tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312830762024-03-12T17:26:24.391-07:00TENNESSEE CALLINGTENNESSEE CALLING
~A WRITER'S JOURNEY~Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.comBlogger411125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-64948418193730160822019-02-06T08:14:00.000-08:002019-02-06T08:14:21.195-08:00SAN FELIPESummer of 1977 and the Gulf of Mexico welcomed our tiny entourage of friends into San Felipe. From the rough concrete pad, we'd sleep on for the next three nights, I watched grey waves crashing hard on the shore, and digging away shallow canals in the sand as the water made its way back to wild ocean.<br />
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I was a new bride, just twenty, with my heart still open and forgiving and eyes wide in hopeful expectation. But here, this very day, I could feel all of my dreams ebb away. Long strands of my hair blew crazily in the breeze as I stared out over the horizon and wiped away a tear, just another of so many I had already cried in just 2 months time. But little did I know, I'd cry so many more over the two decades to follow.<br />
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A beach walk I was excited about taking together quickly disintegrated into a predictable verbal barrage I'd have to ignore or defend. Just more criticism and hurtful commentary. I stopped walking, my toes dug into the wet sand, but it was an inevitable end when he turned back to camp and left me to walk alone. I continued adding shells, sea glass and sand dollars into my plastic sand bucket and carefully stepped around tide pools of starfish, carcasses of dolphins and other unfortunate sea life dotting the shore. I paused looking up toward the dry deep sand part of the beach and walked in disbelief toward the skeletal structure of a beached whale. I stared up inside of it and stood there motionless for several minutes. It was as if I had stepped back into a prehistoric time. Then blinking, I breathed in the rancid stench of the whale's rotting flesh and choked back the vomit pooling in my throat, suddenly suffocating under a blanket of grief. I ran to the water's edge to escape, but the volume of my agonized wail competed with the ocean's crashing waves.<br />
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The following morning, we rolled up our sleeping bags, loaded our mostly empty cooler into the bed of the truck and drove north for home. I watched out the streaked passenger window and held my precious collection of shells in my lap. I couldn't trust them to him. I knew he'd break them like he was breaking me.<br />
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<br />Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-82984262786350912162019-01-15T06:56:00.000-08:002019-01-15T06:56:02.868-08:00COLD AND WELLThis morning dawned cold with a bright blue sky. It was 20 degrees and the fresh snow had a layer of ice on top and crunched beneath my feet. But it was the air was clear and dry and it energized me. My love affair with winter continues. <br />
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I have never stressed out about the "flu season" or getting sick. I have the "glass half full" mindset and believe that my emotional well being has a lot to do with my physical well being. I focus on the upside of life and make lemonade out of lemons.<br />
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That being said, I usually get one cold every winter and this season, I caught one earlier than usual. I woke up on Christmas morning feeling icky. Tired, worn out and not myself. Thankfully, we were not entertaining, so it was a stay in my jammies, next to the fire, under a blanket sort of day and we ate finger foods all day. But we were traveling to the West Coast two days later, and I wanted to enjoy our visit with family and friends (and not get them sick), so I began to double my attack against the virus. <br />
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I added multiple doses of Airborne and Emergen-C, was diligent taking my supplements including D and C, and used my roller bottles of oils (DoTerra OnGuard and Breathe mostly) many times a day. The day we flew West, I felt like a zombie and dreaded my week in sunny San Diego. Let me be blunt. I felt like crap. I loaded up my arsenal to take with me as well as lots of tea bags of my favorite tea Good Earth brand Sweet and Spicy Tea (to make me feel better) while I was sick. Hot tea is my go to for comfort when I am sick.<br />
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Though I battled this cold the whole 6 days we were there, I am thankful and happy to report that my symptoms were abbreviated and I recovered quickly rather than suffering for the whole two weeks that I usually am sick. By the time we got home, I was well. I never got that nasty lingering cough that usually plagues me for a month or more after all of my other cold symptoms have ended either. THAT was a miracle.<br />
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I believe that eating well, staying on my supplements and battling with my oils all together were the key to my success in kicking that cold so quickly and efficiently<br />
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I have been using my oil education to continue to keep my immune system strong. I am certain too, that our Keto way of eating (and not eating processed foods) was key in helping me boost my immunity. After all, your immune system begins in your gut. <br />
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My goal is to continue to stay well for the balance of the winter season. The sun is shining bright today and I am going to throw on a jacket and go outside now and get some straight up Vitamin D! Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-22016010069650329272019-01-14T10:33:00.001-08:002019-01-14T10:33:07.959-08:00HAPPY WINTERThe snow stopped falling last night and clumps of snow began melting and falling from the laden branches on our property as we shoveled our driveway and walks for the second time this storm. I actually enjoy shoveling snow. <div>
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Shoveling snow is a perfect workout. I can breathe the fresh cold air, push the snow, lift and toss, walk and let my mind run free at the same time. It is a great way to escape everything else. </div>
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And here is something else. With snow shoveling, you can clearly see all the results of your labor. Long cleared walks and driveways. Unlike vacuuming, where you know you have done the work but really can't see it the same way you can when you have shoveled snow.</div>
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I love winter. I believe it was 28 earlier this morning and our high today will be 36. I love the cold temperatures, and wearing layers and scarves and boots. I love cozy blankets, fuzzy socks, and sipping mugs of hot tea! It is here for only 3 months and then it is gone and another season will come. I embrace them all with joy. It is part of why I love living in Virginia.</div>
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I also love cooking winter meals. I am making some kind of soup today for dinner. I am not sure what kind exactly, but it will be hot, hearty and delicious! </div>
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I'm back inside now, cozy and warm under a fleece blanket enjoying our snow covered woods view from my window and thinking about a mug of hot tea.</div>
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Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-83974430110200503242019-01-13T12:00:00.003-08:002019-01-13T12:00:30.682-08:00SNOW DAY After much preparation for days for the big storm, it began to snow last night at 6 p.m. This morning we awoke to about 5 inches of white fluffy snow covering rooftops, trees, cars, driveways and walks. Good morning gorgeous pure white snow, cold temperatures and gray skies.<br />
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We got notifications that church was cancelled, businesses closed and our trash pick up a day delayed. Snow plow trucks cruised up and down our neighborhood road. We watched, cradling mugs of hot coffee, as tiny snowflakes continued to fall softly in a dance like fashion. And when it stopped mid-morning, Bruce shoveled our driveway and walkway and I headed into the kitchen and prepared the pork shoulder to go into the crock pot for a Carnitas dinner. <br />
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As our dinner cooks, while we stay warm inside, under blankets, with the TV as background noise, I am setting today as the day to continue to fine tune my schedule for the new year. I began a workout routine last week and I admit, it was a slow start for me. But, as slow as it was, it did help set a foundation of purpose for me for my health goals. A beginning.<br />
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I am excited after seven months of seeing the health benefits of KETO way of eating, to now be weaving into my new lifestyle, a schedule for exercise, a routine that will include heavy resistance training with HIIT cardio sessions. I am also making a daily schedule for consistent writing and am working on meal planning, too.<br />
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I am happy making the most of our snow day inside. Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-6658435908494095222019-01-07T08:00:00.002-08:002019-01-07T13:06:33.840-08:00PURPOSEI escorted the end of 2018 out by conquering my biggest fear and living out my word for the 2018, FEARLESS.<br />
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I have (for years) been terrified of the idea of flying in a small plane (mostly, crashing) which seemed like an inevitable end. I was even reluctant to sit in the plane (on the ground), as it gave me tremendous anxiety. It was a crippling fear that made my palms sweat and my heart pound uncomfortably, anytime I even thought about it. I was certain that if I flew in a small plane, it would crash and I would die. For the past 12 months, I have worked on diffusing this fear and by early Fall, I told my brother that I would go up in the plane with him before the end of the year. I committed to it and continued to work on it<br />
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We were in San Diego over the holidays, visiting family and my brother called the day before we were to go spend the day with them and invited hubby and I to go up in his plane. I had a slight moment of hesitation, but I felt ready. It was December 30th. YES. I flew and sat in the co-pilot seat in my brother's plane (a Cessna 182) above San Diego's back country. The day was perfect. Clear skies and no wind. I loved it! It was such a breathtaking flight. I will admit, a tiny bit of anxiety crept in as we began coming in for the landing, but I shook off the overwhelming fear that has limited me from flying with him.<br />
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I worked on other areas that I allow fear to hold me back and realized I allowed it to stifle my creativity. I entered 2019 feeling more confident and sure of myself in the areas that FEAR had held me captive.<br />
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2019 brings a new word. One that has been pestering me for some time, but especially in the past few months. It has been lingering in the back of my mind, and I have had many discussions about it. PURPOSE. What is mine, and how am I to live it out? I also am choosing to live with PURPOSE, on PURPOSE this year as well.<br />
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I know that writing is a huge part of my PURPOSE and most of my focus will be on becoming disciplined in daily writing time. The venue in which to direct my writing will also be part of my challenge for my PURPOSE for this year.<br />
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PURPOSE. A blank canvas for me to create and make my own.<br />
<br />Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-42411840743881263512018-09-03T09:04:00.001-07:002018-09-03T09:04:26.041-07:00RETURN TO PRESENT<div>
I've not written here in much too long. I have missed telling stories, whether or not they are read by others. I have missed sharing, making a recorded place marker in my own history.</div>
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Though these last days of late summer still beckon me to find cool water to splash in, my heart is longing for the leaves to change color and drift down to cover my backyard.<div>
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I want to find warmth in a bonfire and a glass of red wine. To wrap myself up in a soft blanket and cover my arms with a fleece hoodie in the glow of that fire. I am yearning for shorter days and the chill in the night air to chase away the humidity that I am weary to breathe one more day.</div>
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This year has passed by too quickly, which seems that is what life brings us as we grow another year older. We've welcomed a son-in-law and a new grandson this year and were blessed to return for visits with our family in California. I've grown friendships and deepened my walk with God. It's been a good year, not without a share of disappointments and sadness too, but I choose to look at all the good in our life. There is a lot of good.</div>
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We are blessed. Bruce began to search for his biological family, early in 2018 and closed the loop meeting his two sisters on his mother's side and, soon we are meeting his brother on his father's side.<br /><div>
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We have made a lifestyle change in the way we eat. I have returned to Bulletproof and Bruce has adopted a Ketogenic diet to improve his health. Both of these are very similar and he is moving toward 100% Bulletproof with me. Adding physical exercise has also begun to be a priority for us again. It feels good to have each other in our team efforts and support each other toward good health. We are feeling and seeing the positive effects of this focused effort. </div>
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I have made a commitment to invest in daily writing. I have neglected this part of me for too long (again). I will make it part of my self-care routine--which I am learning the importance of lately. I have carved out time for more time with God in the Bible and study and my writing needs to be moved up in my priorities. </div>
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I am reading more this year, since beginning a book club with some friends. I have discovered that I am picking up other books off my bookshelves too, in addition to my book club read. That is helping with my writing endeavors too. My ideas are churning again. I no longer feel creatively stagnant. I can feel the push to write what is bursting to be told.</div>
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So, as I look forward to the season of Fall and search for a hint of her arrival, I will begin to also celebrate this season with gratefulness. Taking each day and counting the good and savoring each moment for what it brings me. I will take more pictures and write more stories. I will take care of my soul and nurture my writing and artistic side.</div>
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I will not be a void. I will not be absent.</div>
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Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-73785753166176887532018-01-07T08:47:00.005-08:002018-01-07T08:47:49.444-08:00EMBRACING MINIMALISMWhen I first heard the word minimalism, I imagined a very stark and uninviting way of living. And even though, at the time, I didn't believe I would ever adopt that lifestyle, I was curious and wanted to learn more. I began reading and educated myself in the ideas behind it and acknowledged that my life would benefit from a minimalist approach to acquiring things and keeping some of the things I already had.<br />
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As I embraced the minimalist's view of "stuff", I began closely looking at the "stuff" in my house and boxes of "stuff" in unopened in my basement, I began to feel uneasy and stifled. I could feel the heavy presence of the "stuff" that takes residence in closets, cabinets, boxes and tubs and I began to feel claustrophobic and guilty! There was so much I was not using and others could! That was very powerful to me. It made me feel selfish and I never viewed myself as such. <br />
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I know that just about every area of my home can use a purge. <br />
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I did manage to clear out a lot of things when we moved across country, but I brought things with us that I thought "I may use that in VA even though I rarely used it in CA." And I haven't used a lot of it. My lifestyle is not that different here than it was there. So I plan to sell a lot of the items that are still packed carefully away in the basement and begin to clear items that are in my home and that do not bring me JOY.<br />
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I have many things that DO bring me joy in my home and they are not going anywhere. I have a large jar displaying beach rocks that my parents collected on a trip to Europe decades ago. It reminds adventure and love and makes me happy to see it. I also have beach rocks, shells and sea glass in a shallow glass bowl that I collected over my lifetime. Beaches in San Diego and San Felipe, Mexico. A photo my dad took of the harbor also hangs nearby. A pair of metal owl candle holders perch on my fireplace mantle and remind me of a far away best friend. My grandmother's wooden clock stands next to them. Another fond childhood memory of the ticking and chimes in my grandparent's home and all the goodness and love of time spent with them. <br />
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My office bookshelf is full of many items, that all bring me contentment, and displayed in one central place and it is inspiring to me as I write. Quilts handmade by my great grandmothers are out where I can see then and remind me of my heritage and hard work to make the life I have.<br />
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My kitchen went through a big purge when we moved, as did my wardrobe. I am still working very hard to continue to eliminate more from my closet and keep things that work well together and are more monochromatic with a few colorful accessories to keep it fresh. Of course, now that we live in a four season climate, my wardrobe has changed, but the theme is the same. I can already see the benefits and I feel more put together. Plus, it takes me less time to figure out my clothes in the morning or for special occasions, now that I have adopted this change in my closet. <br />
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I am ready to clear out the rest of the clutter that has no meaning, and unburden myself of the weight of "stuff". My minimalist journey has been very liberating so far, and I am looking forward to see what else I will make changes to going forward.<br />
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Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-45964047145686693472018-01-05T07:38:00.000-08:002018-01-05T07:38:14.021-08:00FEARLESSA word for the year. What word will propel me in 2018? What holds me back from realizing my dreams? I have been struggling with this idea for some time. I have known what it's been but unable to say it out loud, much less put it on the record, but here it is.<br />
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FEAR. The kind that is cloaked in caution and keeps me from taking chances with my talent. The kind that keeps me static, stopped and stagnant.<br />
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Instead, I want to see the flow of words on paper, and feel the energy of ideas streaming and building stories from them. There is one way to do that.<br />
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I will be FEARLESS. This is my word for 2018. My word. My actions shall be FEARLESS.<br />
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I will leap more. Jump with my eyes open to the possibilities. I will keep taking steps forward. The hours, days and months that have been wasted with FEAR will, this year, be spent leaping forward into what might be. <br />
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FEARLESS. Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-82727969002433213932018-01-01T10:33:00.000-08:002018-01-02T10:34:12.022-08:00LIVING IN A MOMENTOn a frigid Virginia morning, standing still, in a moment, I felt the future, present and the past colliding, both joy and pain mixing in my tears as the cold air filled my lungs and I found peace in the crunch of icy snow underneath my boots. <br />
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The bare trees reached to the sky as if begging for spring to return and clothe them in new leaves. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes breathing in the cleansing air and thanked God for the season.<br />
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And at the same time of year, less than two years ago, I was walking along in wet sand on the Coronado shore's edge, listening to the rhythmic crash of waves as the cold salt water raced across the top of my bare feet. Then, the ocean pulled them back and my feet sunk into the sand with the pull of the tide.<br />
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I closed my eyes, inhaled the salty sea air and heard a seagull's cry overhead with another resounding crash of waves behind me.<br />
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As I embrace 2018, I will remember both the cleansing of winter and the eternal song of the ocean.<br />
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<br />Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-10692606178488694442017-01-10T09:28:00.001-08:002017-01-10T09:31:26.122-08:00VIRGINIA IS FOR LOVERS (AND WRITERS)It almost feels surreal. I look out my window and see the wooded backdrop beyond my back yard. The snow frosted trees stretch to the sky above the snow blanketed ground. It takes my breath away and I blink to make sure this is not a dream. When I open my eyes, it is all still here, making me smile and thankful. <br />
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Just 3 months ago, I was one with long commutes to work, freeway traffic, xeriscaping, water shortages, hot days and nights. In California. A place I had lived for just about all of my life. A place I'd grown to hate. My heart yearned for green, for trees, for seasons, and yes, for cold weather. Anyone following my blog knows that my eyes have been on Tennessee for a long time. And that hasn't changed. <br />
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Last summer, my husband was offered employment in Virginia....and here we are! In a little more than a month's time, we notified our family and friends, packed up our four bedroom home, flew to Virginia and bought a house and watched a gigantic moving truck pull away with all of our belongings.<br />
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We followed two days later, with our RAM loaded with some things we planned to bring out ourselves, our pup, Gemma and all of the excitement of a cross country drive to a new home. <br />
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We made it in 6 days. Gallup, NM to Oklahoma City,OK to Kearney, MO to Lexington, KY and finally Fredericksburg, VA. Several nights in hotels, a stop to visit and stay with a best friend and a stay with cousins and family before our final stop. <br />
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It was Fall, the glorious color of changing leaves--the weather was still warm and then began to change to crisp chilly mornings and evenings and rain, oh beautiful rain! I watched every day the leaves slowly falling into our yard...leaving the trees bare and stark against the sky. The view from our back deck changes daily--I feel so blessed to enjoy the seasonal changes. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and now our first snow! <br />
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I am soaking it all in. It nurtures my soul. I love living outside of "town". I love the country roads and my friends I've made here. I love our new church and how welcomed we are. I love how I feel here. Alive and energized. I can feel my creativity again. I can hear my muse coming out of her long hibernation. <br />
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I can feel something good in my writing journey has begun.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-57709430522508436232016-05-15T14:26:00.000-07:002016-05-15T14:26:36.264-07:00KEEPING IT REAL-- A MOTHER'S DAY <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was Mother's Day 1992. I was 36 years old and the mama of four young children ages 13, 11, 4 and 3.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I was wrapping up the day after hosting a house full of family. This day had been loud and fun and messy. Adults chatting and children laughing chasing up and down the hall--doors opening, doors slamming, messes to mop up in the kitchen, drinks to refill, snacks to replenish.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A typical Mother's Day with a growing family. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In a quiet moment, I realized the youngest, my three year old son Taylor, was not in the family room playing in the pile of Legos, Tinkertoys and Hot Wheel cars and he wasn't with his brother or sisters. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Where was he? When had anyone last seen him?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After a quick search of the house, and realizing our golden retriever, Sophie, was also MIA, we concluded that Taylor had gone outside with her and the two of them were probably traipsing around our rural property on their own adventure. I remember searching over the two acres of white-rail fenced land and yelling for both of them. Panic and fear grew stronger with every call out to them and getting in return, silence. No little boy laughter, no barking dog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My heart pounded hard as I jumped into my green van and drove slowly down the long narrow quarter-mile asphalt drive, peering over the steering wheel, the pair of empty car seats behind me in the back seat, my eyes scanning left and right across the neighbors' yards for any sign of Taylor or Sophie.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I prayed hard. Tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them back and exhaled a sigh of relief that he'd not fallen in my neighbor's pool as I drove past. He was three. He couldn't swim. He was my baby. My brain cycled through scenarios. All of our neighbors knew him. Surely he'd be spotted. Had someone taken him? He was my b-a-b-y. My mind could go no further into that darkness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I wanted to drive faster, but I needed to go as slow as I could, to keep an eye out across the acreage of each property for any sign of either of them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Five minutes felt like hours, as I rounded the final turn and followed the avocado grove lined section leading down to the dirt road where several driveways converged. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I leaned to look through the rows of trees to my left and glimpsed the top of Sophie's wagging tail as she romped through the heavy cover of fallen leaves. I slammed on the brakes, put the car in park and jumped out. I could see Taylor behind her, laughing and running, not a care in the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"Sophie" I called out and she bounded toward me. I slid the van's side panel door open and she jumped inside.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Taylor was still running behind her, now toward me, smiling from ear to ear with joy, then tripped and fell face first in the leaves. He got back up, but now he was crying.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"You're fine. Brush off and come on and get in the van" I called to him, relieved I'd found him safe but now aggravated he'd scared everyone by leaving the property. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">He wiped both hands off on his shirt, still crying hard. Suddenly, I saw blood soaked the front of his shirt. I ran to him and yanked his shirt up. Nothing. His little belly didn't have a mark on it. I grabbed both of his little hands at the same time and turned them palms side up...one revealed an ugly jagged gash across it. He'd fallen on a broken piece of metal sprinkler line in the grove and was bleeding--a lot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My heart began pounding hard again. I scooped him up and grabbed a towel from the back seat and wrapped it around his hand and told him to hold it there, buckled him into his car seat and drove him back to the house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Once his hand had been cleaned up, I immediately knew we were spending the rest of Mother's Day in the Emergency Room. So after securing the dog and leaving our 13 year old in charge of her siblings, instructing them to sit tight and watch a movie, we headed to the local hospital. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">During our predictably long wait, Taylor kept uncovering and inspecting his wound, then would thrust his palm in my face (and anyone else's face nearby) saying, "See my boo-boo?" Not everyone was as impressed with it as he was (considering the 'ick' factor), and I had to keep reminding him to leave the bandage on until the doctor could look at it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">That night after we got back home and all the kiddos were tucked in, I crawled into my own bed, tired and relieved that my day had ended with a much better outcome than I'd feared earlier. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was the close of my Mother's Day and my sweet youngest son's adventure made it a day I would always look back on with a thankful heart. </span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-24490227177512861602015-11-10T20:21:00.001-08:002016-02-23T20:15:18.260-08:00BULLETPROOF RESULTSOh my. It has been 6 months and I realized I have not updated my blog in all that time! Where did the time go and what is up with that Bulletproof protocol?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Well here you go....the good news is that I have had amazing results on Bulletproof! I have been eating strictly Bulletproof, and focusing eating per the protocol, a lot less carbs, while fluctuating carb re-feeds. I am 5 sizes smaller. (I stopped using the bathroom scales). I have simply adapted this mode of eating and the weight and fat has melted off. I can honestly say this has been EASY. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Before I began this protocol, I was certain that I could not abstain from many of the foods that were not Bulletproof, especially bread and pasta. But I did and I am here to tell you that I don't miss or crave either one. At all.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm still on track and I have another 3.5 sizes I would like to lose, so I am going to continue on the same path and then adjust things to maintain my success. More recently, I have indulged in a few "forbidden foods": french fries/potatoes, cheese, alcohol and frozen yogurt, without negative repercussions. These occasions are rare. I eat Bulletproof 90% of the time.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I feel like this is an effortless way of eating. I no longer have to think about what I am going to eat/should eat and it feels like an organic transfer for me. This is the first time in my adult life that I can say I have been able to eat good food and lose weight. I have not felt deprived, hungry or had to work out hours a week in order to attain my weight loss. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have more updates to make to add, but I will save them for another post.</div>
Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-8982178758559859122015-05-28T11:33:00.002-07:002015-05-28T11:40:58.764-07:00BULLETPROOF FROM THE INSIDE OUT<br />
<br />
I started on the <a href="https://www.bulletproofexec.com/" target="_blank">Bulletproof Diet</a> on May 4,
2015. I prefer to call it the Bulletproof Protocol, since “diet”
implies short-term, and I intend to continue with this long after my fat loss
is complete.<br />
<br />
<br />
This is my Bulletproof journey.<br />
<br /><br />
For over a year I have felt myself spiraling
into apathy about my weight, my age and it became so bad that it began to bleed
into my lifelong dreams. I had zero energy, slept horrible almost every single
night. The nights I did sleep soundly were so rare, that they were a
cause for celebration. I felt OLD. I'd lost my desire to do anything other than just
sit on my tush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated the way I looked
and more than that, the way I felt.<br />
<br /><br />
I was exhausted, negative, short-tempered and
angry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What had happened to me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where did the happy, positive, upbeat girl
go?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> I wanted her back. I missed the way I used to be, the way I used to enjoy my life.<br />
<br /><br />
I knew I needed to get “back on track” with
healthy eating and working out, but I had absolutely NO motivation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None.<br />
<br /><br />
By chance, at our son’s house, on Easter Sunday, his friend Nick
was talking about his Bulletproof coffee and I was intrigued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I listened closely, asked questions, and then I began reading
everything I could on this Bulletproof Diet and Coffee idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was game.<br />
<br /><br />
I will admit that I was hesitant to give up all of the foods
that were listed as “suspect” and “toxic” but I also feared that those foods were a
bigger part of my problem than just 60 extra pounds and I was determined to go
all in and give it 100%.<br />
<br /><br />
Good-bye breads, wheat, grains, legumes,
cheese, dairy (except grass-fed butter), most fruits, and SUGAR.<br />
<br /><br />
Hello, grass fed meats, low-carb veggies, berries and my future
good health!<br />
<br /><br />
The first week of detoxing off of everything I
had been fueling my body with, all at once, was not pleasant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt unwell and woke with a headache each
morning<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">*</b> and it returned every
afternoon at around 3pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the fifth
day, I literally felt “homicidal”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
wanted to tear heads off and scream at the top of my lungs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pushed through the day (without harming
anyone) and woke on the sixth day feeling AMAZING!<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">*</b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">waking with
a headache is something I suffered from for years, so that part was not
anything new.</b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b><br />
<strong><br /></strong><br />
The change in the way I felt was
miraculous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had mental clarity and
focus,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>lots of energy and was back to
feeling positive. The intense anger that previously consumed me, had vanished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was excited about making plans and
following my dreams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My creativity
kicked back in and I really did begin to feel invincible.<br />
<br /><br />
I am a believer in the Bulletproof<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>lifestyle.<br />
<br /><br />
After a month on the protocol and being so ecstatic
at how much BETTER I FEEL, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can also
report that I am nearly two pants sizes smaller (I am using my clothing size as my success gauge over the scale, since the scale does not give an accurate picture of what
is truly going on with fat loss and inches). Every week, my clothes fit better,
looser and I can get into clothes that were impossible to wear before. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took measurements a week ago and will be
keeping a log of the inches lost every month too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should have done that on day 1 but didn’t.<br />
<br /><br />
I am incorporating HIIT workouts a few times
a week (20 minutes), but no more endless hours on the treadmill, just short high
intensity workouts and done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
between, those, I can enjoy some "active rest" activities: walks/hikes, bike rides and maybe get the golf clubs back
out!<br />
<br /><br />
For me the biggest part of the success of
being Bulletproof is how I feel. Getting the extra weight and fat off is a bonus! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
back into my creative zone and I feel like my brain has been awakened from a
stupor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am excited to get back into my
daily writing and tap into my new found creativity.<br />
<br />Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-3172075440778194372015-02-07T20:31:00.002-08:002015-02-16T18:05:17.513-08:00REFLECTION IN THE REAR VIEW MIRRORLast year was hard.<br />
<br />
The trials of 2014 left me feeling stale. Without inspiration.<br />
<br />
I dreamed of feeling inspired again. I dreamed and prayed for the passion for my dreams I had before, to return to me. I relied on whatever fraction of energy I could scrape up, to get through each day and survive the frustration, confusion, sadness, anger and depression that those days contained.<br />
<br />
Sometimes those emotions beat me down and consumed me. Some days they made me feel ugly. I despised the conflict that brewed inside of me, but I kept it there, rather than spewing it out. All of those emotions bubbled up and often came out of me as tears rolling down my face. No words, just tears.<br />
<br />
It takes a lot to put on a happy face, and push through the day. I did it day after day. Some days were harder than others, but at the end of each hard day, I knew I could do it one more day. And I did it all. With God.<br />
<br />
I know that it was God who held me up above all of what was pulling me down. He was beside me, with me, holding me safely in the palm of his hand. In the dark stillness of the night when sleep eluded me, it was God who was there in the quiet. In the turmoil of my days, it was God who offered calm in those moments. <br />
<br />
Through the trials and hurdles of last year, I became stronger. It as if I am coming up from under the water, breathing air again. Fresh, crisp clean air. Thank you God.<br />
<br />
2015 will be a year of change and the return of inspiration.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-88701894242447454982015-01-03T09:15:00.003-08:002015-01-03T09:15:37.651-08:00THIS GIRL--A POEMLittle girl,<br />you were always happiest<br />losing yourself<br />in your imaginary worlds<br />Batman, secret agent, cowgirl in the west.<br /><br />Good girl,<br />yes mam, no sir, thank you and please<br />so tender hearted <br />in your southern world<br />loving Jesus, praying on your knees.<br /><br />Hurt girl,<br />you learned quick and hard<br />trust vigilantly<br />in your dangerous world<br />watch, listen, wait and guard.<br /><br />Wise girl,<br />today you know better<br />living boldly in your writer world<br />scribbling out your heart with letters.<br />
<br />God's girl,<br />everyday you learn anew<br />taking chances<br />in your bold world<br />knowing God never left you.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-63918980591564789072015-01-01T21:58:00.001-08:002015-01-03T09:13:04.845-08:00WRITING MY WAY THROUGH Here I am. It is day one of 2015. This year is beginning all shiny and fresh.<br /><br />It is a crisp, white, blank sheet of paper waiting for me to write the script. Waiting for me to take my pencil and make that first broad stroke of the first letter of the first word of my story. <br /><br />This story will not be last year's story. It does not start the same. It will not end the same. In this story, I commit to write 500 words a day, to pursue better health and be more active, to be better. To not quit. I will continue to chase my dreams, laugh, love, listen to my heart and have faith.<br /><br />This story. I will not know what each chapter will hold for me. But I will help write it. This story may have more tight turns and steep hills than I expect. And it is likely that I will get lost along the way, from time to time, but in my faith, I will find my way. I will find myself in new territory and my past may help me conquer old ghosts. I may find my superpowers when I least expect to. I may chase my muse in the darkness or we may dance together across a page.<br /><br />This will be an adventure.<br /><br />I will face the monsters. I will stare down my fear and write through the darkness and when the light of day finds me still writing, I will be smiling. I will celebrate my wins and push against my struggles. I will sharpen my pencil and my wit against my arch enemy--writer's block. I will scribble my way out of the terrifying corner, I may write myself into. I will push on. I will not concede.<br /><br />I will step bravely into each day with kindness, a willingness to learn and I will be eager to find more wisdom with each chapter. When the words flow easily I will say a prayer of thanks, when they stutter, I will pray for help. I will use the lessons I learn from the previous chapter to create the next. I will learn to be brave. I will not let my scars keep me from believing I can fly again. Instead, I will sail through the sky of second chances. I will not let hurdles become walls and fear become a force. I will learn when to tiptoe around the creaky boards and when to run into the crashing waves to tell part of the story. I may have to face the demons that taunt me in my dreams and chase the shadows out of the corners of long forgotten pain.<br /><br />I will dig deep for the strength within me when it is needed. I will not shirk from wading into the deep cold water when I am called to swim. Along the way, I will remember to look up and lose myself in a star filled sky, savor the warmth of a sunny day and welcome the rain when it falls. The seasons are quick to pass and I must be able to write my way through them.<br /><br />I am ready.<br /><br />Let my story begin.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-39573139798112919612014-03-11T21:13:00.001-07:002014-03-13T12:52:00.913-07:00SUMMER MEMORIES IN A PONTIAC TEMPEST<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was the middle of June, 1963 and we were at our first stop to stretch our legs--just outside of Yuma, Arizona. I was 6 years old. We were only a few hundred
miles into what would be our first of many summer trips from California to our
home town in Kentucky. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year we were driving
the family car, a 1962 blue Pontiac Tempest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I peered out the window through the sand coated glass and
pulled the door latch with both hands, and pushed against the heavy car door as
I tried to unstick my legs from the blue vinyl seats. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My younger tow-headed
brother had already escaped out of his side of the car and was racing after Dad,
who was a few man-sized strides ahead, finally catching up, grabbing his fingers
and skipping every other step alongside him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mom, dressed in a pale pink sleeveless blouse, white Capri pants and
sandals, wrestled her purse over her arm and took my hand as we walked toward
the concrete building housing the restrooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
We both agreed it was too hot for either of our liking.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pushing open the stall door, I stood at the sink and
splashed cold water on my face, getting chin length pieces of dark hair around
my face wet in the process, and waiting for Mom before walking back out into
the blazing Arizona heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hot air blew
into my face reminding me of when Mom opened the oven door while dinner was cooking.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I stared at the adobe and iron barred building in the
distance and brushed my damp hair off of my face and squinted in the bright sunlight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was ready to go, but
my brother was busy collecting rocks and chasing horned toads.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I squatted down and swirled my fingers in the sand, making
designs and letters and waited as Dad went to get the camera to take a picture of
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My brother and I posed in front of the Old Yuma Territorial Prison sign
and made squinty smiles for the camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The hot wind blew sand into our eyes and after several clicks of the
camera, Dad put it away and promised we’d stop for a cold soda pop at the next
place we came to.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My brother and I raced back to the car, swung open the doors,
and climbed back in, each reclaiming our own half of the back seat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We peered forward, pushing against each other hoping to get the first glimpse of a
filling station sign, a place we knew would have ice cold bottles of grape and
orange pop, and Dad’s favorite, Pepsi-Cola.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Before long, we spied the red and white star on the Texaco
sign standing out like a beacon against backdrop of blue sky
meeting sand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad turned off the two
lane highway and rolled into the parking lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He fed silver coins into the pop machine and we pulled hard on the cold
glass bottles grinning when they released into our hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> We wrenched the bottle tops off on the opener and </span>I pressed the bottle against
my lips and drank half of it before taking a breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fizz from the soda burned my nose and
my eyes watered, but at the time, it tasted like the best thing I’d
ever had.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We reluctantly climbed back in the car and Dad turned back onto the highway
driving east toward Phoenix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I perched on my knees against the back seat and watched
out the back window, as the sand blew off the back of our car and the mountains
faded in the shadows of the setting sun.</span></div>
Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-89832610294068680102014-03-03T08:23:00.000-08:002014-03-03T13:57:25.684-08:0010 TIPS FOR ONLINE DATING<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Online dating is hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve been there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It feels like
navigating through the fog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can’t
see things clearly and you don’t know where the danger is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned a few things and worked out a way
to navigate better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here are my tips.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> 1. Know yourself and what type of person you need in your life. Soul searching and evaluating is crucial. </span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> 2. Take your time and write down exactly what is important for you and what characteristics in a mate you value, need and want. A list of what is important and what you can compromise can be a good reminder of why you are doing this, or convince you to try something else.</span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> 3. Always, be careful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do not risk your safety with the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">type</b> of information you put in your profile.</span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> 4. Be honest, specific and detailed in describing yourself in your profile description</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Make it clear who you are and what you are looking for. I spent almost three hours writing and editing mine.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> 5. When reviewing the profiles of men who respond and reach out to contact you, immediately delete anyone who:</span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1;">
<em><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> A. Has obviously not read your profile or admits they have not read your profile.</span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> B. Has not taken the time to fill out a detailed profile description. </span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> C. Does not match what you are looking for.</span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> D. Seems fishy in any respect to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could write for
days about the number of men, who looked at my photo, and ignored all or most of
what I had written and still contacted me—they wanted a one night stand,
someone to cheat on their wife with, borrow money from, or Heaven only knows
what else…I never gave them the time of day—their profile or lack thereof said
all I needed to know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> <strong>DO NOT RESPOND.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>DELETE AND MOVE ON.
DO NOT RESPOND.</strong></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> 6. After steps 1-5, and you’re ready to take the first step, exchange a few brief emails and a phone call and if you’re feeling good about meeting him, then waste no time in a meeting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do not drag on with emailing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made that mistake. Once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s best to find out as soon as possible whether there is promise in a relationship or not.</span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em> 7. Once you decide to meet, arrange to meet somewhere for coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do not meet for drinks, or lunch or dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Save that for your second date.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Coffee dates are not costly, allow for casual conversation, and can be planned at all tim</em><em>es of day or evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meet for coffee in a public place that you are familiar with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YOU choose the place. Period. </em></span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></i></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
I chose a place close to my home in my comfort zone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew the area and people were
familiar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt safe to me.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> 8. Always have an ‘escape plan’ in place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What does that mean?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If within the first 15 minutes (or sooner) you realize there is no chemistry, but you can tell he’s already decided you are the ONE and never wants the date to end, be polite and finish your cup of coffee, but at the same time, casually work into the conversation an OUT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, mention you have a work deadline to finish or your sister asked you to help her; have something to do or somewhere to be later. </span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> 9. </span>When you get home, you can write an email saying it was nice to meet and then say that there was no chemistry and good luck. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do not get emotionally invested at this point. Manipulative personalities can suck you in and waste a lot of your time. I know it may sound cold, but I made these mistakes in the beginning, until I approached this process more as a business transaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then it got easier.</span></i></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1;">
<em><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> 10. When you are in your car and ready to leave to go home, if you have ANY concerns, leave AFTER he does and don’t go straight home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stay in public view</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot stress personal safety enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had several safeguards in place when I began online dating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make sure you have them, too. </i></span></div>
<div style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<em><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
This is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">your</b> search and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">your</b>
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do not be bullied or persuaded by
guilt to continue beyond your first date with anyone you do not feel in your
gut is right for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember, you do
not owe anyone your time, if you are not interested in pursuing a relationship
with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You should be kind, but foremost,
be true to yourself. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did go out on one second date in order to
avoid telling the truth, but learned quickly that was not fair; to either one
of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned to speak honestly and move
on without agonizing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I appreciated similar
mutual honesty from two men I dated, who on the same search as me, but for them,
I was not the right one either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We decided
on friendship and were supportive of each other’s search for our mates. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
I was on the same online dating
site for two years and during the time, I went on a lot of coffee dates, and took
two breaks of a month or two, where I didn’t date at all and invested in two
separate relationships that didn’t work out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was about to take another break and even considered terminating my
subscription to the site when a profile caught my attention. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
A first date evolved into saying
yes to spending the rest of my life with Mr-Right-for-Me—this summer we
celebrate 15 years together.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-50980193257953892562014-02-27T20:39:00.001-08:002014-02-27T21:21:07.853-08:00KRIS KRISTOFFERSON<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was 1972.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
16 and I loved outlaw country music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
vinyl collection boasted music by Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings and Kris
Kristofferson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not many of my high
school peers shared my taste in music, but my best friend, Dusty, who I’d known
since we were 11, was as crazy about it as me, which is just one of the reasons
we were best friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The day we learned Kris Kristofferson was going to be in
concert, we begged our parents for permission to go, collected our saved up our
allowance and babysitting money to buy the tickets and waited impatiently for
THE night to arrive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The concert venue was downtown and I was nervous about
driving in unknown territory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dusty
assured me that with her riding shotgun, we’d be fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That night we climbed into my 1966 VW Bug and
traversed the puzzle of one-way streets to the concert hall.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We sat on the edge of our seats in the balcony and dramatically
sighed, when, at last, Kris Kristofferson sauntered on stage, dressed in a pale
blue wrinkled shirt, sleeves rolled up, faded jeans, worn boots and his guitar
slung over his shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were in ‘teenage-girl-with-a-crush-heaven’
when he began singing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We knew every
word to every song and were disappointed when he left the stage after his final
song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hoped we could score an
autograph and pushed our way out of the venue to the street and around the
corner, hoping for even a glimpse of our beloved star.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We giggled and looked around, surprised that we were the
only two waiting outside the side door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We stood in the glow of a streetlight, otherwise draped in
darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, the door opened and
three men emerged, each carrying a guitar case, laughing and
mid-conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They stopped abruptly
when they saw us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even in the dim light, we immediately recognized Kris
Kristofferson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He smiled at us and I
felt my knees shaking and I suddenly couldn’t even remember my name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could not believe I was standing next to
Kris Kristofferson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was so close to
us, I could smell him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He smelled like
whiskey.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dusty and I were so star-struck that we could hardly find
the words to speak, but I remember finally gushing about how much I loved the
concert, and then asked for an autograph.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He scratched his head and drawled, “Well, this is the first time anyone
asked me for my autograph.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not sure
what I’m supposed to do.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in
disbelief but dug into my purse and pulled out a scrap of paper—which happened
to be the receipt from the concert ticket purchase. He took it from me, our
fingers touching briefly (I was never washing that hand again), signed his name
(I was staring at his face) and handed it back to me. I could not stop smiling
and giggling. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then, he grinned again and queried, “Do you girls want to
party?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re going to a party.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I remember freezing in place, blushing and then panic hit me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stammered and muttered something about our
curfew and thanked him for the autograph.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We raced back to the Bug, slid in, slammed and simultaneously locked the
doors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hands were still shaking as I
turned the key in the ignition and drove away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Neither one of us had said a word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was still waiting for my heartbeat to slow down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dusty, in her usual style, and too loud voice, blurted
out, “THAT was crazy!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laughed
hysterically and we both started singing ‘Me and Bobby Mc Gee’.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’ve never been to another Kris Kristofferson concert but I
still have his autograph on that faded receipt and wonder if it really was the
first one he’d ever signed.</span> </span></div>
Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-45279557891192437882014-02-24T15:50:00.002-08:002014-02-24T15:50:53.275-08:00FACE THE FEAR: A WRITER'S CONFESSION
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Fear quietly follows me like a shadow, never leaving and
like the proverbial Boogie Man under the bed, pulls me under the surface of my
own insecurity, suffocating me with imaginary whispers of “I told you so”.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes at night, when I am trying to go to sleep, this Fear
creeps into my thoughts and prevents me from even closing my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stare upwards to the ceiling and can feel
it choking me as my thoughts stomp wildly inside my head.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I didn’t write today…I should be writing something right
now…I should get up….I write best at night, but I’m tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tomorrow will be better…I’ll never finish any
of my projects…I will die before I actually become serious about my writing…I
have already wasted so much time…” </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I despair over the wasted days, weeks, years and then fervently
promise and plan to start the next day, so that the Fear will go back to its
corner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, the next day I don’t write
and the Fear charges me again, pushing me back further under, into surrender to
its grip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have plenty of excuses, but none of them are valid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are only lies that I tell myself to
quell the Fear.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I have no time, I work full time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m too stressed…I just want to come home and
relax, not write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My recorded shows are
filling my queue, I need to watch them. Next week looks better.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The truth stands accusingly before me.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have time to write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have a place to write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
talent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have passion. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What the heck is holding me back?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Fear may actually be that I won’t write well enough, that
I won’t be able come up with the pieces to fill the frame of my story and
finish it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe the Fear is also that
no one wants to read what I have to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I must stand up face to face with the Fear and write
anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must write because it is who I
am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A writer.</span></div>
Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-87480192974544749102014-02-20T21:00:00.000-08:002014-02-21T13:45:08.265-08:00THE TRUTH INSIDE<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes, I change things up from my usual posts and my writing becomes poetic and introspective. This is one of those times. Since I haven't posted in awhile (but I have been writing just the same), I decided to publish this piece, here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is me. This is everyone. We've all fought hard to get where we are in our journey. We hide our scars from each other and pretend we're unscathed. But in time, it's evident, we are all brave warriors, each having survived different battles.</span><br />
<em><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em><u>warrior</u></em></span><br />
<em><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>masked exterior </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Madonna smile</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>but inside</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>weary, wary, vigilant.</em></span><br />
<em><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>The fragile soul</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>bears the scars of ancient battles.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Remnants of busted, bruised pieces</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>and holes filled with </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>loss and fear.</em></span><br />
<em><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Damaged but resilient</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>with wounded parts cloaked</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>behind bravado</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>which like a fortress</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>protects the broken child within.</em></span><br />
<em><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>A solitary dented shield </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>warns that a sword</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>she keeps</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>buried deep</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>can be sharpened,</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>and hailed</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>to defend that child</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>from harm.</em></span><br />
<em><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">standing </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">protecting</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">surviving</span></em><em><span style="font-family: Times;"><br /></span></em><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-67442584979552075952014-01-31T15:26:00.000-08:002014-01-31T15:50:52.052-08:005 THINGS I'M NOT WAITING TO DO<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm through planning for the 'whens, afters and somedays'. It's time for action, now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I've jumped feet first into some pretty great projects that I'm excited about, and though, there are times I feel I am knee deep in mud with my endeavors, I am doing what I love and I am not wasting time talking about it anymore.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>__________________________________________________________________________</strong> </div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;">1-- </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="color: black;">Writing</span></span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>This last day of the month of January marks the most consistent writing I have done in more than 10 years (which embarrasses me to admit). After all, I'm a writer. So why haven't I been writing more? I've delayed, put off, made excuses, and procrastinated for a myriad of reasons, but only a few of them are valid.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>I am so grateful to have been a part of an amazing group of writers on Facebook through </em><a href="http://goinswriter.com/my500words/" target="_blank"><em>Jeff Goins' "My 500 Words"</em></a><em> challenge. I am proud to say that I have been consistently writing at least 500 words, on more days than not, for the challenge month of January.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;">2--</span><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;">Art</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>I also happily discovered another group of creative souls who are inspiring and helping me unleash another layer of my artistic side. The page is called</em><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/thedocumentedlifeproject/" target="_blank"><em> "The Documented Life"</em></a><em> and this is a group of people creating their own planners/art journals, guided with weekly prompts, each person making their planner, a santuary, a place to journal, doodle, and organize. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>Mine will be a place to journal and write, brainstorm ideas for future writing projects, songs, dreams and inspiration. I have always loved to doodle in the margins of notebooks or on scraps of paper and this is permission to do that in a very purposeful, creative and unique way.</em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;"><strong>3--Bible Study</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>I am attending my church's women's Bible Study to deepen my relationship with God and develop friendships with other Christian women. We meet for an hour of worship and Bible Study followed by an hour of break out classes. The breakout class I signed up for is a digital photography class. I already have some knowledge through a class I took when we first got our camera, but I'd like to start using my camera all the time for documenting and memorializing all the moments in my life.</em></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><br />
<em></em> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;"><strong>4--Spanish</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>Recently, I'd been bummed that I'd let my Spanish get rusty and wanted to brush up on it and expand my vocabulary and fine tune my ability to speak, read and write in Spanish.Recently, through a friend, I learned about </em><a href="http://www.duolingo.com/" target="_blank"><em>Duolingo</em></a><em>, a free app, that I downloaded on my phone and use every day.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana;"><strong>5--Music</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>Music. I learned how to play the guitar (chords and some picking) beginning in the 7th grade and took lessons through my junior year of high school, but my guitar was abandoned and has not been played in several years</em>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>I've regretted not completing my lessons so that I can read music. I began learning to read music when I was a junior, but my music instructor was very intimidating and demanding. At that time, I didn't have the desire to put in the time and work to meet his expectations, so I quit. I am now picking up where I left off in my music.</em></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><strong>______________________________________________________</strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Each one of these five of these pursuits filled my time in my younger days. I was active in my church, studied Spanish, took guitar lessons and played it often, wrote every chance I could steal away and sketched, painted and doodled on blank pieces of paper laying around.</span> <span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">All of these things have a connection. They are creative outlets that compliment one another. I am excited about the journey that I've begun. I feel renewed and energized. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I am no longer just idling, waiting for the right time to accomplish the things I WANT to do. I am DOING them.</span><br />
<br />
What are you waiting to pursue?</span>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-71388333002372723012014-01-24T14:22:00.001-08:002014-01-24T14:24:26.109-08:00SNOW, TEARS AND GOOD-BYE<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I felt sad,
burdened and travel weary as I stared out the car window at the passing
landscape. The highway was lined with three-rail farm fencing and leaf barren
trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9BR7-aFQVF4/UuLkyUWx8KI/AAAAAAAAGcI/BcbYwMlJXfo/s1600/IMG_20140102_164328_639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9BR7-aFQVF4/UuLkyUWx8KI/AAAAAAAAGcI/BcbYwMlJXfo/s1600/IMG_20140102_164328_639.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We were
back in Kentucky. We were here to bury my father. Tears welled again,
uncontrolled, and rolled down my face. I glanced over at my mother, sitting
next to me in the back seat of our rental car. Her own tears spilled down her
cheeks. She, too, was lost in her own grief laden thoughts. It was even more
heartbreaking for me to imagine her loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My head pounded like a thundering drum inside my skull and I squeezed my
eyes closed and tried to shut the pain off. I couldn’t. I opened my eyes again
and looked out the window trying to make sense of it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A snow
storm had arrived at the same time our plane landed in Louisville. After a 3:00
a.m. start to a long day of airport lines, snafus, plane changes and a cross
country flight, we were finally in the car on our way to my cousin’s home.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Snow was
blowing around us and frosting the world outside. We had an hour drive to go
from Louisville to Lexington and my husband (a native Californian) had stepped
up to the challenge of driving this leg of our journey. My brother rode shotgun
next to him. They were a good team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their
conversation consisted of road directions and traffic and I welcomed the
distraction from my grief.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pZ6oTwBQjOY/UuLlGQrEkfI/AAAAAAAAGcQ/jIVqM_QnpAc/s1600/IMG_20140102_164900_087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pZ6oTwBQjOY/UuLlGQrEkfI/AAAAAAAAGcQ/jIVqM_QnpAc/s1600/IMG_20140102_164900_087.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I'd been
back to Kentucky for a visit with extended family when we made a trip to
Nashville, three years earlier, but it had been a very long time since I'd
visited Lexington with any snow on the ground. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I was in
the 7th grade and we'd come to visit my grandparents for Christmas. All of the
rest of our annual trips were during the summer, since Dad was a teacher and had all of his summers
off. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Dad. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>This time we’re here for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This would be his last trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried not to think about leaving
him here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About having him so far away
from me.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wY7bCtwz1N8/UuLlLR0S16I/AAAAAAAAGcY/h0g3YS1VocQ/s1600/IMG_20140102_164423_620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wY7bCtwz1N8/UuLlLR0S16I/AAAAAAAAGcY/h0g3YS1VocQ/s1600/IMG_20140102_164423_620.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It felt
surreal to be making this trip for the purpose of laying my dad to rest next to
his parents. How did this happen so fast? I was just talking to him, he was being funny, teasing us.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I remember
feeling confident that he'd be fine, probably weak and not feeling like coming
to our house for our traditional family Christmas Eve dinner, but I was certain that the New Year
would arrive with him out of the hospital and with us again. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I was
right. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He was no
longer in the hospital. He was home. His soul was home with his Heavenly Father
and his body was home in KY. And now, January 2, 2014 we were home with him,
too.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LgTjPBxhtmA/UuLlUhcKqaI/AAAAAAAAGcg/i8nH7AP9dv8/s1600/IMG_20140102_164423_620-1-SNOW.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LgTjPBxhtmA/UuLlUhcKqaI/AAAAAAAAGcg/i8nH7AP9dv8/s1600/IMG_20140102_164423_620-1-SNOW.gif" height="194" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">At that moment, I wished we
could have been anywhere else. I wished that all of this was just one of my
disturbing nightmares and I would wake up from it, with my heart beating fast and
my day thrown off, but grateful that it was just a bad dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But, it was
not a bad dream this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was real. It
was a sharp piece of truth that had spun the world I knew, upside down and left me disoriented. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I continued
to look out the window but my vision was blurred by swirling snow outside and
the veil of tears. I blinked, took a deep breath and prepared myself for what would end
up being the hardest day I’d lived, in a very long time.</span> </div>
Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-47113220338610844542014-01-22T12:25:00.000-08:002014-01-22T13:26:45.924-08:00PLAY LIKE A KID AGAIN
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am once again re-evaluating my life and what I want to do
with the rest of it—what will I choose to spend my time doing. My initial reply is, writing more and working less.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, losing my father has illuminated the reality of my own
mortality and forced me acknowledge how short life really is and made me consider
how I will spend the days left in my own life and how to make the most of each
one of them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">None of us know how many days we have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of us are told our days are numbered
because of a disease that modern medicine cannot cure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of us are taken without warning, in our
sleep or in the course of our day by violence, accident or disaster. Few plan
for that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t plan for that, either.
I live my days as if there will be no end to them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have been on a
journey of re-evaluation for awhile now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This blog has several posts about slowing down, simplifying, shedding
stuff, and eliminating drama. I’ve ignited discussions about
planning for a simpler lifestyle in retirement and considering what I will do
to fill my days when I am no longer employed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But I haven’t written anything about taking time to be a
child at play again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To experience the
simple joy I had when I was a child lost in play.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Life as a 50 something adult is full of so much seriousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have tied myself down to managing my career,
maintaining my home, chasing retirement and a multitude of other grand responsibilities
that keep me grounded to the path of aging. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Do you remember being a child, wishing to be grown-up, to be
freed from childhood?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could not wait
to grow up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw making my own
decisions and being an adult as the ultimate freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, having been an adult for almost 40 years
now, I can say, aloud, that it isn’t freedom at all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course, I can’t go back to my childhood, but I can take a
“play like a kid again” break now and then, leave my cell phone at home and
ignore the adult voice shunning the idea and just be a kid again for a little
while.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span>I’ll go to the beach, roll up my jeans and run
in the waves and still get my pant legs wet and sandy and squish my toes in the
wet sand and giggle. I’ll throw my arms up to the sky and shriek with glee with
each wave that splashes up on me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span>I’ll take a Saturday afternoon and walk to my neighborhood
7-11 and enjoy my favorite frozen Slurpee drink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll walk a little slower on my return home,
sipping my Slurpee and paying attention to the cracks in the sidewalk instead
of thinking about the deadlines waiting for me at work and home.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>I’ll choose to buy a double dip ice cream cone
for lunch occasionally and savor each cold, sweet lick of my two favorite
flavors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>I’ll head to the park and swing on the swings
for half an hour. Close my eyes and lean back, like I did when I was a kid, and
try to swing as high as I can, remembering how free that made me feel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Life is short. Take time to play. How will you play like a kid again? </span></div>
Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31283076.post-42208431134297404252014-01-19T16:51:00.000-08:002014-01-31T15:54:10.953-08:00TRIBUTE TO DADDY<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dad, </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You were the best father a girl could ask for and I was
blessed with your love and guidance for the most important years of my life and
beyond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t ready for you to be called to Heaven,
but you gave me so much while you were here, that I know I’ll be okay. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today, I cry because I miss you so much, but the memories I hold
onto, make my heart smile. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I loved your passion for the games of tennis and basketball
that you shared with me, by teaching me the fundamentals and helping me practice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You taught me how to fish, and even though I
didn’t catch many, I still thought it was cool to go fishing with my dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of my fondest memories are of our family
camping trips and one of my favorite ways to spend a long weekend will always
be desert camping. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I remember going with you to Gulls’ hockey games, and learning
to drive a Tote-Gote when I was nine years old. I remember carefully riding it in big
circles in the dirt thinking you were still on the back with me—but you’d
hopped off to prove to me I could do it by myself—and I did. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I loved how special I felt going out on our dress-up dinner dates for my 13th and 16th birthdays—my handsome dad as my date! </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You were larger than life and little pieces of you, will live
on in me. I am confident because you had confidence in me. I’m strong because
you gave me your strength when I felt unsure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m smart because you allowed me to make mistakes and learn from
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You never gave up on me, not even
when I disappointed you-- I knew you were always in my corner, that you’d be
there for me, no matter what, and you were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thank you for being my compass to find my way between right
and wrong, for setting the example of not only a good father, but also husband,
teacher, friend and neighbor; for all of your pranks, jokes and teasing--your
sense of humor never failed to make me laugh.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thank you for sharing your life
stories with me, for your generous heart, and the priceless gift of your time. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have always been
my hero and you still are.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love you Daddy.</span></div>
Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04580415273853360647noreply@blogger.com1