tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22595592761846261252024-02-02T01:10:45.888-08:00More than I could ask or imaginemelindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-17411101619284215712015-09-15T19:26:00.000-07:002015-09-15T19:26:42.777-07:00It was a learning experience, RalphWe called him the little general.<br />
<br />
And there are just so...many...memories.<br />
<br />
Ralph is gone to boss the angels around now.<br />
<br />
Of course he is in a better a place. But it is a better place -- definitely a more organized place -- because Ralph is there.<br />
<br />
ALS took Ralph this week. The death angel of ALS was painfully slow doing his work. More than a year passed with that death eater on Ralph's shoulder. The death eater of Lou Gehrig and the many ice bucket challenge warriors.<br />
<br />
Ralph was not perfect or saintly -- far from it. But he did a lot of good. Helped a lot of people. Answered requests with generosity. Offered a helping hand with a side of practical business advice.<br />
<br />
"If you need to get something done, ask a busy person to do it," Ralph said.<br />
<br />
He was a champion of home missions -- helping those at home, blooming where you're planted and all that, instead of going into the world to preach the gospel. But if you asked him to help pay for your mission trip, he would ante up.<br />
<br />
He loved a good salad -- one with goat cheese and cheddar cheese and nuts and peppers and grapes and boiled eggs and ham and turkey. But that's just what he got at my lunch counter.<br />
<br />
He got fed all over. He loved Vic's fried chicken and all the unhealthy stuff Miss Mary would dish up in the buffet line. Hot cornbread. Potatoes with gravy.<br />
<br />
He loved the golden Eagles. He loved his mother.<br />
<br />
He liked being a televangelist, delivering a Sunday morning lesson on local TV for years. He got a new car on the regular -- but never tried a different model. He delivered molasses and hundred dollar bills at Christmas.<br />
<br />
Every Wednesday, he sent dozens of prayer cards to the sick. Most of the sick people who got those cards couldn't read his handwriting, but they knew he cared.<br />
<br />
He probably bought more raffle tickets and fundraiser candy bars than anybody in Jones County.<br />
<br />
In the months before the end, I did not see him. My bad, my loss, my sin of omission. He would have surely come to see me.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, I write to say goodbye, Ralph.<br />
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Give St. Peter a salute for me. And try to keep things organized.<br />
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-61574079772155586722015-03-12T07:40:00.000-07:002015-03-12T13:07:16.023-07:00A long way … for sure<div class="MsoNormal">
Every morning I wake up with a weird song running through my head.</div>
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Often it’s a praise song that persists for days. That makes sense because -- as Joe Spell once said -- those are 7-11 songs
– the same seven words sung 11 times. </div>
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Of course that gets stuck to your brain.</div>
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Today, however, the song
was the Virginia Slims jingle from the 70s. What the heck?</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUDP-EU4LxFJPhqrHkElwOJQUJfox1tXYUI1RYDn4Ta1t_qiUIRTbmroLSbos9WsU_xF1SVSHoUWCq3dEvQpMM_m64Md6S2AS3tI1glRRAwSWKxa2M2yPKIruSZ5t04lK4QZpY-co70YyO/s1600/c69f6bac19a24c443c4acc9b7353d1a8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUDP-EU4LxFJPhqrHkElwOJQUJfox1tXYUI1RYDn4Ta1t_qiUIRTbmroLSbos9WsU_xF1SVSHoUWCq3dEvQpMM_m64Md6S2AS3tI1glRRAwSWKxa2M2yPKIruSZ5t04lK4QZpY-co70YyO/s1600/c69f6bac19a24c443c4acc9b7353d1a8.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 22px; text-align: start;">Fun fact: </b><span style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 22px; text-align: start;">the</span><b style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 22px; text-align: start;"> Virginia Slims</b><span style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 22px; text-align: start;"> brand</span><b style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 22px; text-align: start;"> </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 22px; text-align: start;">was introduced in 1968 and marketed to young professional women using the slogan "You've come a long way, baby." </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 22px; text-align: start;"> Later campaigns have used the slogans, "It's a woman thing," in the 1990s, and "Find your voice."</span></span></td></tr>
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I haven’t been smoking Virginia Slims. </div>
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The theme of the song
is totally off base.</div>
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Yet still it haunts me.</div>
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<b><i>You’ve come a long way baby</i></b></div>
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<b><i>To get where you got to today</i></b></div>
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<b><i>You’ve got your own cigarette now baby</i></b></div>
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<b><i>You’ve come a long, long way.</i></b></div>
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Lots of things indicate progress for
women: birth control, female church deacons and pastors. Pants, for heaven’s sake. But cigarettes? Not such a great picture of achievement.</div>
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What a smart marketing ploy, though. Who could resist that packaging
with the lovely flower design tattooed around the cigarette?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH4SVkvMTH81gBLik8KZY6rlrJYyNcGFLn0VL3ITnkjV9wbvqsQ7yrf_9bdAWP9gRp0lzhQxwyZ83sUk4b4mp4SA7RuOSVrShz0jcNHtSCI9gIZExnZ_3r8PVp2L639tVNV0Y02lK9jAym/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH4SVkvMTH81gBLik8KZY6rlrJYyNcGFLn0VL3ITnkjV9wbvqsQ7yrf_9bdAWP9gRp0lzhQxwyZ83sUk4b4mp4SA7RuOSVrShz0jcNHtSCI9gIZExnZ_3r8PVp2L639tVNV0Y02lK9jAym/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></div>
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The timed release of the Eve derivation of Virginia Slims was so perfect. I was growing into my feminist teen self – writing term
papers on Title IX and debating topics like abortion and euthanasia in speech
class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> All the while p</span>laying Juliet to my
boyfriend’s Romeo in third period English. </div>
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But why, Virginia, why are you haunting me now? </div>
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I am wiser. Healthier. </div>
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Thanks to Jane Pauley and the Today Show, I know what lungs
look like after you have injected your hazy, sexy smoke into them.</div>
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Jane quit after seeing this. F<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">or me, too, it was a revelation. I</span>t sort of blew the Virginia
Slims ads away.</div>
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So get thee behind me Virginia.</div>
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I’ve come a long, long way.</div>
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melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-89974450098467433892015-03-04T17:53:00.000-08:002015-03-05T06:47:14.272-08:00When you can't get it locally ...It's been a really long week for Toby.<br />
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My good friend Susie and I drove to Ft. Worth last week with Toby in the middle of the ice storm. After we arrived, we found his girlfriend wasn't ready. Whatever the weather, he waited. Of course he was patient.</div>
<div>
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Providing sperm in a strange place has got to be exhausting. Like the vet said: It's not like we can show him doggy porn to get this accomplished.<br />
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So Toby went to Texas for a girl. He was fine with that.<br />
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Girl dog? Not so fine with it. She bared her teeth. She growled. She snarled.<br />
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Toby, standing there with the love of God in his heart, just waited. Girl dog has to be ready, the vet said. So Toby had to stay until she was ready. Isn't that how it always is? Like the country music song says:<br />
"<span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Might as well go on and get used to it</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">She'll take her time 'cause you don't mind</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ccccdd; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Waitin' on a woman.</span>"<br />
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If you really want the story, all I can say is, the union was not consummated. Therefore -- we have something called artificial insemination. We don't care how the sperm reaches the eggs, we just want a Toby puppy.</div>
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Monday and Tuesday, Toby dutifully provided sperm. Today, he got a ride home.</div>
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Susie, who participated in the entire escapade, says Toby needs a hot bath and his teeth brushed. No kidding.</div>
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So when Toby and I took a walk this evening, this sign at a church in my neighborhood just spoke volumes. I hope you, like Toby, will do the same.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissJRYu2l62A-pVMhoJHhv-VYK959DNeLU98dmVtOs5U74MlJryCrk7ZCyvcEuqv20utu71x7iLtgVDA7lbLYy4Gc4-4bwMJuh08o0PYXJ879Clr-_2f_sv1an00twy6YZcrMRg-Zpi-Hk/s1600/IMG_1878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissJRYu2l62A-pVMhoJHhv-VYK959DNeLU98dmVtOs5U74MlJryCrk7ZCyvcEuqv20utu71x7iLtgVDA7lbLYy4Gc4-4bwMJuh08o0PYXJ879Clr-_2f_sv1an00twy6YZcrMRg-Zpi-Hk/s1600/IMG_1878.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Had to add this picture of sweet Baby Mama Greenlee….Cross your fingers for some lovely puppies!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Greenlee the lady who inspired the message: Gone to Texas</td></tr>
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-78798673657151251792014-12-13T05:28:00.000-08:002014-12-13T05:28:27.280-08:00Yes, it really is moreThis day every year -- lucky Dec. 13 -- I ask my friends to say thank you with me.<br />
<br />
Thank you God.<br />
<br />
No really…..<br />
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Thank you.<br />
<br />
Long story short. (As my sister says, and then it's still long.)<br />
<br />
It was a snowy day in Minneapolis. Rachel got her dad's kidney. It took about 8 hours to fit it inside her teeny tiny abdominal cavity.<br />
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Nineteen years later, that kidney is still working like a charm.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJvqHKkoONbfSBgYWQxOA5H_j-18oAimtKFzyDd6uJbUhyphenhyphenvjkW6F9ZtOwjtuGhMfyIOdVMBz14QtY52nMHo4hLfG1DMBf9bVgVZpIEB1tkMUi4GmoGHwUK_8Cb0qVHWU8qtczwqdhGA2g/s1600/1959569_10202895072119661_9183187396965219571_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJvqHKkoONbfSBgYWQxOA5H_j-18oAimtKFzyDd6uJbUhyphenhyphenvjkW6F9ZtOwjtuGhMfyIOdVMBz14QtY52nMHo4hLfG1DMBf9bVgVZpIEB1tkMUi4GmoGHwUK_8Cb0qVHWU8qtczwqdhGA2g/s1600/1959569_10202895072119661_9183187396965219571_n.jpg" height="320" width="249" /></a></div>
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I have to give lots of people credit. Doug Fitzwater, her truly invested pediatric nephrologist in Mississippi. Dr. Tom Nevins, our longtime friend and care-giver in Minneapolis. Dr. Jon Najarian, the surgeon who skillfully inserted hundreds, maybe thousands, of kidneys into the abdomens of tots who came to his world-renown hospital at the University of Minnesota.</div>
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But God gave them all their gifts. And for that we are more than grateful.</div>
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Not long ago Jeff Clark said miracles happen every day -- not usually in a magical, fairytale way, but when people step in and meet a need they see that needs meeting. </div>
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My friends did that in countless ways -- prayer chief among them.</div>
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The doctors. Her donor dad. The hand-holders. Oh the hand-holders …..</div>
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Lori, who I didn't even know at the time, gave me a picture of angels. Tracy Traylor, herself a miracle, fashioned an angel crib ornament. </div>
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There were countless blood-givers and note-writers. There were tree decorators and pound cake-makers. There was Mark McIntosh, who brought me a single serving supper in the hospital room. And Forrest, who called and came by and marveled that anybody could stay in a hospital room with a baby that long. </div>
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There was Elmo. And Cookie Monster.</div>
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All helped with the miracle.</div>
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Thank you.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cFgyI-3LMBNaPGO2I9sJCv-CDWsCe5Uu2qnfYhdVOFXqKRNWxlgG-WlFRaSC_49DvnSs8v_RW6hCNm8Q1CdU8Ga9QKfL3M7dCgEUR2dkHnzipbb1h_ZqDwlY7Dtzip4JlgBNpYqeBbrq/s1600/IMG_2060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cFgyI-3LMBNaPGO2I9sJCv-CDWsCe5Uu2qnfYhdVOFXqKRNWxlgG-WlFRaSC_49DvnSs8v_RW6hCNm8Q1CdU8Ga9QKfL3M7dCgEUR2dkHnzipbb1h_ZqDwlY7Dtzip4JlgBNpYqeBbrq/s1600/IMG_2060.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-54091196135330497952014-08-29T11:15:00.000-07:002014-08-29T11:15:26.269-07:00What a wonderful worldSome people have showy talents. They sing. Or they dance like Andy Perry.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_7vM23C_5ovpuZchTEIaUp9zfnxlOwKsrRA1BOL8lJrjdz5E3AwrZWTvfmDRqoW792eISUSRiV6OhnEm8Ddytf99YW-Y85XjqMVakmHLPhyphenhyphenlv_4HQSf2LNxs4jb_jjZMpzTPIKaNVzn6/s1600/IMG_0088_0124_124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_7vM23C_5ovpuZchTEIaUp9zfnxlOwKsrRA1BOL8lJrjdz5E3AwrZWTvfmDRqoW792eISUSRiV6OhnEm8Ddytf99YW-Y85XjqMVakmHLPhyphenhyphenlv_4HQSf2LNxs4jb_jjZMpzTPIKaNVzn6/s1600/IMG_0088_0124_124.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0PFdLIrWQq6aLqkl3H4KBgQCWSlfDcx8goX_8llVTgXJ1Eg6wnfco0q2boWInLLWZZt5t6X1hlWjo_9XM06-NYQaOz-fS6vVyb6NPwOft6QQ4j_XUKZPh_PYHlu_Wr3_fwRwIewjZEzc/s1600/IMG_0092_0120_120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0PFdLIrWQq6aLqkl3H4KBgQCWSlfDcx8goX_8llVTgXJ1Eg6wnfco0q2boWInLLWZZt5t6X1hlWjo_9XM06-NYQaOz-fS6vVyb6NPwOft6QQ4j_XUKZPh_PYHlu_Wr3_fwRwIewjZEzc/s1600/IMG_0092_0120_120.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SZzLkbj370vhA9mT_0HbU6RKW8gaeou7gGucfK8Jak8PXGRV69ytWlhJysmeWtwzJAgIp3f4Fl8L5DAZfQSf_Fl4jVu7-PmWazM8nbtqafLtInA0lqJp7JQ8_JPDM96qD2H3IQicSAfB/s1600/IMG_0089_0123_123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SZzLkbj370vhA9mT_0HbU6RKW8gaeou7gGucfK8Jak8PXGRV69ytWlhJysmeWtwzJAgIp3f4Fl8L5DAZfQSf_Fl4jVu7-PmWazM8nbtqafLtInA0lqJp7JQ8_JPDM96qD2H3IQicSAfB/s1600/IMG_0089_0123_123.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy teaching the band his pistol dance</td></tr>
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Some people can give a great speech or preach the best sermon, a la Jeff Clark at Venture Church. Some, like my brother-in-law, Gene Hortman, have a knack for remembering details from old movies.<br />
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Others make the best cookies in the world. Clay Taylor's mouth-watering chocolate chip cookies… Man…. Let me just say, it's been too long, Clay. </div>
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Among the guests at my dining table yesterday were two hospice nurse friends. Those ladies, Meg Paul and Elizabeth Guice, have helped many a grieving family say goodbye. A talent for compassion and comforting the dying -- now that's a gift that makes an impact on a pain-filled world.<br />
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The others joining for lunch were no less accomplished. My friend Nan Wilson teaches braille to vision-impaired elementary students. And Melanie Brown collects best friends like I collect used tennis balls -- daily.<br />
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That was the lunch bunch. And I was the only slacker in the crowd. My talents are not so world-changing. Two things I know I am good at: making up rhymes and cutting out block words freehand. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJOZNVZTTWRxJCRXHJdsuDvr29N26xAZ7e-Wy41Bdx-SyKofFlRcQ3h-QDNxaO0iohzavgg-lcqUB0JynHbVjx0MrRGLVCAW1n7tX5UJBsOwadHa0x35CkjMRxk2XD2Tp2xkS_Cr3x0dH/s1600/IMG_4784.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJOZNVZTTWRxJCRXHJdsuDvr29N26xAZ7e-Wy41Bdx-SyKofFlRcQ3h-QDNxaO0iohzavgg-lcqUB0JynHbVjx0MrRGLVCAW1n7tX5UJBsOwadHa0x35CkjMRxk2XD2Tp2xkS_Cr3x0dH/s1600/IMG_4784.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
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Those are weird gifts, I know. I can't quite figure how they fit into a career path. But they do bring a smile.</div>
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Here's an excerpt from yesterday's poem about the birthday girl:</div>
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<i>I find it somewhat refreshing</i><br />
<i>That Tito’s is help for her stressing.</i></div>
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<i>She often wears black, and color she lacks,</i></div>
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<i>When choosing her wardrobe and dressing.</i></div>
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<i>Everyone wants to befriend her.</i></div>
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<i>This lady, the cell phone text sender.</i></div>
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<i>She gives to the needy, but never looks seedy</i></div>
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<i>Instead, oh so stylish and slender.</i></div>
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<i>With ipad ready she stands</i></div>
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<i>And exceeds all her husband’s demands</i></div>
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<i>A true super mama, who faces girl drama,</i></div>
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<i>And on her feet, always she lands.</i></div>
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<i>So here’s to my fellow caffeinist</i></div>
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<i>Who’s a help when you deal with the meanest.</i></div>
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<i>I like her a lot</i></div>
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<i>Cause perfect -- she’s not</i></div>
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<i>And my house is not always the cleanest.</i><br />
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It won't get me a good score on the LSAT or help me sell pianos. But then again, neither would calculus. And poems are a lot more fun.</div>
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melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-30928207402602056462014-04-28T09:11:00.000-07:002014-08-21T09:30:47.557-07:00Double NicklesYesterday was a great day. The sun was shining, the wind was whipping, the tennis ball was dancing all over the place and I felt the love of so many friends.<br />
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First thing in the morning, I went down the hill behind the Seidenburg/Terry/Pulliam cabin in north Alabama to the Little River.<br />
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Looking through the clear water at the tufts of water plants growing on perfectly placed boulders, I thought. Yes. There is a God.<br />
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If anyone doubted, here is even more evidence.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKSHvuD4EVMMq5mjddPWx6hG4LyGVGQp4voqtRTI_R1eks1T1Q_S3Gr1QsqYADTQ0StGIjYkSBjRL4lOD22hA4m3N6ZD6bZmXN-UUr1w_y6-xux83AXDMq64dyoj2ll3T6B1C2zRgIuFuI/s1600/IMG_9964.MOV" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKSHvuD4EVMMq5mjddPWx6hG4LyGVGQp4voqtRTI_R1eks1T1Q_S3Gr1QsqYADTQ0StGIjYkSBjRL4lOD22hA4m3N6ZD6bZmXN-UUr1w_y6-xux83AXDMq64dyoj2ll3T6B1C2zRgIuFuI/s1600/IMG_9964.MOV" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one second on the Little River Falls</td></tr>
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You learn a lot in 55 years, and this could be the most important truth. Everything didn't just happen.</div>
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Here are a few other things I have learned -- not all earth-shaking, but my personal favorites</div>
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1. Condescension and disapproval and judgmentalism never get you anywhere. Unconditional love beats that. Hands down.</div>
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2. Consider the lilies. They don't worry.</div>
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3. Teenagers and babies, even misbehaving ones, are still more in touch with God than cynical adults.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_S0U-3jh4__56FUBuSrOWHkjJOtNWLOLibQ2T9xqbPi5RQ1bqeynGv38k4rBM6jqQxnQLsj7HhIYasOL2xRkuBighJZh63CW45M5w4Afegvl1EK1azdFG9iNSegcNBaZ3uzNlVA9FEKPg/s1600/IMG_9932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_S0U-3jh4__56FUBuSrOWHkjJOtNWLOLibQ2T9xqbPi5RQ1bqeynGv38k4rBM6jqQxnQLsj7HhIYasOL2xRkuBighJZh63CW45M5w4Afegvl1EK1azdFG9iNSegcNBaZ3uzNlVA9FEKPg/s1600/IMG_9932.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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4. Art is our feeble attempt to copy God. Feeble though it is, it's still beautiful.</div>
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5. Generosity trumps greed.</div>
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6. You need to be around unpleasant people sometimes to teach yourself how NOT to act.</div>
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7. God loves everybody. Sometimes it must be hard.</div>
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8. Complaining is unattractive.</div>
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9. Selfishness is like a weed that keeps popping up in weird places. Even after you have poisoned it thoroughly. Keep using the selfishness Roundup.</div>
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10. The road to a friend's house is never too long.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vlkJhQ3iPj9oyzOEpQvfQ8-t-G4gyCHdxjN6PVbyl5oac-rsFWkUnzigycnPxyBjsNlc0pAnA-0oIeo9vWmtP6iMzudtInbZ2CY6Xs3dRyYs3FrF474nPR29QcuETDaw11IK1gidgeHG/s1600/IMG_9986.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vlkJhQ3iPj9oyzOEpQvfQ8-t-G4gyCHdxjN6PVbyl5oac-rsFWkUnzigycnPxyBjsNlc0pAnA-0oIeo9vWmtP6iMzudtInbZ2CY6Xs3dRyYs3FrF474nPR29QcuETDaw11IK1gidgeHG/s1600/IMG_9986.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even if it's 4.5 hours!</td></tr>
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11. Change is a good thing. Embracing it cheers you up. Fighting it frustrates the hell out of everybody. And it's pointless.</div>
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12. Honesty and vulnerability are two of my favorite things to see in a person.</div>
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13. Laughter is the only thing that will keep you sane. Thanks, Drew and Ellie Holcomb, for that song lyric.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLPY9Avv2oppYVaZYewD7QY3WJ_pmXIrnUnkKthdY_7-1SnIZKju8cuRBUCo_iedUB90KD6sLY9V3VbvUUertCrUDUAaKPS9gBCYA-VcUjkTZE2wg8_0_9mgFob7tc6UDa9SgBbyjT_wai/s1600/Drew-Ellie-Holcomb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLPY9Avv2oppYVaZYewD7QY3WJ_pmXIrnUnkKthdY_7-1SnIZKju8cuRBUCo_iedUB90KD6sLY9V3VbvUUertCrUDUAaKPS9gBCYA-VcUjkTZE2wg8_0_9mgFob7tc6UDa9SgBbyjT_wai/s1600/Drew-Ellie-Holcomb.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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14. Music opens the doors of a heart.</div>
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15. Sharing in a friend's deep sorrow paradoxically brings you joy.</div>
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16. Prayer can seem pointless when God knows everything and we don't even know what to ask for. But it's not.</div>
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17. Always keep in mind the body of a friendship before being hurt by a small sneeze of misplaced words.</div>
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18. Pride rears its ugly head all the time. Get out the sword.</div>
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19. Never put an apostrophe in the wrong place. Please.</div>
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20. Try not to be late to tennis.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL0Xd-hbSOlbCm6j2AjXlkSpGciMtki6C3aHWbnjfyKFo3XNfZauWAX36rPpX6tCkH8jvlnICnv4QyK9UDJB6u5gtL7wkHDnznB-5iHR5q2WP_T_G25tTtauCbfF7uKRQdBFk4II0l1CNg/s1600/IMG_7046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL0Xd-hbSOlbCm6j2AjXlkSpGciMtki6C3aHWbnjfyKFo3XNfZauWAX36rPpX6tCkH8jvlnICnv4QyK9UDJB6u5gtL7wkHDnznB-5iHR5q2WP_T_G25tTtauCbfF7uKRQdBFk4II0l1CNg/s1600/IMG_7046.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">True champions</td></tr>
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21. Remember tennis is a game. It's fun to win. But it's really not the only thing.</div>
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22. Pear preserves are awesome. So is sauvignon blanc. But you must use self control.</div>
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23. Stay in the middle. #susiewisdom</div>
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24. Everybody worships God in different ways. Yours is not the only or even the best way. But please do worship.</div>
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25. Listening is a very good skill. Work at it.</div>
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26. Use your talents to make the world a better place. Even if your talent is writing silly poems.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWaJU906KFkLSSqiZqe9SGdqquPHRMdnCLWwS77F-SbEXjyqEOHx_d3WS184RwlwxqyTcI5pe2yyX-rs-4jZm0Lzpy9_kGmeYQ2JIqmcKhIjcgIZ25Fyt9BcNbgcj_ouSWjSLquAHlyRTq/s1600/1063723_536926499677858_1223275306_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWaJU906KFkLSSqiZqe9SGdqquPHRMdnCLWwS77F-SbEXjyqEOHx_d3WS184RwlwxqyTcI5pe2yyX-rs-4jZm0Lzpy9_kGmeYQ2JIqmcKhIjcgIZ25Fyt9BcNbgcj_ouSWjSLquAHlyRTq/s1600/1063723_536926499677858_1223275306_o.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Art by Rick Hurst</td></tr>
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27. Be wise. Exercise. Move around. Have some fun.</div>
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28. The wise man built his house upon the rock.</div>
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29. A dog is definitely man's best friend.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmcrNhqVvFskmCG8rj3houVYUytjmyp7b7qltj5XbNd-WxM4Wc6jjOhB0e4EqXYR_6iQI-dP-Qy-o0KUkbhUtaA24O9CCLpONvw7401GnWoixHkq1rO2f48r02I0IhyyWVffARBk1FKn1/s1600/IMG_4960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmcrNhqVvFskmCG8rj3houVYUytjmyp7b7qltj5XbNd-WxM4Wc6jjOhB0e4EqXYR_6iQI-dP-Qy-o0KUkbhUtaA24O9CCLpONvw7401GnWoixHkq1rO2f48r02I0IhyyWVffARBk1FKn1/s1600/IMG_4960.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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30. Oxford is still God's country.</div>
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31. Never live in the past. Never live through your children.</div>
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32. Make sure to keep your friends watered and fed.</div>
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33. Apologizing is hard.</div>
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34. Children are one of God's best gifts.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AtWSDS7aK0SAHflGVi4MvFetDunaoM_M0c3e-A2E-FzutATu3lFBfoHMcpoC2xGhJz2LDQuYCkOLCtucJ1IUGy8khfxgJGOf9wPclbsKQ8te2TGnzQeWorDN9-m7c1KL_tL-rZ6nP-FL/s1600/unnamed-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AtWSDS7aK0SAHflGVi4MvFetDunaoM_M0c3e-A2E-FzutATu3lFBfoHMcpoC2xGhJz2LDQuYCkOLCtucJ1IUGy8khfxgJGOf9wPclbsKQ8te2TGnzQeWorDN9-m7c1KL_tL-rZ6nP-FL/s1600/unnamed-7.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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35. You feel better when your hair is clean and your nails are done. But don't let that keep you from getting dirty.</div>
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36. Keeping your mouth shut is sometimes the hardest thing. And sometimes impossible. Can I get a guardrail for that?</div>
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37. Screen doors are awesome.</div>
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38. Take people in. </div>
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39. Step out of your box. As often as possible.</div>
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40. It's hard to be brave when you are only a very small animal. Like Piglet. Be brave anyway.</div>
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-83130315455322318992014-01-27T08:50:00.000-08:002014-01-27T08:50:03.826-08:00A little blood, sweat and tearsThis family has been seriously accident-prone these past couple of weeks. And I'm not talking about the usual driveway fender benders or even the occasional encounter with the gates of a gated neighborhood.<br />
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It's really not something to joke about, but you have to laugh to keep from crying.<br />
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Warning: If you are squeamish, walk away from the computer.<br />
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First, bruiser Bob had a collision with the fencepost of the sportsplex tennis courts. He is the least accident-prone of the bunch. He closes open cabinet doors and removes random house shoes from the hallways to avoid breaking a hip. Still, he couldn't stop chasing the tennis ball and the winning point. He left skin from his knees, shoulder and scalp on the court. That's balling.<br />
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Then Mary Katherine managed to slam a sliding glass door on her thumb. She promises this hurt worse than the time she dropped an entire metal locker onto the back of her achilles heel. And I can believe it. Photographs don't lie.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpF7C7i5snmwLz09gharLaGNs6XL3NNuQNJhdkQ4spSPhf153qzwpb3DRQcFLyHpoO-LoDOIGaJVMJ8Va88__blAUcKQnN1Pphcda_wzZfNP_tvrmx01m_NwIiw3SlIMl09YR2ueKBzJi/s1600/IMG_9320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpF7C7i5snmwLz09gharLaGNs6XL3NNuQNJhdkQ4spSPhf153qzwpb3DRQcFLyHpoO-LoDOIGaJVMJ8Va88__blAUcKQnN1Pphcda_wzZfNP_tvrmx01m_NwIiw3SlIMl09YR2ueKBzJi/s1600/IMG_9320.JPG" height="143" width="200" /></a></div>
Then Reagan, one of our favorite cousins, topped off the week with a TERRIBLE head-on collision in Oxford. It is still so fresh and so close and so scary that there are hardly words to describe how grateful we are that he is safe and whole.<br />
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If Nanny were here, she would have been worried sick. But surely she knew, as Ralph Waldo Emerson so eloquently said:<br />
"As soon as there is life, there is danger."<br />
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Or ... here's a less eloquent way to look at it, taken from one of my favorite refrigerator magnets:<br />
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"You can either be a positive example or a horrible warning."<br />
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Here's to making the best things from the worst ones, fam. Be careful out there!<br />
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-222090693566337232014-01-06T13:13:00.002-08:002014-01-06T13:14:39.706-08:00Hail, hail the gang's all hereJanuary, cold and blank and not-yet-filled up, is a great time to take a memory trip. Just a short one. No time for wandering off into valleys and deserts.<br />
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Today, I was looking for a cute pre-school photo to instagram in honor of baby girl's 20th birthday. On the closet floor, I found her favorite childhood book "The Wind in the Willows." She loved it in the same way I like Sunday afternoon golf on TV -- it's such a comforting background for napping.<br />
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"The Wind in the Willows," with its friendly rodent characters, became like a worn baby blanket -- something a toddler could cling to and cherish. We took it to Minneapolis with us when she went for her kidney transplant 18 freezing winters ago. And in a flash of sentimentality, I asked the medics in Minneapolis to leave a note for her in the favorite book.<br />
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Today, I discovered that those notes, written for a two year old, were the perfect well-wishes for a 20th year birthday.<br />
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From our Nigerian housekeeper friend:</div>
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<i> May the Good Lord be with you. I shall continue to remember you in my prayers.</i></div>
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From the lovely woman pediatric nephrologist who was a Mississippi native:</div>
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<i> May your life be filled with rainbows.</i></div>
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From our longtime friend, the good Dr. Nevins: </div>
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<i>Love and prayers for a full life.</i></div>
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Happy 20th Rach!</div>
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-27339362136546468072014-01-02T11:52:00.000-08:002014-01-02T14:00:33.887-08:00It's 2014 y'allBet you couldn't predict last year. I sure couldn't. Thinking back makes me grateful. And really amazed.<br />
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In January, I went to visit my good friend Rhonda in Phoenix.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRiC5uPi9aqqJuOlhk1TeiOt0S2v2rA_V-09PEbjKXMvf9sjgCgi9IWKxmGdpAoVaMv-TbcrtNsVCAb4BQxiRDRC6Q1vtFBVmk5E6l-af69bJO8T92VXsuzd2m0B-4YPS8I5i1QOJc50xf/s1600/IMG_5055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwja4msmL-Xm98mcZ0OG9Xl7ayjy-YcDn1BmmOC8FLthaGYQ8CUft4Ioj65X4JNpCBDi6AIkXrbjS7UFXo2qjGkBOuTPW2xBa7vILZ_IzNDt5vH9x1rx0VYKwCvbAEYTglee3sYs0SqtMu/s1600/IMG_5077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwja4msmL-Xm98mcZ0OG9Xl7ayjy-YcDn1BmmOC8FLthaGYQ8CUft4Ioj65X4JNpCBDi6AIkXrbjS7UFXo2qjGkBOuTPW2xBa7vILZ_IzNDt5vH9x1rx0VYKwCvbAEYTglee3sYs0SqtMu/s200/IMG_5077.JPG" width="119" /></a><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRiC5uPi9aqqJuOlhk1TeiOt0S2v2rA_V-09PEbjKXMvf9sjgCgi9IWKxmGdpAoVaMv-TbcrtNsVCAb4BQxiRDRC6Q1vtFBVmk5E6l-af69bJO8T92VXsuzd2m0B-4YPS8I5i1QOJc50xf/s320/IMG_5055.JPG" width="320" /><br />
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">The highlight was climbing to this Indian cliff dwelling with a wonderful guide, who refused to let me fall off the mountain. Graceful.</span></div>
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Later in the month, Bobby and his team "Hot to Trot" won the chili cook-off in downtown Laurel. The secret ingredient? Bacon! That's almost cheating because bacon makes everything better. But we married them for their cooking ability -- right Carole? (and a few other things).</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Hot to Trot: David Casey, Jim Rasberry, Mike Axton, Bob Gholson -- Mike Attaway went missing!</td></tr>
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As usual, crazy Young Life antics were ongoing at the Gholson house.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheELu1o668G-_-1Pll7EAiKB9lYdEJVDzKmSOQV499v2zhjx2IgaDEk6IrBkjAgjcp7e2wjfZmVX5amhwxo7OdH6OivhV1VD19Js0tmVAZ0PDSrffRAGy7qz6-L9gXM4ukyhTNwvQjpw1j/s1600/IMG_5357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheELu1o668G-_-1Pll7EAiKB9lYdEJVDzKmSOQV499v2zhjx2IgaDEk6IrBkjAgjcp7e2wjfZmVX5amhwxo7OdH6OivhV1VD19Js0tmVAZ0PDSrffRAGy7qz6-L9gXM4ukyhTNwvQjpw1j/s320/IMG_5357.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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We generally make a mess, but hey, that's life -- messy.</div>
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On February 14, lots of precious girls came over for Young Life spa night -- an annual Laurel Young Life tradition. The house never looked more beautiful, thanks to sweet Janna and her decorating talents.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvBv3jsrGyAoxIPEWXmptiD9CEP2uBACUuAyeF17AjyPLp0-nbgfhJb3jL5QhiOZ2jNW3GkQvkv8booZkNwivvRawKkrJ6RrZNhCnrBqggz0DtMXDu1gC6NU046ZKKopU2kEVkYKQJjK8/s1600/iaidcdfb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvBv3jsrGyAoxIPEWXmptiD9CEP2uBACUuAyeF17AjyPLp0-nbgfhJb3jL5QhiOZ2jNW3GkQvkv8booZkNwivvRawKkrJ6RrZNhCnrBqggz0DtMXDu1gC6NU046ZKKopU2kEVkYKQJjK8/s320/iaidcdfb.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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And then when the girls arrived! The real beauty sparkled.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhx4AgHmn1-IEs6RDpCg0hqVVrJc5pydHxSCtjWUJkEIG3K8svk88fgmYD4RLM7Ga-azm_BdHYmL52new8h12jELJO40IZli-8eog57hTXDkK90iOR_qY_60YQB5mwrWxCb83E9XX5GOf/s1600/image001-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhx4AgHmn1-IEs6RDpCg0hqVVrJc5pydHxSCtjWUJkEIG3K8svk88fgmYD4RLM7Ga-azm_BdHYmL52new8h12jELJO40IZli-8eog57hTXDkK90iOR_qY_60YQB5mwrWxCb83E9XX5GOf/s320/image001-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lots of pampering, massages and manicures and sharing of heartaches and happiness. Jessica Welborn spoke about the love of God -- how he pursues us. It was a great reminder of true beauty and true love!</div>
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In April, in honor of our birthdays, my long lost friend and tennis partner Pam Howard played tennis with me. There's a lot of life, pain, joy and "twirly do's" bonding these two blonde chicks.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQatNtUyOFai23hfWKljvsNb_wcmZ3YUGtwug_RQoKYNbEHw_D_jzr2yiuFeA05myUquAECd6MjPROs9Os0CKlT-2uGtYnwohyphenhyphenoCV-nF1qhEZpbSHQB4aYhMM5d_MnJICr0IzpZcz3Ahf/s1600/IMG_5919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQatNtUyOFai23hfWKljvsNb_wcmZ3YUGtwug_RQoKYNbEHw_D_jzr2yiuFeA05myUquAECd6MjPROs9Os0CKlT-2uGtYnwohyphenhyphenoCV-nF1qhEZpbSHQB4aYhMM5d_MnJICr0IzpZcz3Ahf/s320/IMG_5919.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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All along the way there was lots of tennis and lots of Toby!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikF2TDr_WUDBSr_fca6j7i2bTG8MIxV8-c6gHR_6pnks8noM-7PLpnV3uX0XV3Iu8m7HCFy80lq7n9SZk0FRzjkTwQdgLtJ2Q4X9LEtjNH7RqhEOa2hK4H8Y9m627Z6C0wpYYBAYl2zcH1/s1600/IMG_6228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikF2TDr_WUDBSr_fca6j7i2bTG8MIxV8-c6gHR_6pnks8noM-7PLpnV3uX0XV3Iu8m7HCFy80lq7n9SZk0FRzjkTwQdgLtJ2Q4X9LEtjNH7RqhEOa2hK4H8Y9m627Z6C0wpYYBAYl2zcH1/s200/IMG_6228.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VQbhOPUXLxNhJURgvEpBL5Xxl7zL01YfZWesF35cGRNEYNWKNjMzFrVDTcODF6A1Q4299BSKjMXvlISNNPf64XMbU3KaAO-UZ4xo_oF1rjZTo8RVetvgGkjF2DihsdAc_SRuaqo96Ra8/s1600/IMG_6195.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VQbhOPUXLxNhJURgvEpBL5Xxl7zL01YfZWesF35cGRNEYNWKNjMzFrVDTcODF6A1Q4299BSKjMXvlISNNPf64XMbU3KaAO-UZ4xo_oF1rjZTo8RVetvgGkjF2DihsdAc_SRuaqo96Ra8/s200/IMG_6195.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvg3r5Xa8xXTxzxmyt7ozGKFEEpBFRTgkAMUN_3ZVOF2zWBj9d7CR42huX4FZDZNJyjMa3L17TrOqYQiYhv-NKSzorkGAUVldYrHwtnQHoZv6rrXsP3R7Kq2df-Tv7AIt9tQkkYJjB4E3O/s1600/IMG_6578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvg3r5Xa8xXTxzxmyt7ozGKFEEpBFRTgkAMUN_3ZVOF2zWBj9d7CR42huX4FZDZNJyjMa3L17TrOqYQiYhv-NKSzorkGAUVldYrHwtnQHoZv6rrXsP3R7Kq2df-Tv7AIt9tQkkYJjB4E3O/s200/IMG_6578.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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And then in May, it snowed in hell I guess, because the Gholsons got an unsolicited offer on the Laurel house, and -- WHAT? -- sold it. Our friends were appalled, shocked, even mad. Kitty wouldn't speak to Bobby for weeks.</div>
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And despite my friend Karen's advice to take my time buying a new house, we didn't. A couple of weeks later, we were the proud new owners of a very old house in the Hattiesburg historic district. Not quite sure it was the right thing to do but doing it anyway.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-V7QzncUQqCz_1K3aRRHdiJJz5H_tburEfYJu_1baUBWrzz6TkLexCYzcZftxdoktJ5OvDf6A12QNIPv0NER5tw3bWrqcqDkfZ0NSHKy51PMb6ODmY_Md2U4TtZ15z0UpLu-mHAZHBV6/s1600/IMG_6896.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-V7QzncUQqCz_1K3aRRHdiJJz5H_tburEfYJu_1baUBWrzz6TkLexCYzcZftxdoktJ5OvDf6A12QNIPv0NER5tw3bWrqcqDkfZ0NSHKy51PMb6ODmY_Md2U4TtZ15z0UpLu-mHAZHBV6/s320/IMG_6896.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Rachel Beth said she was homeless. Mary Katherine thought it would be a great adventure. Marcia and Papa and Aunt Rachel and Gene thought it was perfect -- the entire Roseberry family back in the hub city. How's that for coming full circle?</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's my down-the-street crazy sister and General Hortman entertaining our sweet neighbor Jane. </td></tr>
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The house is becoming home. We are working real hard to make it "where we love."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2MIzapIRl6ptmhLzFzlrfdlLTRRA9JPkvBU0i8Fpsuow8Wd9ZyYA1lYRkMIrRBhRQ9fazPiKt6DZLMV2aeFzjdXvH6iBTyzo8kLwo3hzLm-4ATCuqsxYUYIR8WCLq0dbrWidCQMYYGboE/s1600/IMG_6657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2MIzapIRl6ptmhLzFzlrfdlLTRRA9JPkvBU0i8Fpsuow8Wd9ZyYA1lYRkMIrRBhRQ9fazPiKt6DZLMV2aeFzjdXvH6iBTyzo8kLwo3hzLm-4ATCuqsxYUYIR8WCLq0dbrWidCQMYYGboE/s200/IMG_6657.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen before</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBjnI2RGHCxOnEycDSYlxkf2AUchnV5-gqkhyFTkTpNHesIJ1_WoXT9cNkohUEE-6d5ft4eRZyk_RuAf6fUTvVFNfwNP9iODi2JEBL5pxrkSb83r-Lht7PAZdj_o04PaLOgawd2RYP6KD/s1600/IMG_7641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBjnI2RGHCxOnEycDSYlxkf2AUchnV5-gqkhyFTkTpNHesIJ1_WoXT9cNkohUEE-6d5ft4eRZyk_RuAf6fUTvVFNfwNP9iODi2JEBL5pxrkSb83r-Lht7PAZdj_o04PaLOgawd2RYP6KD/s200/IMG_7641.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">kitchen after</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcb2lk0e99JaTkVQXIixPIVqszZfdPlunig5D_rJni-1BCtIvdTX2eDGAgABzB6gR-Yfaq4nsweeolfj6l2gcHxW-Eh_9epdOOC2rvCuMXlTkzl_1xngdYUStkq_WtRZLjS3jpnqX2dl7q/s1600/IMG_7970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcb2lk0e99JaTkVQXIixPIVqszZfdPlunig5D_rJni-1BCtIvdTX2eDGAgABzB6gR-Yfaq4nsweeolfj6l2gcHxW-Eh_9epdOOC2rvCuMXlTkzl_1xngdYUStkq_WtRZLjS3jpnqX2dl7q/s200/IMG_7970.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">300 6th Avenue, send us a letter!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty much all the girls!</td></tr>
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Since the move, life has been a blur. Rachel was a lifeguard this past summer at Young Life camp Woodleaf in northern California. Probably because I had the audacity to say she couldn't do that, so she proved she could.</div>
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At summer's end she moved into the Chi Omega floor at Crosby on the Ole Miss campus with her sweet friend Chandler. She changed her major to pre-law and engineering, much to our surprise and joy.</div>
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I took the trip of a lifetime in August with my girl friends and Sister Golden Hair Surprise (a.k.a Mary Katherine) to St. Martin.</div>
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And then, if that weren't enough excitement, Peter got a lawyer job with a great firm in Jackson! We think he is the cutest prince of a lawyer ever. And we think Daniel, Coker, Horton and Bell is fortunate. So is the prince.</div>
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Christmas was so exciting with the best presents, including a second trip in one year to St. Martin. We'll call this one a honeymoon.</div>
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Finally, not wanting to miss out on the big events of the year, Sister got a new home.</div>
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Mary and Peter bought a fabulous house on Northside Drive in Jackson. It just needs a little work. </div>
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Don't we all!</div>
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Happy 2014 from our house to yours!</div>
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melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-39645976157642081922013-12-30T15:31:00.000-08:002013-12-30T19:17:15.965-08:00Well, how do you judge?You can't judge a book by its cover.<br />
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That is such an over-used cliche that we often miss the wisdom in it -- telling us to look deeper, give it a chance, question, explore.<br />
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Living in our high-gloss, slicked-out, stars and stripes world, we are constantly stereotyping. And probably missing the joy because we are judging by the cover.<br />
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I was tempted to do it myself when I saw this boulangerie on the pock-marked Mont Vernon Avenue in St. Martin.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvU2eGp1a59jLgNyB3dugox_NT6UxxY1hyphenhyphenSBuUC49-Ay_ieo_tcY5XrYYe8UlF0ZiD75TlXgvTWuORAmrVb7tg91cXqUXaqOmdALe96juAC11QtaCIZEaRTG9hWZV9QDTHeN_oynHCz541/s1600/IMG_9114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvU2eGp1a59jLgNyB3dugox_NT6UxxY1hyphenhyphenSBuUC49-Ay_ieo_tcY5XrYYe8UlF0ZiD75TlXgvTWuORAmrVb7tg91cXqUXaqOmdALe96juAC11QtaCIZEaRTG9hWZV9QDTHeN_oynHCz541/s400/IMG_9114.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc5-DSasnXYRzVdaAdYeBTRK8ajieOC1VIp2RP5ZtLB094sTscgpwLI0oeGmcuNhJ4O8pEQA0s_jMCEuM_UnfK9hzsVm8iWwdghSg0_cMN_dKwwJ2-BVDwj-3uUO2-QgB-4NLvvAu6Y8pA/s1600/IMG_9115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc5-DSasnXYRzVdaAdYeBTRK8ajieOC1VIp2RP5ZtLB094sTscgpwLI0oeGmcuNhJ4O8pEQA0s_jMCEuM_UnfK9hzsVm8iWwdghSg0_cMN_dKwwJ2-BVDwj-3uUO2-QgB-4NLvvAu6Y8pA/s320/IMG_9115.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span id="goog_1252644952"></span><span id="goog_1252644953"></span><br />
That's a bakery, believe it or not.<br />
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Now I love a hole in the wall restaurant. But that establishment. It just looked a little ... well ... scary.<br />
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Here's what we found inside.<br />
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<img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig58H7n9HYWM6_igu1_WqC2yJVNYzT-kmV7DRrg_FhZZ2NLdiKxi6WfyNxu7Pv3IWJ0zJ4yeJo4UO7sGN0HRfDa1w824WllRtlROAUTAx6giizw8iMAPrPHWS-1t_gq5Urd0wKVTQGW11S/s320/IMG_9117.JPG" width="320" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSIFKA50skifCNfwJZBKha2JXI-n4fNn92gF1jLNe3x7Uzq_WvxD9QNVU5xjXye4ly5ivdnzNJw-crOVMx0oV6fWc7VtpfllfqAU4fcR85d_tAXOqo-BALQXSrzya9IFESFQkk_s2LjiX/s1600/IMG_9119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSIFKA50skifCNfwJZBKha2JXI-n4fNn92gF1jLNe3x7Uzq_WvxD9QNVU5xjXye4ly5ivdnzNJw-crOVMx0oV6fWc7VtpfllfqAU4fcR85d_tAXOqo-BALQXSrzya9IFESFQkk_s2LjiX/s320/IMG_9119.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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That's A croissant fresh out of the oven (nothing like the grocery store variety). A sticky, raisin and cream-filled bun and -- my favorite -- a brioche. The lady behind the counter kept trying to educate me in the correct pronunciation. "Breee-oshe." Wiki defines brioche:<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"> a pastry of </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/French_cuisine" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" title="French cuisine">French</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"> origin </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">whose high </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Egg_(food)" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" title="Egg (food)">egg</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"> and </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butter" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" title="Butter">butter</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"> content give it a rich and tender crumb.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh yeah. Made me forget all about the outside of the boulangerie.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Dad once shared a lesson he learned at the old Roseberry Piano House in downtown Hattiesburg. Daddy was a young piano salesman. I bet he was slick and tie-wearing and friendly. An older fellow came in wearing overalls. He wanted a new piano for his daughter. My dad the city slicker began showing him used spinets and talking up the Roseberry "rent to own" plan.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But the sales pitch was all wrong. The customer wanted a gleaming new (and expensive) grand piano. After making his choice, Mr. Overalls reached into his bib pocket and pulled out the cash to pay in full.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Proving once again: You can't judge a customer by his overalls.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">------</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">1 Samuel 16:7 <span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">For the </span><span class="small-caps" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, </span><sup class="crossreference" style="background-color: white; font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-7603B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></sup><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">but the </span><span class="small-caps" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> looks on the heart.”</span></span></i><br />
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0Saint Martin18.0525921 -63.07363290000000717.9318246 -63.234994400000005 18.173359599999998 -62.912271400000009tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-80785246871041179512013-12-28T04:15:00.000-08:002013-12-28T04:15:03.266-08:00Dashing through the sand ....It's so sunny I can't open my eyes out here!<br />
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Such an out-of-the-body experience for the week between Christmas and the New Year. Normallly a time for unfolding all your new clothes and putting up the holiday plates and undecorating the dehydrated Christmas tree.<br />
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Instead, I am in the middle of three books, listening to the winds through the palms. And the French housekeeper slushing "suois" and "ouis" on her cellphone next door.<br />
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Yesterday we walked Friar's Beach, hiked to Happy Bay and glanced at the show -- and oh what a show -- on the nude strip (no pun intended) of Orient Bay.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Over the beach and through the waves.</span><br />
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<a href="http://i883.photobucket.com/albums/ac33/mrgholson/89a19dec61547fa6062c150a9638a059_zpsb9e1ea6a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://i883.photobucket.com/albums/ac33/mrgholson/89a19dec61547fa6062c150a9638a059_zpsb9e1ea6a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">It's really not better, just different.</span><br />
<br />
And "different" is what I asked for, since I couldn't do "the same" in a place that wasn't yet home.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">It will be home.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">The Hub City. Downtown. The Oaks. Sixth Avenue and all the variety of people passing through it. I'm sure it will be home.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">As soon as I get screen doors. And a few more parties, gatherings, planning meetings, crying sessions, drop-ins and impromptu friend nights. Oh yeah. And overnight company. It needs to house a law clerk, a displaced family and at least a couple of overseas guests before it's really home. Any volunteers?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Here's to a 2013 that didn't turn out like I thought it would and a 2014 with the promise of more than I could ask or imagine.</span><br />
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<a href="http://i883.photobucket.com/albums/ac33/mrgholson/a99c06377c8b97debbe34dd96673b3fc_zpsdeb04d4d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i883.photobucket.com/albums/ac33/mrgholson/a99c06377c8b97debbe34dd96673b3fc_zpsdeb04d4d.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-10895753029724148972013-03-22T07:17:00.001-07:002013-03-22T07:17:11.824-07:00I had hummus and pitas at Volta with three precious girls who are big fans of the END-IT movement. This is a cause they adopted thanks to Louie Giglio and his team of Christian speakers and rockers at the Passion Conference.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1JAUplNzwNSohVi0FPyFS3wQDwMYEsGHcgiywFpqkczl_eZwTKfytUlSDjjSdXfXUL7SwpVuPsILqBDKJ7p17oZvhNkfLJn0AXp4DvKJsPgO5eJV7dvGiRJF8YQOxFIIY5QwwHX_KauK/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1JAUplNzwNSohVi0FPyFS3wQDwMYEsGHcgiywFpqkczl_eZwTKfytUlSDjjSdXfXUL7SwpVuPsILqBDKJ7p17oZvhNkfLJn0AXp4DvKJsPgO5eJV7dvGiRJF8YQOxFIIY5QwwHX_KauK/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a></div>
Basically, END-IT movement works to stop human trafficking. And human trafficking usually involves sex. Think of the movie "Taken" and those squalid brothels (if you can stand it).<br />
<br />
For moms of young daughters, this cause is hard to look at. It's too painful. It's horrendously frightening. And if we admit it happens, we might not be able to sleep at night.<br />
<br />
But awful things DO happen. And not just in Amsterdam or Guatemala. In my newspaper, on my kitchen counter, there is a picture of a man who got three life sentences for child pornography. It's gross to say, but this man filmed sex acts with children.<br />
<br />
I know you don't want to read this here. You'd rather read about the hummus and pitas.<br />
<br />
And I'm going back there -- to Volta and the beautiful freshmen girls who love their sorority and plan for formals and take self-paced psychology and go to chemistry labs.<br />
<br />
Over hummus, these girls talked about dance practice. They are preparing for a weekend frat event called Derby Day that is always a blast. Yes, lots of people get drunk. But it makes for good memories unless your foot is squished by a bus.<br />
<br />
The sun will shine and the dancing will be fun. Hundreds of girls will dress up like candy (that is this year's theme) and booty-shake and shimmy and probably pelvic thrust for the frat guy judges.<br />
<br />
Woah, I can hear the voices say, "pelvic thrusting"? That sounds a little strong.<br />
<br />
Better to just say: "They will do a provocative dance."<br />
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<br />
But being a journalist and a truth-teller at heart, I can't stand euphemisms. Call it what you will. I'm thinking slutty dancing.<br />
<br />
Here's a description I found online, written by a guy, that pretty much describes it:<br />
<h4>
<span style="color: #525252; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="color: #525252; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Got a test that week? Forget about it. You have to practice your ass off to perfect your bootylicious dance routine so old men judges can drool over you and hopefully declare your group the winning ass-shakers. So, while all of the girls sell their souls to this male dominated absurdity, the men of Sigma Chi sit around, get hammered and enjoy all of the attention. At least it’s for charity, right?</i></span></span></h4>
<br />
I know I'm not supposed to, but, truthfully, I can deal with slutty dancing. I love the Sweet Potato Queens. I love <i>Dancing with the Stars</i>. I love slow dancing myself to Percy Sledge's "Let's Get it On."<br />
<br />
Here's the part that makes me squeamish. At this fun fraternity event, each sorority provides a girl to compete for the title of Queen for a Day. This is not a Cinderella-Snow White type of queen. NoNoNo. Think Brittany and Madonna on steroids. Think stripper pole and push-up bra and potty mouth in one gorgeous, slightly drunk package.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7CMrNO6OSHWLeywY-Iphw9Yhb9DPy-eFC_wfiWvjhEx5xCorGuq2lo5HPyaqkDxmgpGaAINNrBVgeyCW9wTMeXLdVacvjFygPJ1RBeBjqvt3YCk4IHvEeewcbGMOGj76fImmzfauqneb/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7CMrNO6OSHWLeywY-Iphw9Yhb9DPy-eFC_wfiWvjhEx5xCorGuq2lo5HPyaqkDxmgpGaAINNrBVgeyCW9wTMeXLdVacvjFygPJ1RBeBjqvt3YCk4IHvEeewcbGMOGj76fImmzfauqneb/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a><br />
It is a dubious honor to be chosen for this role. Many girls politely say "no thanks" when selected to represent their sorority sisters. So the sorority moves on to the next wildly sexy candidate until they find one willing to, ahem, perform.<br />
<br />
Now I'm not condemning. I'm just being honest here. It is quite a juxtaposition. A clash of values. A conundrum.<br />
<br />
Sororities promote values of sisterhood, friendship, campus involvement, philanthropy, teamwork -- and of course dating, shopping, cattiness, elitism, money-wasting and partying.<br />
<br />
So there's lots of material here for the essay writers and deep thinkers.<br />
<br />
In your honors class, you might be leading an honors discussion on vanishing cultures or writing a paper comparing and contrasting science fiction with the therapies employed by Sigmund Freud.<br />
<br />
But this tying of the events of Derby Day weekend to the END-IT movement. Comparing and contrasting and fleshing it all out. That's a little complicated for me.<br />
<br />
That's one for a real Honors College discussion.<span style="background-color: white; color: white; font-family: 'Trade Gothic W01 Light'; font-size: 18px; line-height: 44px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;">NOW.</span>melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-87561315547996887872013-02-05T12:20:00.000-08:002013-02-05T12:20:20.023-08:00A ring of fireWhen I wrote for Gannett a lifetime ago, there was this category in grading an article for competition: <span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evokes emotion</span>.</span><br />
<br />
Does the story make you fearful? Does it make you laugh or smile? Better yet, does it bring you to tears? Now that is an accomplishment for a writer. Making the reader <i>feel</i> something.<br />
<br />
You win Sarah Vowell.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sarah is a writer and for the radio program This American Life on Public Radio International. <span style="line-height: 19px;">Wikipedia calls her a "social observer."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
Sarah's radio story about the romance and marriage of Johnny and June Cash will grab your heart. Perhaps you will be cold enough to avoid emotion. I broke into a gasp and found myself crying.<br />
<br />
June and Johnny's love was wrong on so many counts. He was married. She was married. And not to each other. They fell in love anyway. It happened. And it turned into something beautiful.<br />
<br />
Find some good in that if you will.<br />
<br />
Johnny and June Cash don't fall into the category of "good example" or "horrible warning." But their love was <i>oh so</i> touching and <i>oh so</i> inspirational.<br />
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<br />
As Sarah Vowell tells it, June wrote the song "Ring of Fire" while she was fighting against the love she felt for Johnny. Later, Johnny and his mariachi band trumpets took June's creation and turned it into a song like no other. Johnny's gravel-voiced passion in "Ring of Fire" was frosted with the oohs and ahs and ladylike echoes of the background singers -- June's sainted mother and sister.<br />
<br />
Johnny must have been some hunk of burning love.<br />
<br />
Johnny credited June with saving his life -- and she probably did. Snatching him from drugs and sharing her faith in God with him.<br />
<br />
Even as they contemplated death together, the two were passionate. This beautiful duet predicts the final days of their 35 years together.<br />
<br />
See if it doesn't make you shed a silent tear as you listen to June's sweet thin voice:<br />
<br />
"If it proves to be His will that I am first to cross,<br />
and somehow I've a feeling it will be.<br />
When it comes your time to travel, likewise don't feel lost.<br />
For I will be the first one that you'll see.<br />
<br />
I'll be waiting on the farside banks of Jordan.<br />
I'll be sitting drawing pictures in the sand.<br />
And when I see you coming I will rise up with a shout<br />
and come running through the shallow water, reaching for your hand."<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMoVw5nRbtXL9BhGY4DvcCqMuIgUziWiZluu8YJI2QzI5AhRgE3Ha273EG6nXHFaV6Ysjeg4-kfnDXfysYliX-gVwkGQbuiXRQPGqGN3D61XnkmCm5V5HFFDHl6ggPpBHBHtZNyyl0i20/s1600/23344_195141070628518_904803023_n.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMoVw5nRbtXL9BhGY4DvcCqMuIgUziWiZluu8YJI2QzI5AhRgE3Ha273EG6nXHFaV6Ysjeg4-kfnDXfysYliX-gVwkGQbuiXRQPGqGN3D61XnkmCm5V5HFFDHl6ggPpBHBHtZNyyl0i20/s320/23344_195141070628518_904803023_n.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
<br />
<i>To hear Sarah Vowell's beautiful story of Johnny and June's romance, listen by clicking here: <a href="http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/247/what-is-this-thing">This American Life</a> . The podcast is titled "What is this thing?" The Carters' story, Act 3, is contained in the last 10 minutes ... don't even bother with the first 49 minutes of the show.</i><br />
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melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-36603892208985069452013-01-29T21:31:00.001-08:002013-01-30T21:10:53.293-08:00Just a few words of JoyOn my birthday, we played a question and answer game.<br />
<br />
The guests picked from multiple answers. Which musical group is her favorite? Which magazine? Which dessert would she choose?<br />
<br />
Then we got to this question:<br />
Outside of her family, who does the birthday girl admire most?<br />
A. Gloria Steinem<br />
B. Beth Moore<br />
C. Joy Roberts<br />
<br />
Everybody knew the answer was C.<br />
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<br />
Joy is the embodiment of Proverbs 31. And she would hate to hear me say it. She would even laugh and say she never "made linen cloths" for her family like that woman in Proverbs 31. But these few verses from that chapter truly describe her.<br />
<br />
"She welcomes the poor and helps the needy ... She is strong and respected by the people. She looks forward to the future with joy. She speaks wise words and teaches others to be kind."<br />
<br />
Yep. All that and more.<br />
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</div>
So, on HER birthday, I'm sharing just a little of the wisdom she has spread around over the years.<br />
<br />
<h2>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><i>A few gems:</i></span></h2>
* Don't make your children the focus of your life. If you do, they'll get used to being the center of attention. No spouse can live up to that and your children will grow up to be miserable.<br />
<br />
* God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of love, power and self control.<br />
<br />
* When you don't know what to do, just take the next step.<br />
<br />
* Our new nature must be fed daily so we can be strong enough to fight the battles.<br />
<br />
* Pride and self pre-occupation are at the bottom of all of our negative emotions.<br />
<br />
* One of the barriers to temptation is constant belief in the goodness of God.<br />
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<br />
<br />
I especially love Joy's cure for "Me-itis." It's not original, and she wouldn't want to take credit for it. But she passed it along and it stuck with me.<br />
<br />
In order to get rid of "me-itis," you should daily take this medicine:<br />
1. Do something for someone else<br />
2. Do something for yourself.<br />
3. Do something you don't want to do.<br />
4. Exercise your body<br />
5. Exercise your mind.<br />
6. Pray an original prayer to God, beginning with thanking him for your blessings.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Joy is a lady who is rarely casual -- in her dress, in her relationships or in her faith. Good thing, since Billy Graham says: "The casual Christian has little or no influence."<br />
<br />
Thank you sweet Joy, for being a blessing, a model and oh, such a huge and profound influence.<br />
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-69243982665418443562013-01-29T06:16:00.000-08:002013-01-29T06:16:38.589-08:00Streams in the desertThe locals tell us that it rains here 15 days out of 365. Phoenix. It's the desert. Full of saguaro cacti and prickly pears. Tiny desert wrens. Scampering little brown nut hares. Sandstone boulders and huge shale formations.<br />
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We climbed to a Native Amerian cliff dwelling. We ate fabulous guacamole with pomegranates. We watched the Australian Open in our luxury villa. We played a round of Spades with good friends.<br />
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We did not play tennis. Not even once.<br />
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We pleaded with the pro at the tennis shop. We circled the courts and checked weather.com hourly. We asked for a rain dance in reverse....To no avail.<br />
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Complaining is unbecoming. Especially when you get to spend evenings with one of your long lost best friends and days admiring vistas straight out of National Geographic.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">So we will just state the facts. It rarely rains in the desert. We went to the desert to play tennis. It rained on our tennis parade.</span></div>
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-77371587909355851412013-01-05T15:55:00.000-08:002013-01-05T15:56:44.048-08:00Really not our best friends!I was amazed to hear about my friend Ira's dog Piney. Piney, a small rescue bulldog, is more debilitating than OCD or agoraphobia. Piney is possessive. He is offensive. He is expensive.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ira and Piney</span></td></tr>
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Piney keeps Ira and his wife from having friends over because he bites -- any person who looks him in the eye. Piney must eat special meat. Piney awakens his owners to go outside and then turns on them just as they return to the warmth.<br />
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Ira is not really my friend. It just feels that way since I listen to his voice so much on the This American Life podcast.<br />
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Ira's dog Piney would certainly not be my friend.<br />
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I wonder, though, why we -- like Ira -- tolerate so much when it comes to our animals.<br />
<br />
Take Jake. He's the long-haired tomcat we unabashedly call Satan, Lucifer or Beelzebub. Jake will tempt you with his alluring fake sweetness. But if you don't bow to temptation, he will leave you alone.<br />
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Sometimes if you do not do his bidding -- getting his food, looking at his food, letting him in and out on cat command -- he will bite you. He definitely bites other cats, visitors and anyone who tries to put him into a cat carrier.<br />
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But we continue to pay his vet bills and stitch him up after every fight. We are enablers, I know.<br />
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Recently there were two more Jake incidents. The tennis party incident, where a forewarned friend tried to be a cat whisperer. Jake does not put up with that stuff. Yes, he bit her. Yes, she was bleeding profusely. Yes, she had to seek medical attention.<br />
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Then on Christmas Eve, when all were caught up in the glow, Jake chose this moment to get in a cat fight and come inside and bleed all over the floor. Once again, we did Satan's bidding, calling the harried vet out on Christmas Eve to stitch up Jake's neck. Jake would live to fight again.<br />
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We would never dream of allowing such misbehavior from our children. There would be punishment, lessons learned, attitudes adjusted.<br />
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But with Jake, we are at a loss. We can only use him as an object lesson, pointing out that he is a deceiver, the father of lies and, like Satan, he prowls the earth, seeking whom he may devour.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Be afraid.</span></td></tr>
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-26090877254962375572013-01-04T06:44:00.000-08:002013-01-04T06:47:21.518-08:00Have a cup of tea with the doc and you'll understandWhat is it about this rude British man called Doc Martin that keeps us coming back for more?<br />
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Every night we find ourselves tuning in to another episode of this BBC series set in beautiful Portwenn (which we know from Google is really Port Isaac), located on a gorgeous, sun-drenched harbor in the south of Britain.<br />
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Wikipedia tells me that five Doc Martin series have aired between 2007 and 2011. So we arrived late to the Doc Martin party.<br />
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My daughters are hooked on "The Walking Dead" (too scary) and my friend Karen swears by "Parenthood" (hits too close to home). But we fixate on this odd man who is awkward and rude, unfriendly and blunt.<br />
<br />
The actors are exceptionally British in look and manner and fashion choices. Even the lovely star Luisa (or Lou-EEE-zer if you're really British) wears white babydoll shoes with her blue jeans in winter. They live in houses with low ceilings and tiny refrigerators. They wear neck collars or suspenders or sensible shoes or horrendous platform heels with orange, lace-trimmed socks.<br />
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Maybe it's the contrast of lifestyles that draws us in. Maybe we've just become friendly Anglophiles thanks to our Canasta-playing British friends, Helen and Nick.<br />
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Whatever ... it's a nice quick trip from our reality to theirs.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doc Martin and his lovely and goofy receptionist, Pauline</td></tr>
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-15669211116693265472013-01-01T20:57:00.003-08:002013-01-02T15:17:30.869-08:00Don't worry, be happyWe had a voicemail from Nanaw last Sunday:<br />
"I've called the cell phones, the house phone and the office. I can't find you anywhere!" She didn't say so, but the sheriff and the FBI were next on the call list.<br />
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Never mind that we drive safely, live in a gated neighborhood and don't associate with criminals. We could have been kidnapped or shipwrecked or stricken with diptheria. You never know.<br />
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Did I mention that it was Sunday morning and we had just gone out for a 30-minute walk?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Headed to Passion</span></td></tr>
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Moms can be prone to irrational behavior, also known as worry.<br />
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So when baby daughter left for Atlanta in a rainstorm this morning, I wasn't irrationally worried, but I was concerned. Her vehicle was safe. I love her friends. But there was the rain. And big-city driving can be scary.<br />
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Through the magic of modern technology (this is a cliche, but it really is magic), I saw Rachel and friends on Instagram by mid-morning. The caption said "headed to Passion." Passion is the name of the annual Christian conference at the Georgia dome, lest you think I really <i>DID</i> have something to worry about.<br />
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By mid-afternoon, I was wondering if she had made it to Atlanta, so I logged onto iCloud. There I tracked storm Rachel and her iPhone. I discovered that she had stopped for gasoline on the outskirts of Atlanta. When I checked an hour later, the green dot that was Rachel showed her safely at the Marriott in downtown Atlanta.<br />
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Later in the evening, she sent a text picture of the concert, spotlights beaming.<br />
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Amazing. In the 19 short years since she was born, we have come to this.<br />
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Rach would have a hard time fathoming that, on the day of her birth, I did not own a cell phone. I could not text the news to my friends or put her wrinkled baby face on Facebook. I could not Skype with the out-of-town relatives or send an iPhone video of her crying in the nursery. I couldn't even read an electronic book while recovering or choose an iTunes playlist to accompany the occasion. The times they have a-changed.<br />
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Now, if we could just teach Nanaw to text, use Instagram and visit the iCloud. Until then, Sheriff Hodge, you might expect a call.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Passion Conference and Praise Fest in Atlanta</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>To eavesdrop on the conference and hear speakers like Beth Moore and Louie Giglio,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>and singers like Matt Redmon and Chris Tomlin, click the link below:</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://268generation.com/passion2013/">Passion 2013</a></span></td></tr>
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<br /><br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-58613602477468176112012-12-30T15:04:00.000-08:002012-12-30T15:04:09.354-08:00Some sayings just defy explanationWe celebrated a birthday last night and, on the drive to the restaurant, we updated our list of quirky sayings by my husband's family.<br />
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I just added this one to my running list:<br />
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<b>"Somebody ought to take a pine top and a bucket of slop and run her out of town."</b><br />
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That's what you say about somebody who has really gotten on your nerves. I mean <i>really. </i>I get a life-sized picture of that angry woman with her enamel bucket in one hand and a switch in the other.<br />
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The word "ass" is frequently used to add spice to the old family sayings. For instance:<br />
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<b>"I'll kick your ass and the horse you rode up on." </b>(Another one put to good use when you're mad. I think this one should be attributed to John Wayne and just stolen by the Gholsons.)<br />
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or<br />
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<b>"Aren't you just the cat's ass?"</b> (You can use that one in both the positive and the negative, depending on tone of voice.)<br />
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and our favorite and most frequently used:<br />
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<b>"She just makes my ass hurt."</b><br />
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There is one old family saying that mystified me for years. In order to appreciate it, you have to understand the circumstances of its use.<br />
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Here's how it goes. You are waiting for a friend to show up and they don't. Or you expect a finished product to end perfectly and it doesn't. So you lament loudly: "I just thought surely the Perrys would be here by now." ... or "I thought my cake was going to turn out so beautiful and delicious."<br />
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At that moment, this very appropriate saying is uttered and you discover that:<br />
<b>"You thought like Parker's dog."</b><br />
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For years I wondered: Who is Parker and what in the heck was Parker's dog thinking?<br />
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I mentioned this recently to my friend Susie on the tennis court. "I know. I know what Parker's dog thought," she said.<br />
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Susie was the first person I encountered who had ever even heard that phrase and now she was going to solve the mystery for me.<br />
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Amazing. Drum roll please ....<br />
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Parker's dog thought a dog turd was a dog biscuit.<br />
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------<br />
Just one example of thinking like Parker's dog -- with no incrimination, I mean attribution.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Aren't you just the cat's ass!</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27EzE8_qt-bnOAmjkXOMb4a89dBuvzaWs7E0uw1ahzTUv8mbJzV8I-vcmjZAay11ziHfjJOyOvWLF0uedYedYlpxCPQ8oQ7XVL4bljtqf2w8nxPy5O5SKPrFnWoq8S3GMdy4Hdjigy5hi/s1600/IMG_4604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27EzE8_qt-bnOAmjkXOMb4a89dBuvzaWs7E0uw1ahzTUv8mbJzV8I-vcmjZAay11ziHfjJOyOvWLF0uedYedYlpxCPQ8oQ7XVL4bljtqf2w8nxPy5O5SKPrFnWoq8S3GMdy4Hdjigy5hi/s320/IMG_4604.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-33319292517624293342012-12-29T14:48:00.000-08:002012-12-29T14:48:00.677-08:00Just old enough to be cool<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI21g6VGBiiyKkb3UARNjfUnw9zXBDvoin2l_ezIMPeujksclXmEbt1c180BnmN5o-3zwMyeQ3LZZU56vWppx3xLb6Y4Cg20B1aCm_2UssrTVOwvVz1Mvzaj9us4tQjDNeEdoX8L6PPpO7/s1600/IMG_4845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI21g6VGBiiyKkb3UARNjfUnw9zXBDvoin2l_ezIMPeujksclXmEbt1c180BnmN5o-3zwMyeQ3LZZU56vWppx3xLb6Y4Cg20B1aCm_2UssrTVOwvVz1Mvzaj9us4tQjDNeEdoX8L6PPpO7/s320/IMG_4845.jpg" width="240" /></a>"Mid-century" is the trendy name for the decor of the 1960s. You know, the squared off sofas and leather bars.<br />
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And those adorable silver holiday trees with the fringed branches you keep stored in paper sleeves until next Christmas.<br />
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To get a full dose of mid-century style, check out Samantha and Darren's home in the classic TV show <i>Bewitched</i>. We've been watching episodes featuring Sam and Darren and the ever-endearing Endora -- thanks to the magic of Netflix.<br />
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The girls were horrified when our beloved Samantha said "Darren is the master of this house." It felt like a terribly sexist remark. Then we realized that Sam was just working her magic of humility and humor.<br />
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Everybody knows that Samantha fixes countless messes and can even stop time, if need be. She rescues Darren from his blunders on the job. She takes an orphaned kid to visit Santa. She smooths the feelings of slighted grandparents and even keeps the doddering Aunt Clara from injuring herself and others.<br />
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The mid-century magic goes beyond the television for us -- thanks to daughter Mary Katherine's business. She sells reminders of a simpler era at her Green Room in Fondren and her online store. You can visit by clicking here: <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/mkmack">Queen of the Universe Vintage</a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzK8LW74NSNT9cd0dpXrIEJyC4WGXg3M24PKyUyn4nJcGawByNR3lAhnb9NsKTOUgOSRFbfgHIzQERvBta_-zNfqFn6T55tTL4BmwZvq7QRbevqPTwC98ed0a2sOJdEQgY8SUXMzwaOsu-/s1600/il_570xN.406346586_l078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzK8LW74NSNT9cd0dpXrIEJyC4WGXg3M24PKyUyn4nJcGawByNR3lAhnb9NsKTOUgOSRFbfgHIzQERvBta_-zNfqFn6T55tTL4BmwZvq7QRbevqPTwC98ed0a2sOJdEQgY8SUXMzwaOsu-/s320/il_570xN.406346586_l078.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When Darren makes Larry a drink,<br /> I bet he uses this vintage<br />ice bucket.</span></td></tr>
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Click on over for a look and a truly Bewitching experience.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV3zE69HJQWFP0sEJ7bk8mpZhEtLMdwjt-zwAdiiGLNl3uYLxdUOF-hfGlmUYM57ozrVKjrQtzDy85xFmyHrJkV5BjUzrAEPrJtZdCuyfPYtVnF-ZK5MDrSwPu1J6GFQSopf6aIl_gQv40/s1600/il_170x135.406028749_kv7r.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV3zE69HJQWFP0sEJ7bk8mpZhEtLMdwjt-zwAdiiGLNl3uYLxdUOF-hfGlmUYM57ozrVKjrQtzDy85xFmyHrJkV5BjUzrAEPrJtZdCuyfPYtVnF-ZK5MDrSwPu1J6GFQSopf6aIl_gQv40/s1600/il_170x135.406028749_kv7r.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brown leather pumps suitable<br />for a trip to the Tate and McMann<br />ad agency.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuOwN5bkCIS3Z2Kotk_G_XLNlxklIiInu1dj7yC2YQftmfj0jD_O7M8O37ysxbY0hot89wNymeBh39dqUmNAjPoxJUd-AnqoHjIU7RsYWMRgiRigCdM6Qn5Zc8E5WYHWOWZ_q5mIREpUEF/s1600/il_170x135.406545171_db3n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuOwN5bkCIS3Z2Kotk_G_XLNlxklIiInu1dj7yC2YQftmfj0jD_O7M8O37ysxbY0hot89wNymeBh39dqUmNAjPoxJUd-AnqoHjIU7RsYWMRgiRigCdM6Qn5Zc8E5WYHWOWZ_q5mIREpUEF/s1600/il_170x135.406545171_db3n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vintage Edmar brass face plate<br />straight out the Stevens home <br />in suburban New York</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhWzv7d91CAT4nNJkRg7qyYrHCb4myaumQeUCKJiYGuR1PLv2ubCetgZ2ody_uiJYt6UO_fO4mhiAzakJvZHtNZAvmLgfgAUuvAL5w-VSfv1MHFPjnnk1WutkmqaWM983fJreMGwicIZs/s1600/il_570xN.398197240_axbv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhWzv7d91CAT4nNJkRg7qyYrHCb4myaumQeUCKJiYGuR1PLv2ubCetgZ2ody_uiJYt6UO_fO4mhiAzakJvZHtNZAvmLgfgAUuvAL5w-VSfv1MHFPjnnk1WutkmqaWM983fJreMGwicIZs/s640/il_570xN.398197240_axbv.jpg" width="368" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the perfect ensemble for a good witch like Samantha!</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0RxhhdVW2xRr3q_J7GnTf6qvVl2ZdEhffTQfDpifUoE4KqmlnN7TDa22P6DKxINZrQsfCESSKf88yQxnsAdtRoQaD2JciNq_1deV3Pa-kv9X34N-8DyIL9yhtxFPM9uTzcGhTMJ5CkKeo/s1600/elizabeth-montgomery-samantha-stevens-hot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0RxhhdVW2xRr3q_J7GnTf6qvVl2ZdEhffTQfDpifUoE4KqmlnN7TDa22P6DKxINZrQsfCESSKf88yQxnsAdtRoQaD2JciNq_1deV3Pa-kv9X34N-8DyIL9yhtxFPM9uTzcGhTMJ5CkKeo/s320/elizabeth-montgomery-samantha-stevens-hot.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-61900413623483648172012-12-28T08:08:00.000-08:002012-12-28T08:23:30.233-08:00We will remember<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There was a lot of "new" this holiday season.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Great Pandora Christmas radio. Wayfarer Raybans for Marcia Gran. A fresh bottle of Angel perfume for Mary Katherine. A cool Bible for Rachel with the hip and cutting Message version on one side of the page and a more traditional version on the other.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But it's funny how the "something old" we found entertained us as much as the reindeer games or the gifts.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My Aunt Earline died three years ago during the holidays. She left us a lot, because she was a collector and a saver.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She also was a journalist. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This historic entry from Nov. 23, 1963, is from her journal -- a school teacher's look at the death of a president.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO9I_zNRm7bja09t0mm1uUGwDNTa7kNU8lrWJ2iKOQs3kv1GTP1Pnqncnue1483LeK7k7H0XdA8oskg-dxbchhGsfDULAqZOJ5xl2SCLsl8VX3fp839LHQTt6jcthIqKfKwcPd2Xg4qaz_/s1600/mk+and+earline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO9I_zNRm7bja09t0mm1uUGwDNTa7kNU8lrWJ2iKOQs3kv1GTP1Pnqncnue1483LeK7k7H0XdA8oskg-dxbchhGsfDULAqZOJ5xl2SCLsl8VX3fp839LHQTt6jcthIqKfKwcPd2Xg4qaz_/s200/mk+and+earline.jpg" width="131" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sat., Nov. 23, 1963</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A dark day in our history and one I never thought would be brought about. Yesterday about 1:15-1:20 Miss Reynolds called me to the hall outside my room and called also Ethel Swett, Sarah Harris and Betty Sellers to tell us all at once of the news someone had called in and she'd tuned in on radio to hear that President Kennedy and Gov. Connelly of Texas had been shot in the motorcade in Dallas and that there were conflicting reports that the Pres. was killed. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We were shocked. When I went back in my room, the full impact hit me and I had to sit down and cry a minute while trying to keep my composure and getting up, walking around to go on with the arithmetic lesson that had been interrupted.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I could hardly call on anyone and didn't know whether to tell the children the tragic news then or not. It was quite evident that something was wrong, and I couldn't keep the tears back. So I just told them something very bad had happened, but not to anyone in Davis School, Hattiesburg, or Mississippi.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Right after that, Miss Reynolds announced the news over our intercom system and said she was putting on the radio news for us to follow. The announcer reported the events and said there were contradictory reports coming in. In a minute or so, he said there was unofficial news that the president was dead and asked everyone to bow for a minute of prayer.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We did, tearfully, and then the reports came in -- conflicting again. But in about another minute, he reported that the two priests who gave the last rites said the president was dead. He again called for prayer.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">By this time, several of the children had gotten upset and were crying aloud, so I had to pull myself together and get them under control. I apologized for crying and told them there was nothing we could do except pray and there was no use crying. Danny Dickerson was especially upset; also Charles Hobby, Martha Chambliss and Jimmy Herrin, who'd already been crying about a sore place in his mouth.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The afternoon recess went on late, helping relieve the situation. We spent the remainder of the day listening to reports as they came in of how a sniper had fatally wounded the president, shooting him in the brain. He had slumped over and Mrs. Kennedy had held him on the five minute ride to the hospital. The governor was shot in the chest but is recovering satisfactorily. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I went on to have my hair done after school and there was a little talk about it.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As much as the South disagreed with the president, I thought he was a good, sincere man and was doing what he thought best. Too young and holding too revered a position to be so cut down -- just to hear of the president of the United States being asassinated in 1963, supposedly a civilized time, is unthinkable. And so tragic for his wife and two young children.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Television and radio programs were discontinued and only news about the late president and now President Johnson have been on since the event and up until 10 o'clock tonight.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We've had TV on almost constantly and the coverage has been most extensive.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A sad, sad thing.</span><br />
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-85400730652199851042012-11-22T07:04:00.000-08:002012-11-22T07:04:16.323-08:00Today will soon be gone -- be thankful!
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: green; font-family: Baskerville; font-size: 24.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I am thankful for …<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcgCI6h3lRpWP_hq1eDgmuEvYUp5PPhABKt-j-MUJiESck1Js4k26YhE7T6AzyKPrpZ9r0wq5i8tAWcOjUIlZTBJQZy9V6UtUYRsHOS8HNHeT1-WX8WQ4CFRKvt1FrfVDz7ocb2KdxgNDH/s1600/IMG_4073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcgCI6h3lRpWP_hq1eDgmuEvYUp5PPhABKt-j-MUJiESck1Js4k26YhE7T6AzyKPrpZ9r0wq5i8tAWcOjUIlZTBJQZy9V6UtUYRsHOS8HNHeT1-WX8WQ4CFRKvt1FrfVDz7ocb2KdxgNDH/s320/IMG_4073.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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The opportunity to work with high school kids and be a part
of their lives. There are so many: Ashlyn and Sam, Cassie and Rehema and Summer and
Janna are just a few!</div>
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The coolest old friends in the world – Mays, McIntoshes, Sally and Terry Caves, Judith, Jim and Tracie Gulley, Joy and Norm, Andy and Kitty, Gina and
Mike...of course, Rhonda!</div>
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and new and different ones that I hope to get to know
better: Krista McKenzie, Beverly and Stuart Harmon, Charlie and Mark DeLoach,
Jessica and James Welborn...and all those in between... Like the Rasberries with all their crazy sayings and love of Elvis and Conway.</div>
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I am so thankful for the chance to go to Nicaragua and
experience the humility, love and genuineness of the people there. I am
thankful I met Jurielka and watched her special folk dancing. I am especially
thankful for the wonderful 100 year old man I met there named Perfecto. He WAS perfecto! (Don't you think?)</div>
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I’m thankful for the meals at the Treehouse Restaurant and
the Planter’s Punch in St. Martin, and the island beaches with my girls and then my husband. I'm grateful I married a good cook and a football lover and tennis player who doesn't like to hunt. Now that is something to be thankful for.</div>
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I am thankful for little things like lemon trees and peanut
M & Ms and the fun of being a tennis team captain. I am thankful for
Twitter and Ya Ya’s Yogurt and the thrill of estate sale shopping. I am
thankful that Gran can text and Marcia Beth can drive. I am super thankful that
Rachel Beth has made so many friends at Ole Miss.</div>
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I am thankful for MK’s success on Etsy and at the Green Room
and how she has met so many cool people through her job … and that she got to
be in Southern Living this month!</div>
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I am thankful for my book club and authors like Lisa See and Lee Child. I am thankful for tennis opponents who don’t cheat and who
compliment you when you get a good shot.</div>
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I am thankful that I have never been
in enough danger to need a gun.</div>
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I am thankful for mementoes that remind me of people I love:
my great grandmother's class ring, the mermaid sculpture from Mary Katherine in my bathroom, Rachel Beth’s and Miss Patty's artwork, a sweetgrass basket from my childhood best friend Joy, MawMaw Tressie’s “wisdom” plaque over my kitchen sink, the gold metallic vintage purse from my Aunt Earline’s
closet.</div>
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I am thankful for my crazy sister who does the craziest, insane movements and hand gestures in public for my entertainment and my equally crazy brother. He showed up
immediately when Rach was in a hit-and-run accident. I am grateful that he survived a scary bathroom encounter with cinnamon air freshener. I love that he is always sweet to and protective of my children, Peter included.</div>
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I am thankful for the
absolute best and most resourceful brother and sister-in-law in the world... my dad
who keeps me updated on the political scene and shares his love of being around
people with me. My mother-in-law who is ready with comfort food. My handsome
nephews. My prince of a son-in-law who just gets better like fine wine.</div>
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And my mom! Who does not complain even when we ask her to do impossible things. She is like that amazing rubber cement scrapbook glue -- always holding precious and beautiful things together and never getting wrinkles.</div>
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I can’t help but be super grateful for our third grandmother Frances, who gives <i>sacrificially</i> to
Young Life and shares my passion for teens. I am also grateful for my friend Linda who is
always ready to help and who likes my cooking! I am thankful for her adorable
4-year-old grandbaby Zi who told everyone that Rachel Beth was her “cousin” and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that “she will fight you!” (Just for explanation, Zi is black and Rachel is white but somehow they are cousins -- in the sense that your cousin has your back!)</div>
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And how could I forget our extended family dogs: willful Shorkie Sis and princess Jessie and Toby, who has the
love of God in his heart. And only because I am commanded to be thankful in
everything, I am thankful for our satanic cat Jake, who prowls around like a roaring lion
seeking those he may find to devour!</div>
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<!--EndFragment-->melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-87459921258076381522012-07-03T09:11:00.000-07:002012-07-03T09:13:16.850-07:00Go with GodWhat do I love about my house in Peachtree Bend? Let's see: indoor plumbing, air conditioning, warm showers....<br />
<br />
So why am I thinking about a place that has <i>not one</i> of those necessities? And dreaming of going back there?<br />
<br />
I spent last week in Muelle de los Bueyes, Nicaragua. It cost me $1,900 to go to a place without a pool or a swim-up bar or a tennis court .... or drinkable water. But honestly, it might be the most unforgettable vacation I've ever taken.<br />
It wasn't "fun."<br />
It was "rich."<br />
What a weird way to describe this experience among the poor.<br />
<br />
There was Julisa, who badgered me for candy or chapstick or tiny plastic bracelets. Man, that kid's hug would knock you down! She ran so fast to reach you that you could feel her little heart beat against you as she hugged and would NOT let go.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ99QSOSz4lUdycj64S7AtvFUU0l4fQ9mom11m6ee1A0n7_0GobsonoGYySoKLYpN4Jw4rDOYcgue53wkvTg2gD_kyFVI4N2I3Q3wHLul-ptDEYzE-n48-i_AuXsrGV2RI1RK1Uuazhlal/s1600/DSC01553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ99QSOSz4lUdycj64S7AtvFUU0l4fQ9mom11m6ee1A0n7_0GobsonoGYySoKLYpN4Jw4rDOYcgue53wkvTg2gD_kyFVI4N2I3Q3wHLul-ptDEYzE-n48-i_AuXsrGV2RI1RK1Uuazhlal/s320/DSC01553.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Julisa, center, holding her red bag of goodies.</span></td></tr>
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<br />
Then there was Perfecto. Age 102. What a lovely, smiling angel of a man, waiting outside the eyeglass clinic and grabbing my damp hand with his cool, strong tanned one.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Perfecto, left, with Blake Lawson</span></td></tr>
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<br />
And teenagers? My favorites! Senorita Jurielka painted my toenails in vivid white and coral and invited me to her home. She took me down to the river, where the brown water creeped in rain forest beauty, contrasting with the crowds and litter of the village.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr1t3zTxgsAhFN41pY0p0Xq-rD82U-k0j22mx2GENW-g9M1xWcyWJvf1m5MdS7kalEsKXGBLSZF5MuFnOlcAyWU3GYkd23waO89MCVDSC35RkhMhCpdwE3LuQoaQOfUwjHwf84ZpTjp_Az/s1600/IMG_2557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr1t3zTxgsAhFN41pY0p0Xq-rD82U-k0j22mx2GENW-g9M1xWcyWJvf1m5MdS7kalEsKXGBLSZF5MuFnOlcAyWU3GYkd23waO89MCVDSC35RkhMhCpdwE3LuQoaQOfUwjHwf84ZpTjp_Az/s400/IMG_2557.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Teens Jurielka, left, and Jury, on the veranda</span></td></tr>
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My friends said I would be forever changed by this trip.<br />
May it be so, hermanos and hermanas of Nicaragua.<br />
May it be forever so.<br />
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-47277781882580731422012-05-13T07:05:00.000-07:002012-05-13T20:27:03.498-07:00Happy Angst Day!It's Mother's Day. I know whoever created the event had good intentions. But, for me, it's usually just a day to feel inadequate.<br />
<br />
I'm not the mother you see in Highlights magazine wearing the cute flared skirt and serving up a tray of lemonade. I'll never rank close to my own beautiful mother, who birthed me at age 21.<br />
<br />
So, just to clear my troubled mind as this chapter of motherhood ends for me, here are the ways I have missed the mark.<br />
<br />
1. I did not donate a kidney to my baby girl -- her dad did that. (I could have. I really could have.)<br />
<br />
2. I hated breastfeeding. It's supposed to be healthy and bonding and wonderful in a home-school, mom-of-the-world way. I refused. (I could have done that too.)<br />
<br />
3. I forgot to pull out the Halloween and Easter decorations. And at Christmas, I sometimes hired a Christmas tree decorator. (It's true. Sad, but true.)<br />
<br />
4. I never baked cookies. (I'm not apologizing for that.)<br />
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5. I rarely, if ever, sat down to dinner with my family. I was usually out playing tennis.<br />
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6. I never did homework or made posters for my kids and rarely asked about homework.<br />
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7. I haven't showed up for school events put together, hair perfectly fixed. I'm usually in exercise clothes that don't match.<br />
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8. I sometimes let my kids stay out too late and I sometimes made them come in too early.<br />
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9. I occasionally let them skip school or church for not a great reason.<br />
<br />
10. On the first day of junior high, I forgot to pick up both Mary Katherine AND Rachel from school. (Different years, same school. Horrors!)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDLh5EU25iWCKqptxrZvwFEq1Fmy12ccB_OXwWAODN5wlrv8IjgIp65g3WpnLCzSFFU_XqgQJTBh7NRsHSJ6bR8o3kuSW_FxeEhFRLqDWQVf_LQmYU5Aky5S0s-wqar3ZK6DwXViZDSp80/s1600/IMG_1495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDLh5EU25iWCKqptxrZvwFEq1Fmy12ccB_OXwWAODN5wlrv8IjgIp65g3WpnLCzSFFU_XqgQJTBh7NRsHSJ6bR8o3kuSW_FxeEhFRLqDWQVf_LQmYU5Aky5S0s-wqar3ZK6DwXViZDSp80/s320/IMG_1495.JPG" width="211" /></a></div>
Ten confessions are enough for today. I could beat myself up a little more but I still have a sermon coming, so I'll leave room for that. Wouldn't it be great if the preacher said: "It's OK...you did the best you could...and you loved your kids' guts...so enjoy your day!"<br />
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<br />melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2259559276184626125.post-15639285469646244162012-01-08T14:07:00.000-08:002012-01-08T14:38:14.484-08:00It's easy being green<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMVoJQmOyKRRUurTpzu7maAG8FUXZ_DIFC03MqjGqvLtqHglCLg59iV2S0scyxOZEL6eLE2HRt0mLO5KCys_F6b4HZZtbI90gOosT9BjNr4QabGuHlPU5S6U0O1j6WbDHBfr4-qUMRePcd/s1600/IMG_2829.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMVoJQmOyKRRUurTpzu7maAG8FUXZ_DIFC03MqjGqvLtqHglCLg59iV2S0scyxOZEL6eLE2HRt0mLO5KCys_F6b4HZZtbI90gOosT9BjNr4QabGuHlPU5S6U0O1j6WbDHBfr4-qUMRePcd/s400/IMG_2829.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695389546116822226" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">A facelift can be good for the soul. And one day I will probably boost my soul with one. But until then, I'm loving these trash to treasure projects.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The decor at our Oxford getaway is DIY chic thanks to my good friend Lori Burson, who can make a snap decorating decision in the time it takes to hang a picture. </div><div><br /></div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJcgydHfKxEalQlcaRmuzx91t_H1BOD6_0Slfi-le9UXEAVMwFB4YGnTACGSfCp1-CC8z2LF1FI9w9gptXXXHz7x_jOFV-ULBqQtBdAojZEXHqI7QZ9vUVwQ0tj7VJW-JY0Pgl9zzWrtZ/s1600/IMG_2829.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwG4rwcn3RMWRDS3aLDCTT_qJrHFIWckajsalRY0ZtKEMQQJuLNApe7fka3H56zeJ3Gc2wg9lpR0EjndgjWyDDq8NaGB9OIZe-IJT-gNcmjxxRry_ILtSy2n8dKvbJmPNv89aAN8ztqbWM/s1600/IMG_2832.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwG4rwcn3RMWRDS3aLDCTT_qJrHFIWckajsalRY0ZtKEMQQJuLNApe7fka3H56zeJ3Gc2wg9lpR0EjndgjWyDDq8NaGB9OIZe-IJT-gNcmjxxRry_ILtSy2n8dKvbJmPNv89aAN8ztqbWM/s200/IMG_2832.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695387262580044802" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtVqS5Rw-s8ro35yGaw8vTh0NaHx5xzb5HxGqonSiksBTaA9Ij_YvqhuwaCDyLnd2xzpaM6OFxrzq1bkfUUVcB3JGgZr8XuIl17AuP3SZXqR_3JC951ymMzsbdkWQBKGr86LgvXf87efY/s1600/IMG_2833.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><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/AVvXsEjNtVqS5Rw-s8ro35yGaw8vTh0NaHx5xzb5HxGqonSiksBTaA9Ij_YvqhuwaCDyLnd2xzpaM6OFxrzq1bkfUUVcB3JGgZr8XuIl17AuP3SZXqR_3JC951ymMzsbdkWQBKGr86LgvXf87efY/s320/IMG_2833.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695387108341459730" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsJlXtg6-bdR5uiFCDnvslVPhn0kvKtPaqUgg8Cg28tPKRos6DwA1ef9msZITrfX-sWZs4c2SV698R_72hA1gC1a7evpBFkmbb_2c3CPMiY8WSDKVZaEQTVt79MApbCR5DeFROKiUC26_/s1600/IMG_2831.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsJlXtg6-bdR5uiFCDnvslVPhn0kvKtPaqUgg8Cg28tPKRos6DwA1ef9msZITrfX-sWZs4c2SV698R_72hA1gC1a7evpBFkmbb_2c3CPMiY8WSDKVZaEQTVt79MApbCR5DeFROKiUC26_/s320/IMG_2831.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695386955107400594" /></a>Above left, Nanny's chair recovered with a geometric pattern. Not real comfy ... but real cute!<div><br /></div><div>Above right: the table from my childhood house on Dixie Avenue, painted cream and roughed up with Lori's rotary sander. Some recovered club chairs I found in the attic give it pizzaz.</div><div><br /></div><div>Right: Also from my grandmother's house in downtown Hattiesburg -- side tables, which were once an outdated maple, look so adorable painted lime green and placed alongside her antique iron bed.</div><div><br /></div><div>My next project, once I figure it out, is painting an Asian-inspired lamp with bright colors like this one above, which I spotted in a store window in Oxford.</div><div><br /></div><div>My lamp needs its youth and vitality restored ... a nip and a tuck of beauty that, yes, is skin deep and just what the doctor ordered.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>melindaGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764369832460097942noreply@blogger.com0