tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36211474152672989122024-03-05T17:13:42.568-08:00A Bird In My HandBarbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-25392463952452975052010-05-06T22:32:00.000-07:002010-05-06T22:34:53.512-07:00Peeps, the baby hummingbirdIn honor of the title of my blog, I share this little video for your watching pleasure. It's a friend of a friend, so I know, somehow, we're kindred spirits. Enjoy!<br />PS. - if you can't see the whole picture, click on the picture and it will take you to a bigger pic.<br /><br /><a href="http://draft.blogger.com/%3Cobject%20width=%22640%22%20height=%22385%22%3E%3Cparam%20name=%22movie%22%20value=%22http://www.youtube.com/v/l7xBLvMIBZU&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1%22%3E%3C/param%3E%3Cparam%20name=%22allowFullScreen%22%20value=%22true%22%3E%3C/param%3E%3Cparam%20name=%22allowScriptAccess%22%20value=%22always%22%3E%3C/param%3E%3Cembed%20src=%22http://www.youtube.com/v/l7xBLvMIBZU&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1%22%20type=%22application/x-shockwave-flash%22%20allowfullscreen=%22true%22%20allowScriptAccess=%22always%22%20width=%22640%22%20height=%22385%22%3E%3C/embed%3E%3C/object%3E"><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/l7xBLvMIBZU&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/l7xBLvMIBZU&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></a>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-44297250513157025292010-04-22T17:29:00.000-07:002010-04-22T17:29:30.937-07:00ISSUESMy cat, Sylvester, is having...issues.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhroeeULBSmMqFq3fztH9TBi74ro44s-hGxquazH_uvEWItX6dygss-BkQuZsQLBLERUSeYIU3E0A1rShm28hby4PgDKkkPZHCKXVdg5ihc7Mwcfu8xBKH5s_3FsClP44t93bDCGei0KZd7/s1600/Vermont4,%20Early%20works,%20cats%20and%20dogs%20048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhroeeULBSmMqFq3fztH9TBi74ro44s-hGxquazH_uvEWItX6dygss-BkQuZsQLBLERUSeYIU3E0A1rShm28hby4PgDKkkPZHCKXVdg5ihc7Mwcfu8xBKH5s_3FsClP44t93bDCGei0KZd7/s320/Vermont4,%20Early%20works,%20cats%20and%20dogs%20048.jpg" width="320" wt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sylvester, in calmer days...</div><br />
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You may recall that we adopted him from a shelter at the advanced age of 11 1/2, separated from his brother, (his lifelong friend), his family and well, a piece of his sanity, apparently. Yes, it seemed pretty cute at first that he was hiding under his little blankie, sucking his thumb. I love him more than my luggage.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAFapspYTJpi_NQMG3pPA0sIb8bPBpBGQIUHAIDvtRSFoWkqPO53q0AqGio0UmD7RaKgzaEFewcPMGBNpvGFkwJof1IwD9knN3Qt6ONhKaQgQVucKkSQHblHtNHC9jlr7xr8Y3Ah5y8wnO/s1600/sylvester.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAFapspYTJpi_NQMG3pPA0sIb8bPBpBGQIUHAIDvtRSFoWkqPO53q0AqGio0UmD7RaKgzaEFewcPMGBNpvGFkwJof1IwD9knN3Qt6ONhKaQgQVucKkSQHblHtNHC9jlr7xr8Y3Ah5y8wnO/s320/sylvester.jpg" width="320" wt="true" /></a></div><br />
So cute, right? But as the years go by, well, Sylvester just becomes more, um, neurotic. <br />
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He's always been a crier. [read: yowler.] At night, maybe it's because he was declawed by his previous owners and can't jump up high to find our other [normal] cat, Maisy, he yowls for her. "<em>Halllloooo?? Hallllllooooooo??"</em> <br />
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Luckily, we have a beautiful, finished garage/gym/office area where he and Maisy, sleep at night. Because if they didn't, we wouldn't sleep a wink. Maisy, who is a perfect little lady, feels this is totally unfair, since she wants nothing more than to curl up behind my knees at night and blissfully sleep tight. But, because her love, Sylvester, can't do without her, Maisy is deprived of that coziness. <br />
Oh, the guilt.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPR9zUhCadGD1YAy2uTVMeiVVqJAUgEncl5sEdnGJLSnYawDeS7cd2f0wDF_vdTaRdqhdBA8k17lAt1RzXAswLHbhA6EEag1fzLmDhREgU9GEiR-btvegYHWyGwQOS8x-AhyphenhyphenlZgZqJnblD/s1600/Vermont4,%20Early%20works,%20cats%20and%20dogs%20047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPR9zUhCadGD1YAy2uTVMeiVVqJAUgEncl5sEdnGJLSnYawDeS7cd2f0wDF_vdTaRdqhdBA8k17lAt1RzXAswLHbhA6EEag1fzLmDhREgU9GEiR-btvegYHWyGwQOS8x-AhyphenhyphenlZgZqJnblD/s320/Vermont4,%20Early%20works,%20cats%20and%20dogs%20047.jpg" width="320" wt="true" /></a></div><br />
Lately, he's started meowing compulsively during the day. From the minute he comes in until we hold him and let him suck his little paw. Which is fine, but we can't just sit there all day and hold him. Eventually, things like dishes, showering and going to work intervene.<br />
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Anyway, we've been searching around for ways to deal with his "issues" which only became more profound after I went back to work. We've tried leaving the tv on for him. Aside from hiking our power bill higher, it didn't help. Now, he meows at us constantly. Simply walking past his 'spot' on the couch brings on a session of meowing that sounds suspiciously like "<em>Mommy?mommy?mommy?mom?mom?mom?mom</em>?"<br />
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Nothing deters him. Nothing. Sigh. (Note: <em>Except when I pointed a camera at him to try to catch this disturbing behavior, he politely turned away and stopped. Hmmmm. I may be on to something here</em>.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>So the other day, we bought this stuff that you spray on the place where he sleeps or hangs out, called Feliway Spray. Cat pheromones. And I must say, it's helped a little. I mean, every now and then, he'll settle down and relax. Look content, even.<br />
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Then...."<em>Mommy?mommy? mom? mom? mom</em>?"<br />
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Ideas out there? Ever had a cat like this? <br />
It's not us, so much, you understand, but Maisy's delicate nerves are frayed.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3BNVcNQAuy26N2kzlmFtzWS96xnRPXd3HIVyTzrxSgWGerhAhYSoimbaASf-oZFcS5UjyNB-ZauxDy7kShajI_zW4HYtTnDm9RSVPxz1l7Anf9LCR8RzFJlDmJgdB0vqYenTdMI-QFyqP/s1600/Cats%20006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3BNVcNQAuy26N2kzlmFtzWS96xnRPXd3HIVyTzrxSgWGerhAhYSoimbaASf-oZFcS5UjyNB-ZauxDy7kShajI_zW4HYtTnDm9RSVPxz1l7Anf9LCR8RzFJlDmJgdB0vqYenTdMI-QFyqP/s320/Cats%20006.jpg" width="320" wt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"<em>Mommy? Mommy? Mom? Mom? Make him stop</em>."</div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-46272346573443699072010-04-03T19:16:00.000-07:002010-04-04T07:52:29.191-07:00Spring has Sprung and Happy Easter!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinA1L2SU2emGE5b8ufbv4acPAPLjc5HxC3sCqjIlvXPNJOg7WVZfWkA7EHOp9n0y1G4hpZ0cdhdnQxL8l5iyXAlpnb4IZL1GjJVl0U8r8fQkr44xoYXSvdKAgYQrMvQc1fkfAMCC7J81wV/s1600-h/discanso+and+tali" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinA1L2SU2emGE5b8ufbv4acPAPLjc5HxC3sCqjIlvXPNJOg7WVZfWkA7EHOp9n0y1G4hpZ0cdhdnQxL8l5iyXAlpnb4IZL1GjJVl0U8r8fQkr44xoYXSvdKAgYQrMvQc1fkfAMCC7J81wV/s400/discanso+and+tali" width="300" /></a></div><br />
Happy Easter!<br />
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For me, Easter has always been about flowers, spring, the birth of new possibilities. This year, with all of our rain, our flower season has been pretty nice so far. All the trees are in bloom, the azaleas are screamingly gorgeous and all is right with the world.<br />
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This photo is a little flowering plum or cherry tree at Descanso Gardens, here in La Canada. A very wealthy publisher who had a passion for gardening and particularly for camelias, purchased this huge track of land in the early 1900s and ultimately planted the entire estate with every imaginable variety of camelia. But that's not all.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJkWdw8IAYY_jExFBo4_kulUafWTBvC0Oq33qvqcHwdqPT02pOXxppLuLcDeKX_IxAXXs8OcwXMc5TQ2JweExGEkUf9uzmPOJ9Ur_awlqs1uhqDCWIO_hQnE_Bazoi2qONF8IZv1JzRdVR/s1600-h/discanso+and+tali" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJkWdw8IAYY_jExFBo4_kulUafWTBvC0Oq33qvqcHwdqPT02pOXxppLuLcDeKX_IxAXXs8OcwXMc5TQ2JweExGEkUf9uzmPOJ9Ur_awlqs1uhqDCWIO_hQnE_Bazoi2qONF8IZv1JzRdVR/s320/discanso+and+tali" width="320" /></a></div>There are ponds filled with fat coy, swimming under the clouds.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHU0FRGfYm6LMaLTTCWDFxHYcClpKr_oQ6iDs0JCNSwA4nNuJckYll1JWc201ATKHsbg6AFa8DD4NSSJVC9T9X36aG46U5sp4DdzJWXRbD6YIoZf5uScYJbwlKfmqzap5tYLTdtm3_gGh/s1600-h/discanso+and+tali" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHU0FRGfYm6LMaLTTCWDFxHYcClpKr_oQ6iDs0JCNSwA4nNuJckYll1JWc201ATKHsbg6AFa8DD4NSSJVC9T9X36aG46U5sp4DdzJWXRbD6YIoZf5uScYJbwlKfmqzap5tYLTdtm3_gGh/s320/discanso+and+tali" width="320" /></a></div>And this little sweetie hoping for a handout. This goose was so cute. Such a handsome fellow. Very intent on the little girl standing a few feet above him with promises of a few more kernals of corn.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvnskE2l6kBv-2jtQX8q7M-xE9ECJX2KQaUDNQVOYvj7HTp3CuFKdwC7ampPmSgajFdtbB-3GRCpnz9M44OY5JZ-liRYURdk-D5Gu8tbJ0fL7VDgalGd_ERLripsd9ium4JgOTxBhgXYzX/s1600-h/discanso+and+tali" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvnskE2l6kBv-2jtQX8q7M-xE9ECJX2KQaUDNQVOYvj7HTp3CuFKdwC7ampPmSgajFdtbB-3GRCpnz9M44OY5JZ-liRYURdk-D5Gu8tbJ0fL7VDgalGd_ERLripsd9ium4JgOTxBhgXYzX/s320/discanso+and+tali" width="320" /></a></div>There are hiking trails and strolling trails that you can almost imagine some knight riding through. (If you squint and forget you live in L.A.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1JPf5dIUTkfvZL4IyYrS0V59DiJ7_2tvG5hBgocGTZZ5ulsGj0qmdmZ6o00T-C7NoQCWpcklObyjFd3G5Qq_ziQBc1V-3f24LgPrY4WKaqgHtW0cTQBNTeo6OvXTGerkzVfh6IBwWtFO/s1600-h/discanso+and+tali" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1JPf5dIUTkfvZL4IyYrS0V59DiJ7_2tvG5hBgocGTZZ5ulsGj0qmdmZ6o00T-C7NoQCWpcklObyjFd3G5Qq_ziQBc1V-3f24LgPrY4WKaqgHtW0cTQBNTeo6OvXTGerkzVfh6IBwWtFO/s320/discanso+and+tali" width="320" /></a></div>Fern grottos....<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVnNt0RSeQInGhsaRp8gjVRWAHBz623MW8JpFlGzhHnjCDXTtI4h7di8C2qJV0noMUDluO5oGphwOzKS3BexjSQHHvOvF5B62DSJ5w0-fCA1B-RgIGOVJlh2usJX1CQPTOITTK3DHyLRsx/s1600-h/discanso+and+tali" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVnNt0RSeQInGhsaRp8gjVRWAHBz623MW8JpFlGzhHnjCDXTtI4h7di8C2qJV0noMUDluO5oGphwOzKS3BexjSQHHvOvF5B62DSJ5w0-fCA1B-RgIGOVJlh2usJX1CQPTOITTK3DHyLRsx/s320/discanso+and+tali" width="320" /></a></div>And walking spirals...<br />
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Oh, and Camelias...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUL0HGyG0g5UQ_Q5TXiYHnHZHrJHSahPkQNkbgoVF7krqYVrtA6LWeQYRljA-QruuQrpd_ZvsY0VHa5ABEzRoroqJ5R30nPulUY-JI0BJDDMeN48jkcDY9sNJPAaP59brJzhFIyBqDd0Kx/s1600-h/discanso+and+tali" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUL0HGyG0g5UQ_Q5TXiYHnHZHrJHSahPkQNkbgoVF7krqYVrtA6LWeQYRljA-QruuQrpd_ZvsY0VHa5ABEzRoroqJ5R30nPulUY-JI0BJDDMeN48jkcDY9sNJPAaP59brJzhFIyBqDd0Kx/s320/discanso+and+tali" width="320" /></a></div>This one's for you.<br />
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Have a wonderful holiday, my friends. I hope this season brings with it all kinds of new possibilities in your life.<br />
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xoxo BarbaraBarbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-57069592419923816842010-03-25T07:35:00.000-07:002010-03-25T07:36:36.995-07:00Mea Culpa. (Translation: Doh!)<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"><a style="MARGIN-LEFT: 1em; MARGIN-RIGHT: 1em" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVgJqoA7qlytDhHs8z0jerCYsvNS4qlfuKrCytfgLiV5nGLmxc5Md7-S6hMzsJU3stRXPDQHJ5zynT2jKvDJ226YX8W45hH4NalIe5MfXNKTw_jqMU90MvBo_43KQKGSI7yFUFHnPvv5e/s1600/a%2520spinning%2520top.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVgJqoA7qlytDhHs8z0jerCYsvNS4qlfuKrCytfgLiV5nGLmxc5Md7-S6hMzsJU3stRXPDQHJ5zynT2jKvDJ226YX8W45hH4NalIe5MfXNKTw_jqMU90MvBo_43KQKGSI7yFUFHnPvv5e/s320/a%2520spinning%2520top.jpg" nt="true" /></a></div>See, this is what I'm talking about. Have you ever had one of those months where not only your sleep, but your short term memory starts to go? When you go on overload and start tilting like a spinning-- well, you know.<br /><br />First it's little things. Like: "Now, where did I put that open bottle of wine we started last night? Oh, on the washing machine next to the Shout, tucked beside the Bounce dryer sheets.Yeah. That makes sense."<br /><br />Or: Your keys show up on top of the cat box. <em>Why?</em><br /><br />Or you call someone at work you've already called three times to check on the same freakin' detail. Just because you really cannot recall if you've done it.<br /><br />Or, even more embarrassing, someone you absolutely adore leaves you an award on her blog and (okay, maybe you have been a little out of touch) but THEN she leaves a sweet follow up <em>comment</em> on your blog and mentions it. And YOU SEE IT, and for a moment your brain computes it, but in the next instant, you think: "Award...award...Now where was that bottle of wine again? And why won't that damn phone stop ringing??"<br /><br />And then suddenly, in the middle of the night, or in the middle of a letter to an important client about a deposition date, you suddenly think, "Award. From Debra. On March w<em>hat</em>??"<br /><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"><a style="MARGIN-LEFT: 1em; MARGIN-RIGHT: 1em" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8lW6rBmFmS7lqaucwySPkv51acxVjOf67lrTIDiXmw5XWmgkGUajOywmzxCt3q7lrzQu-WM3U8NcZ-ceU86lqKQ1lw_MDx_6Uwyz6Z4B-GJ2HfZInHb4jFjwUJtP80H2AwJJT7LRRPISm/s1600/bbblog.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8lW6rBmFmS7lqaucwySPkv51acxVjOf67lrTIDiXmw5XWmgkGUajOywmzxCt3q7lrzQu-WM3U8NcZ-ceU86lqKQ1lw_MDx_6Uwyz6Z4B-GJ2HfZInHb4jFjwUJtP80H2AwJJT7LRRPISm/s320/bbblog.jpg" nt="true" /></a></div><br /><a href="http://shewhoseeks.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html">Debra </a>at <em>She Who Seeks,</em> one of the funniest bloggers out there, who is also one of the sweetest and, for the record, is quite well informed on everything Goddess, Arthurian and England-ian (is that a word? Uh, No.) is the lovely person in the above referenced brain fade, for it was <em>She Who Seeks</em>, who kindly left me an award for Beautiful Blogger on <em>March-freaking-9th</em>. (What's the date today? I rest my case.)<br /><br />And I'm here to humbly say "Thank you, Debra!" and please forgive me.<br /><br />I will address all that this award entails (Seven things about myself, etc...) as soon as possible. In the meantime, please go visit Debra and say "Hi!" for me.Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-27253000400307649752010-03-21T11:47:00.000-07:002010-03-21T11:47:55.821-07:00In The Moment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhud2WyhbyPtdXMSsb_vYbH2-fDm_Xb-P2OhqCmxDE_GU6qnoGMhDz3wOr4zw7kV1HtmkQkHK06yK3j__32Zm9mQp3idioRkTMLVn7lFOyFFtvrUCwlwAyGTOzTcUvbm6C6z3Z854DwYbaq/s1600-h/72e3ab688df5a1e0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhud2WyhbyPtdXMSsb_vYbH2-fDm_Xb-P2OhqCmxDE_GU6qnoGMhDz3wOr4zw7kV1HtmkQkHK06yK3j__32Zm9mQp3idioRkTMLVn7lFOyFFtvrUCwlwAyGTOzTcUvbm6C6z3Z854DwYbaq/s320/72e3ab688df5a1e0.jpg" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div>In case anyone wondered if I had fallen into some old well that was hidden in my path and was patiently awaiting rescue, without my computer, or means of communicating with you to explain why I haven't posted in weeks....<br />
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Well, there was no well involved. At all.<br />
<br />
I was, in fact, sick for the better part of a month, with whatever horrid thing is going around, with only enough energy to drag myself to work, then fall into a puddle of fatigue at night. And frankly, facing my keyboard after a long day at work to post a blog here just wasn't happening. <br />
<br />
So, anyway, after a long gap, (I'm sorry!) I'm here to say "I survived!"<br />
<br />
[<em>I'm being dramatic. But that's just how I roll.</em>]<br />
<br />
But, no. Seriously. Yuk.<br />
<br />
Have you had this mysterious kick-in-the-*ss this year? Was it H1N1? Was it the flu? Was it just some virus with ulterior motives?<br />
<br />
Anyway, moving on.<br />
I thought I should show you something that made me smile this month.<br />
<br />
<br />
There was this.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEzxocJwk7WFosgXkmKtWjMH84Ep3Wiy_SNLIlBK3Xz4KNs5KHfDiIU_NtgnBxZll6kYlHGNAd7QDacyNt2Tnscl3xfk5GsU1nS6vxYVW17txYV5ZV5hg6pniSQ4phhsZzaHYHPtwoMV5m/s1600-h/8%20months%20073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEzxocJwk7WFosgXkmKtWjMH84Ep3Wiy_SNLIlBK3Xz4KNs5KHfDiIU_NtgnBxZll6kYlHGNAd7QDacyNt2Tnscl3xfk5GsU1nS6vxYVW17txYV5ZV5hg6pniSQ4phhsZzaHYHPtwoMV5m/s320/8%20months%20073.jpg" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This little boy always makes me smile. He's looking out the window at the doggies, who fascinate him. Oh, the concentration! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then, there was this belly laugh...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqN_gBLYewoAFSnIXjI1r1J9uuUkGNoU1kO5D0yWVbCpN5YpBTww4BHptzuw4ceYBOM5WafrYdh-PweLe-1W2zQg-E0ZDSZl6rPpPfif6jxeT8Wg-rQYYQ9qrdA75qR3ULdcPlUl5pPGs/s1600-h/Challee%20and%20Ryan%20visit%202.4.10%20087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqN_gBLYewoAFSnIXjI1r1J9uuUkGNoU1kO5D0yWVbCpN5YpBTww4BHptzuw4ceYBOM5WafrYdh-PweLe-1W2zQg-E0ZDSZl6rPpPfif6jxeT8Wg-rQYYQ9qrdA75qR3ULdcPlUl5pPGs/s320/Challee%20and%20Ryan%20visit%202.4.10%20087.jpg" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Oh, dear...<br />
And will someone please explain to me why those little creases in their arms are so delicious?<br />
<br />
Some things just defy explanation.<br />
<br />
Like this picture.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIpsbfO8W5spuNe6r8Xb-mpyoiU7V6xIFSkWJ90_kGEthlwT58KRWHlycOZsBeZVKrSM0DCVi1aBc7A53qkIg8B5TjtRX2eprJbc-74yzwP1KsJFdyxwZoImElS9SVGxhXupvw8_2rZs6/s1600-h/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIpsbfO8W5spuNe6r8Xb-mpyoiU7V6xIFSkWJ90_kGEthlwT58KRWHlycOZsBeZVKrSM0DCVi1aBc7A53qkIg8B5TjtRX2eprJbc-74yzwP1KsJFdyxwZoImElS9SVGxhXupvw8_2rZs6/s320/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20015.jpg" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hmmm.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Give up? Okay, it's my cat, Maisy, rolling in the hammock of our shade-cloth covered patio. She likes to run up there and show off when we're in the back yard with her. She's very excited to have company and likes for us to poke her and play with her through the cloth. She's a cutie.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQsOSdKnskCFogsJrOYI7PJ9LYvc0DERDp3ZDyGtyATzqHNavr7oCGZc5Vrqqo9TJxNyA06MtSWB4HFu-boP2QheTOFpOM374AxhQ_AqNlE2QkYkNGpdcLAKhJ4Mvyu3C36MwRPCHBj9US/s1600-h/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQsOSdKnskCFogsJrOYI7PJ9LYvc0DERDp3ZDyGtyATzqHNavr7oCGZc5Vrqqo9TJxNyA06MtSWB4HFu-boP2QheTOFpOM374AxhQ_AqNlE2QkYkNGpdcLAKhJ4Mvyu3C36MwRPCHBj9US/s320/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20022.jpg" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
Here's Maisy with a paw outstretched in invitation.<br />
<br />
Wouldn't it be nice if all you had to worry about was a good play date on the patio cover? What I love about pets is that they're just that simple. Like babies. In the moment. <br />
<br />
That seems to be a concept that eludes me. But, as I roll through this thunderstorm of change in my life, I am working hard to keep it in mind.<br />
<br />
Just put out a paw. And play a little.<br />
<br />
Be kind to yourself,<br />
xoxoxo Barbara<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-28794662840559575532010-02-27T18:19:00.000-08:002010-02-27T18:19:18.575-08:00Rain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLGqCHCulkT241F1BaZj-rsJQ1pTk8oBNl9N8E9h2usDU8VIAw4QTdXkYxkp1HckM2AqGmaW4KrBO6VChZD92xq3orOYulK31QSuziyMjq0QXLRy7gTMyI62XQPbKSfTTL1koeYWll6fN/s1600-h/Challee%20and%20Ryan%20visit%202.4.10%20118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLGqCHCulkT241F1BaZj-rsJQ1pTk8oBNl9N8E9h2usDU8VIAw4QTdXkYxkp1HckM2AqGmaW4KrBO6VChZD92xq3orOYulK31QSuziyMjq0QXLRy7gTMyI62XQPbKSfTTL1koeYWll6fN/s320/Challee%20and%20Ryan%20visit%202.4.10%20118.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It's raining again.<br />
<br />
Here in Southern California, we need the rain badly so there's no complaining about it, unless you live in La Canada, where the hillsides are sliding down because of the terrible fires we had here this year. The rain washes the ash down from the hillsides and clogs up the streets below.<br />
<br />
But here in the flatlands, clear rainwater feeds my thirsty trees and puddles in my uneven driveway, <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOfyp78maNHy9T3-w4l7eMxi86633zgJ3FWynTol5dZNd4HXaAIMQcfDash7qJs75vRtAiCrqvtZPEG-PGLznwxtZjSZx1XlFRkueLRaIgUztq2gEaUqpCDZvHLlg9sWYyLym7eOjBfGe/s1600-h/Challee%20and%20Ryan%20visit%202.4.10%20123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOfyp78maNHy9T3-w4l7eMxi86633zgJ3FWynTol5dZNd4HXaAIMQcfDash7qJs75vRtAiCrqvtZPEG-PGLznwxtZjSZx1XlFRkueLRaIgUztq2gEaUqpCDZvHLlg9sWYyLym7eOjBfGe/s320/Challee%20and%20Ryan%20visit%202.4.10%20123.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
reflecting my giant Jacarunda tree on its glassy surface.<br />
<br />
And then? Just when you think it's never going to stop? This:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNrV6uhNNE3DvV0-VQZCNZM2Mos9148t30DWEyM_ib0gH1ai3mjcrNv-rPQblJgnyBjndVaMcwkawLfjbW2X_hmiXKGUaqRLIpC3FD2GF_TAZyBHsG61aPKHiOC0n7JLdq_KGXEyByhdv/s1600-h/Challee%20and%20Ryan%20visit%202.4.10%20116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNrV6uhNNE3DvV0-VQZCNZM2Mos9148t30DWEyM_ib0gH1ai3mjcrNv-rPQblJgnyBjndVaMcwkawLfjbW2X_hmiXKGUaqRLIpC3FD2GF_TAZyBHsG61aPKHiOC0n7JLdq_KGXEyByhdv/s320/Challee%20and%20Ryan%20visit%202.4.10%20116.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I know... Seriously.<br />
Have a great weekend!Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-87165602567340496842010-02-20T16:41:00.000-08:002010-02-20T17:07:30.697-08:00Dear Renee<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv9gn-JEt4DOIBX3Ex_ZYwIg5fETL10lMizF39JQ8mguGuQaxf-T7uXH7R3bXUVtufY9IM0cunYqKe2sSOgzzLuD7sJRQa2bEBFsGksDMImgUZVc9X6vcl9FXwnTtzcgdTTVaFA5lKJINB/s1600-h/Christmas+in+New+Mexico+086.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440490902811020066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv9gn-JEt4DOIBX3Ex_ZYwIg5fETL10lMizF39JQ8mguGuQaxf-T7uXH7R3bXUVtufY9IM0cunYqKe2sSOgzzLuD7sJRQa2bEBFsGksDMImgUZVc9X6vcl9FXwnTtzcgdTTVaFA5lKJINB/s320/Christmas+in+New+Mexico+086.jpg" /></a><br /><div>If you can, please ignore the storesfronts and the streetlamps and the pedantic clumbsiness of this photograph. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Instead, if you will, notice the beam of sunlight streaking between those two banks of clouds, like a pillar of energy. As if God had taken a magnifying glass and aimed it between the edges of two worlds. Guiding something powerful upward, toward Him.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div>This is for you, Sweet Renee. May God's guiding hand find you and give you peace. I will miss you. </div><div>xoxoxo Barbara</div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-86138367684732688632010-02-16T19:38:00.000-08:002010-02-16T19:38:53.852-08:00What else is out there?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQr7wATpod2AD8lMezYYEVp5UTm6Ebs701hgVjzKSEwZr77yz2ul6APvfpOiv_ndOSH9EqvWw0feQJvNotFtNwrYxrrhgQaY3Tfle2ShJFzzX-jIegNgRzLIIPzt4SGf1KLFjvnBmQ1yro/s1600-h/naica-crystals-825x553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQr7wATpod2AD8lMezYYEVp5UTm6Ebs701hgVjzKSEwZr77yz2ul6APvfpOiv_ndOSH9EqvWw0feQJvNotFtNwrYxrrhgQaY3Tfle2ShJFzzX-jIegNgRzLIIPzt4SGf1KLFjvnBmQ1yro/s320/naica-crystals-825x553.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
What is it? <br />
1) Microscopic salt crystals. <br />
2) A Hollywood sound stage in a futuristic saga?<br />
3) A Fly's POV of a landing strip atop a grey-haired man.<br />
4) None of the above.<br />
<br />
If you answered 4, you're right. I found this online today and was awestruck. This cave in Mexico is deep and very hot (near magma) and was filled with boiling hot water before miners discovered there was lead and silver to be mined. So they pumped out the water and look what they found! <br />
<br />
Naica Crystals! Weighing hundreds of tons! Apparently this stuff is gypsum, the same stuff they use in drywall. But this has been 'cooking' for millions of years into this amazing display of crystal. A real crystal cave! <br />
<br />
A filmmaker decided this was too good to miss, so he went down and filmed the exploration of this chamber. (coming soon to a PBS station near you.) They had to wear cooling suits just to be in that room, which averaged 120* F. So there was a limited exposure allowed.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1JSoJ85zOcprrlE6m5tK7N9s7nEuYFPp8eS2potg3SqwWru0uu6n_m0zHNE05UrKAID4qPS8UY5pLg6zT0VOhGf6Io2mjgOlfSTZXZMHX4edhTf87K8Xz4rIV7FORCCiAClAZjYujCRp/s1600-h/naice-photo-shoot-825x553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1JSoJ85zOcprrlE6m5tK7N9s7nEuYFPp8eS2potg3SqwWru0uu6n_m0zHNE05UrKAID4qPS8UY5pLg6zT0VOhGf6Io2mjgOlfSTZXZMHX4edhTf87K8Xz4rIV7FORCCiAClAZjYujCRp/s400/naice-photo-shoot-825x553.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Isn't that crazy beautiful?<br />
<br />
Sadly, whenever they finish mining that silver, they'll stop pumping out the water. It'll fill up again and disappear.<br />
<br />
But you have to wonder: If something this beautiful exists deep in the earth, what other hidden wonders have we not yet discovered? What have we blundered over or destroyed without even noticing? <br />
<br />
How delicate it all is.Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-55472657727416419902010-02-08T07:38:00.000-08:002010-02-08T17:36:21.350-08:00Were you watching?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_evNKbJzUc-cMRFbxv2R9vohrtz6z7MHxixEaQt8mNZD4UlpTng4jVS6MyfG_tm_BLuIVSuKRnyTcfZstECjRu-DVKyk0Dnx5jBznIfLpkrbw2ghJb7VAS-MrzXX0DpVSHNGF5G_nNnUJ/s1600-h/Super-Bowl_1573858c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_evNKbJzUc-cMRFbxv2R9vohrtz6z7MHxixEaQt8mNZD4UlpTng4jVS6MyfG_tm_BLuIVSuKRnyTcfZstECjRu-DVKyk0Dnx5jBznIfLpkrbw2ghJb7VAS-MrzXX0DpVSHNGF5G_nNnUJ/s320/Super-Bowl_1573858c.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
1.Did you watch the Superbowl? <br />
2. Were you rooting for New Orleans? (I love an underdog!)<br />
Or, 3. Are you female and you only watched it because it was on every television in the house?<br />
<br />
Okay, that doesn't really matter, because I know a lot of women who love football. I don't happen to be one of them, but I can be wrangled into watching playoffs in most sports, namely, the BIG KAHUNA OF FOOTBALL, unless it conflicts with "Big Love" or some book I'm enthralled with. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVrRf8-JRWT4mv9f155v3WpCJMjjtCew_CwjYU6Lmbg6-pTKMCgo4uojpNHQFBQmaxlnftZ3ljvj9zvUWATp0nEJTipcsnJjZAjqxXz_CbJwu1I7WCRYpLq1flO4r1CPD05MaaJtfWZFim/s1600-h/24_biglove_lgl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVrRf8-JRWT4mv9f155v3WpCJMjjtCew_CwjYU6Lmbg6-pTKMCgo4uojpNHQFBQmaxlnftZ3ljvj9zvUWATp0nEJTipcsnJjZAjqxXz_CbJwu1I7WCRYpLq1flO4r1CPD05MaaJtfWZFim/s320/24_biglove_lgl.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Last night, I had no such conflicts (luckily "Big Love" was on later where I live. (Do you watch that show? Do you love it? I can't stop watching it!) <br />
<br />
Still, I thought, at least the commercials would be entertaining. I used to do commercials. Did I tell you that? Okay, it was a long time ago. But I tend to watch commercials with a slightly <strike>jaded</strike> discerning eye.<br />
<br />
So which ones did you like? <br />
<br />
I know a lot of people liked the Jay Leno, David Letterman one, but my favorite? <br />
The GOOGLE ad about the guy moving to France for a semester abroad. Click, click, click. Ends up looking up how to build a crib?<br />
Genius. <br />
Even though, as a traitor to my fellow actors, since no actors were involved...I loved it because it let me use my imagination. And that made it so much better than the ones that tried so hard to grab my attention by being idiotic.<br />
<br />
Which ones were your favorites? C'mon. I know you were watching.<br />
<br />
If not, what did you think about BIG LOVE???Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-72655464946952342652010-01-31T09:02:00.000-08:002010-01-31T09:05:14.976-08:00PerfectIt's January (okay, almost February.) But still. This is what's sprouted in my garden in the last week.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRxfg7SwY-00_FR-GNrr5wWKs0uug7VfJdiQlqSlzR7oJVe3dNgJ15wtgxnhxteP9djI2hjmqsny79bUBu0ALFGa5SmfrBcri4dsiUHEtiLmTTN4NN0JuR6H1I5IgYELi9uOI5RByGuPh/s1600-h/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRRxfg7SwY-00_FR-GNrr5wWKs0uug7VfJdiQlqSlzR7oJVe3dNgJ15wtgxnhxteP9djI2hjmqsny79bUBu0ALFGa5SmfrBcri4dsiUHEtiLmTTN4NN0JuR6H1I5IgYELi9uOI5RByGuPh/s320/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20030.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I know in many parts of the world, it's snowing. Miserable. Cold. Icy.<br /><br />And I show you this, not to rub in our moderate weather in California (because we've had our share of ugly stuff this winter) but, rather, to share this little piece of sunshine with you. <br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KD4hxYmJLbPLLJrXAg4c3dorLrnpSm4d1LcoEh1WTbiMbOL99ChdazfJrkGgZll8tS9ZVp0dqJ702BX0mmiOQVNKUDEuCGC6K702w2pLC5hBf9P-FaTS5tf7GxN8ANBkoo_RUiyMJ-s_/s1600-h/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KD4hxYmJLbPLLJrXAg4c3dorLrnpSm4d1LcoEh1WTbiMbOL99ChdazfJrkGgZll8tS9ZVp0dqJ702BX0mmiOQVNKUDEuCGC6K702w2pLC5hBf9P-FaTS5tf7GxN8ANBkoo_RUiyMJ-s_/s320/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>These little babies sprouted with full confidence that they were doing what they were meant to do, <em>when </em>they were meant to do it. And even if it wasn't perfect timing, their effort was going to be their best.<br /><br />Nighttime frigid plunges? <em> </em><br /><em>Bah!</em><br />Flooding rain predicted?<em> </em><br /><em>Who cares? I'm here, World! Look at me!</em><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />Likewise, my camelia has joined in on this optimistic impulse.<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPoQpIWqqj53NK_KTnOT-9UOozA6tBa_2ZuC6RWhqkth2n-q5nowQgXI4gSDUltwmogeqX6GEvon8M3nWqPajNIYq4ZvnnVsLWyEnxK_TsRBJLsfTEx_kIC0_d4TAoZnqH8Sz_UVzH7hTq/s1600-h/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPoQpIWqqj53NK_KTnOT-9UOozA6tBa_2ZuC6RWhqkth2n-q5nowQgXI4gSDUltwmogeqX6GEvon8M3nWqPajNIYq4ZvnnVsLWyEnxK_TsRBJLsfTEx_kIC0_d4TAoZnqH8Sz_UVzH7hTq/s320/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20019.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /><br />Season after season, it waits until the dead of winter to share a little beauty with my fallow garden, dressing itself up with jewels like this one.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZiRcbuWjKLaiz-PWZI6EjIGFkIRtKNEE8A9aDbE7xKo0VaVUFI3bOo44EiBEfd4o4ix2Jt-1iRyhqRbte4l7LHMxaxt4Vhe03IcE6CmmMjZQUwldM6sUWtZSOESUJtjnEAHUx1X0ksHLA/s1600-h/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZiRcbuWjKLaiz-PWZI6EjIGFkIRtKNEE8A9aDbE7xKo0VaVUFI3bOo44EiBEfd4o4ix2Jt-1iRyhqRbte4l7LHMxaxt4Vhe03IcE6CmmMjZQUwldM6sUWtZSOESUJtjnEAHUx1X0ksHLA/s320/Spring%20in%20our%20yard%20017.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They're sturdier than they look. And they don't whine about the weather. Or the nighttime dips.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They welcome them as part of their journey, apparently. Expect them, even.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They simply bob their heads in the breeze and impart a little sunshine as we human's pass.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yes, I suppose if they'd waited until April or May, they would surely have found a more welcoming climate, less adversity. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> But the truth is, the timing of this bloom is perfect.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Absolutely perfect.</div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-78418099545663594052010-01-21T07:50:00.000-08:002010-01-21T07:50:43.860-08:00Eenie, meenie, minie, mo...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1sMA6CrMn1Ij08zvm8Aa1juH4XWhyI10n7R6K4A8GcAGZz27DbP_9-F5Us0JG1GA_VHYj2EIGzAA8B7ZEIHnVMlRJzeyrZOXD6rOfxKrBGkssTOMLy-z62Od1rnWmiqwbiWs9TpvMbaYi/s1600-h/grey-squirrel-eating1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1sMA6CrMn1Ij08zvm8Aa1juH4XWhyI10n7R6K4A8GcAGZz27DbP_9-F5Us0JG1GA_VHYj2EIGzAA8B7ZEIHnVMlRJzeyrZOXD6rOfxKrBGkssTOMLy-z62Od1rnWmiqwbiWs9TpvMbaYi/s320/grey-squirrel-eating1.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>Awww. So cute. Right?<br />
Fuzzy little grey squirrel. What's he eating anyway? A nut? Sure. Nuts abound here in our neighborhood. <br />
Fifty years ago, it used to be a walnut grove. <br />
<br />
Walnut trees spring up in my flower pots all the time where some cute little squirrel has planted them. Sometimes jaccarunda trees too, with their little hard-shelled seed pods. Little gifts. Taking over my pots.<br />
<br />
But they're sweet little things, aren't they? So fuzzy. And grey.<br />
<br />
I feel sorry for them in the rain. I mean, out there in the miserable cold? Looking for that walnut they buried in one of my flower pots? <br />
<br />
Cute Little Squirrel: <em>Now...which one was it</em>? <em>No. Not that one. Not that one... Oh,wait! What's that? Yum! That looks tasty!</em><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKbKZadnfJ_mtjKdMXPy_gvzT3Vq6MVjBxv7mnlZtpu08V8V66cMXNCzN-X19LyRgRyFRr0Ei0jU0Ezv1yAmtbAESJWAXQUcFKS7OMx4A6IEopcOCmQ8QEZZohifejm_llHpKgUkmNkVmH/s1600-h/squirrel_chewed_wire_in_attic_S.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKbKZadnfJ_mtjKdMXPy_gvzT3Vq6MVjBxv7mnlZtpu08V8V66cMXNCzN-X19LyRgRyFRr0Ei0jU0Ezv1yAmtbAESJWAXQUcFKS7OMx4A6IEopcOCmQ8QEZZohifejm_llHpKgUkmNkVmH/s1600/squirrel_chewed_wire_in_attic_S.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>Bleckkkk! Phuttt!</em><br />
</div><br />
Yes, that would be my phone line.<br />
<br />
My phone has been out for almost a week now. My internet is sporadic at best, and works when the rain stops for a while. (Hence my absence on all of your blogs!) I would like to thank that fuzzy grey squirrel who lives in my bottlebrush tree for mistaking my phone line for a walnut. The poor phone repairman is supposed to show up today, in the middle of the worst rain storm in years, to fix my dead line.<br />
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The phone repairman and I would like to send a shout out to you, sweet little grey squirrel.<br />
No, really. Thanks. Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-80119337457678116362010-01-15T18:33:00.000-08:002010-01-15T18:33:28.038-08:00Not Forgotten<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZIAiTmqmIZxp-hFRulkIQrYIqcMCO1skTPzdHOtj04UDrz5sITFwe85CocaSw2PS7g32k5b47OoJS3JU6zbMEIkBluNvBPjLRQA9vALB_zPziEqwOYhv7Bt8Dc_2jmfIagCJaEhA3ryn/s1600-h/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZIAiTmqmIZxp-hFRulkIQrYIqcMCO1skTPzdHOtj04UDrz5sITFwe85CocaSw2PS7g32k5b47OoJS3JU6zbMEIkBluNvBPjLRQA9vALB_zPziEqwOYhv7Bt8Dc_2jmfIagCJaEhA3ryn/s400/images.jpg" /></a><br />
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Even if we can only do something small, that small bit becomes something larger that carries our prayers and hopes with it.Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-80815572837926497672010-01-12T18:27:00.001-08:002010-01-12T19:01:05.221-08:00Imagine<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BPj_npIpjqkmYtroPhNMYmnWYO-hAKq4caLGoWI3ctm0jgcvZUxtG6zqdN4EKy_J7Uh9En_OW36cQLux31RJD-YHK2Xh_P3EdP6E51fcLq-zqbq94U9yzhvrfhwTUj0-wvemGgFpVwP8/s1600-h/wallstreet_01.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 203px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 152px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426052505088002082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BPj_npIpjqkmYtroPhNMYmnWYO-hAKq4caLGoWI3ctm0jgcvZUxtG6zqdN4EKy_J7Uh9En_OW36cQLux31RJD-YHK2Xh_P3EdP6E51fcLq-zqbq94U9yzhvrfhwTUj0-wvemGgFpVwP8/s320/wallstreet_01.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>What if we all just quit banking with them? </div><br /><div></div><div>What if we just stopped using these loan sharks' freaking credit cards and paid cash? </div><br /><div></div><div>What if we let them sink as they've done to us? </div><br /><div></div><div>What if we took control of our destinies? </div><div> </div><div>What if we did? </div><div> </div><div>Then, what might happen?</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-7356606879594244812010-01-10T06:55:00.000-08:002010-01-10T09:21:29.048-08:00Smoke Signals<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqDJbxqT9I5dLUGsSI81bcI15uNJeBn-36J21T5MwaNNGWSiOt6bhjndfQpalebQYQxsESOlNlRe_8bdEbG3_-rQPRvbGlTZ6WXrK6qixr0RWfjhcdFShJIIM7QU4hXjYoO558sDYPsDk/s1600-h/smoke-signal-indian.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425138164967411362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqDJbxqT9I5dLUGsSI81bcI15uNJeBn-36J21T5MwaNNGWSiOt6bhjndfQpalebQYQxsESOlNlRe_8bdEbG3_-rQPRvbGlTZ6WXrK6qixr0RWfjhcdFShJIIM7QU4hXjYoO558sDYPsDk/s320/smoke-signal-indian.jpg" /></a><br /><div><strong>Cybermation.</strong> \n. <em>cy-ber-ma'-shun</em> [2010] - facts perported on the world wide web; 2. \v. <em>broadly </em>: the validation of facts through cyber-means. </div><br /><div>I'm inventing a new word. (At least, I think I am.)</div><br /><div>Have you heard this word before? No, me either. But I think it's a valid word. And maybe it will end up in the lexicon someday as we're all doing it. </div><br /><div>Need a restaurant? Look it up on the web.</div><div>Need to know who played Clarence in It's A Wonderful Life?" Google it.</div><div>Need a map to a job interview? Yahoo map it.</div><div>What the heck kind of bug is that crawling up my rose bush? Who knew garden clubs have websites!!</div><div>What's for sale on E-bay? <em>Forgetaboutit!</em> <strong>Hours</strong> are gone in a blink<em>.</em></div><br /><div>Oh, I've done it all. I don't have the phone yet that has the touch screen or the fun keyboard, (I'm still in the Stone Ages with my little AT&T ABC keyboard.) But at work or home, I rarely call 411 anymore. I look it up on the web. And once you discover this treasure trove of information at your fingertips, it's hard to stop . Some of us are a little obsessive. </div><br /><div>I'm not naming names. </div><div>No, I'm not.</div><br /><div>But along with all this wonderful access, I wonder if our own common sense is in danger of being trumped by the common opinion. </div><br /><div>For example:</div><br /><div>I was standing in a store line the other day with a woman who began chatting with me as she picked up a Mommy book for her daughter who was due to deliver this woman's first grandchild soon. We started talking about all the 'do's and don'ts' that have suddenly changed the face of pregnancy for our daughters. Mostly don'ts. <em>Don't eat soft cheese. No fish. Don't sleep on your back. No this, no that</em>. </div><br /><div>Our daughters, both recenly pregnant had signed onto birth clubs online. And they had access to copious amounts of information that we'd never heard of wayyyyy back when we ourselves had had babies. How did our children ever survive without all of these warnings heeded?? </div><br /><div>We found ourselves laughing in that store line. Not that we were discounting this new information, but that we often found our own experience as moms trumped by online opinion.</div><br /><div>The other day, my grandson had his first runny nose. Here's how that went:</div><div></div><div>"I think the baby has a cold," she said.</div><br /><div>"Maybe it's a cold," I suggested, "or maybe he's just teething." </div><br /><div>"Teething doesn't have anything to do with a runny nose, Mom."</div><br /><div>"Where did you hear that?"</div><br /><div>"Online. Doctors say it has nothing to do with teething."</div><br /><div>"Hmmm. You guys always got little runny noses when you had a new tooth breaking through."</div><br /><div>"No, mom. That's just wrong information. Maybe an old wives' tale."</div><br /><div><em>Was it? Wait a minute... It couldn't be just me... (And did she just call me an old--? Never mind.)</em></div><br /><div>"Wait," I said, stepping into her camp, "let me look it up."</div><br /><div>Naturally, I Googled. And I found information to back up my claim. Yet, even as I'm doing this, I'm laughing to myself. Why do I need the internet to back up my own experience as a mom? (And to be fair, I found information to back up her claim as well. )</div><br /><div>I forwarded her my carefully selected quote. She emailed me back a consession. We both laughed. And as soon as that darned tooth broke through, his nose miraculously stopped running. </div><br />Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it <em>is</em> an old wives' tale. In the end, it wasn't really about who was right and who was wrong. It was either a cold or not a cold.<br /><br />But it really made me think: am I <em>actually</em> second guessing my own real-life experience in favor of the common opinion??<br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div> </div><div>I love the internet. </div><div>The internet is scary.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div> </div><div>Now, excuse me while I google that pancake recipe I saw the other day online...</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-38731700373292801672010-01-03T18:19:00.000-08:002010-01-03T20:43:47.907-08:00Our Christmas Vacation ( Part Deux)(Part II)<br />
Tucson was amazing and seeing my sister, Anne, again was so fun. But, then, we were off to New Mexico to accomplish the real reason we packed ourselves up in our car and drove 900 miles.<br />
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<em>The official cuddling our Grandson on his first Christmas</em>!<br />
<br />
We were lucky enough to be invited out to spend that first Christmas with our son-in-law's family (it was their turn this year to get the kids) . Our in-laws were wonderful hosts. We arrived on Christmas Eve when the whole family gathered to exchange gifts with our son-in-law's dad and step-mom.<br />
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(Note: Yes, that IS an entire buffalo hide draped over the back of the couch!) <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiss9Zs2n-mkz515WqfcOAkowvpqILdJkH50X1FbWq9vb_DXLG8ZWR4FJSwoNy6Kg2zAUJDHBp2Dfej-PEJDbpyz0aeMBG8JVygvpVCa4IpjBoEHJQbPL3eacwlZQB5_q9V22jrjtyNgVat/s1600-h/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiss9Zs2n-mkz515WqfcOAkowvpqILdJkH50X1FbWq9vb_DXLG8ZWR4FJSwoNy6Kg2zAUJDHBp2Dfej-PEJDbpyz0aeMBG8JVygvpVCa4IpjBoEHJQbPL3eacwlZQB5_q9V22jrjtyNgVat/s320/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20017.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>They had the biggest tree I'd ever seen in a house. And probably the highest ceilings. A real New Mexico casa. Beautiful, with great views of these:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm76dSKgJ9_xGDWs-KMUa_qVyfZ_xxdu3aA7KC0l-xIdabIWIeDjvAqjfDyNmydCiD8sw63TG-W9LdeyLhmZt_J8YWkIl3BP9sX_kWv6rqEHrs0jvUlGCKrrqCWK7rqkGMKBwqlVgTIA1V/s1600-h/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm76dSKgJ9_xGDWs-KMUa_qVyfZ_xxdu3aA7KC0l-xIdabIWIeDjvAqjfDyNmydCiD8sw63TG-W9LdeyLhmZt_J8YWkIl3BP9sX_kWv6rqEHrs0jvUlGCKrrqCWK7rqkGMKBwqlVgTIA1V/s320/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20028.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here was our first glimpse.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(Gasp!)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And later, our second.<br />
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</div>These beauties, called the Organ Mountains, (supposedly, because they resemble pipe organs) were, by then, tinted pink with the sunset, and when the sun finally went down, the stars blanketed overhead across a black sky. I tilted my head back, tempted to break into Don Maclean's "Starry, Starry Night!"<br />
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Thankfully for all involved, I refrained.<br />
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I wish I could have gotten a shot of that, because you really haven't seen the night sky until you've seen it in New Mexico. (Well, maybe you have. But not if you live in L.A.) But my camera wasn't quite up to that task of capturing it. Sigh. I'll just have to rely on my starry sky memories.<br />
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The real star of the show, however, was the little boo. (er, Ryan). Here he is opening presents. <br />
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</div>Being the one and only granchild, he was showered with toys, clothes, books and hugs. He had fun. Particularly with this:<br />
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</div>This yummy doggie he received for Christmas from his parents is strangely reminiscent of the one we got our daughter on her first Christmas. (see below)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(Note: Please try to overlook my hubby's yowsa striped bathrobe, circa 1980 in the background. It's hard I know. There's no accounting for 1980's fashion taste.)<br />
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Can you see the resemblence? It's in the smile. Whew, that takes me back!<br />
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But I digress.<br />
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</div>So, over the next two days, the 'boys' played tackle football (and could hardly move the next day), went skeet shooting (bruised their shoulders and thumbs) and generally accomplished male bonding. <br />
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The girls cooked, shopped and visited the old-town square. (where Billy the Kid was reputedly incarcerated and shot down by Pat Garret!) The town looks almost exactly the same as it did then, with old adobe buildings and original glass windows. La Mesilla was beautifully decorated for Christmas with paper bag luminarias on every rooftop and sidewalk.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">That was gorgous. And then we all had wonderful New Mexican food. <br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Ry was happy.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">He really enjoyed his sippy cup lid.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">And we enjoyed him. <br />
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</div>All in all, it was a fabulous trip with only one (minor) speeding ticket involved. ( FYI: In Arizona, if you see one of those radar jeeps with its antennae up, don't think for a second they aren't watching you. They're armed with cameras, baby!) But it was a small price to pay. We had fun.<br />
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Hope your holidays were wonderful and filled with relaxation, friends, family and fun!<br />
xoxox B<br />
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</div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-64829883381775561522009-12-31T10:02:00.000-08:002009-12-31T10:02:47.382-08:00What We Did On Our Christmas Vacation<div><br />
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<div>Helllloooooooo!<br />
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Yes, I know it's been a long time, (if anyone noticed) but like so many of you, I was off doing the Christmas holidays with family. I hope your Christmas or holiday was wonderful.<br />
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This year, for the first time EVER, we were not at home for Christmas. No waking up to our little tree packed with presents. No, this time we hit the road to meet our daughter, grandson (for his first Christmas!) and son-in-law and at his family's digs in New Mexico!<br />
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</div>We drove (very unlike us!) and managed to get our other grown son, (Brian) to come along. It was a blast! So I thought (for part one of this post) I'd give you a taste of what we saw along our way. These amazing windmills cover several hillsides of Southern California. Like for miles. They're 100 feet tall and generate a lot of power for us, apparently.<br />
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(Please inform So.Cal Edison. Thank you.)<br />
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</div>The desert is so beautiful. So stark. So serene. We passed these giant boulders poised atop one another as if someone was playing Lincoln logs with them and lost interest. (Please ignore the reflection in the window. No, that's not actually a GPS holder in the sky.) <br />
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For those who've ever been to Disneyland, (or Disney World), don't they remind you of Thunder Mountain? Maybe the designers drove through these parts and thought, 'Hmmm. Wouldn't they make a terrific rollar coaster ride?'<br />
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We stopped for the night at my sister, <a href="http://aginglite.blogspot.com/">Anne's</a> house on the way out. She lives in beautiful Arizona and has all kinds of fun stuff to entertain us. Thank you, Anne! We had so much fun.<br />
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There were mule-drawn wagon-rides to see the Christmas lights!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">How fun was that?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kVa4T8xtTlVoiqln83kbyQIoKqhERrKb9zpCE33PSSndZWLh9t_Ou9FEJAINOARgpQfeX5nJB6J9zDdVb_IYMnFdQ2EgGvcaexw9UeC3w3NOMuEz17A-6S-i1vHUv7b5ee8S1ZYFIU-j/s1600-h/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kVa4T8xtTlVoiqln83kbyQIoKqhERrKb9zpCE33PSSndZWLh9t_Ou9FEJAINOARgpQfeX5nJB6J9zDdVb_IYMnFdQ2EgGvcaexw9UeC3w3NOMuEz17A-6S-i1vHUv7b5ee8S1ZYFIU-j/s320/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20004.jpg" /></a><br />
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These two stood patiently as we all oogled them. <br />
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<em>"Try to ignore them, Wilber. They're tourists...."</em> <br />
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</div>And beautiful light displays.<br />
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Then, there were Anne's horses, who were much more friendly....<br />
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Here's me and Smokey getting reaquainted. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo20zGmAc_z4X13_KYVU5c-bvW8vPnJxmGLFvn92Sc9MSIKzJ18YbE4ykBQ-GcYy5ZaP71f2IC4IMStL0Di1uGTpSeoWoSeKrganaFZ327OrSyVeriHmqqmcb9164yyTQrGeGeFbwfNO5d/s1600-h/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo20zGmAc_z4X13_KYVU5c-bvW8vPnJxmGLFvn92Sc9MSIKzJ18YbE4ykBQ-GcYy5ZaP71f2IC4IMStL0Di1uGTpSeoWoSeKrganaFZ327OrSyVeriHmqqmcb9164yyTQrGeGeFbwfNO5d/s320/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20060.jpg" /></a><br />
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He was kind enough to let us city slickers ride him.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuDIYRySa4CAyvM_NbPMEAWHzWIqAIc_91Sk5f9XtQCqrOYfCsTXAoYncxPykuzWx2z0sF7QRXuqj6EBeYrmQdl03tipDD6Z8nt_GkDIzokeRe1rANpJXB2IeUCFGoVTqdwsdwK6W_Vd2/s1600-h/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuDIYRySa4CAyvM_NbPMEAWHzWIqAIc_91Sk5f9XtQCqrOYfCsTXAoYncxPykuzWx2z0sF7QRXuqj6EBeYrmQdl03tipDD6Z8nt_GkDIzokeRe1rANpJXB2IeUCFGoVTqdwsdwK6W_Vd2/s320/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20064.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>That's me, giving Smokey's mom, Hershey, mixed signals with my knees: Run! What? NO!<br />
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Hershey: "<em>Make up your mind, will ya</em>?!"<br />
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Here's my honey, David, and Anne.<br />
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</div>Please take note of the posture difference. The <strike>wild flailing arms</strike> glee on one side, the relaxed 'this is fun' posture on the other. Yes, those horses were patient with us. Paticularly Smokey, the calm one. We all got to ride and it was wonderful.<br />
Then, my son got to do this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUymMg5E3frI5VZT9hC1NS9c_AxBpgqR2aGhrr37Kq6jHCMCGU1TMUHml_0s4L0-QN3QFmqAJZeWgzDDfh53i02v_38-mUF1gfn__D6vWXl-SsYhiXMmDML97iF7kRKIDY88FslD-6QDfN/s1600-h/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUymMg5E3frI5VZT9hC1NS9c_AxBpgqR2aGhrr37Kq6jHCMCGU1TMUHml_0s4L0-QN3QFmqAJZeWgzDDfh53i02v_38-mUF1gfn__D6vWXl-SsYhiXMmDML97iF7kRKIDY88FslD-6QDfN/s320/Christmas%20in%20New%20Mexico%20079.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div>That's right, baby. He drove Ann's hubby's vintage tractor! He was set for the trip after that. He couldn't stop grinning.<br />
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And because I know you have trees to dismantle, parades to watch and hours to kill doing more important things, that's all for now. <br />
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Part duex of our BIG CHRISTMAS ADVENTURE to come next! <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Happy New Year!</span> To all of you. <br />
I hope (<em>and I sincerely mean this</em>) that 2010 is a MUCH better year for all of us! See you in the new year!<br />
Love & Hugs<br />
B<br />
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</div></div></div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-62374779017958591672009-12-22T22:03:00.000-08:002009-12-22T22:03:39.073-08:00Merry Christmas, my friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmp060wai5Auy4W83Rz2OEGBOpcxzjD5A_08Wxmp0_fIgJkqYa3gixbxmUWphGxMNBee9Vj-8tpeK6p0KfO2C80DgJegUoNhZoAroxKcht1zfstHQwbKKK9FPpQVqHFyTYD0jZwnE0UE58/s1600-h/vintage-christmas-ornaments.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmp060wai5Auy4W83Rz2OEGBOpcxzjD5A_08Wxmp0_fIgJkqYa3gixbxmUWphGxMNBee9Vj-8tpeK6p0KfO2C80DgJegUoNhZoAroxKcht1zfstHQwbKKK9FPpQVqHFyTYD0jZwnE0UE58/s320/vintage-christmas-ornaments.jpg" /></a><br />
</div> <span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Merry Christmas to all of my </span></span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">wonderful blogging friends! </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">You all have been one of my best and most surprising gifts this year. Wouldn't it be fun if we could all </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">get together and have a Christmas cookie or two?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">But in lieu of that, let me just say that you are, </span><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">each of you, so special to me. And I thank you for sharing </span><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">a little piece of your precious time with me. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> Have a safe, wonderful, joyous holiday! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;"> Love, Barbara</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">PS. - Be back soon!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-23653832302836313142009-12-20T18:19:00.000-08:002009-12-20T18:19:57.939-08:00For Renee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNK7MkJg_SELeiuH40ythHMIz8WXuCLD4aU0MnIeb2A7iAGLouMM9yDI9xG47Cf9PBszLD8ne91o761deYK4VQJC2Sy6rFJSx-dQ3uYJooC5Dt6oH71ObxURM4AHnVGRqS9DsK1W02cBv/s1600-h/Christmas-angel-798216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNK7MkJg_SELeiuH40ythHMIz8WXuCLD4aU0MnIeb2A7iAGLouMM9yDI9xG47Cf9PBszLD8ne91o761deYK4VQJC2Sy6rFJSx-dQ3uYJooC5Dt6oH71ObxURM4AHnVGRqS9DsK1W02cBv/s400/Christmas-angel-798216.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <br />
<br />
This Christmas Angel is for you, sweet <a href="http://circlingmyhead.blogspot.com/">Renee.</a> <br />
<br />
Please know that you are in my thoughts and prayers. <br />
<br />
If you want to visit Renee and add to the hundreds of wishes rising up <br />
<br />
please follow her link and leave a message. She can use all of <br />
<br />
our prayers. And if we all shout, maybe someone <br />
<br />
will listen to reason.<br />
</div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-45612799509532161272009-12-19T07:19:00.000-08:002009-12-19T07:19:15.075-08:00Be Kind To Yourself<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3P5-6bBwMYge-TSfXmmbcoz1Je6lLJrSLbHmg4ubustf15DQmue5czDd9XWPiLIk5UvdQ1CI72o2Y5HYwy3EtruBUhN4Rq6uhhRAYoZHBDwp615aezTnYqydnvQ3CDAxo3XrLaNjTKVfp/s1600-h/shapeimage_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3P5-6bBwMYge-TSfXmmbcoz1Je6lLJrSLbHmg4ubustf15DQmue5czDd9XWPiLIk5UvdQ1CI72o2Y5HYwy3EtruBUhN4Rq6uhhRAYoZHBDwp615aezTnYqydnvQ3CDAxo3XrLaNjTKVfp/s200/shapeimage_2.jpg" /></a>Do you make resolutions? New Years or otherwise? How do you feel about them? Do you find yourself let down at the end of the year when you don't achieve your goals? Or does your list make you work harder to accomplish things? Do goals set your direction for the next year or do you drift along waiting for fate to find you?<br />
</div><br />
I'm a believer in goals. But I've never been a writer of lists-- mostly because I inevitably lose them, and then I feel like an idiot for doing it. I keep my lists in my head. (Although, I confess, that is a less and less efficient system considering C.R.S has set in. (Can't Remember, uh, Stuff.) Or maybe it's system overload. "<em>The hard drive is temporarily inaccessible."</em> Whatever the reason, lists are starting to be more appealing. And according to Oprah and the other 'experts' out there, the very act of writing a goal down imprints it into your psyche or <em>shoots</em> the request out into the Universe to be fulfilled by the Wish Gremlins and... yeah, never mind...<br />
<br />
Maybe it's too early to begin thinking about goals for next year, but today, it occurred to me that (thankfully!) 2009 is wrapping up. And just as I began to feel depressed about the time wasted this year, the things left undone, I began looking back over the year I realized that I actually accomplished a lot this year. I:<br />
<ul><li><strong> graduated from Grad School</strong></li>
<li><strong>rewrote my screenplay 4,391 times. (</strong>okay I may be exaggerating that a bit. It just feels like that.)</li>
<li><strong>published another book</strong></li>
<li><strong>welcomed a grandson into the world</strong> (while that was a deam of mine, my darling daughter did all the work on that one...)</li>
<li><strong>learned to Skype.</strong></li>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWLMzHbhFv94FuIvSNbYf0E-NOZeRBntRRMkEQ-R0WWe4TRuuiBe5FrvZFQ2ZKZAzNtvwIXpITLL4o_jJZckhrxKNGVYANpArFUgT2tFN6SM21tG_IvI_MC-hC21OmD7I0FUi9AncoBz7Q/s1600-h/catbath-main_Full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWLMzHbhFv94FuIvSNbYf0E-NOZeRBntRRMkEQ-R0WWe4TRuuiBe5FrvZFQ2ZKZAzNtvwIXpITLL4o_jJZckhrxKNGVYANpArFUgT2tFN6SM21tG_IvI_MC-hC21OmD7I0FUi9AncoBz7Q/s200/catbath-main_Full.jpg" /></a>
</div><li><strong>survived the horrid economy (</strong>Yeah,...that would be me on the right<strong>.</strong> Should've seen<strong> that</strong> one coming...)</li>
<li><strong>got a full time (office) job for the first time in 30 years.</strong></li>
<li><strong>and have managed to survive 3 months of crazy law office stress.</strong></li>
<li><strong>realized that everything (including this job) comes for a reason and I'm learning a lot.</strong></li>
</ul><strong> </strong>I guess we all tend to be hard on ourselves this time of year when things haven't gone as planned. But making this list of accomplishments made me feel better than looking at the things I'd left undone. And it gave me a starting point for my next year's list. <br />
<br />
Oh, there will be things on that one, too, that will go undone. But next year, I'm gonna write another list of the great things that happened and not beat myself up too much for the other stuff. <br />
<br />
Hope you all have a wonderful, blessed Holiday, however you celebrate it, and I wish you all bright 2010 with lists of dreams realized.Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-5802764974577432382009-12-09T18:58:00.000-08:002009-12-09T22:00:00.398-08:00Wrecking Ball Dreams<strong>Tap, tap, tap</strong>...<br /><br />[silence]<br /><br /><strong>Knock, knock, knock...</strong><br /><br />[crickets]<br /><br /><strong>Higher Self:</strong> <strong>Hello?? Is anyone in there?</strong><br /><br />Lower Self (er, me): Oh. You talkin' to me?<br /><br /><strong>Higher Self:</strong> <strong>Uh, actually, yes. I've been trying to get your attention.</strong><br /><br />Me: Wow. How long have you been standing there knocking?<br /><br /><strong>Higher Self:</strong> <strong>A while.</strong><br /><br />Me: Sorry. I've been a little busy.<br /><br /><strong>Higher Self:</strong> <strong>Yeah, apparently you didn't get my message the other night either.</strong><br /><br />Me: Message? Uh, no, I--<br /><br /><strong>Higher Self:</strong> <strong>In the dream, <em>the dream</em>! You know the one where you were in the roomful</strong> <strong>of babies? </strong><br /><br />Me: <em>Babies</em>? Well, maybe there were babies. Hey, you're not suggesting--<br /><br /><strong>Higher Self</strong>: <strong>No, no, nothing like that. You're being literal.</strong><br /><br />Me: Oh.<br /><br /><strong>Higher Self:</strong> <strong>So you remember, in the dream, how your boss kissed your </strong><strong>forehead,</strong> <strong>smiled benevolently and said, "You should do </strong><strong>that." (indicating the babies)</strong><br /><br />Me: (<em>Eyeing <strike>Self-Righteous</strike> Higher Self suspiciously</em>) I should become a nanny?<br /><br /><strong>Higher Self:</strong> <strong>Try to focus.</strong><br /><br />Me: Okay. I'm focused. Like a laser beam. Just spit it out, will you?<br /><br /><strong>Higher Self:</strong> <strong>The babies. They're not...<em>babies</em>. They're ideas. The birth of</strong> <strong>something </strong><strong>creative. </strong><strong>You remember creative...right?</strong><br /><br />Me: Creative.... Uh, huh.... Those 'babies' don't come cheap, you know? And like I said, I'm a little busy right now.<br /><br /><strong>Higher Self:</strong> <strong>Hey, I'm not concerned with minutae that blocks your path.</strong><br /><br />Me: Path, schmath... I'm getting a regular paycheck. I don't have time for "babies." (<em>grandson excluded</em>)<br /><br /><strong>Higher Self:</strong> <strong>(<em>Smiling pitiably at it's lower common denominator</em>.) If</strong> <strong>the knocking's not</strong> <strong>loud </strong><strong>enough, I can arrange for a</strong> <strong>wrecking ball...</strong><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">Me: Is this all about that finished novel manuscript I'm not submitting? Because I'm not scared if that's what you think. I'm not. Of rejection.And ego battering "this was really close for me" letters, or reminders about how hard the publishing biz is these days. And when I say'finished' that's merely a figurative statement. It needs a 5,365th rewrite.<br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"><strong>Higher Self:</strong> <strong>Two words: Minutae, excuses. That's all I have to say.</strong><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">Me: Well, thank God you're done. I'm sure all the people out there reading this are glad, too.<br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">Higher Self: <strong>I'm gonna keep sending the baby dreams.</strong><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">Me: I know. </div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-15125772320784429342009-12-03T07:15:00.000-08:002009-12-03T06:59:49.734-08:00On Blooming<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyXA_FDr9qA_y9q_g0AZiO-M_ye6OuI7ARnZd7eKi2FDP7KcLr7muThwiD5XnMt83AhYe9MW9hyIWlJcp19AWwWseRvt1XkmJoCZvW7NbnxGdYw7i5EpaWQreA-nlAH4nn-ZE9raNHAiT/s1600-h/frog%2520hanging%2520on%2520for%2520dear%2520life.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyXA_FDr9qA_y9q_g0AZiO-M_ye6OuI7ARnZd7eKi2FDP7KcLr7muThwiD5XnMt83AhYe9MW9hyIWlJcp19AWwWseRvt1XkmJoCZvW7NbnxGdYw7i5EpaWQreA-nlAH4nn-ZE9raNHAiT/s320/frog%2520hanging%2520on%2520for%2520dear%2520life.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411016792664737250" /></a><br /><br />This was my day yesterday.<br />This will probably be my day today.<br />But, hey. Someday, that damn flower has to bloom to give me somewhere to sit.<br /><br />Right?<br /><br />Peace, BarbaraBarbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-17036566108858070262009-12-03T06:50:00.001-08:002009-12-03T07:00:27.394-08:00Thank You!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQxAr5Zm9PPTptwtUj_DdcVFJ5Rctd3uAipDcFrgelgr_8vDLYDkGC8z5AVB4dYFTkJxla6vm21Lp54TISHRqe3DU9o6hRjL3oJlXOmuOwBd8jf4UDtoAs9B-X-cnY0b50IN0LlbLZKXh/s1600-h/happy-dog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 307px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQxAr5Zm9PPTptwtUj_DdcVFJ5Rctd3uAipDcFrgelgr_8vDLYDkGC8z5AVB4dYFTkJxla6vm21Lp54TISHRqe3DU9o6hRjL3oJlXOmuOwBd8jf4UDtoAs9B-X-cnY0b50IN0LlbLZKXh/s320/happy-dog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411024034422241394" /></a><br />To all of you who have sweetly stopped by my DH's blog (see below) and/or became a follower, thank you so much! I love you guys! You really made his week. <br /><br />Now, if you'll excuse me, I just have to go wrestle the computer away from him. :p)Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-73683544173098428912009-11-28T09:41:00.000-08:002009-11-28T10:12:29.249-08:00Did You Know?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7og-qxqtdPzySdRVO-QOWaTDd3wh4GtYxmD3ptOi5b-_XMzkUys0uWQS7TZBbYydmuIHTguNqjZhhdQpa1y6m0VVE3gKF3gk9ZvN5K6ez-uCZA-1Th2rGGndka2_E_IX7zHi1EwlcvZgm/s1600/wedge2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7og-qxqtdPzySdRVO-QOWaTDd3wh4GtYxmD3ptOi5b-_XMzkUys0uWQS7TZBbYydmuIHTguNqjZhhdQpa1y6m0VVE3gKF3gk9ZvN5K6ez-uCZA-1Th2rGGndka2_E_IX7zHi1EwlcvZgm/s320/wedge2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409215491183155362" /></a><br />Are you a STAR WARS fan? Or maybe your significant other is. Or your son. All I know is that pretty every man who's lived in the last three decades has been touched by George Lucas's Ode to Joseph Campbell's HERO'S JOURNEY in one life-altering way or another. <br /><br />For some, it's like an answer to all questions, like THE GODFATHER is to others. Funny, huh? I mean, I loved STAR WARS and everything, but never totally understood the fanaticism that went along with it.<br /><br />However, when my son was young, he began watching it like so many others: A LOT! We had pretty much every new version of the series that came out, from video tape to DVD with Special Features. He loved them all.<br /><br />But somewhere around the time when he was almost 7 or 8, my husband casually mentioned that he had played a part in STAR WARS. He'd done a voice of one of the stand-out minor characters.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYDdv-KBD0qzkHQ70bWpepL6QYLVGkFv8nd3XxMrKluDQLrYt7IzVo6guzrYm_mzy0HF3MhrSjZq6941K4tqDBSSmlFnH7OqsRhPMyLLBmIqntZJb4KE9fqZytGVU2nIHSCT_pWMQ6aRh4/s1600/X-Wing%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYDdv-KBD0qzkHQ70bWpepL6QYLVGkFv8nd3XxMrKluDQLrYt7IzVo6guzrYm_mzy0HF3MhrSjZq6941K4tqDBSSmlFnH7OqsRhPMyLLBmIqntZJb4KE9fqZytGVU2nIHSCT_pWMQ6aRh4/s320/X-Wing%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409215744613846050" /></a><br /><br /><br />I remember my son just staring at his dad blankly, like WHAT???!!! How could you keep this from me??<br /><br />So we played his part back and, for the first time, my son heard his DAD'S VOICE COMING OUT OF THIS STAR FIGHTER'S MOUTH!<br /><br />To say it was a happy surprise would be an understatement and thereafter, our son's friends would drift in with disbelief.<br /><br />Later (much later) we would learn that there are whole websites devoted to this character on the Internet, fan sites, etc... A few years ago, my husband began doing celebrity signings at STAR WARS Thirty Year Anniversary conventions, and Comicon shows, traveling to London and Japan among other amazing places. He's had a lot of fun with it.<br /><br />This is all to say that if you're interested in that world, or in the world of Hollywood, (My husband's other love) I'm so happy to say that he's started his own BLOG!! It's called <a href="http://www.speakingofhollywood.blogspot.com/">Speaking of Hollywood</a>. Please tell your Star Wars fanatics to go say hello and maybe learn something they didn't know about STAR WARS, or the crazy world of Hollywood. Hope you enjoy it!Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-47726045438916124232009-11-26T07:53:00.000-08:002009-11-26T08:00:07.281-08:00HAPPY THANKSGIVING!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSRvj5iJyVJqiSFBInVwhVieXMi1f1WArI53Ekja3EKZ5k3CYW4v02HB4FkttIjzPaqZ6tQqSLPEH5aeMwi28VyyAYbKZObhCHFLlB5008wTpRUUb3OvkXpjl-OGS87Mxa1uAo4A2BLfW/s1600/Cats+012.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSRvj5iJyVJqiSFBInVwhVieXMi1f1WArI53Ekja3EKZ5k3CYW4v02HB4FkttIjzPaqZ6tQqSLPEH5aeMwi28VyyAYbKZObhCHFLlB5008wTpRUUb3OvkXpjl-OGS87Mxa1uAo4A2BLfW/s320/Cats+012.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408441424364199378" /></a><br /><br />My honey and I are cozying up, baking pies, turkey and the fixings. (The cats? They're just cozying up...) But wanted to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving before the day passes us by and to let you know how thankful I am to have you all in my life. I hope your day is full of love, family and yummy food! <br /><br />Blessings to you and your family.<br /><br />xoxo BarbaraBarbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621147415267298912.post-17509052633143594772009-11-22T09:23:00.001-08:002009-11-22T14:08:27.901-08:00It's In The DNA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-EBQfebuk809YzijAWYHuEjiwLU8S8mTuJlxBEH07O6p7bwYiw53_keIs7yThogYB4ejtDGDG-96SRYWufk0zekXLYmh2RiWvy_yN8InmzSg88qY1PVJwQKnqv1Zd3erl2cabzZxUlXl4/s1600/theatre_tickets_250x251.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-EBQfebuk809YzijAWYHuEjiwLU8S8mTuJlxBEH07O6p7bwYiw53_keIs7yThogYB4ejtDGDG-96SRYWufk0zekXLYmh2RiWvy_yN8InmzSg88qY1PVJwQKnqv1Zd3erl2cabzZxUlXl4/s320/theatre_tickets_250x251.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406981699944774818" /></a><br />Ask anyone. We're the theater family. My kids were going to theater long before any of their friends. They, in turn, have dragged their friends into that wonderful fray, and even some family. Our daughter’s sweet sixteen birthday was a “Beauty and The Beast” (the musical) extravaganza! <br /><br />The first time we met our soon-to-be-son-in-law, we dragged him to his very first musical, "Wicked!", which was premiering in San Francisco (where our daughter lived at the time) before making its run to Broadway. We saw the original cast. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSyKxDps9KKppD03MUXafdFgFfm1uJfODKpf-NevpZf3t95skPF_Nuo7QH7sczlW3wh_XD9zQQWgYbiMMmPcpzCfuDGYQ8Wm2ZsIAOeoTz3TnF-Gq8yiAjRb4KKQ0wAx_-9WjVPuYSYw7/s1600/wicked-the-musical.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSyKxDps9KKppD03MUXafdFgFfm1uJfODKpf-NevpZf3t95skPF_Nuo7QH7sczlW3wh_XD9zQQWgYbiMMmPcpzCfuDGYQ8Wm2ZsIAOeoTz3TnF-Gq8yiAjRb4KKQ0wAx_-9WjVPuYSYw7/s200/wicked-the-musical.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406982209869050754" /></a><br /><br />It was awesome. That was a good start. Our future son-in-law left the theater a little dazed by it all, unsure what he'd just gotten himself into. He was a musical virgin no more. Since then, he's even become enthusiastic about going when we drag him along. It's pretty cute.<br /><br />My husband grew up in a family of actors. His parents were part of the original Pasadena Playhouse, stage actors and film actors, too. So, his transition into that world was almost a foregone conclusion. He became an actor, for many years, then a sit-com writer, finally a talent agent. <br /><br />One of the [few] perks of this job is HOUSE SEATS, BABY!! That means the cast has a certain amount of tickets they give out [<em>or sell</em>] to family, friends, agents... that are usually somewhere around 6th row center. <br /><br />We're totally spoiled. Even on Broadway, we can mostly get these choice seats. If we are ever forced to buy from the box office and sit in the balcony <em>[what??], </em>we whine a little bit. Because, we're...ya know, a little dramatic. <br /><br />It's in the DNA.<br /><br />Last weekend's "Big River" was an example of this whole [free] house seat thing, with the actor playing Jim hoping to go with my husband's talent agency. A kind of audition. He liked him! <br /><br />Last weekend, too, we went to the red carpet opening to see this guy!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfWETOwTTN0Xp4uic2msUfgLXwu5HwXAnzceRgUq_r5pHTN3m7gIdgmjzwnUWI53KRhVSQz3EKOdP2cIN7-BsOaU5m-uFl35bdPBkdy6-SB7TNo_mo2G88W91PCy3FYXIIAl6Ayl_YH-u/s1600/Barb's+Grinch+pics+002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfWETOwTTN0Xp4uic2msUfgLXwu5HwXAnzceRgUq_r5pHTN3m7gIdgmjzwnUWI53KRhVSQz3EKOdP2cIN7-BsOaU5m-uFl35bdPBkdy6-SB7TNo_mo2G88W91PCy3FYXIIAl6Ayl_YH-u/s320/Barb's+Grinch+pics+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406983312366022994" /></a><br /><br />It’s the Christmas season and what’s that without a little Dr. Seuss? Of course, they don’t let you take pictures inside the theater, but you can see a bit of this monument to Art Deco in the background of this shot. It’s amazing. The Grinch was great. Fun for everyone and the cast, amazing.<br /><br />But this weekend, we went to see this gem! Mary Poppins!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2DBmMDL-3G2E6llFscqxvu7_6W18X6hxh7XQlJHh4b4AEGzI92BWRXqHzX1LwVTRXgCX36xehXgbBrtphlwASEokDXOI45AQUYATof629jm_E9iKkm6QITN_oclyWxPsdvRqbociSseFO/s1600/061127_marypoppins_hmed_2p_hmedium.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2DBmMDL-3G2E6llFscqxvu7_6W18X6hxh7XQlJHh4b4AEGzI92BWRXqHzX1LwVTRXgCX36xehXgbBrtphlwASEokDXOI45AQUYATof629jm_E9iKkm6QITN_oclyWxPsdvRqbociSseFO/s320/061127_marypoppins_hmed_2p_hmedium.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406984067730359698" /></a><br /><br />Oh, that plucky Mary Poppins! It was much of the original cast from both London and Broadway, including Mary herself and Bert, <em>[who happens to be married to one of the other cast members, who is my husband's client!] </em>So we got to schmooze backstage afterward with him. He’s totally British and is digging the California Sunshine! So adorable.<br /><br />I’ve seen a lot of musicals, but Mary Poppins has to be one of my all-time faves. There’s this moment, when she’s singing this song, <strong>“Anything can happen if you let it!”</strong> and she sprinkles this sparkly light out over the audience, as if she’s giving us that gift. It was, well, magical.<br /><br />Now, close your eyes, say those words to yourself three times, imagine some twinkly lights tripping over you. And let some of Mary Poppins magic rub off on you, too. <br /><br />Because, "Anything <em>can</em> happen, if you <em>let</em> it."<br /><br />Be kind to yourself, BarbaraBarbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14602177425483410112noreply@blogger.com21