXwWMovat0J8qhzBJyYCyAcNH-LUgOJy-AC0BzxU3mfJv_WvPBogJL1znnE1vKKMWcOEhX9QLJCXeNnkcwA/s200/Winter+09+263.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423827487783567330" /></a> One of EG's teachers was having a birthday. EG said, "When she has her next birthday, my mommy is . . .(started somewhere in 30's; I won't specify, and then continued. . .) she will be thirty-eight, then she will be thirty-nine, and then she will be thirty-ten!" <br /><br />I am cherishing each time MG still requests that I come to lunch and is actually excited that I am there with her friends. How long can it last? <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2a9iEBS6TD6pi5yBh6UuXbJ4ucxNFPgsc1MHtSwsZoIayDWkrodHGdZ5QWJBFMUa24hkQ0p-ZWQ1RPRjehiIs2ce2blF2yOmT9GrV9SioYpviQvX7YM2l9b2J2fvPlXrVlcDrKpznooU/s1600-h/Winter+09+267.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2a9iEBS6TD6pi5yBh6UuXbJ4ucxNFPgsc1MHtSwsZoIayDWkrodHGdZ5QWJBFMUa24hkQ0p-ZWQ1RPRjehiIs2ce2blF2yOmT9GrV9SioYpviQvX7YM2l9b2J2fvPlXrVlcDrKpznooU/s200/Winter+09+267.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423828261710089794" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Bt3bnPKufddOGyqkipBCCGPcozejgqRQHb2kg3wKq_JHu2rJIOTGvOBJjfudpAoPI0M_sBh7tvUzHY7aH8EUrghQQ_wY-c4tKpx28Rw7bdVMebeQjhcAmXiqce9aQmfdpe7tQiQ518Q/s1600-h/Winter+09+270.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Bt3bnPKufddOGyqkipBCCGPcozejgqRQHb2kg3wKq_JHu2rJIOTGvOBJjfudpAoPI0M_sBh7tvUzHY7aH8EUrghQQ_wY-c4tKpx28Rw7bdVMebeQjhcAmXiqce9aQmfdpe7tQiQ518Q/s200/Winter+09+270.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423829246353607794" /></a><br /><br /><br />I'm sitting there, eating school lunch: pizza, blueberries, and corn when someone from the office comes rushing in to find me. As they describe my car rolling away from the school and into the street, I start running. I had applied the parking brake, but the Mini was on ice, and I guess it just doesn't weigh enough to stay put! Fortunately someone grabbed a large branch, chocked the front wheel, and no-one hit it before I removed it from the busy street it had rolled into. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitsFCLjKZJgbFfVQWb25mkJZ9huhXQbsz33G88GWJ2Y_udARPE2OTzdJj79arTyN9LSUfy_gpmFpnUzxDjbK5wQOmExbv5tBboBGOsPL4NBl8qokQJEwzGylnv7PVQI3LDzsMS9TOZH0c/s1600-h/Winter+09+274.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitsFCLjKZJgbFfVQWb25mkJZ9huhXQbsz33G88GWJ2Y_udARPE2OTzdJj79arTyN9LSUfy_gpmFpnUzxDjbK5wQOmExbv5tBboBGOsPL4NBl8qokQJEwzGylnv7PVQI3LDzsMS9TOZH0c/s200/Winter+09+274.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423830974873175618" /></a><br /><br />When I came back to rejoin MG and friends, they were all laughing right out of their seats. Little hooligans.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFghUISJBnyISfZF4AmuQkGCPxHCH8GIvYWt3wn5iN53fovXJ_sSZK7qhx8ApPU_RguGHt9X8NSEQ3j041bTXy6DLuk_80pRo_IXr9r9nwnTUTOITnoepLDyDyAMofhRyJwWzy4zo5f0/s1600-h/Winter+09+271.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFghUISJBnyISfZF4AmuQkGCPxHCH8GIvYWt3wn5iN53fovXJ_sSZK7qhx8ApPU_RguGHt9X8NSEQ3j041bTXy6DLuk_80pRo_IXr9r9nwnTUTOITnoepLDyDyAMofhRyJwWzy4zo5f0/s200/Winter+09+271.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423831350141209410" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uDn1Ofse2fGDgsMkqzcake4UatVR_JPrlcmrxWbnv0AtvdTbcpMYsgh4AxivgsO8q1wMcn9O2VMFN6J0V3kCG7rDbUEd-wgsBjmrim3zCKrZzGfjPIwHZ6UCkAqTipvqddGf0TCGvbU/s1600-h/Winter+09+272.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uDn1Ofse2fGDgsMkqzcake4UatVR_JPrlcmrxWbnv0AtvdTbcpMYsgh4AxivgsO8q1wMcn9O2VMFN6J0V3kCG7rDbUEd-wgsBjmrim3zCKrZzGfjPIwHZ6UCkAqTipvqddGf0TCGvbU/s200/Winter+09+272.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423832188040261074" /></a><br /><br />The kids are all having indoor recess because the temps have been so low and the ground is so icy. I really feel a lot of empathy for those teachers.<br /><br />Otherwise, it has been a fairly uneventful day. I'm in the midst of doing a ton of laundry - wondering how we manage to create so much. MG decided she wants more curls in her hair than she already has, so I rolled up her hair in rags, like my mother used to do, when I was a little girl. EG wanted hers done too. We will take them out when they wake up and see what we've got. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr2cWqvUWfRGRRUFzfRDcnH-L0CrdXvu4XvRalwXTAkmTAdm-rYaeWDJi_LAwZ24HL-hjjmUsDvBWrAx5O35-pJWiUKt9kP4mO4xndww8FJYOMG6P0p9_QQhygjpYlKlfQYFrZzHL9K6Q/s1600-h/Winter+09+275.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr2cWqvUWfRGRRUFzfRDcnH-L0CrdXvu4XvRalwXTAkmTAdm-rYaeWDJi_LAwZ24HL-hjjmUsDvBWrAx5O35-pJWiUKt9kP4mO4xndww8FJYOMG6P0p9_QQhygjpYlKlfQYFrZzHL9K6Q/s200/Winter+09+275.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423833127628174850" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwt3uUZE7kKLrp-8-fMzq7C7BeI3V9VNl4zWLV5Na6b5WJM8t_z7N8r1UJwKo2ifU4CQSxOWaLqmAWcFrJee8StqnH9O4qY7oCxD2ZnlMUmVhaivKnjY-DvnmDSwYstAwE71xZxKqklaA/s1600-h/Winter+09+278.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwt3uUZE7kKLrp-8-fMzq7C7BeI3V9VNl4zWLV5Na6b5WJM8t_z7N8r1UJwKo2ifU4CQSxOWaLqmAWcFrJee8StqnH9O4qY7oCxD2ZnlMUmVhaivKnjY-DvnmDSwYstAwE71xZxKqklaA/s200/Winter+09+278.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423833488263861666" /></a><br /><br />EG is crying because she wants to wear a certain dress with her curly hair tomorrow - the same dress she wore today that has not yet made it through in its place in the ten loads of laundry I've been doing. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgBsA8Ix0EGG2OKmBfud2eApcCDpUEAOQZgXkSbd3aaqEw3hxegDULZfhlgzc2o8Gi-qhAxCddEzG_5QOts65gYhCyrypzxslq31H0G6BfMF1QjJSLlKiOZi5Mk4Rj782ARRRvcBPWlM/s1600-h/Winter+09+276.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgBsA8Ix0EGG2OKmBfud2eApcCDpUEAOQZgXkSbd3aaqEw3hxegDULZfhlgzc2o8Gi-qhAxCddEzG_5QOts65gYhCyrypzxslq31H0G6BfMF1QjJSLlKiOZi5Mk4Rj782ARRRvcBPWlM/s200/Winter+09+276.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423834078056975826" /></a><br /><br />Here she is three minutes later. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmbUS7WgtF1zaIGEllp-hL9yAneDlmH9QcGEBer2l5YWS85PjznfH99Xxu8OiIH29oTtKq4oNtzt2cCcIvnRWFnXYp5IUJnnJM5zl94_hZoAG2i6KGYMqU3N6LYsfheLIXZl7pdqKuQaE/s1600-h/Winter+09+279.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmbUS7WgtF1zaIGEllp-hL9yAneDlmH9QcGEBer2l5YWS85PjznfH99Xxu8OiIH29oTtKq4oNtzt2cCcIvnRWFnXYp5IUJnnJM5zl94_hZoAG2i6KGYMqU3N6LYsfheLIXZl7pdqKuQaE/s200/Winter+09+279.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423834732887535746" /></a> I hope she has forgotten the dress when she wakes in the morning. Though it wouldn't be the first time I've had to carry her out to the bus, in my pajamas, still struggling to get her ready. She is in Pre-K. It won't last forever.<br /><br />MG is currently writing a story about running away to New York City and having a boyfriend. Why can't they just stay little!! <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4o5QYg5KvOA93Ch4DhCaC5epeCjp10SL7jBddwK-mkHfArfZYQFOVxsiAlm1AkAL2xSTZiV8Bnucp6vz6o1hpqpu1NptDGetZI5lutVLbzK89G6I4iC4GMowT7Gi3Dic2E4YMQvttbjQ/s1600-h/Winter+09+273.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4o5QYg5KvOA93Ch4DhCaC5epeCjp10SL7jBddwK-mkHfArfZYQFOVxsiAlm1AkAL2xSTZiV8Bnucp6vz6o1hpqpu1NptDGetZI5lutVLbzK89G6I4iC4GMowT7Gi3Dic2E4YMQvttbjQ/s200/Winter+09+273.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423832578785628946" /></a><br /><br />There is just not enough time to enjoy these two, and do laundry, and shovel snow, and work, etc. . .<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_faLmU6yVFgq7x9PYcW9lhiwAvRZe-YcKHOIlnoNF1yWqkFJNjS2MNhd0OifLeoqZYrNwqK7RNzfFjFSPAGojfl0hzFn-IeBdcT9AZaD3fJuKMaYATdmHZZRhUpa6LBNEkIt9QPe9KX0/s1600-h/Winter+09+229.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_faLmU6yVFgq7x9PYcW9lhiwAvRZe-YcKHOIlnoNF1yWqkFJNjS2MNhd0OifLeoqZYrNwqK7RNzfFjFSPAGojfl0hzFn-IeBdcT9AZaD3fJuKMaYATdmHZZRhUpa6LBNEkIt9QPe9KX0/s320/Winter+09+229.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423824010515712434" /></a><br /><br />and yet time keeps moving forward . . .RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-15256666935261987662010-01-04T10:31:00.009-05:002010-01-04T23:56:07.142-05:00The Stonewall Brigade BandFor six years I have been a member of the Stonewall Brigade Band, my part is just a tiny fraction of the band's long history, not to mention quality. The big band, approximately 75 musicians at most concerts, plays a great variety of music.<br /><br />www.stonewallbrigadeband<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EmoI6UxtFzoiWVkqkhO1Ec_PN5dLf4C0ndn6kqPCT9GLWbzzR4rYH1Rhj_q-ZbJJSik1gs5O6MZBPi-jqIBqmiWjfpdomcnXGFdApr74HRgn1BnrcZHiNAbHB2o7J2KijicXSClGosc/s1600-h/Picture+096.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EmoI6UxtFzoiWVkqkhO1Ec_PN5dLf4C0ndn6kqPCT9GLWbzzR4rYH1Rhj_q-ZbJJSik1gs5O6MZBPi-jqIBqmiWjfpdomcnXGFdApr74HRgn1BnrcZHiNAbHB2o7J2KijicXSClGosc/s320/Picture+096.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422937025780957266" /></a> <br /> <br />My mother was tickled pink when <em>Southern Living</em> featured us in their magazine -- and mentioned my name. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEi4qAc6g_xzUiPGg8JP3EXoPBhcrZ_YTQ2cjuwWmSHETcxHx1OLgVIDjupikAvvGb6Vdpx6gBT4Gg2DIA2yQrQZsKe3_WfveMLQErz6jC_tLPICgI5qP243KPE7N3rQz-OvX71l5blVU/s1600-h/Winter+09+224.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 303px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEi4qAc6g_xzUiPGg8JP3EXoPBhcrZ_YTQ2cjuwWmSHETcxHx1OLgVIDjupikAvvGb6Vdpx6gBT4Gg2DIA2yQrQZsKe3_WfveMLQErz6jC_tLPICgI5qP243KPE7N3rQz-OvX71l5blVU/s400/Winter+09+224.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422989315665878562" /></a><br /><br />In my mom's eyes, I'm a celebrity; at least she has been bragging as if I am as long as I can remember. For instance, I was on a date in Georgetown this past autumn, at Billy Martin's Tavern: www.martins-tavern.com<br /> - Let me just tell you, their meatloaf is the best. Anyway, we were eating outdoors, when a swarm of Secret Service cars converge, agents emerging, escorting The Secretary of State. With my cell phone, I texted my mother "Hillary Clinton is sitting 10 feet from me." Without a minute's pause, mom texted back: "If she asks for your autograph, be nice and give it to her."<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISYEgYVyxsssZGBs5BuW0ZqxZ-ebhF3d4xk1wiQxJuhyphenhyphenDfHjFSYJsa4tluQ72om4py65M6bC-Mm5lF8vZ0L7P9kWAaSl7HK2d7P4d11ECv92WSF05ytnChHOzAXq2QQJ0wTQtPeq3CYc/s1600-h/hillary_clinton.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISYEgYVyxsssZGBs5BuW0ZqxZ-ebhF3d4xk1wiQxJuhyphenhyphenDfHjFSYJsa4tluQ72om4py65M6bC-Mm5lF8vZ0L7P9kWAaSl7HK2d7P4d11ECv92WSF05ytnChHOzAXq2QQJ0wTQtPeq3CYc/s320/hillary_clinton.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423017117913230674" /></a><br />That was Hillary's expression when she recognized me.<br /><br />Back on topic, yes I have ADHD. . .So the Stonewall Brigade Band's Christmas concert was scheduled for December, 21, but the blizzard resulted in a reschedule, for tonight, Jan 4. This means I have to venture out into the tundra with my instrument. <br /><br />I play the bassoon, or as EG used to call it, the "bigsoon". <br /><em></em><em></em><em></em><em></em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho6Q_2y48KVB8hg-UC45VLNay6O055kvKJl88f5oHj9kNZHoniseNPCHqFCHUMPZdDRLltv3buW5yJfbcjOx6F_JQVZHYuP_4-vn2hxHcoyN9Hh618OPX4IWGauzDcnK8Sw75c_2rt4Yg/s1600-h/Feb+09.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho6Q_2y48KVB8hg-UC45VLNay6O055kvKJl88f5oHj9kNZHoniseNPCHqFCHUMPZdDRLltv3buW5yJfbcjOx6F_JQVZHYuP_4-vn2hxHcoyN9Hh618OPX4IWGauzDcnK8Sw75c_2rt4Yg/s320/Feb+09.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423021581241707282" /></a><br /><br />I love the sound of my instrument. Think Grandfather in <em>Peter and the Wolf</em>. I love the way the sound resonates in my body when I play it. I like the way the wood smells each time I take it out of the case. I wish I had more time to practice, wish I played better than I do. <br /><br />Summer concerts in the park are one of my favorite things in life. I can't quite find the words to describe the symphony of sensations it entails for me. The smells of the summer night air, the feeling of the keys rolling beneath my fingers, the brass blasting behind us, so no one hears the woodwinds . . .I'll try to write tomorrow and tell how the conert goes.<br /> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGRO_4TU8u8QhYv1dyhEfYPI4324ZCWv9Cg31oO_Tq8AGcnJ6mbVQRYlqQWTmSL9AJXpufiB-SycMaifasdBwlBBJPZTLdRkJ9Knp4sDzGcy4roZvDfxI-k6hSSOCx4_seT7oS2imCDA/s1600-h/late+Aug+09+086.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGRO_4TU8u8QhYv1dyhEfYPI4324ZCWv9Cg31oO_Tq8AGcnJ6mbVQRYlqQWTmSL9AJXpufiB-SycMaifasdBwlBBJPZTLdRkJ9Knp4sDzGcy4roZvDfxI-k6hSSOCx4_seT7oS2imCDA/s320/late+Aug+09+086.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422936722086858370" /></a>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-71069311438652993602010-01-03T01:24:00.018-05:002010-01-03T15:10:59.581-05:00WarmthI teased him that I was going to cry as he headed up the stairs, with the pug dog he calls "Girl-Girl" in his arms, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxeWveLXXmICkWwSf-bjdRLaLNV5P6DD7XJi_pDc1qn9YrHOF3ZPQTcrv35_mu33MM25pCaJUGHwSmc52YtDb_i5I_sdLl1rR9XYgZE4uWptf0pXtiMwp2TaTq_lGiUdszICX8Ki0Tb4/s1600-h/Winter+09+195.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxeWveLXXmICkWwSf-bjdRLaLNV5P6DD7XJi_pDc1qn9YrHOF3ZPQTcrv35_mu33MM25pCaJUGHwSmc52YtDb_i5I_sdLl1rR9XYgZE4uWptf0pXtiMwp2TaTq_lGiUdszICX8Ki0Tb4/s200/Winter+09+195.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422580186221796706" /></a>just after I reminded him she would turn eleven this year, that he'd had her since he was eight years old. And then I surprised myself with real tears. <br /><br />It is about 1:30 a.m., and I'm having trouble sleeping. It might have something to do with the fact that this is the 5th place I've tried to sleep this week. I'm in a 200 year old farmhouse near the North Fork of the Shenandoah River. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy760z4jFEIA_4b3cf7fdnPmRe7HS3KTRWgd8pNRUwKk_qWiCOVF3eUcxVORQDIG2RLb7N4ncPOTQ96atIHWfCatuChCJcRz3-RITGDbl_foGHNOusxfi__1DVDz86HK4O6WhI53pBAgg/s1600-h/Winter+09+213.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy760z4jFEIA_4b3cf7fdnPmRe7HS3KTRWgd8pNRUwKk_qWiCOVF3eUcxVORQDIG2RLb7N4ncPOTQ96atIHWfCatuChCJcRz3-RITGDbl_foGHNOusxfi__1DVDz86HK4O6WhI53pBAgg/s200/Winter+09+213.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422582825585618242" /></a>The owner of the place has never seemed to like me, something to do with having married her son perhaps, but I'm not really sure. I prefer people I <em>should</em> be close to tell me if they have a problem with me. I get nervous and talk too much when I can tell someone is disdainful, and it snowballs, the more distant or snooty the person, the more I try to "warm-up", and the more they dislike me, and so forth, and so on. With others who are open and non-judgmental, and talk and share about themselves, I can still be be garrulous, but am just as often quiet and reflective. My sensitivity is, of course, my problem, and I should really care less about what others think, but the flip side of it, I believe, is a decent proclivity for attunement as a psychotherapist.<br /><br />So, I cried as my stepson, TG, left the room, turning out the light as he went. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDj66opUbWUSzmNjmr5bnhMr888YRjJlYJfxJh3XnHDZArmnpVZy83py6-qF9TRH-h059wZSpDj4_l7L-g0prIVcr93oxXjpLL1kOY5zmsTTJ2axqF1OZk5Wf5eTE6APluFG_o2j9CNIU/s1600-h/Taylor.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 112px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDj66opUbWUSzmNjmr5bnhMr888YRjJlYJfxJh3XnHDZArmnpVZy83py6-qF9TRH-h059wZSpDj4_l7L-g0prIVcr93oxXjpLL1kOY5zmsTTJ2axqF1OZk5Wf5eTE6APluFG_o2j9CNIU/s200/Taylor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422501967439918434" /></a>I first carried him around, constantly, on my hip when he was five years old and weighed maybe 30 pounds. He is now about 5'10", 3 inches taller than me. While I was a graduate student, I'd work 9 month assistantships and stay home all summer and many holidays with him and his older brother while their father worked. I had the privilege of being a "stay-at-home-mom" to my stepsons during most of the summer for like six years. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRckv8NWvmKz11xFPsRsZUrWcBGvXnF_MFtQicBPFLzDsKhEGlPMwHhQ-uksLUHZ0pzphzxipUVMNE3ZYtpnu2gFkUlu6rE8eSpafnvW3zypdd1NXWWfqJX2TW-7-KtsQqU3q7VSDZUNI/s1600-h/Winter+09+191.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRckv8NWvmKz11xFPsRsZUrWcBGvXnF_MFtQicBPFLzDsKhEGlPMwHhQ-uksLUHZ0pzphzxipUVMNE3ZYtpnu2gFkUlu6rE8eSpafnvW3zypdd1NXWWfqJX2TW-7-KtsQqU3q7VSDZUNI/s320/Winter+09+191.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422583199205817474" /></a>I had so much enthusiasm for those little boys;<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHTxWsz89eLfHM-fsqRrt4O3PL7s0c7kQRDveqIEaKCCnHW4VQo-oxm4_JFXigMDD9ZJHLUm6htz8Bo8TKysGMMj6m49Azo7P9QW7eruASK9nX3U-BqNU-SIOCUrgNVGw86SS8WmjJKp0/s1600-h/Winter+09+190.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHTxWsz89eLfHM-fsqRrt4O3PL7s0c7kQRDveqIEaKCCnHW4VQo-oxm4_JFXigMDD9ZJHLUm6htz8Bo8TKysGMMj6m49Azo7P9QW7eruASK9nX3U-BqNU-SIOCUrgNVGw86SS8WmjJKp0/s320/Winter+09+190.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422583901571201826" /></a> I was like a camp counselor organizing zoo trips and swimming, bike rides and arts and crafts . . .Two summers we hosted a third boy, with an Irish Children's Summer Program which brought Protestant and Catholic kids from Northern Ireland to the states for the summer for "peace and reconciliation". The program was packed with activities, and my stepsons and I stayed on the go. Now for my little girls, I just don't have the kind of energy I did back then -- consequently, what I bring to their lives is typically more sedate, though their personalities are anything but. <br /><br />It has been at least two years since I spent the night in the same house with TG, though I see him whenever he is in town. I try to work it out so he can borrow my car, my Mini Cooper, when he flies up for a visit. He is a fine young man and a safer driver than I am. I remember letting him shift gears with my hand over his before he could see over the dashboard - there you have an example of my unsafe driving - he shouldn't have even been in the front seat! His little sisters think he is the greatest boy in the whole world, as does our pug Matilda. He jokes every time he visits that he is going to put the snorting little dog in his suitcase and take her home with him. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsERX-S2sSsxkWV9Xl93erFDFJTJApL0yrUXdst864oWNEmQZVAj0M7rViug-THl0DQt62QjzXLlhKXicVr8OZNd0VHplm0Of6C-QGynqBLRGr-tppUgiqp79mmuFZwRSvyVUeAMHMfU/s1600-h/Winter+09+193.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 138px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsERX-S2sSsxkWV9Xl93erFDFJTJApL0yrUXdst864oWNEmQZVAj0M7rViug-THl0DQt62QjzXLlhKXicVr8OZNd0VHplm0Of6C-QGynqBLRGr-tppUgiqp79mmuFZwRSvyVUeAMHMfU/s200/Winter+09+193.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422579946500426146" /></a> <br /><br />So here I am at "Grammy's" on the couch with our other dog at my feet. Both dogs go with the girls back and forth between my place and Dad's - including going with him to Grammy's farm, when he comes up here; the dogs' shared custody was part of the divorce agreement. I'm at the farm, tonight, having driven back from DC after a day of 1. seeing clients in Georgetown, 2. putting things into my new residence (with help of dear BB, thank you) and 3. going on a date (here we are, warming up with a cocktail, before heading out for dinner.) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijk8Z1i3kgnvDIhB7AdC2c8t6hC6P2eVCcrkvpnkKvbBGN1yZj7gAPjAMvfuGgf1dXjINHpStmOwfGcnaifyzXLUD93F2196p4S4EUkm88V4zjw0Yck9XFHnxna5hDT6PHpSD_o5Yg_HU/s1600-h/Winter+09+211.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijk8Z1i3kgnvDIhB7AdC2c8t6hC6P2eVCcrkvpnkKvbBGN1yZj7gAPjAMvfuGgf1dXjINHpStmOwfGcnaifyzXLUD93F2196p4S4EUkm88V4zjw0Yck9XFHnxna5hDT6PHpSD_o5Yg_HU/s200/Winter+09+211.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422585046703911282" /></a><br /><br />The children's father has to leave for Dulles at five a.m. to pick up Grammy and to drop off TG. I needed to get back to be with the girls in the morning. Boy, was it difficult to make that drive, to end a very lovely evening with a most enticing friend, and to come here. . . It will of course be worth it when the little darlings pile on top of me in the morning and take me out to the barn to see their ponies (even though it is 15 degrees.) And it was certainly nice to have even a few moments with TG. But reminders that stir a nostalgia, a longing for days past, are too abundant: all the old photographs of when the children were younger; the same old shaving case that their father has always used when he travels, sitting on the bathroom counter; the memory of sneaking out of this house with him, late one crisp autumn night, before we were married, to make love under the stars; visions of kids in the coops, chasing chickens. I wonder how much their father remembers and what emotions are attached to his memories? He will likely never say.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDGp1Ajgq-NiOkc_wLtbRTVmRXGiYttY6wVKLh29nWr2EAdpivhTZQZrHNHD_6IPEbUCcvHHp7la6WvLA-qm407NQ-T2p_VeI7GcQ2AUA_56cD5CcUzepIyaSlYhA1DnbzRpEzN3TlYM/s1600-h/232323232%257Ffp385%253Enu%253D3235%253E748%253E749%253E232674883%253A479ot1lsi.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDGp1Ajgq-NiOkc_wLtbRTVmRXGiYttY6wVKLh29nWr2EAdpivhTZQZrHNHD_6IPEbUCcvHHp7la6WvLA-qm407NQ-T2p_VeI7GcQ2AUA_56cD5CcUzepIyaSlYhA1DnbzRpEzN3TlYM/s200/232323232%257Ffp385%253Enu%253D3235%253E748%253E749%253E232674883%253A479ot1lsi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422599862866369090" /></a><br /><br />Not too long before we split up, my ex suffered the rupture of a cerebral aneurysm. I can't imagine what he went through internally, he's never talked much about it. But this event was the most difficult thing that ever happened in my life, and my life has not been exactly easy. He almost died. I remember standing in the emergency room newly pregnant, and with both girls and both boys there as well, the ER physician telling me their father could well NOT make it.<br /><br />Our relationship was not perfect, but it was a really good marriage of almost ten years. We loved our family; I loved our life. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEi41yhe44Plpqs8W8n3TE49TA78q90ltGm7lYMo9oQbiDzm3P2wwdg2Urq4Nv2lbhzbhkZkQwVHUOKZtqEZB9dQrFMUGoOnkTrD3jH1w_yw1Bl6U8YBDP8aiatqg9tZ11F_B_evjBZcM/s1600-h/232323232%257Ffp348%253Enu%253D3263%253E%253A47%253E446%253EWSNRCG%253D32339987%253B46%253A5nu0mrj.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEi41yhe44Plpqs8W8n3TE49TA78q90ltGm7lYMo9oQbiDzm3P2wwdg2Urq4Nv2lbhzbhkZkQwVHUOKZtqEZB9dQrFMUGoOnkTrD3jH1w_yw1Bl6U8YBDP8aiatqg9tZ11F_B_evjBZcM/s200/232323232%257Ffp348%253Enu%253D3263%253E%253A47%253E446%253EWSNRCG%253D32339987%253B46%253A5nu0mrj.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422601209398402786" /></a>I miscarried the unplanned pregnancy while he was in ICU. He recovered amazingly well, physically, cognitively, but for complex reasons that I may never fully understand, our marriage did not survive. He was back at work and engaged in most aspects of his life, but he was no longer willing to invest emotionally in us, and I was no longer willing to live without such intimacy. Of course we went to couple's therapy, and the therapist told me I might as well try to get blood from a stone. I was a wreck. We separated about four months after the hospitalization.<br /><br />Life has gone on. In many ways, I feel mine is better than ever. But the nostalgia can be bitter. Children growing up can rip your heart out, even though you're proud of them. Here is a song I wrote for MG when she was tiny -- I sing it to the tune of "Rock-a-Bye Baby"<br /><br />Good night my baby, my sweet kangaroo<br />You're safe in my pocket<br />And I'm here with you<br /><br />One day you'll grow big<br />And hop off on your own<br />I'll be so proud <br />To see how you've grown<br /><br />But right now my baby<br />My sweet kangaroo<br />You're safe in my pocket<br />And I'm here with you<br /><br />Alright, I need to quit all this drivel. <br /><br />It is now daylight. I managed to sleep a little prior to the four year old pouncing on me at 4:30 am. EG crooned that she had missed me and asked, "Why do you smell like Cherry Coke?" She went back to sleep around 6 am and we slept til 8:30. I took pictures of the farm, through the windows. Notice the thermometer - it was under 10 degrees Farenheit. There is a frozen floor mop hanging on the line next to it. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7671Z00B8RTWSiYpWCyfTtgfRfpIYtzrB8YxZAmUv1TErSxtzYIjeNLA5Lr-5b0BJ4x_BeymbrDYQYRkxv1FiPHB-ZqIVUOT4XVQsKlbCzKSnxyeTgMWW6RTOdz-0ZSudcdw87ckNPOU/s1600-h/Winter+09+221.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7671Z00B8RTWSiYpWCyfTtgfRfpIYtzrB8YxZAmUv1TErSxtzYIjeNLA5Lr-5b0BJ4x_BeymbrDYQYRkxv1FiPHB-ZqIVUOT4XVQsKlbCzKSnxyeTgMWW6RTOdz-0ZSudcdw87ckNPOU/s200/Winter+09+221.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422602263806990466" /></a><br /><br />I loaded up the girls and the dogs in the Mini and headed home where there is still six inches of permafrost on the ground. I'm avoiding unpacking and bills, etc. I'm just glad it is warm in my home. I got to the point of being less surprised when my furnace was working. Here are my pre-blog Facebook status updates: <br />12/9/09: time to complain: My furnace is broken, I've shoveled snow & ice for hours this week, & I fell on the ice yesterday and am so sore - so all of you complaining about no snow - I'll switch places!<br />12/9/09: alright, no more kvetching - I am thankful I have power & a fireplace, and a friend who is going to check my furnace & that I am physically capable of "shovelating" (EG's word) snow for hours.<br />still 12/9/09: my adventure in frontier living continues - now the power is out - or maybe . . .hmm. . .Dominion is having their revenge.. . .Hmm. . .No furnace, no electricity. . . or it could be the 50 mph gusts of wind and coincidence<br />12/13/09: trying to not cry in frustration, but my bathroom is flooded, my furnace is still out, and it is colder right now in my house than it is outside. I have placed two furry critters under blankets with each child to help keep them warm. The fireplace is starting to warm the place up, but this is likely to be yet another night of crappy sleep.<br />12/14/09: I fixed the leaking pipe!! - of course as soon as I got the water soaked up from the bathroom, the cats knocked over a big glass of milk in the dining room and I had no dry towels to clean it up! But as I reflect on a little hardship - I think how much easier I have it than so many people in the world, homeless, in ghettos, and slums & am THANKFUL.<br />12/14/09: I have heat - after one week - the part came in and the furnace is fixed!! Yea!!<br />12/15/09: furnace isn't working, again :(<br /><br />The furnace eventually was fixed, on December 18, but I still don't know how much it is going to cost me. I had a friend who works with heating and air, looking at the furnace in my basement when the power went out one night. I thought that he'd done something with control panel, but it turned out to be a downed power line. EG and I got ready for bed by the light of the fire truck. What an adventure, and one that -- suspiciously -- immediately followed my winning a trial against Dominion Electric Power. This is what happened.<br /><br />It was about the second most difficult day of my adult life, two years ago. I was moving into my home, and had driven three hours to my mother's to obtain some furniture she had for me. I helped load a 40 ft. truck all day, and then started driving the U-Haul north. When it ran out of gas on the side of the road, the broken meter still showed it had half a tank. I waited with then seven-year-old MG on the interstate in howling winds and hail, and then ended up getting to our house much later than planned. <br /><br />At my home, extending to the very edge of the drive, is an electric/telephone pole guide wire, that was not marked with any type of reflective material. As I drove the truck into the drive I heard and felt a catch and immediately stopped and put on the parking brake and the hazard lights. Getting out of the truck, and walking around to the passenger side I realized the wire was caught between the front wheel of the truck and the body of the truck. The wire had not been run over nor damaged. However, moving the truck either forward or backward at that time could have resulted in damage. <br /><br />Later, I am not sure if it was the same day or several days later, as I was extremely busy with the details of moving, Dominion came back out and replaced the wire. At that time, with my daughters with me, because they were curious about what was going on, I spoke to the Dominion repair woman. My daughters were very interested in her truck and we struck up conversation as she worked. She said that the wire was very unsafe and that it should have been marked with reflective material, which she did when she replaced it. <br /><br />I was absolutely shocked when a few months later, I received a bill from Dominion for $1224.73 for damages. I promptly called and expressed outrage, that it was mine and my daughter's safety that was endangered by the hazardous placement and lack of marking of their wire. I indicated that I wanted to fight the unfairness of this and was told they would send it to their legal department. Two years later, their lawyer finally showed up in court, and my lawyer fought a good fight with photos and a neighbor testifying that the wire had been hit by vehicles at least six times in the past and that the power company had promised to move it. Their patronizing lawyer asked me if I had any experience driving such a large vehicle, and I answered that actually, I had driven larger equipment, such as armored personnel carriers, onto C-5 and C-17 aircraft during my time in the Air Force. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-g-jhnyqGFmvsTISwkAuRd8PXoZAFdmQcrt9AnsVBOFAhFKlEoGuNGdLLc_fhO3lUuPtYXibN53UXhMEYVc-uLoR_bZ012w7OmU1iixzN5rRezcTJ_5-GWT4eUVTE3x7FtnMUPH14VSM/s1600-h/Picture+087.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-g-jhnyqGFmvsTISwkAuRd8PXoZAFdmQcrt9AnsVBOFAhFKlEoGuNGdLLc_fhO3lUuPtYXibN53UXhMEYVc-uLoR_bZ012w7OmU1iixzN5rRezcTJ_5-GWT4eUVTE3x7FtnMUPH14VSM/s320/Picture+087.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422605197219974226" /></a>The judge ruled in my (the defendant's) favor, and now I have only to pay my attorney about half of what Dominion wanted. <br />That was on December 3, 2009. For a while there, with the furnace and everything, I was paranoid they were seeking revenge. <br />Now, I am just glad to be warm in my own home, with my daughters happy -- reading and playing games. <br /><br />Having experiences as a child without heat and sometimes without power, here is a charity I like to give to: <br /><br />http://www.novec.com/Community/operationroundup.cfm<br /><br />And for all of us lucky enough to have adequate heat, but still cold, I highly recommend finding someone warm and cute to cuddle up with. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8CuaFtCtoSCtrW0Nic0kyejjHg6UBv9Zb_hyphenhyphenLwPOMb-uw-jwSl8a0uApnPFIpD5krd2plyTPKODEM6J9_hVta0oJv7725jbxS1wIN0s63tk87PQy9NptrwnKR_NUyR58cDANSt2s_JTs/s1600-h/Picture+005.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8CuaFtCtoSCtrW0Nic0kyejjHg6UBv9Zb_hyphenhyphenLwPOMb-uw-jwSl8a0uApnPFIpD5krd2plyTPKODEM6J9_hVta0oJv7725jbxS1wIN0s63tk87PQy9NptrwnKR_NUyR58cDANSt2s_JTs/s320/Picture+005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422605731012476802" /></a>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-19805340498789582872010-01-03T01:24:00.001-05:002010-01-03T01:24:34.973-05:00RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-43729225700748260322010-01-01T12:07:00.014-05:002010-01-01T14:11:28.382-05:00Endings and Beginnings, Living in the Here and NowWalt Whitman writes in his Leaves of Grass: <br /><br />"O living always--always dying!<br />O the burials of me, past and present!<br />O me, while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever! <br />O me, what I was for years, now dead. (I lament not--I am content): <br />O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and look at where I cast them! <br />To pass on, (o living! always living!) and leave the corpses behind!"<br /><br />There has been re-carpeting and painting going on in my Georgetown office, so when I arrived for work on Wednesday afternoon, I had to use my colleague's office. Look at this sky over the Potomac & the Kennedy Center from his approximately 10x15 ft bank of windows. Poor picture taken from my web cam on my netbook, but wow. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvAyNuvua8fDKn0lsKPwH_iyj4wKcM1zvGwxgC7flmwy3STEeezDky1qhQkVDThYtANhmmMD2fploqq7Rou5WE_YWd9E945e8CQbjYSs7pvZWWK5zPXpnncbKHMVCcIYzU_JiNyA_ZbPI/s1600-h/Winter+09+156.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvAyNuvua8fDKn0lsKPwH_iyj4wKcM1zvGwxgC7flmwy3STEeezDky1qhQkVDThYtANhmmMD2fploqq7Rou5WE_YWd9E945e8CQbjYSs7pvZWWK5zPXpnncbKHMVCcIYzU_JiNyA_ZbPI/s320/Winter+09+156.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421820850984501906" /></a> <br /><br />Living and loving can seem so complicated at times. And then there is a moment when everything becomes clear. I had such a moment last night, New Year's Eve, in the Target parking lot. I was in my car, on the phone with my mother, finishing my dinner before going inside to grab a pair of cheap shoes for dancing (I can wear out a pair in one night.) Suddenly, as I'm talking to mom, fire trucks and ambulances pull up. The EMT's jump out, and one returns out of the store in a moment with a tiny infant in his arms. Behind him runs the mother, shaking her hands in a terror stricken way. I do not know anything else about what happened. I asked my mom to say a prayer for them. In those minutes of observation my current struggles seemed to diminish into a place of simplicity and singular commitment - a renewed commitment of living in the Here and Now as much as I am able. A renewed commitment to loving and giving and caring and forgiving as much as I am able. <br /><br />I also made a commitment with my Georgetown hairstylist/new bff, V, yesterday about not committing in a romantic relationship for six months. The term of a lease I just signed; which I'll come back to below. Wagers for a substantial sum have been placed betting that I (RWG) CANNOT stick to this. V and I are in this together. Neither of us will, according to the terms of our contract, commit to a Man at anytime in the first 6 months of 2010. Operational definitions for exactly what this means are still being negotiated. One standard is obvious in the current socio-cultural realm: We cannot update status as "In a Relationship" on Facebook. (Find V to do your hair at www.hairloungesalon.com)<br /><br />Why, make a commitment to not committing, a curious reader might inquire? Because V and I and others of you out there, admit it, like to have a sense of certainty, a feeling of security, an idea that you know what lies ahead for you. We also love to fall in love. What a lovely and wonderful thing to meet someone you adore and to feel so giddy and filled with all those amazing neurochemicals and to make each other promises that you truly intend to keep because you want to at that time, with all your heart, want to be with and love and cherish this sweet person forever and ever. And some of you out there with greater impulse control, better ability to delay gratification, and more secure early life attachments, particularly with your opposite sex parent, some of you are much better at handling the uncertainty, taking things slowly, loving, but waiting and seeing, before you make those promises to yourself or to the other. I'm not saying that I think there is a "right" way to do these things. I've studied and closely observed and counseled relationships in the scholarly/professional realm for the last 13 years, and there is little that can be concluded about love with any certainty. I'm just committing to trying something different - for myself.<br /><br />My friend SP endorses this plan as she has just found that her new "committed love" was sleeping around and on Match.com. She figured out his password and updated his profile to reflect the man she really knows. She also responded to a few of the women with whom he'd been corresponding. <br /><br />NOT diving in -- it is hard to convince myself of something so foreign to my own gut/heart experience - all the cognition/knowledge is just not nearly as strong as those other, deeper, more primal feelings. <br /><br />Here's some relationship advice that came across my email recently:<br /><br />Five tips for a woman..... <br />1. It is important that a man helps you around the house and has a job. <br />2. It is important that a man makes you laugh. <br />3. It is important to find a man you can count on and doesn't lie to You. <br />4. It is important that a man loves you and spoils you. <br />5. It is extremely important that these four men don't know each other. <br /><br />In spite of such deep and meaningful advice, I fell deeply, passionately in love with MFC in September 09. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIkWakyl681IGKVzZeyhin4Lg3vkiBmw6PtpWrPpbwgunO4ZJaZVRD06TpaGKnVD37894kAiss97TrbnPS_A3g8ltzjJ8z0pmN4988gMur3rM41hiIngmUxiL6osmKSTCWm8LKpDRpHs/s1600-h/Mike's+new+car.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 188px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIkWakyl681IGKVzZeyhin4Lg3vkiBmw6PtpWrPpbwgunO4ZJaZVRD06TpaGKnVD37894kAiss97TrbnPS_A3g8ltzjJ8z0pmN4988gMur3rM41hiIngmUxiL6osmKSTCWm8LKpDRpHs/s200/Mike's+new+car.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421833057625231810" /></a><br />The mutuality was amazing. Everything about us seemed amazing. But of course there is no such thing as a perfect person or a perfect relationship and we let each other down by not being the perfect solution to all of life's problems, and then he made a mistake that truly hurt me, damaged the trust and so here I am, committed to not committing again for six months. <br /><br />But MFC and I had already purchased tickets to a formal DC New Year's Event - a James Bond, 007 party. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0qXarfK_zd9uRhdN3r7omuhyphenhyphenCs8XwXhdTyOiuZo-PQQxfgcwm0xCYJqgQYFF7Crqv5Y0x1KCN-3lK7F34YoUiQs5QIuEts7Wtf674eaem5HpzN0Htlig0XgEEYbXcK2QZfIX8-QTKukI/s1600-h/Winter+09+171.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0qXarfK_zd9uRhdN3r7omuhyphenhyphenCs8XwXhdTyOiuZo-PQQxfgcwm0xCYJqgQYFF7Crqv5Y0x1KCN-3lK7F34YoUiQs5QIuEts7Wtf674eaem5HpzN0Htlig0XgEEYbXcK2QZfIX8-QTKukI/s200/Winter+09+171.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421840487608449682" /></a>Silly, fun, with music, and dancing. And with much deliberation, we decided to attend, together. It was fantastic fun, and I'm glad we went. MFC is truly a wonderful person, and he was a hot date and a great dancer. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwMw_o2D64MGA0qh_bWQqCaTmnud1NsMUTpEXT9iMGSeL7oIgKzAvh9OCx53PsoqSGHd3sQZV-6W4BdhlKoWd9ENeH83f0gMOtJA-sP2bKnF0XWlYXzXIUMxlBQv4tZEqk2WyN9dDeTE/s1600-h/Winter+09+176.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwMw_o2D64MGA0qh_bWQqCaTmnud1NsMUTpEXT9iMGSeL7oIgKzAvh9OCx53PsoqSGHd3sQZV-6W4BdhlKoWd9ENeH83f0gMOtJA-sP2bKnF0XWlYXzXIUMxlBQv4tZEqk2WyN9dDeTE/s200/Winter+09+176.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421841140446050722" /></a> The party was filled with somewhat cheesy but fun 007 allusions including a room with ice sculptures, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JqODPWpr6qwTPOxzof9zSx3Ac9Q8KapwmASjbtfn7EnSgCQk7cVAd3eWvbs326N8JEDUWENkXN-rgcApCtYkZGNc-bS74vOhtpI-fA9hW9iw37DaFb7qQrBu_qqN11qmytdLNUMSFto/s1600-h/Winter+09+172.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JqODPWpr6qwTPOxzof9zSx3Ac9Q8KapwmASjbtfn7EnSgCQk7cVAd3eWvbs326N8JEDUWENkXN-rgcApCtYkZGNc-bS74vOhtpI-fA9hW9iw37DaFb7qQrBu_qqN11qmytdLNUMSFto/s200/Winter+09+172.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421842096551824610" /></a> a mock casino, golden girls, etc...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipvkbGgXkaxPw25TGEdYSbpluJ8vAA1kpQwQYrM-5tfS7qGN3NSDDcvhTXdXfo2WbRj1IG_P5seFMTk_4AgZukjEmtPNl0gOQpA-gJgCOXHmeInRo8bfvCUcG0sZmXDqFmWuRSro6Fe_I/s1600-h/Winter+09+174.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipvkbGgXkaxPw25TGEdYSbpluJ8vAA1kpQwQYrM-5tfS7qGN3NSDDcvhTXdXfo2WbRj1IG_P5seFMTk_4AgZukjEmtPNl0gOQpA-gJgCOXHmeInRo8bfvCUcG0sZmXDqFmWuRSro6Fe_I/s200/Winter+09+174.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421843443822619442" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEith4adLsguyX1q-KzBywNzElIr_rKrS6mi_stgnFoW25kl6QVMOUb0lZbE-9qZxBMYBZhr-1cBVL4lxKfCPISp4flpVtwGH5kAWBMTFJbpT6q_JaydpUBOqbIg0kduQfCSD2jgUFqUmrs/s1600-h/Winter+09+180.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEith4adLsguyX1q-KzBywNzElIr_rKrS6mi_stgnFoW25kl6QVMOUb0lZbE-9qZxBMYBZhr-1cBVL4lxKfCPISp4flpVtwGH5kAWBMTFJbpT6q_JaydpUBOqbIg0kduQfCSD2jgUFqUmrs/s200/Winter+09+180.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421843873643530530" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJtTdo_0u7K68EKdW7s2HYsofLelrf77yHyFLNbKQ5nPWja_0PjhkGi24XB5iDxBOm8_ZKeDmHXlJY9w-Vf-CmL2vXwDw599AwSIYm6SeVEnvp-fKlmKd6cDbpEnJ_Ssx7VJTdKOXqTQ/s1600-h/Winter+09+158.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJtTdo_0u7K68EKdW7s2HYsofLelrf77yHyFLNbKQ5nPWja_0PjhkGi24XB5iDxBOm8_ZKeDmHXlJY9w-Vf-CmL2vXwDw599AwSIYm6SeVEnvp-fKlmKd6cDbpEnJ_Ssx7VJTdKOXqTQ/s200/Winter+09+158.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421844200884516226" /></a><br /><br />Here's what is currently playing on my iPod: lyrics from COLLECTIVE SOUL:<br /><br />"Forgiveness"<br /><br />In my silence I would love to forget <br />But restitution hasn't come quite yet <br />And with one accord I keep pushing forth <br />I stretch my heart to heal some more <br /><br />It used to be all I'd want to learn <br />Was wisdom trust and truth <br />But now all I really want to learn <br />Is forgiveness for you <br /><br />As my seasons change I've now grown to know <br />When one's heart creates, one's soul doesn't owe <br />So I wash away stains of yesterday <br />Then tempt my heart with love's display <br /><br />So, I needed a place to call my own in DC, even if for only two nights a week. And yesterday, I found the place - a tiny room in a great shared row house in the Shaw neighborhood -- more to come on my new digs, I'm sure -<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHcHvqoUyrvtbtyidjjHFr9Hspwcx-Amob1_4CcHB2rRuh3vcbQeZf_ytrdgEL_7Z5EZDcG6C6uL5h7whhqCBdX2ghTJDa_6JDRv-47eFph0jtljw2-FJbJjp9iay3lsd7kximr9E_AHc/s1600-h/3o33p43l65V75T95P29cr531dabc3a83a16d6.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHcHvqoUyrvtbtyidjjHFr9Hspwcx-Amob1_4CcHB2rRuh3vcbQeZf_ytrdgEL_7Z5EZDcG6C6uL5h7whhqCBdX2ghTJDa_6JDRv-47eFph0jtljw2-FJbJjp9iay3lsd7kximr9E_AHc/s200/3o33p43l65V75T95P29cr531dabc3a83a16d6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421848259632624562" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMeK_JboLN9dcpYIgKQxB0edcFSTp4E9XaZfW2mKI04Ks9KLrGUCaTC-Tugx6Vdc6lS_FlTkOAJNApfH-0Vvt_UjI9dS5Xm79uTStQJ_Wf3_qx-yxvDXcf__jhpZwI952_bMaNZpbIRo4/s1600-h/3of3p13la5P55S15Rb9cr1f1b51cf09451848.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 115px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMeK_JboLN9dcpYIgKQxB0edcFSTp4E9XaZfW2mKI04Ks9KLrGUCaTC-Tugx6Vdc6lS_FlTkOAJNApfH-0Vvt_UjI9dS5Xm79uTStQJ_Wf3_qx-yxvDXcf__jhpZwI952_bMaNZpbIRo4/s200/3of3p13la5P55S15Rb9cr1f1b51cf09451848.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421848336575031074" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODVGP1QrRmvyC0ld6jR6y5-0ezLAAA54tRxudarhRtzw7im2wAbaS09aNqtCVRx1yNNtJiJiJTsl11mWQZy41Ow3_gbvli_-EyHVuD7SBOei85DWafAmRoDpY9fv4Hnn0b97b7el50c0/s1600-h/3nc3kc3p65Qc5U45R39crac90f0c05c201318.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODVGP1QrRmvyC0ld6jR6y5-0ezLAAA54tRxudarhRtzw7im2wAbaS09aNqtCVRx1yNNtJiJiJTsl11mWQZy41Ow3_gbvli_-EyHVuD7SBOei85DWafAmRoDpY9fv4Hnn0b97b7el50c0/s200/3nc3kc3p65Qc5U45R39crac90f0c05c201318.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421848550706755378" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />So onward, not committing, but giving, loving, living well, caring, forgiving, moving forward, excited about new possibilities, staying connected, being real, being me, in the hear and now -- Happy New Year!RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-84824817688795964982009-12-29T23:06:00.032-05:002009-12-30T01:40:36.925-05:00Chipmunks, Snakes, and Orangutans. . . OH MY!My work has kept me busy the last two days, with hardly a moment to catch my breath, and so I haven't blogged. For one thing, it seems that every time I get the stone path cleared so that clients can walk safely to my waiting room, within the hour more snow and ice comes calving off the tin roof, and I have to go back out, and shovel it clear, and put out more salt. 30" of snow lasts a long time. Here is a picture taken today from my little mountain top, looking out at the Alleghanies toward West Virginia. Elliot's Knob is the highest point. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJkDXZpw8902gO-4MXxZRr9_wyD9XgDKQXFbyG29pD52Xfqcx5_6EQWcyiwo7edcq1eLoxlFoBb_0hhc2pNj6XUT2LD19cIoU1ZDHWpFoejMgJtNG_IhyphenhyphenZwUUe98w0gPOzHQCE8BOGy5c/s1600-h/Winter+09+149.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJkDXZpw8902gO-4MXxZRr9_wyD9XgDKQXFbyG29pD52Xfqcx5_6EQWcyiwo7edcq1eLoxlFoBb_0hhc2pNj6XUT2LD19cIoU1ZDHWpFoejMgJtNG_IhyphenhyphenZwUUe98w0gPOzHQCE8BOGy5c/s320/Winter+09+149.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420886053449226610" /></a><br /><br />It is notable how the holidays stir up so much for people. Almost every client is bringing the struggles of their time spent, with or without family, and what that means for them, into the consulting room. And my holidays are there, too. I am sad that mine and my daughters' head colds and the horrendous weather kept us from going to visit with my mother (who is recovering from serious pneumonia) and brothers this year. My sister, RWH was away, too, with her boyfriend's family in Texas. So Christmas night was rather lonesome. A friend and I took the kids to see "Alvin and the Chipmunks, the Squeakquel" and then had Chinese food. <br /><br />(Here I am in my therapist's chair, yesterday with my canine co-therapists supporting me on either side. Hey, if my feet had to keep getting cold and wet going out to shovel snow, at least I had these wonderful socks to bring warmth and good cheer!) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv1k66gxGPzAtkC1XymLY4DZj8tcPKhMqOyAaoqar0N2L1HZqd6g5TD6-Bq6MaiVEVo0u8oDSWvg4cfFEJ4JDb2vlGxy_eI4cW4g_mWm5JZVOvQSzShEsVW1luHlvpo_Q7Q9urWjnvY8o/s1600-h/Winter+09+150.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv1k66gxGPzAtkC1XymLY4DZj8tcPKhMqOyAaoqar0N2L1HZqd6g5TD6-Bq6MaiVEVo0u8oDSWvg4cfFEJ4JDb2vlGxy_eI4cW4g_mWm5JZVOvQSzShEsVW1luHlvpo_Q7Q9urWjnvY8o/s200/Winter+09+150.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420888504152250306" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pqsQKqWIr3KyV128HUb62jtbkxjF0ObpL7b7MsPVoZWldBsaVtYxoQYduMVcqq4Bz8kSQgdLa6qYpiiwt8bJT6DTuMmpEDpz_s4D1yzhfj2VmVziFtKhAws7TenJJ3jRj6Jb6HLo57g/s1600-h/Winter+09+147.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pqsQKqWIr3KyV128HUb62jtbkxjF0ObpL7b7MsPVoZWldBsaVtYxoQYduMVcqq4Bz8kSQgdLa6qYpiiwt8bJT6DTuMmpEDpz_s4D1yzhfj2VmVziFtKhAws7TenJJ3jRj6Jb6HLo57g/s200/Winter+09+147.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420888873961435506" /></a><br /> <br />In my 12/25 post, I wrote about my fourth grade gift-giving. That same year, before the Christmas break, students had been asked to sell raffle tickets for a school fundraiser. There was to be a P.T.A. spaghetti dinner and raffling of prizes one night just before the holiday. My sister, RWH, and I called on all of the neighbors in our trailer park and sold as many tickets as we could, doing our duty to support our school. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVQ8CfiWPjOExrggEVvAbR4pOyGWqbsGpPB2keqX1OZNnOrr3q4aEik1FqsAAh1mcMMoHr99Tv0lqMNZdDGoXFj5h7ga21e7X0iwHbgdZTg60zghiZ65583gos7w0jgYWrvUFWyfH6KA/s1600-h/Winter+09+152.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVQ8CfiWPjOExrggEVvAbR4pOyGWqbsGpPB2keqX1OZNnOrr3q4aEik1FqsAAh1mcMMoHr99Tv0lqMNZdDGoXFj5h7ga21e7X0iwHbgdZTg60zghiZ65583gos7w0jgYWrvUFWyfH6KA/s320/Winter+09+152.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420897103949661666" /></a><br /> But RWH refused to go with me to the landlord’s big house. He was old and mean, in my memory, always threatening to kick us out because the rent was late. I went alone and sold him a ticket. The day of the spaghetti dinner arrived and early that morning I counted out all the one dollar bills and the red raffle ticket stubs I was supposed to submit at the event. I was somehow short a stub. The last number was missing. Horrified I confessed to Mom, knowing that she would spank me. But she did not spank me because of the lost ticket. What she did was much worse. She gave me one of her own dollars that she had “sweated for” and had me return it to the landlord, explaining that I had lost his ticket stub and had no more with which to replace it. Then, she made me clean the entire trailer. Alone. Top to bottom. And at some point during the day, I found the ticket stub. I don’t believe that was what she intended. At the spaghetti dinner, I turned in all of the stubs and all of the money. The food was good and they drew for several prizes. Then at the end of the evening, they drew for the grand prize, a 12 inch color television set. When they called out the numbers, I sat in shock then rose and carried the little red stub forward, claiming my miraculous prize. We had not had a TV for at least three years. That night my mom and my sisters and I watched Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas Special. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPH49YbLZJNOtmEhO4npxovanlNvURN72JXMOIPvYw1IcNtAA3ySCCdDl2NapqG8KxyBsRUDHysIZyk3DTwWNIG4aW_4Pv2LkSosgMJVHAQq2YN837rsd0LRdyFc-ls76Jp_p6Ra_4Pvk/s1600-h/chipmunks_Christmas1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPH49YbLZJNOtmEhO4npxovanlNvURN72JXMOIPvYw1IcNtAA3ySCCdDl2NapqG8KxyBsRUDHysIZyk3DTwWNIG4aW_4Pv2LkSosgMJVHAQq2YN837rsd0LRdyFc-ls76Jp_p6Ra_4Pvk/s400/chipmunks_Christmas1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420893331008849090" /></a><br /><br />Now days, I have two very nice, flatscreen TVs on which the girls and I watch movies, but I choose to not have cable television - which for my kids amounts to no TV. Don't worry, I'm not stunting them in the socio-cultural realm - they watch more than their fair share at their father's. I like how the lack of television inspires their imaginations and their love of reading, and playing outdoors (when it is not 23 degrees farenheit, that is. I just checked, right at this very moment it is 9 degrees outside.) The lack of TV is good for me, too. I blog. I read. I occasionally practice the bassoon <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXI41tbS0Uw1oOuGE3TYopKAEo5yKQFsstuD0jBMKeuW6Drqw2n9vNhBlkhGm3gM5xdwL2zP3I-Q6rC4MrTUA3FDI5C8BUtimf9gUl3nZpwJ2QRT5v-C1iMlmnXJDsxP3B9tv7NTMOI8/s1600-h/Feb+09.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXI41tbS0Uw1oOuGE3TYopKAEo5yKQFsstuD0jBMKeuW6Drqw2n9vNhBlkhGm3gM5xdwL2zP3I-Q6rC4MrTUA3FDI5C8BUtimf9gUl3nZpwJ2QRT5v-C1iMlmnXJDsxP3B9tv7NTMOI8/s200/Feb+09.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420897823987741810" /></a>which I play in a big band, I crochet quite poorly, I make photo albums with 4301 pictures, per month, of my kids. OH MY GOD, I'm a NERD - this is what lack of TV has done to me --- <br /><br />Here is a recent crochet project - a scarf made for MG based on her favorite bedtime story, CRICTOR, by Tomi Ungerer.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWSbtOWMGhh9ib42tgrE93eKWJLAnCnaejm8E4Vkaxyw2sTjlQX-bB_VvTvpoys-AlCPLoQHv_8UGz0RJ_ojPoIpIXj0R-2pxgOaVVw-gDIVh54cOXREfX2b59dYkeVFhz0ugHR7hqCo/s1600-h/Crictor-S.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 149px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWSbtOWMGhh9ib42tgrE93eKWJLAnCnaejm8E4Vkaxyw2sTjlQX-bB_VvTvpoys-AlCPLoQHv_8UGz0RJ_ojPoIpIXj0R-2pxgOaVVw-gDIVh54cOXREfX2b59dYkeVFhz0ugHR7hqCo/s200/Crictor-S.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420899292256365426" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFqNPPpalswaUnX0GjmFoBGbZpleSIKRRWCVdPLGTj2fcl4g0ybbGDe63vax_C__F1VM2Y6DoDYm5LuRk5AwAR5kc_FGL2y6iGdA3qLqr6hoDzl9GdProS28nkVbzBOxAt7CShVIoXso/s1600-h/crictor.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 172px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFqNPPpalswaUnX0GjmFoBGbZpleSIKRRWCVdPLGTj2fcl4g0ybbGDe63vax_C__F1VM2Y6DoDYm5LuRk5AwAR5kc_FGL2y6iGdA3qLqr6hoDzl9GdProS28nkVbzBOxAt7CShVIoXso/s200/crictor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420899515316831410" /></a><br />In the story, Crictor's owner knits him sweaters, so I crocheted MG's scarf a scarf.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-5kpye4zo03rQaNAJuZoF40DSIPLf3iPgZExehoxEMSiEVrNCwQW6GCs0KdQuS_zF18ao4drGvyOkI0Vh5duIeyFd4EN6S71EncO2ejpQGcDCReua1PRkeQadM2CQToKOOW_IID9KlI/s1600-h/Winter+09+095.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-5kpye4zo03rQaNAJuZoF40DSIPLf3iPgZExehoxEMSiEVrNCwQW6GCs0KdQuS_zF18ao4drGvyOkI0Vh5duIeyFd4EN6S71EncO2ejpQGcDCReua1PRkeQadM2CQToKOOW_IID9KlI/s320/Winter+09+095.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420900244951322354" /></a><br />EG has a scarf in the works. It is almost finished. I will post a picture of it when it is complete. Scarves and blankets are the ONLY thing I can crochet. My mother, however, can make anything out of yarn. Here is a photograph of MG in the Christening gown my mom crocheted. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdphZkt2kD4eLJF2Q8MV6Q_mxyGSfEgXO8A1I7fQFMF-O1hSn_QyOxWUyqfXjCg032FTzHRLKf-vFMWeGO7JxUqOoepK7YZFppPaI0KIjAbKmwPfbaoeNBmMBwouU1HnP-ZOfdAEsJXpM/s1600-h/Winter+09+153.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdphZkt2kD4eLJF2Q8MV6Q_mxyGSfEgXO8A1I7fQFMF-O1hSn_QyOxWUyqfXjCg032FTzHRLKf-vFMWeGO7JxUqOoepK7YZFppPaI0KIjAbKmwPfbaoeNBmMBwouU1HnP-ZOfdAEsJXpM/s320/Winter+09+153.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420902634518871154" /></a> And here, a very recent project, two orangutans, hand crocheted for two very loved granddaughters. IF this is not FOLK ART at its best, I do not know what is. My Mother is a wonderfully loving and talented woman who became pregnant at the age of 14 with my older sister and has raised 5 kids alone (and she didn't see my daddy once after the first one was born, jk.) I might write some stories of my childhood, that make her seem harsh or neglectful, and sometimes that was how I experienced life, but I don't think for a minute anyone could do much better in the same circumstances. She is truly amazing. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJSL47bq-Ny_MnYqV2pG7diCLAJQbLuAKWsiUaW8Mgu0V0EeavGAkxHVZBr9dWofEK8ltWAYdGsJqJlTs9egBiA-aMbNMroEKepzhTAy1oZMu7KmJUb61hpMdzowtLevycYfMn4NMKqM/s1600-h/Winter+09+154.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJSL47bq-Ny_MnYqV2pG7diCLAJQbLuAKWsiUaW8Mgu0V0EeavGAkxHVZBr9dWofEK8ltWAYdGsJqJlTs9egBiA-aMbNMroEKepzhTAy1oZMu7KmJUb61hpMdzowtLevycYfMn4NMKqM/s320/Winter+09+154.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420903073750345346" /></a><br /><br />Hey Mom, when my younger brothers don't get to come home from college for the holidays, you send them a care package, right? Well, I know I'm post-post-doc and all, but I still have to do continuing ed. . .shouldn't that count? I'd like some of your chicken pecan quiche, a deluxe apple pie, I need a fuzzy hat that matches my black coat and keeps my ears warm . . . looking forward to seeing you soon, Mom & to bringing the cool gifts the girls and I made YOU. I LOVE YOU!<br /><br />Pictures with family from holidays past: me with mom & three of her granddaughters, EG and mom, EG, EG blowing bubblegum with cousin HH, EG & MG with HH, EG and my brother MO, another of mom's crochet creations, EG dancing x4, the REAL Santa x2, MG sleeping in Grandma's bed, and me.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rB8GsnHHFf6DYgP282yykZM_7Y9R_F0q8ml7OtvAvEIjnRscrLJC3Yq571Xm9K0z4O6d76ysHKSYO3idd_lmvZVmFsSaL-BRehYTGE2Tti_GRtVcviaMxgcbjlwAvwRADccDJOgc2Ls/s1600-h/n517812905_1108649_3158.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rB8GsnHHFf6DYgP282yykZM_7Y9R_F0q8ml7OtvAvEIjnRscrLJC3Yq571Xm9K0z4O6d76ysHKSYO3idd_lmvZVmFsSaL-BRehYTGE2Tti_GRtVcviaMxgcbjlwAvwRADccDJOgc2Ls/s320/n517812905_1108649_3158.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420909797633209378" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz9ybCHHnQ98Zdu_uSdrwCSkx44llDOOmpTuBSX19d42Sp_dQJXw_GjVI0yUW_B-6bQZY5WBFEWi3RJstXmFrD5C3lUoSqBIxPa9UPWpKEWWbxfUghcpTnYi4WFlcqOMryllVL5502c38/s1600-h/n517812905_1007997_8602.jpg"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNnkUYOQvKhTp24iAOQQrkY86vw8LKgnfpYD5PR4QdlTVpGJndd6yCZ7ZkxXkkMvDX1zD0rpQApqDw1A_R0LAJ9lNksaxoYa7tD7uIzZxK5RW9uNpe2lmMpONl0rytjs31aAHnb_BGp8/s200/n517812905_1109085_8819.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420912230599222146" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHP_gCfu8-YAfRaRhW-_4prZxrSmSbVZq3uKR7oJ9cXmxhjdFbd5jnsSJki1YqtoLIUh6JpZjO1WjJTrLyn_irkUElqIHAb2Lc5S0LPN5ROcE2c09lSHRG3P9lZuFkWW6HQnVPntoOkJQ/s1600-h/n517812905_1109086_9598.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHP_gCfu8-YAfRaRhW-_4prZxrSmSbVZq3uKR7oJ9cXmxhjdFbd5jnsSJki1YqtoLIUh6JpZjO1WjJTrLyn_irkUElqIHAb2Lc5S0LPN5ROcE2c09lSHRG3P9lZuFkWW6HQnVPntoOkJQ/s200/n517812905_1109086_9598.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420912119690126770" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU094DAX_e01SkmKUuaXw4z5AYJ4jqBnMwAuofrI1IRzb4M5qHnm9KKcNPCIaGC8qHYVLpaE2fN8amN_M-skV_E3nNeydVa94d496JF2QQBvhb_LgTOC60rZ8uSZuOsU1vfog_lsjc5os/s1600-h/n517812905_1211991_4534.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU094DAX_e01SkmKUuaXw4z5AYJ4jqBnMwAuofrI1IRzb4M5qHnm9KKcNPCIaGC8qHYVLpaE2fN8amN_M-skV_E3nNeydVa94d496JF2QQBvhb_LgTOC60rZ8uSZuOsU1vfog_lsjc5os/s200/n517812905_1211991_4534.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420911984539819410" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5-mFsYNoYQiGkJP40jhvSyg5UCXzRqcjPyEczJr41FyxXV4pBRJFoumtOLnL6qJ19wxXeA11GVGuxDF040SzrDofkMtbxz2jvCjZ8wRVnha4lo_1RoZ8grGi450Ykns3elR_LG_DdUiQ/s1600-h/n517812905_1211990_5628.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5-mFsYNoYQiGkJP40jhvSyg5UCXzRqcjPyEczJr41FyxXV4pBRJFoumtOLnL6qJ19wxXeA11GVGuxDF040SzrDofkMtbxz2jvCjZ8wRVnha4lo_1RoZ8grGi450Ykns3elR_LG_DdUiQ/s200/n517812905_1211990_5628.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420911732988098514" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisrCzW5kVv39QRyBd9og3STu3nk_p_zTkre2mGsiRRys03KUHx8IBpCFjTxXWrlmKvwSlGI37s5KyKt4PsOfKK1CDNCeHk7n14NGS-NUCG4kDgMvh09dGp8pzNRUU0-VLIiLeliKuDsxo/s1600-h/n517812905_1212123_4141.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisrCzW5kVv39QRyBd9og3STu3nk_p_zTkre2mGsiRRys03KUHx8IBpCFjTxXWrlmKvwSlGI37s5KyKt4PsOfKK1CDNCeHk7n14NGS-NUCG4kDgMvh09dGp8pzNRUU0-VLIiLeliKuDsxo/s200/n517812905_1212123_4141.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420911501781925714" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIYjbMYnbCHUxHhBRdmkFG43Ehfz0QXpYQFCCQZ_JLpmOz5EfjslDd_B6qdAx1YaqNUdBucVHorXokKgmlfGrAxmGQuM9TCebb0Y4m1X1NGtLS3ffZzoS1drulM_43GOhsSHGVhuXQs84/s1600-h/Ruth+creek.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIYjbMYnbCHUxHhBRdmkFG43Ehfz0QXpYQFCCQZ_JLpmOz5EfjslDd_B6qdAx1YaqNUdBucVHorXokKgmlfGrAxmGQuM9TCebb0Y4m1X1NGtLS3ffZzoS1drulM_43GOhsSHGVhuXQs84/s320/Ruth+creek.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420914896204898466" /></a><br /><br />Good night, blog world. I'm off to DC for work in the morning. . .RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-38378488355574331172009-12-27T21:58:00.022-05:002009-12-28T00:39:56.037-05:00Marvelous Minis and the Myth that Size Doesn't MatterMy MG asked me today if anything I did while I was pregnant might have stunted her growth. I answered that it could have been the hyperemesis which lasted for 9 months, but I really just think it is how she is meant to be. She weighed 4'12" at birth, 16 pounds at a year, and here she is, standing with her classmates, on the first day of fourth grade.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvaq08ZVdxUkRWrljrlKPxonnz-JyRBB-CckOXI4fQ10dLDWFaid6x5LIszUu_RogcY_Y52v_0W9CySA1j7P-nmp-hC5067sTYrZSQ4d5T-DiC5dUVgRh58nMpmPEIIdti8d6-AQ40orw/s1600-h/late+Aug+09+005.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvaq08ZVdxUkRWrljrlKPxonnz-JyRBB-CckOXI4fQ10dLDWFaid6x5LIszUu_RogcY_Y52v_0W9CySA1j7P-nmp-hC5067sTYrZSQ4d5T-DiC5dUVgRh58nMpmPEIIdti8d6-AQ40orw/s200/late+Aug+09+005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420116413578237634" /></a><br /><br /><br />Meanwhile, MG is the biggest detractor from my enjoyment of my beloved automobile; she actually complains that she does not have enough leg room. I approximate that I spend at least 8 hours a week in my vehicle, thus my goals were that my car should be fun, comfortable, environmentally friendly, and good on my budget. So I have a 2008 Mini Cooper. When I was ready to replace the mini-van with my dreamed of Mini Cooper, I went to the Mini web site, http://miniusa.com/# and designed my own Mini - determining exactly what I wanted. But since I have issues with delayed gratification, I looked around my region and found something that was almost perfect, that I could have NOW. The desired car was only 5 1/2 hours away in Winston-Salem, NC. So my car is named Winston, a tribute to the British origins of the car, the location in which I found him, and the fact that he looks like a pack of Winston cigarettes.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEerFqGIFhTGWBvaHd-kFKhkmwxB2YXain-Fka5STTf42P4ITJaftEVelNiar4UKAM-kNhm1gxoLbLOyWaviECs1Y6D6qXl5Jup5RAqyQLyIL2YOyqqlAlS15ypv0ytt0Iih-AWYMHqE/s1600-h/Sep+29.+09+138.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEerFqGIFhTGWBvaHd-kFKhkmwxB2YXain-Fka5STTf42P4ITJaftEVelNiar4UKAM-kNhm1gxoLbLOyWaviECs1Y6D6qXl5Jup5RAqyQLyIL2YOyqqlAlS15ypv0ytt0Iih-AWYMHqE/s200/Sep+29.+09+138.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420118405479192626" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3r2lzT-BYGCUg7DIuZM5aR4SWTECrpma0FoqCqRc_m1FSlMxk-mj29HlbC6cZIyBTSqt1cd5Rq3JQWb2jLIdZiXrYLYRZzUgdFW9Gi9nHa_3eyPRBdflC3deEeUHbPX4hw_PSLAFIK9Q/s1600-h/images.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 124px; height: 124px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3r2lzT-BYGCUg7DIuZM5aR4SWTECrpma0FoqCqRc_m1FSlMxk-mj29HlbC6cZIyBTSqt1cd5Rq3JQWb2jLIdZiXrYLYRZzUgdFW9Gi9nHa_3eyPRBdflC3deEeUHbPX4hw_PSLAFIK9Q/s200/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420118985594045522" /></a><br />Seriously, I hate cigarettes, and did not intentionally name the car after tobacco, but you have to admit, the resemblance had to come from somewhere deep within my unconscious mind. In my real job, I do a lot of work with people to help them quit smoking and other unwanted habits through the use of hypnosis. . . <br /><br />I love my Mini. I love how it rides. How it handles. I love how I can fit it in between two parking spaces in the District, that is if someone else is parallel parking for me. I love it's ergonomics. Take a look at this dashboard:<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCY_5EiTPjtBXDenOU79kauVA4R8JSi44R4tsm_qLDYl6h2oFuuaigSO-cJyOqdznJLoKlZuWx-ps90aJ8rlaCANdJlH9xeSAhlKc1CKWwDX5xIisBlkTGSdfNqrINZMU_Qx733fWdc4E/s1600-h/May+09+062.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCY_5EiTPjtBXDenOU79kauVA4R8JSi44R4tsm_qLDYl6h2oFuuaigSO-cJyOqdznJLoKlZuWx-ps90aJ8rlaCANdJlH9xeSAhlKc1CKWwDX5xIisBlkTGSdfNqrINZMU_Qx733fWdc4E/s200/May+09+062.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420121255648938626" /></a> I love Minis so much that when I went for a solo/recharge-my-batteries road trip to California, driving US 1 from LA to San Francisco (Yes, a future post), I had to rent a Mini. A convertible Mini Cooper S - through Malibu, Big Sur, Monterey, Mill Valley, Berkeley, & Yosemite - was heaven on earth. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-UIrPAW69JkWDVxAHE-gbJiJcZYOOqILes2bsC7_EulFbFz-lejgKeQ7fbPgfo-PV4-aY_MMyrDuf76HwBMQ9fMdUI-rYqrbPRkLNs9NOdHNBnZv5pDWmUSbDdzXFv6VeF1p0pgnbLY0/s1600-h/May+09+044.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-UIrPAW69JkWDVxAHE-gbJiJcZYOOqILes2bsC7_EulFbFz-lejgKeQ7fbPgfo-PV4-aY_MMyrDuf76HwBMQ9fMdUI-rYqrbPRkLNs9NOdHNBnZv5pDWmUSbDdzXFv6VeF1p0pgnbLY0/s400/May+09+044.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420125398172358194" /></a><br /><br />Now for everyday, all season use in the mountains of Virginia and in Washington, DC, I definitely prefer the panoramic sun-roof to the convertible. Inside my Mini it feels surprisingly spacious and open, all of the time, because of the terrific roof. I love riding with the roof open, letting the sun stream in, particularly in the autumn. And it is not so much wind that my hair gets all tangled and in my eyes and mouth. The convertible with the top up felt a little claustrophobic, well not quite claustrophobic, because I loved feeling close in with a Mini, more like cuddly, it felt cuddly. Yes it was thrilling with the top down, racing along canyon highways and coastal cliffs, I will admit. I've thought about finding a boyfriend with a convertible Mini. Best of both worlds kind of thing. Yin and Yang. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26ptLUZu3sWYTyZqOJAMQ6ohVaAgfr263VpitLqOPGF_DR8JAZ6SvTRRG8UIDvMdVVtW3ehWslEMYitoJhu1sIxiuMr1t6Yb9d0n1v5Vaimb_DoMJNzVxTXV1sUnLiM6gWxpHAmJ6-eU/s1600-h/Fall+09+220.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26ptLUZu3sWYTyZqOJAMQ6ohVaAgfr263VpitLqOPGF_DR8JAZ6SvTRRG8UIDvMdVVtW3ehWslEMYitoJhu1sIxiuMr1t6Yb9d0n1v5Vaimb_DoMJNzVxTXV1sUnLiM6gWxpHAmJ6-eU/s200/Fall+09+220.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420129215753049378" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqRGBA4-JMRqYYrOL0ZK1VRUgxnMQPoCcQlYE-0xcApQIFdEQjlBCy74HgDK0Hr1GuKgj48sAZ1EUcXSuNCwhIx8yxlso4OiqwFsfGC_pxSSz8JdrS906Vi42w5F0uYfZr3481v1-V-BQ/s1600-h/May+09+312.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqRGBA4-JMRqYYrOL0ZK1VRUgxnMQPoCcQlYE-0xcApQIFdEQjlBCy74HgDK0Hr1GuKgj48sAZ1EUcXSuNCwhIx8yxlso4OiqwFsfGC_pxSSz8JdrS906Vi42w5F0uYfZr3481v1-V-BQ/s200/May+09+312.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420130088929971746" /></a> If you haven't yet seen the newer version of the movie the ITALIAN JOB, you should. I've been watching it in slow-motion to try to figure out this parallel parking thing. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPNT22SOMFhSZNmwm2ryD77lFEexsPcglJWDD1G87piFs5xuuurr9VBGZt0JCxIXmlT2eQzpSARMhLgqtQSQpfZ8BvOpDU0CprAWf2puNzmNYhlYKz1Qn69sowfzj5HEImgzvjtBQHbGo/s1600-h/May+09+213.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPNT22SOMFhSZNmwm2ryD77lFEexsPcglJWDD1G87piFs5xuuurr9VBGZt0JCxIXmlT2eQzpSARMhLgqtQSQpfZ8BvOpDU0CprAWf2puNzmNYhlYKz1Qn69sowfzj5HEImgzvjtBQHbGo/s400/May+09+213.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420128649967613458" /></a><br /><br />Must drive a Standard with a Mini. You have to feel like you're driving. And color matters. Mini's should be bright and cheerful, with racing stripes. <br /><br />I especially love playing music on my iPod while driving in my Mini. I love belting out songs at the top of my lungs. Sometimes, I'll play the same song over like 15 times, just to make my commute seem shorter. I have pretty diverse tastes in music. My recent re-play favorite has been George Jones, THE RACE IS ON http://www.last.fm/music/George+Jones/_/The+Race+Is+On?autostart <br />Here are the lyrics (Am I violating copyright if I copy & paste them from somewhere else on the net?) <br /><br />I feel tears wellin' up cold and deep inside<br />Like my heart's sprung a big break<br />And the stab of loneliness, sharp and painful<br />That I may never shake<br />You might say that I was taking it hard<br />SINCE YOU wrote me off with a call<br />But don't you wager that I'll hide in sorrow<br />When I may break right down and bawl<br /><br />(Chorus)<br />Now, the race is on and here comes pride up the backstretch<br />Heartaches are a-going to the inside<br />My tears are holding back<br />They're tryin' not to fall<br />My heart's out of the runnin'<br />True love's scratched for another stake<br />The race is on and it looks like heartaches<br />And the winner loses all!<br /><br />One day I ventured in love, <br />Never once suspectin' what the final results would be.<br />How I lived in fear of waking up each mornin'<br />And findin' that you're gone from me<br />There's achin' and pain in my heart <br />for today was the one that I hated to face<br />Somebody new came up to win her and I came out in 2nd Place!<br /><br />(Repeat chorus)<br /><br />So, I seemed to have changed the subject. Hmmm. <br /><br />Spent most of the day with my friend SP. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeC4CzgjHV-7p50wrJ3qDSGQDzIDarodozW6oHDkOesjGssSqZ4jOcnb7KWnqt3Lgko40UnoyV0NI1Ktm47Kll3ZcNVXmiJSE8xs_fEGtlN1gtg8iyLEXP7lMBFneVxBeccYpDcve6qzA/s1600-h/Winter+09+136.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeC4CzgjHV-7p50wrJ3qDSGQDzIDarodozW6oHDkOesjGssSqZ4jOcnb7KWnqt3Lgko40UnoyV0NI1Ktm47Kll3ZcNVXmiJSE8xs_fEGtlN1gtg8iyLEXP7lMBFneVxBeccYpDcve6qzA/s320/Winter+09+136.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420135713355178754" /></a> <br /><br />SP is one of those women who deserve the label SUPERMOM. She seems to manage it all with such style and grace that I end up feeling like I'm, well, not as capable. She too is a single mom, runs her own business, and manages a home that is too much for one adult to keep up with. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9JWRroBrhxTiiY9GmpiZALksNO0DvtTBoWTCt7vww5fV0hWEKjj-2e_bAAyhUxgT-74-35-VCRNR-P8Qc9ef903fw-CFY2QoGsXB6UC_XGabliSGoMhLs4mDernJsA2E27haoPwFRJA/s1600-h/Winter+09+127.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9JWRroBrhxTiiY9GmpiZALksNO0DvtTBoWTCt7vww5fV0hWEKjj-2e_bAAyhUxgT-74-35-VCRNR-P8Qc9ef903fw-CFY2QoGsXB6UC_XGabliSGoMhLs4mDernJsA2E27haoPwFRJA/s200/Winter+09+127.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420138290837475506" /></a>We have a lot in common and are different in many ways too. This makes for a good friendship. Heck, her lawn mower, the Dixie Chopper, is bigger than my car.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWOjHjigAjOxpGBE6meAiIhhg2OKa0RR01hLh6Pe1cqW_otdrH3xa6Pam9-qCXatQaAM7d_uhj2EjwXRsobncKTCTHVdCm-yygixRdCxjHxK9PTuU9OaKH5PyX7q6EB7NBTg0JVO9HNAA/s1600-h/2006_Dixie_Chopper_Rb2700_50_Zero_Walk_Ride_Mower_Nr.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWOjHjigAjOxpGBE6meAiIhhg2OKa0RR01hLh6Pe1cqW_otdrH3xa6Pam9-qCXatQaAM7d_uhj2EjwXRsobncKTCTHVdCm-yygixRdCxjHxK9PTuU9OaKH5PyX7q6EB7NBTg0JVO9HNAA/s200/2006_Dixie_Chopper_Rb2700_50_Zero_Walk_Ride_Mower_Nr.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420138959861020546" /></a><br /><br />Mine & SP's little girls are wonderful friends. And EG wants to marry SP's little boy. Today at lunch, EG announced her intentions. Her girlfriend, L, was quite jealous and said she wanted to marry EG. When met with rejection from my heartless kid, she said, "Fine I'm going to marry your mommy." (Ultimate come-back.) She asked me was I married. I replied, "Nope, I actually got unmarried, so I'm available." But then L thought for a few minutes and said to EG, "Wait, once I'm grown up your mom will be dead." <br /><br />Here are the girls dancing for us at my house this afternoon: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEignaIt-whuUgMlPmsy8WsEw39NARZqa5f2epU8EOeXh10wKxIreuJxyx4LHUZvtWeiQmsMWK6ELtGvOplgVwKOcWHbBTDeA8dLAAhFn9bEkJ5noJCvTFIRb2DJ8JVzyYmAN_QXxVB3iWQ/s1600-h/Winter+09+125.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEignaIt-whuUgMlPmsy8WsEw39NARZqa5f2epU8EOeXh10wKxIreuJxyx4LHUZvtWeiQmsMWK6ELtGvOplgVwKOcWHbBTDeA8dLAAhFn9bEkJ5noJCvTFIRb2DJ8JVzyYmAN_QXxVB3iWQ/s200/Winter+09+125.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420140382777079954" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC977f-9lMNN2caysYesBPfT82IKQq-R_3etJ1EpjILzUb_s9o2KhwC7dqYHXTPYNVw26W6h0GbIRFtlSt3R8VdnH5-Nn235V_xImiJCyn3qK-P0bV6FEcMXnncJrXWnQvcyn__qlF71s/s1600-h/Winter+09+126.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC977f-9lMNN2caysYesBPfT82IKQq-R_3etJ1EpjILzUb_s9o2KhwC7dqYHXTPYNVw26W6h0GbIRFtlSt3R8VdnH5-Nn235V_xImiJCyn3qK-P0bV6FEcMXnncJrXWnQvcyn__qlF71s/s320/Winter+09+126.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420140925122385186" /></a><br /><br />And here are our kids around SP's 12 foot real tree. Which would never get home on the top of a MINI. Which no one in my lineage would ever be tall enough to decorate. And which is bound to make a collosal mess in SP's immaculately clean house. HA!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhweUh28NCtLQvdFWul8r9qxvryfGG6hZFg4iQipADIt5zVF178eRMUgOZ7QKgTdvH9GWA0UGMtWyEVTWLevaulmPlDCMT1BDoMQdqyvLjdiXfG0yD6_OJfCL4ipV4iScnkusy5Lncu-0/s1600-h/Winter+09+128.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhweUh28NCtLQvdFWul8r9qxvryfGG6hZFg4iQipADIt5zVF178eRMUgOZ7QKgTdvH9GWA0UGMtWyEVTWLevaulmPlDCMT1BDoMQdqyvLjdiXfG0yD6_OJfCL4ipV4iScnkusy5Lncu-0/s320/Winter+09+128.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420143280289905554" /></a><br /><br />A Public Service Announcement. SP, fosters orphaned kittens and helps them find homes. Here is MG trying to convince me that we NEED another one. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNemI1Q6QuKmrKt4Qb8Yv7TQwY87PTVrVYK66AF326sDFVmHYq_aw_1_NclRLqRROZ9dUTNTP0RNNhy0RQQL_hJILkAPAbG-uQOqpw6f495z1Su9noxm4P9JhM5CAKnCeZ4s86y4Xs-A/s1600-h/Winter+09+133.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNemI1Q6QuKmrKt4Qb8Yv7TQwY87PTVrVYK66AF326sDFVmHYq_aw_1_NclRLqRROZ9dUTNTP0RNNhy0RQQL_hJILkAPAbG-uQOqpw6f495z1Su9noxm4P9JhM5CAKnCeZ4s86y4Xs-A/s320/Winter+09+133.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420144636355331906" /></a> Any cat lovers out there reading this blog (o.k., the one person following this blog, so far) may I appeal to your generous spirit to adopt a sweet baby from SP? One more photo, not cats, but kids, eating the dinner prepared by SP: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAUduZA2OPaz0BPkI5fPyZAkKTeu4DvqcxbKiAmPV7CVliF-sK4Wd4uG1o7bupRE6OGSWa1NJ0ZLKIPraE7HUEJVc_U8PQpb5O0HIwFgqP4zSxrTUIJnoGEBebR9U3AGNauhYJRI5cYTQ/s1600-h/Winter+09+138.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAUduZA2OPaz0BPkI5fPyZAkKTeu4DvqcxbKiAmPV7CVliF-sK4Wd4uG1o7bupRE6OGSWa1NJ0ZLKIPraE7HUEJVc_U8PQpb5O0HIwFgqP4zSxrTUIJnoGEBebR9U3AGNauhYJRI5cYTQ/s320/Winter+09+138.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420145723488775602" /></a><br /><br /><br />And a last, random musing. SP inspired an idea. (This is what I get for hanging out with Republicans and the like.) <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZLa5NbmonCwO2bczM6wTSUIpz0BMMZ1U5TdsvCxFwEqHpAgRlN6_MwvA46IyNCaswLxTMrp0ihoAtRbtVL9TxYeWFdGVVzyKF7ApJZi8G9Y3EEmHDu-Dg0Ps1RcDM2JApgP8UngA6KY/s1600-h/Winter+09+139.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZLa5NbmonCwO2bczM6wTSUIpz0BMMZ1U5TdsvCxFwEqHpAgRlN6_MwvA46IyNCaswLxTMrp0ihoAtRbtVL9TxYeWFdGVVzyKF7ApJZi8G9Y3EEmHDu-Dg0Ps1RcDM2JApgP8UngA6KY/s320/Winter+09+139.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420147969673916834" /></a>It's a game called Western Shoot-Out or something, and is available at Target (go figure.) My therapeutic? idea is that you put pictures of ex-spouses, or ex-lovers perhaps on the cans, and well, you get out your aggression in vitro, with no real violence. So, there you have it. Next Christmas, SP is hoping Santa brings her a gun rack for the little toy pistol for the back window of her SUV, and an NRA membership. <br /><br />Here are some more lyrics, to demonstrate my musical diversity. From Sean Kingston's REPLAY:<br /><br />". . .She like a song played again and again<br /><br />That girl like somethin' off a poster<br />That girl is a dime they say<br />That girl is a gun to my holster<br />She's runnin' through my mind all day; hey<br /><br />Shawty's like a melody in my head<br />That I can't keep out, got me singin' like<br />Na, na, na, na everyday<br />Its like my iPod's stuck on replay, replay . . ."<br /><br />Alright - I must sleep, and heal, and get up early before Monday's clients arrive. My sore body is begging me to resume my much kinder, gentler running routine versus the newly instituted and hopefully temporary snow-shoveling exercises. Next blizzard, I dare someone to tell me, "Size Doesn't Matter." <br /><br />Picture of Winston, last February - remember he spent the nights in a garage in Georgetown during this most recent snowfall.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCr0WmTleV7wmAL-tU8Dh_6aT-1Djcb7lHGu_keG2aiYaquiz7VKr0o-A-MBKuc8BsBxVfrRYJcQ3F3ac7YsNowq132UJ_lcuO2gn0x71JiLuqB3QaL0VcuM_y1o7Fhz68GKTo2iSuKwE/s1600-h/Feb+09+054.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCr0WmTleV7wmAL-tU8Dh_6aT-1Djcb7lHGu_keG2aiYaquiz7VKr0o-A-MBKuc8BsBxVfrRYJcQ3F3ac7YsNowq132UJ_lcuO2gn0x71JiLuqB3QaL0VcuM_y1o7Fhz68GKTo2iSuKwE/s320/Feb+09+054.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420157394243366866" /></a>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-8853868369071167222009-12-26T20:15:00.000-05:002009-12-26T22:46:07.161-05:00Canine Co-Therapy, the Dragon Slayer and More<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>Someone is bound to think that the things I write that my four year old says and does must be exaggerated, but I assure you they are not. As a matter of fact, I can’t keep up with her. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419735416656076258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmEyEX7f7ZIzFgQ0qmqVZ8UfAzXHWtqbA-h-Onv16lem3Vr6UpUevspf0FNi6fu4yDlDjZDKCw6D7kxK7iE8AI9udjI0hBc9tRIyTaJFqt5XY_5AaOv7lPbb4po03BdzwrfKdBQjP8XsI/s400/E-facepaint.jpg" border="0" />Right now, for instance, EG is constructing something out off Styrofoam and duct-tape. Let me back up, she got a new baby doll, with diapers, for Christmas. She has been changing them constantly, and recently started complaining about how many diapers, and how disgusting, with long sighs for emphasis. So, she decided to potty train. And this is what she has made, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYElRKLEpPb3rPvhpJ43k8dhRbsvV6QLp5otNkG7NKUjtFcdRpoEJw5qHrtKq0DF9dBvfvfv9_43xxG6_D7UVW0dBr4r-ft-8uKaD-NUnkYJBHvmmPdcOrjvaCY3DhT-7YmJvm8YS8yiE/s1600-h/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six.+008.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419736929180228530" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYElRKLEpPb3rPvhpJ43k8dhRbsvV6QLp5otNkG7NKUjtFcdRpoEJw5qHrtKq0DF9dBvfvfv9_43xxG6_D7UVW0dBr4r-ft-8uKaD-NUnkYJBHvmmPdcOrjvaCY3DhT-7YmJvm8YS8yiE/s320/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six.+008.jpg" border="0" /></a>a toilet for her baby doll.<br /><br />My older daughter, MG, is just as clever, but in different ways. She writes poetry, and songs (with music) for me, and she is concerned about her privacy on the internet. She must approve what I put out there. I like that – good boundaries. So I’ll just keep writing about EG until she gets annoyed and tells me to stop.<br /><br />That said, this evening's sunset over the Alleghanies was gorgeous. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3mcSYyGTI5yc9z0R_AFL1rLRFtfJa4bfCeDyIexmSmfYjeihM5vy4amrDJb95UYf2oldTKbTef7PTw6GeyyZlBmZwRhvptNC_r9FrkcC6ZgJ3htk0Qf0jiwXa94FxCqOZ3NxdISxNC74/s1600-h/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six..jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419739738837966242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3mcSYyGTI5yc9z0R_AFL1rLRFtfJa4bfCeDyIexmSmfYjeihM5vy4amrDJb95UYf2oldTKbTef7PTw6GeyyZlBmZwRhvptNC_r9FrkcC6ZgJ3htk0Qf0jiwXa94FxCqOZ3NxdISxNC74/s200/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six..jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Then the girls and I enjoyed some of the neighborhood light displays before a dense fog set in. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgrwXepGNpRBfdeAkfSGk12TxufCBUHFeApn0vZg4PvdL_lzHH3ylPEdgFO2UXrgl2z5Lgdsmu1BwZQr0vMaI_9LxdRl5TfDRK4e6BVVsc3F9mtXB4igF-vkA9QopE9QZd0oMe7K8xXj4/s1600-h/Winter+09+108.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419743284607697522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgrwXepGNpRBfdeAkfSGk12TxufCBUHFeApn0vZg4PvdL_lzHH3ylPEdgFO2UXrgl2z5Lgdsmu1BwZQr0vMaI_9LxdRl5TfDRK4e6BVVsc3F9mtXB4igF-vkA9QopE9QZd0oMe7K8xXj4/s200/Winter+09+108.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSWLs9t67nrXnO8uQqOt0OY4nxZ1SeRDWXbHbK_T4QfmmPrbdulri5cy6aSNG_oK2HX1W76q12m0J2RjDmM1qtUsxe2SH_qJwwBgRIJVVZHRulU1yCavGtD7LDXHnNX-MRXaGvImAsZg/s1600-h/Winter+09+107.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419743745207856850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSWLs9t67nrXnO8uQqOt0OY4nxZ1SeRDWXbHbK_T4QfmmPrbdulri5cy6aSNG_oK2HX1W76q12m0J2RjDmM1qtUsxe2SH_qJwwBgRIJVVZHRulU1yCavGtD7LDXHnNX-MRXaGvImAsZg/s200/Winter+09+107.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div>We gathered up two neighbor kids for dinner at a local pizza shop. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxgp9QyE5UMArIEUyfjxe0UicV1ShHgylWW4Yb1ssqYhmoN_5M1MuZn7OyZVFjKjWAfuRuxUIVDz_AYltN1MYYslGmSK8SzhXVFyAZkdnxaJNZ9kIgxQtY6WXwV9KZaSN3crG4d0VXjCU/s1600-h/Winter+09+124.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419745374894543874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxgp9QyE5UMArIEUyfjxe0UicV1ShHgylWW4Yb1ssqYhmoN_5M1MuZn7OyZVFjKjWAfuRuxUIVDz_AYltN1MYYslGmSK8SzhXVFyAZkdnxaJNZ9kIgxQtY6WXwV9KZaSN3crG4d0VXjCU/s320/Winter+09+124.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This is not an amber ale or an IPA, it is ginger-ale mixed with diet coke and pink lemonaide. I promise. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKLBGsStTVeWJdHy_oNM5NgrDalTBgvorWBonqu-7NXA-JigsN9TuTOPgkiNPl2qYjMjgNmZ3rj_oJshuJEk_7yeYfRICK1QjraeanoUePBd8UggAV90xnwo1Em0sIfYuZtPW0s0eIdg/s1600-h/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six.+005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419745859819264274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKLBGsStTVeWJdHy_oNM5NgrDalTBgvorWBonqu-7NXA-JigsN9TuTOPgkiNPl2qYjMjgNmZ3rj_oJshuJEk_7yeYfRICK1QjraeanoUePBd8UggAV90xnwo1Em0sIfYuZtPW0s0eIdg/s200/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six.+005.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>While out, I happened upon and identified the anonymous snow-shoveler I wrote about in Gifts post. It is one of these dudes. Can you guess which one? <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419746252688329794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzttKK021yl_fhPIPhcYTIbxTWnBdX4E4QmY0jw29seKkm0AXNRydywVEdb54IAYo8QdFxoDGfQMNkShJKlXyGzfBCL67O4dbDTcdCxNmWtCO9nev-Y3OyAGr7bs4wqChV8PZOQ3qO9Dk/s200/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six.+007.jpg" border="0" /> He said I deserved some Single-Mom Karma back at me. Man, if I’d known I’d get somebody else to do the shoveling, I would have gotten divorced much sooner than I did! (Just kidding, that was rude, but irresistible.)<br /><br />Speaking of my ex-husband, the wonderful father of our incredible daughters, here <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXuZptx6T9kvb_elA4VxbACcNxWJwmIvOZfH9TnHhfBPmSsapR17pXWwzb4r-K7_3BrHu27w8Wz3zOouqGF5iokhrHg8_zCi86-Jv0WzN8BFHN-Ox1KZ9ndP0N7qlxud1YkKJa01gn9xo/s1600-h/Winter+09+111.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419746802758191298" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXuZptx6T9kvb_elA4VxbACcNxWJwmIvOZfH9TnHhfBPmSsapR17pXWwzb4r-K7_3BrHu27w8Wz3zOouqGF5iokhrHg8_zCi86-Jv0WzN8BFHN-Ox1KZ9ndP0N7qlxud1YkKJa01gn9xo/s200/Winter+09+111.jpg" border="0" /></a>he is at my house on Christmas morning. <br /><br />And here is my ex-boyfriend, BB, sitting across from ex-husband. The kids adore them both, and both are good friends to me. And watching little ones tear open gifts on Christmas morning is something that should definitely be shared. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaQBDyf-DgjchXk4ckpVRkNkZbZpvYkGzsPujpg8nPnrJzGJlKI_vcFk1RuabLf8pbwvLF_H1ro78v4PPZ0osF0sTJ5uUBOMTkutiGlVMLzhpmEXxM06YBRffgz0N-w4tx0a1pQp39y5s/s1600-h/Winter+09+114.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419747099031422322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaQBDyf-DgjchXk4ckpVRkNkZbZpvYkGzsPujpg8nPnrJzGJlKI_vcFk1RuabLf8pbwvLF_H1ro78v4PPZ0osF0sTJ5uUBOMTkutiGlVMLzhpmEXxM06YBRffgz0N-w4tx0a1pQp39y5s/s200/Winter+09+114.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Oh my, the toilet now has a flusher. Yes, that is a piece of candy corn. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419747722801582578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrZOGjaxXX0SNS-_83f_B5ovdfFkaPnZZYSLws1T71caDo_rBEoiiXH6TFdrrWeOkXpDMclHudkITQFvwdR3cbNVgvo2Z6aGwCg52nShYT8pBz5DCFS6lPiZbGyIejTSICroyMlBuS8cg/s200/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six.+009.jpg" border="0" /> O.K., so this is supposed to be a post about pets. Canine C0-Therapy and such. For many years, my girlfriend/colleague, DAS, has used her Beagle, Sadie in therapy. DAS is someone I want to emulate. About four years ago, I started bringing my Italian Greyhound, Guido, into the consulting room, and we found the benefits to be numerous. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419752635011492354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIokyKDQaDuv03KJDL8tLWupdI9dCO0nTkg9hC-k4SrGg-mNdZ06HMeXfPeanIJ5piOiJqtkgAkYX6DdS3tOQ9ZcKF5hqrnX-hdNvGtpzunpri2hc4ukOEAClRLcpXLjRTasD7xNEd3NA/s320/late+Aug+09+013.jpg" border="0" /> It was devastating when ten-year-old Guido died suddenly, from liver cancer, this year. A few months after Guido’s death, I adopted seven-year old Skippy, whose owner had recently died. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419751774755145730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbtHuaEc2Sfk3uo571lLqJN3Zbj8v0my9RyPgc8rNtOycIOGZ0xgcsthUBlYldtdmVgUqqUJSF2_XfoRrjbZWFBB1dylfy-1JBReYFgv9-djWLZ7oZfP26vSa80gM5CIblz_CIogtwXEo/s200/MD_Baby%2520(WinCE).jpg" border="0" /> Skippy joined Matilda, a black Pug, two recently rescued kittens, Mulberry & Muffin, pet rats, Fluer and Poppy, and a beta fish. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZuOERFDgMfgOSqSy0JLWg8ehNbqxLQ2-CXLoQD1GgoCGOctTgwo01z5REWvACICK5GoImp1zZMKc7ikzTC6UAXR02PdzY66qoyp7sYXzFlMJTRm4jhTl7IiIcB4xjUEhVc95PbyD_i5I/s1600-h/DSC05164.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419752245108767570" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZuOERFDgMfgOSqSy0JLWg8ehNbqxLQ2-CXLoQD1GgoCGOctTgwo01z5REWvACICK5GoImp1zZMKc7ikzTC6UAXR02PdzY66qoyp7sYXzFlMJTRm4jhTl7IiIcB4xjUEhVc95PbyD_i5I/s200/DSC05164.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92NWpfXoXMHKy1y57wg5Ni4zUtPCO6Rz1YWoMtxLWb1JGy_ftCbrG-6Cap6vMde5lrsYgKShY4SoHBxcGakrOTQjb3aE1dX9FXwvf-Ht4cFEXY1dY_EFTC7LA7532v_tKEg4bvZbKUbU/s1600-h/DSC05248.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419750824843918226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92NWpfXoXMHKy1y57wg5Ni4zUtPCO6Rz1YWoMtxLWb1JGy_ftCbrG-6Cap6vMde5lrsYgKShY4SoHBxcGakrOTQjb3aE1dX9FXwvf-Ht4cFEXY1dY_EFTC7LA7532v_tKEg4bvZbKUbU/s200/DSC05248.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419753236907451538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8nL9rPIxVpxsl5jqhOp0gUs2xnX67v06j4ESABEVDMTQZXKNRdxggn6wk2pZ2nbCXRDuCAvORv3l0gv3ZGbf_kkuACIbNX8EzqltbZQIFXZVLadUPlzmHIOv-SlxfMk-22f77roNrm8/s320/January+09+120.jpg" border="0" /> Our most recent beta fish was named Dragon, but when my furnace went out recently (for two weeks – subject of a future post,) I forgot about the beta in the unheated kitchen. I felt so guilty as I shoved its little body down the garbage disposal. I am officially a Dragon slayer. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419754440295539490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD-1K_xAxjO78eOn2k_CrnhqNiMX9h2olfxA6B0G0-c5pVwRwAZawHqj6DC4_vLLum5cqmC7fXLghG5saz7PgjT1YREZQDWkgtW1u0WpEn40x_UL3CBFkDuBtlHCxPIor_I1gp_98oDag/s320/Winter+09+105.jpg" border="0" /> Why, why do I have so many animals . . .? Partly because I’m a sucker. Partly it is that my daughters have me wrapped around their every pet craving. Mostly, I guess, I like it.<br />And almost all of my clients who see me at my home office report numerous beneficial effects of the pet therapy. . . I’m going to ask my accountant if I can write off the food, litter, and vet bills as a business expense . . .</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419755099529828018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJlr4LyOvL8x_bg-cOJRAsnHaTjarDflTMqvTcYCqbNHctMnXWMUT5giKjb6nbzF4NRGww5mou7yaGBwW8aY-ynh725xv1j2VwR8nOMpGtNE15FU45mczbabUZyt45Iezm1fKiMYfoUc/s320/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six.+001.jpg" border="0" />Well, EG is fast asleep with Skippy beside her, MG is enthralled in the pages of <em>The Lightning Thief </em>by Rick Riordan, and my yucky cold is telling me to sleep, some more, or at least take enough cold medicine to kill a small . . .ooh, bad metaphor, nevermind.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-23752415642193238502009-12-26T11:56:00.000-05:002009-12-26T14:45:08.963-05:00Snowed In and OutIn bed with a cold on Boxing Day eating eggplant lasagna. My littlest darling ordered "Bubbled Eggs" (hard boiled) She wanted six and said she'd put what she didn't eat in the "Refridgeforlater" This is what she has always called the Refrigerator. They come up with so many great words. She says, "The kittens are attackling me!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwJpbzc889DN7aMhI6YhlkXPyDGKYPdN2mv1fA92FfVLXPCw-nK2-wibf3Oqh_o3BMgyMrNdH4WyRCdm0fl6wm-_u4k1fBFnc7-DRiZl_17Gb623iD6HkAG9t0O8BIzBTjwMM6dSKfc4/s1600-h/Winter+09+099.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419624264244182210" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwJpbzc889DN7aMhI6YhlkXPyDGKYPdN2mv1fA92FfVLXPCw-nK2-wibf3Oqh_o3BMgyMrNdH4WyRCdm0fl6wm-_u4k1fBFnc7-DRiZl_17Gb623iD6HkAG9t0O8BIzBTjwMM6dSKfc4/s200/Winter+09+099.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Sometime this weekend I need to get out of the house, shovel more snow, and pick up a few groceries. But the opportunity to be lazy is so rare. For the last l5 months or so I have been practicing in two locations - 3 hours apart. I see clients in my lovely small town in the Shenandoah Valley on Mondays through Wednesdays and then, when the darlings stay with their father on Thursday & Friday nights, I travel to Washington D.C. and see clients in Georgetown through Saturday mornings. I lead a double life, and most the time feel that I get the best of both worlds. Living in such a relaxed, scenic place is terrific for mothering, and I've loved the opportunities of the city, both personally and professionally.<br /><br />But this past weekend the challenges of my chosen lifestyle were manifest when the whole region was hit by a blizzard. I was in DC. Friday afternoon. Had a lovely lunch with my friend ADG overlooking the water in Old Town, Alexandria. Talked about marketing my business (his specialty) and adoring our daughters (a specialty for us both.) Went back to the office, saw a few clients, and emerged to find the snow fall beginning; oblivious to how much was predicted. After dinner and some Christmas shopping (helping an ex-boyfriend find a lovely gift for his new girlfriend, among other things,) and leaving my auto parked in the garage where I work, I took a taxi to the apartment where I occasionally stay, with roommates, up Wisconsin Avenue. I slept a restless sleep and awoke to<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipQBMK1AfAl4ruMTn6CIDIY0EefORNHR35xqAgvSS3RM77OAh50p5eJR3AoDuXj-ojj9ADnXAG3eO55qQr1r3ehvrH_t51ENcfrgX3n7dSwPp1BsnUayLccaLMg-T0HKEbrGAaNYg0020/s1600-h/Winter+09+003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419623385047734770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipQBMK1AfAl4ruMTn6CIDIY0EefORNHR35xqAgvSS3RM77OAh50p5eJR3AoDuXj-ojj9ADnXAG3eO55qQr1r3ehvrH_t51ENcfrgX3n7dSwPp1BsnUayLccaLMg-T0HKEbrGAaNYg0020/s320/Winter+09+003.jpg" border="0" /></a> find snow pushing in the tiny cracks of the windows of the basement apartment and the National Cathedral across the street looking as if it were in a giant snow globe. I readied myself for work, and lugging my suitcase behind me, went out in the foot or so of snow, planning to catch the bus or a cab to work. No such luck - almost no-one was out. The busses did not seem to be running.<br /><br />Finally, in desperation, I hitchhiked. With a policeman. I got to ride in the front! I arrived at the office, which is in quite the dissaray and full of fumes from the carpet replacement and painting scheduled for the slower holiday season. Except I treat a lot of grief and trauma, and the holidays are often my most in-demand times. And a number of my clients are from much more northerly<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbkrqfhq-PhyphenhyphencoqSft9ULcc7EWWbn-iiJws690sYAiQmKSBTbNt9AYwYxY4sEQsREnTT91p6t5zBVMZvblE8xLtPxnQN8erJkITYIfhZaOI9DOQ3ttjTNwYPnq8pAtt-bYnh1UMv2_j0/s1600-h/Winter+09+007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419625985347080226" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbkrqfhq-PhyphenhyphencoqSft9ULcc7EWWbn-iiJws690sYAiQmKSBTbNt9AYwYxY4sEQsREnTT91p6t5zBVMZvblE8xLtPxnQN8erJkITYIfhZaOI9DOQ3ttjTNwYPnq8pAtt-bYnh1UMv2_j0/s320/Winter+09+007.jpg" border="0" /></a> locations, and the weather was not the big deal to them that it seemed to be to most of DC. So I worked, looking out periodically at the Whitehurst Freeway - barren, with hardly a treadmark, the Potomac beyond, barely visible through the fog and swirling snow. When I left hours later, not in such the hurry that I'd been in the morning, I figured I'd be able to catch a cab, or a bus, right? I mean this is the nation's capital. Driving my own vehicle was absolutely out of the question. For one thing, new tires were scheduled for Tuesday, to replace the old that had logged 40,000 miles in a year and a half . Two, my car is not much bigger than the accumulating snow drifts, and three, I have spent most of my life in the deep South, driving in ice is not in my repertoir. I waited for awhile beneath the Whitehurst, hoping for a cab, watching people actually skiing down Wisconsin<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB4ZjkrPNJ12m8HmLMUz8jMUgiK7D9q_2ZoFh8j2WyMmx-khuSZxC5iVJUB8Aqhu-4rYkzvBQ1KkZDZtLISV4Nu1lNJtzoaMd4yFeFn_DDR_4UHcu4tBZgdE2eJy1gBLwy0CZAq50oCsc/s1600-h/Winter+09+004.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419624978188861954" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB4ZjkrPNJ12m8HmLMUz8jMUgiK7D9q_2ZoFh8j2WyMmx-khuSZxC5iVJUB8Aqhu-4rYkzvBQ1KkZDZtLISV4Nu1lNJtzoaMd4yFeFn_DDR_4UHcu4tBZgdE2eJy1gBLwy0CZAq50oCsc/s200/Winter+09+004.jpg" border="0" /></a>. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVivl6BV8PWuRimcN18yBbWlZrZR_glcsuqPqYQgdvKwGAqWsasLQoCYhPdU-6-kXkHkDBhWxlTl7KH2nYWVzsnQ-gh8ScY-6_zf3AvKk8pGOsLrJqhzpWszNfdVhSEhy86JXSEWRZTQ/s1600-h/Winter+09+008.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419625551899073442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVivl6BV8PWuRimcN18yBbWlZrZR_glcsuqPqYQgdvKwGAqWsasLQoCYhPdU-6-kXkHkDBhWxlTl7KH2nYWVzsnQ-gh8ScY-6_zf3AvKk8pGOsLrJqhzpWszNfdVhSEhy86JXSEWRZTQ/s200/Winter+09+008.jpg" border="0" /></a>Again, I resorted to hitchhiking. This time with a couple in a Landrover, a lawyer who works down the street and a teacher. They told me they could only get me to the Foggy Bottom Metro. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419626554090815170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid5jCkJEvAeC13vFB-O6sKJwoxLDUE_tvXu_DkP8boIGqtIlN1PJJOdrq-nYeltfI8a5JaPPEsqo-KwJYauIQM3wDqJx6cqwS7TTkfboFgoctAgFDd8zxq7O7lQxbL3BmX-GemOy3v7Cg/s200/Winter+09+010.jpg" border="0" />Sure that I could get somewhere from there, I bought my farecard and descended into the depths, only to find mass hysteria (ok, most people were relatively calm; there were just a lot of us) and a metro system that was no longer running above ground. if 24 hours before someone had told me I would hitchhike in the District (twice), walk down the middle of K St. pulling my suitcase, and that I'd see people skiing down Wisconsin, I'd have thought the work had finally pushed me over the edge. <div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br />Sometime in Foggy Bottom or Rosslyn or Metro Center I spoke on the phone to friend from lunch the day before, ADG, who’d found himself in a similar predicament, but with his nine year old daughter in tow and his cell phone running out of battery. He advised we meet at Union Station where we could at least find food and clean bathrooms. After a fun dinner, forgetting our predicament with cocktails, and enjoying the stories of dad’s and daughter’s Verizon Center Rockettes show, ADG performed some kind of Christmas Miracle, hiring a gypsy taxi/SUV to take us 8 miles, for $100. It took about an hour to get to Old Town, I think, and into ADG’s lovely, warm, and cozy home. I watched a Christmas movie, Elf with a little girl who is now one of the few children I find nearly as wonderful and precious as my own. I slept in her Hello Kitty bed and woke the next morning to grits and sausage. Nothing else could make a southern girl feel quite as at home. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhG0L6yKxEH3dM4KWbHWzoqpgJda_gGY4hVR41CvIIlCKBUq807fID3srxlsfjOYeBuIhFROUtII8DSlvTHCHPu5_0wnhROG7-qoXMzgSdpx6-vqOwP77f1-007ztoW2Gs1BO93VpHwe8/s1600-h/Winter+09+016.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419628195970989554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhG0L6yKxEH3dM4KWbHWzoqpgJda_gGY4hVR41CvIIlCKBUq807fID3srxlsfjOYeBuIhFROUtII8DSlvTHCHPu5_0wnhROG7-qoXMzgSdpx6-vqOwP77f1-007ztoW2Gs1BO93VpHwe8/s320/Winter+09+016.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Alas, the roads were somewhat clear, but the garage in Georgetown was closed – locked, and I was happy to spend the afternoon sledding at the George Washington Masonic Memorial with ADG and his delightful child. I wiped out a few times, hurtling down the massive hill, and realized I wasn’t as young as I was feeling. I was snowed in for a second night and taken out for Texas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGTbhpLczc5qVIKQJEExp4umYsqP5wAS2mZ7KYreXZECYpEIl-B6HoOTM_ax5nDdAiQoxic5WqgECAb18CU_LFAs0YUpOIWyGkawxjqedf5ec7hWVY9zs0yUuF8Pp0sCQLW6xeeIB2Krg/s1600-h/Winter+09+026.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419628876889090834" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGTbhpLczc5qVIKQJEExp4umYsqP5wAS2mZ7KYreXZECYpEIl-B6HoOTM_ax5nDdAiQoxic5WqgECAb18CU_LFAs0YUpOIWyGkawxjqedf5ec7hWVY9zs0yUuF8Pp0sCQLW6xeeIB2Krg/s200/Winter+09+026.jpg" border="0" /></a> Chili in Old Town, which I’m sure did not make me the most pleasant house-guest. I was quite happy for the chance to relax away from my own chores and responsibilities, especially since over the phone, I heard my two offspring were engaged in quite the winter fun with their father at their Grammy’s farm, and I’d taken a liking to the Hello Kitty bed.<br /><br />Monday came, and my brief escape from reality ended. I made the drive back to the Valley and then the real work began to get myself – and my belongings INTO my home. By nightfall, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBI49bJLFdQHCFPm6qw49hma8cOpzTAeG70cDZZE23EZ2i6y4Be71KsZj4Xm1NwPbR9NykMcCEhtJ36T-8tOcb-meS-ON-30lquJRl1pV7DOKb7pfaFh9kRPAGLR2GnvSMThOCInGlzOw/s1600-h/Winter+09+104.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419629379736043090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBI49bJLFdQHCFPm6qw49hma8cOpzTAeG70cDZZE23EZ2i6y4Be71KsZj4Xm1NwPbR9NykMcCEhtJ36T-8tOcb-meS-ON-30lquJRl1pV7DOKb7pfaFh9kRPAGLR2GnvSMThOCInGlzOw/s200/Winter+09+104.jpg" border="0" /></a>all the Christmas gifts were in and under the tree, and I was snuggling with my own babies – all six of them – two cats, two dogs, and two little girls. More to come on the pets in upcoming posts. </div><div> </div><div>For now I must moderate MG's & EG's board game playing. Four year old EG is "reading" the rules. "Rule number one: The youngest player goes first. Rule number one (again): My sister is not allowed to win. Rule number one: Cheating is o.k. . . .MG is not reacting with patience.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-75930505469350920662009-12-25T19:55:00.000-05:002009-12-25T23:37:24.061-05:00Gifts<div><div><div><div><div><div>It is Christmas Day. Not my personal best ever, but certainly not the worst. Now in the late evening, I find myself reflective, and I want to focus on some positive things, and end the holiday in a meaningful way.<br /><br />Part of my starting this blog was a gift to myself - a gift of therapeutic writing, something that seems enhanced by having an audience. (O.K., so I don't have any followers yet, but eventually, someone will read this.) Being “seen” is important to most people. Hopefully, my blog will be as entertaining as I find life to be, at times. Laughter is the best therapy, and I especially love it when I can make myself laugh (this is particularly important if I am my only audience.)<br /><br />I also want my blog to be a genuine - real - authentic expression of myself. Think of it as non-fiction with an occasional exaggeration or slight change of details to protect the innocent. Blending authenticity with humor will be a challenge with the written word; pulling that combination off seems to come more e<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8eZe8xlJDrPp86k0Xb1CJ6PN-b_aGFLZDghSib3d-Tv-HP0BE5Cu-glR-VRrzJIZeIWQj8LW6xslRB1CBCeLFc2A0hRhil6Dx-8krbaTeowPgFlA_aMnq5Jh-oZLel_i2gJcTvcoTDs/s1600-h/Fall+09+236.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419391026807943042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8eZe8xlJDrPp86k0Xb1CJ6PN-b_aGFLZDghSib3d-Tv-HP0BE5Cu-glR-VRrzJIZeIWQj8LW6xslRB1CBCeLFc2A0hRhil6Dx-8krbaTeowPgFlA_aMnq5Jh-oZLel_i2gJcTvcoTDs/s200/Fall+09+236.jpg" border="0" /></a>asily to me in person. My friend KN, who is a psychotherapist/photographer (and an adopted older brother) asked a good question recently, something along the lines of: "What if being authentic in a particular moment means being inauthentic, silly?" What if being a goofball is what is real for me right now? </div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><em>Picture of KN this November, when we were playing hooky together from a conference in Florida.</em><br /><br />So, authentic entertainment with the self-disclosures of a psychotherapist. Why self-disclosure? Because it would be unethical for me to write about my clients in anyway more than the most general. Because it is my belief that one of the best ways to connect with others is by sharing something of oneself – something personal. Because self-disclosure can be both humbling and empowering. And because I have to get it out, baby. I have to give birth to these stories, ideas, jokes in some fashion in order to clear space to take care of those I care about.<br /><br />Who do I care about? Well, it will become obvious that my children top the list. There are friends and family, my pets, and my clients. Good self-care means I have more to give everyone. Catharting in my blog may also mean others in my life are a little less burned-out by my need to express my thoughts to them!<br /><br />Back to gifts, wherein lies the meaning of Christmas. Jesus was a gift from God to the world. Visitors brought gifts to the newborn in a manger. Today, and over the course of the holidays, many of us gave and received gifts. I took plates of cookies (including the delicious rum thumbprints) to my neighbors. By the way, I did this between 2:30 and 3:30 p.m. and found EVERY single one of my neighbors still in pajamas. I LOVE IT! Should have taken pictures for the blog. My neighbors have given so richly to me lately in numerous ways, the cookies were a small token. Below is a photo looking out my side door to my neighbor’s house this morning: </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419392373883446034" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeI8eEx6UeQADEgovTmog-z_Lz8B5MOraajp6-WHkXmrakyWhhQUMn8SRHJ57eL5voUb4_9vnhjkOWlRln4TioOHrPGVEPplMNc5Rjwp2Dif8xImQFOj4cJzxvD-KR9ntWhADmHjAFSBc/s200/Winter+09+101.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br />Gifts from my neighbors – sending their kids to play with mine and watching mine at their homes. A few days ago, some neighbors took mine, and their teenage sitter to sled while I worked. When I got snowed-in, in the city, and could not get home, another neighbor plowed a giant path to my door and fed my pet cats and rats (yes, rats) for three days. When I got home a stranger out for a walk helped me unload my car, pulling wagon-loads through the 30” of snow, and another neighbor let me park in their drive and brought cookies over. The next morning, I found someone had shoveled enough space in my drive to park my car. There are too many suspects to identify the culprit. These examples are only a sample. THANK YOU ALL!<br /><br />Here is a gift for anyone interested. The rum thumbprint recipe:<br /><br />2/3 cups butter, softened<br />½ cup granulated sugar <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkonfrAFpBW_iNi7EZzEnx3g7pS26s2A6pQInZI1XbRWwwtn2R2J2MHjInJiKOZiCJ49_nFBGgazeP0UoKkBLLp8l3t35tdZIW2F2CXUxJDeaYTvxe1rMQ1ae7Fv5yL9ikIULGEN7J7-Y/s1600-h/Winter+09+121.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419393325678953410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkonfrAFpBW_iNi7EZzEnx3g7pS26s2A6pQInZI1XbRWwwtn2R2J2MHjInJiKOZiCJ49_nFBGgazeP0UoKkBLLp8l3t35tdZIW2F2CXUxJDeaYTvxe1rMQ1ae7Fv5yL9ikIULGEN7J7-Y/s200/Winter+09+121.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />1/8 tsp. ground nutmeg<br />2 egg yolks<br />1 tsp vanilla<br />1 ½ cups all purpose flour<br />2 slightly beaten egg whites<br />1 cup finely chopped walnuts<br />¼ cup butter<br />1 cup sifted powdered sugar<br />1 tsp rum or ¼ tsp rum extract<br />1-2 teaspoons milk<br />Ground nutmeg<br /><br />1. Beat the 2/3 cups of butter in a mixing bowl on medium to high speed for 30 secs. Add gran. Sugar and the 1/8 tsp. nutmeg, beat until combined. Beat in egg yolks and vanilla. Beat in as much flour as you can. Stir in any remaining flour with a wooden spoon. If necessary, cover and chill dough at least 1 hr.<br />2. Shape into 1” balls. Roll balls in egg whites and then in chopped walnuts. Place 1” apart on lightly greased cookie sheets. Press centers with your thumb and bake in 376 degree oven 10-12 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool on wire racks.<br />3. For filling beat the ¼ cup butter until softened and add powdered sugar and beat until fluffy. Beat in rum and enough milk to make of spreading consistency. Spoon or pipe about ½ tsp filling into center of each cookie and sprinkle with nutmeg.<br />You can bake ahead but don’t fill, and place in an airtight or freezer container in a single layer covering with waxed or parchment paper. Repeat layers. Freezeup to 1 month. Thaw and add filling and sprinkle with nutmeg.<br /><br /><br /><br />A book recommendation for therapists: Irvin Yalom’s <em>The Gift of Therapy</em>.<br /><br />Click <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gift-Therapy-Generation-Therapists-Patients/dp/0060938110">here</a> for more book info. </div><div><br /> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419393707698811426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 12px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 3px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaYrlDIUWoZZM7158NlF6LR5l0QGaYW8F1FaKOp159X4shHjjTh3lcSYfdwZpHYBUxBcn630ckAHTmNEBv6r5e0DC2JsB3sQWziP-FJLDfQ3zMebJcmsVfvFwnIklUHbn2m4np3TjKrIg/s200/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six.+001.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419395376829641154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnifI0ns27uHYYBwlKoUV3D1eTIKszvqzI5s9tgmemumtCMF5mzYChsl7mlYXP050Nc3tlqt5LN1jcs9oXjjwQ-w015TQ2aHxWh351nop2gObuBPzKT1HOzLsS5hcC-o51YSC7QqymZU0/s320/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six.+001.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br />This year I took my four (EG) and nine year old (MG) daughters to see a Santa in the mall. MG’s belief is starting to wane, though she sincerely wants to believe. (EG just doesn't want Santa watching her all the time; see post of 12/24/09.) So, MG comments that the mall Santa is not the real thing. He is clearly only a helper. I asked how she could tell. “He is not jolly enough.” It was true. When he asked her what she wanted, she said, “Nothing, you can give what you would give to me to other children who need more.” I was proud and disappointed. Nostalgic for her less mature days. (Ask me about this another time, and you will get another answer; she is not always so mature.) A few days ago, I saw her playing with something at a store, and that is what Santa brought this morning. Her belief, and mine, were renewed, at least somewhat; she hadn’t even asked for it. This morning (at 6:30) she told me she thought she’d heard something on the roof in the middle of the night.<br /><br />EG asked Santa for skates. When she opened them today, her face fell - on the verge of tears. She said "I meant two skates." One skate was concealed in the packaging. When I showed her the other was there, all was well.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419396673704017906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqKZRtk838mL_N8KZ_dY_kyuvd8_MEFkAN6i7ECpHRsdKlNGCPv4KtoUYyHrhTNARJkUtS0qslLEgWAbcv4g6o7Kh0llvdSZsm-N-YZGvSPiRPhy4aGHiy5wZgTM0T5b4OgUxlTyv92Dc/s400/Winter+09+120.jpg" border="0" /><br />Their childhoods are such a gift. </div><div><br />Here is a (true) story from my childhood. When I was nine years old:<br /><br />Even though I started at WH elementary at the beginning of the school year and stayed the whole year, to the kids who had been together for three or four years straight, I was still the new kid. I was teased about getting my work done quickly by a snooty girl who had her hair frosted with a silver streak to look like her mother’s. If I tried to play on certain play equipment, a particular bully would take off his shoe and stick his dirty toes in my face, making fun of the holes in my tennies. I was teased for wearing dresses every day. I had three, and we washed them by hand so that they were clean. I would have liked to wear pants, but I was not allowed. But for the first time, I believe, I was not the only new kid. I quickly made my first friend at that school with Liza, a Mexican girl who came in at the start of the migrant work season. And there was Lamont. Lamont joined our class even later than Liza. His mother had died and he and his father had moved from Alaska. Based on my memory, Lamont was probably part African-American and part white, but everyone called him “Eskimo”. Lamont was teased worse than I had ever been. His shoes were worn-out more than mine had ever been. Liza and I tried to talk to Lamont, but he thought we were only trying to bait him, and he would stare back in silence or snort some sarcastic remark.<br /><br />Near Christmas of that year, Mom took us to the shoe store to pick out an early gift. My shoes were so worn out, she was afraid I would get frostbite the first time I had to walk to school in the snow. I was very excited and looked all over the store, comparing all the types, though I knew I had to choose tennis-shoes that were warm, and would work for P.E.. I happened to be in the boy’s shoes when Lamont came into my mind. I told my mother I could not buy shoes for myself when Lamont’s shoes were so much worse. I stood my ground, refused, and she acquiesced. It took a daring plan, but the next school day I did bait Lamont and commented, with a milder tease than what he usually suffered: “Lamont, your feet are so huge, I bet they are a size 12!”. “Shut-up, they are not, they are only an 8”, he snarled. Mom took me back to the shoe-store and we found a pair of size 8 ½, brown Wolverines. It was the last day of school before the Christmas holiday. We had a party in our classroom and then school dismissed. I grabbed the bag I had carried to school that morning and stowed under my desk and ran out, following Lamont. I caught him outside the school as he waited for his ride. I handed the bag to him. He flinched and backed away. I pleaded “Just take it, it’s a Christmas gift”. He took it. I walked home. He did not return to WH Elementary after the Christmas break.<br /><br />Me, RWG and my younger sister, RWH at ages nine and six. Don’t laugh at the hair cuts. I heard enough laughter about that back then. Yes, my momma cut my hair.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419395827678851634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRe6g6TGpzzVw02fyGpFLybAxLJkOBYWw1zL8w3aQZDAdD4DbDU9q5ZlbgicclUTsOS6x50LJMsJPQ3dCXuhGnLrwsX-i-3DIDutHY6r2Wy4fdjpn2_igSp4hlTC96jYbEA2wjPldcx4/s320/RWG+%26+RWH+around+ages+nine+and+six..jpg" border="0" /><br />Now I must get my little darlings to bed. Thankful that we all have good shoes, and that I have gifts to give. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>.</div></div></div></div></div></div>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8414996376375371171.post-25087312870612497962009-12-24T14:04:00.000-05:002009-12-24T14:21:20.844-05:00Santa is a Stalker<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmid72zNkIT9ZFtimMPzVFq-w5ipANdfQL0hBjjVDobPlvB8iUbV94avZhREuH1cGF7JowkvK0FfbmhzQ9_TrXa8oiVoYtlf_lHRjP_Vdn0uwMZYdnN2RUfbyTSkaGQ0tldv-Rjr-3slE/s1600-h/100_3175.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418881420010474946" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmid72zNkIT9ZFtimMPzVFq-w5ipANdfQL0hBjjVDobPlvB8iUbV94avZhREuH1cGF7JowkvK0FfbmhzQ9_TrXa8oiVoYtlf_lHRjP_Vdn0uwMZYdnN2RUfbyTSkaGQ0tldv-Rjr-3slE/s320/100_3175.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>It is Christmas Eve, 2009. My darling four year old, EG, has not been much of a darling this morning. On the phone with a friend who was overhearing her vitriolic behavior toward her older sibling, I was advised to invoke the power of Santa Clause - who is watching her every move. Good advice, ADG; however, as an overly conscientious clinical psychologist mother, I'd already ruined this possibility.</div><div> </div><div>You see, early in the month, EG informed me she did not care about Santa; she did not like the idea of him seeing her when she is sleeping, and so forth. So, worried about her feeling stalked and the possible long term consequences, I wrote an email to Santa rescinding the de facto consent to monitor youngest daughter; describing that said daughter is aware this may impact the accuracy of gifts delivered and has accepted the risks, clearly indicating that civil liberties matter more to her than material goods. </div><div> </div><div>So the Santa threats were a no-go. Instead, I tied her up with tree lights with a few gifts she could have once she figured her way out of her predicament.</div><div> </div><div>Now, I'm off to bake cookies - Rum Thumbprints - with an emphasis on the Rum. </div>RWGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08663331058712112777noreply@blogger.com0