tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23986376168054163162024-03-14T01:25:33.744-07:00Bikes. Books. Eats. Beats.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-2653036609584220422011-11-24T11:20:00.000-08:002011-11-25T11:29:15.695-08:00Happy Thanksgiving!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqwtHmIPH3KYdC0GeSuR2o6dEkh05i305ecTkLAno09LbutZqPozAQfy_ajCiKP70jlUR6aV0sXAg90cT73OCjXYRs5HNzsecDFC0IOX79EzkwlxZizus-8LnS_Yr-6XCbr2XkJ5lSV0/s1600/dscn0698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqwtHmIPH3KYdC0GeSuR2o6dEkh05i305ecTkLAno09LbutZqPozAQfy_ajCiKP70jlUR6aV0sXAg90cT73OCjXYRs5HNzsecDFC0IOX79EzkwlxZizus-8LnS_Yr-6XCbr2XkJ5lSV0/s320/dscn0698.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>(So, I hosted Thanksgiving for the first time ever, therefore took no photos. This one is from last year, from my grandparents' house, which has a much better view...)<br />
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It was strange this year, being grandparent-less. There is still much to be thankful for, especially that we were able to keep Gran for as long as we did. <br />
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How was this year different for you? And what did you keep the same?Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-55342708399552682372011-03-06T16:03:00.001-08:002011-11-25T11:03:17.912-08:00If today was an outfit...<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><a href="http://www.polyvore.com/untitled/set?id=29055130"><img alt="Untitled" height="400" src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFkVOamxUMDVJNEJHTjR6aFQxQWRNSHcAAAACaWQKAWUAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg" title="Untitled" width="400" /></a><br />
<small><a href="http://www.polyvore.com/untitled/set?id=29055130">Untitled</a> by <a href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/profile?id=1131199">ellaguru</a> featuring <a href="http://www.polyvore.com/printed_tops/shop?query=printed+tops">printed tops</a></small></div>Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-52817283430041778982011-02-05T11:58:00.000-08:002011-02-05T11:58:09.461-08:00February LoveAs you know, I *love* February. (I'll wait here while you skip back to last Feb in the archives...I know it would've been more helpful to post a link...)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfbBF-ZuWYUE3Useg64zemH2Yww_7heUrSZUGDWJJ0jSZFpe3wphstHs-qCvjmPSs047Nlc4TmFgsOwrFlgkum9uuCd8uoW_SSqsuvhyCGLs_nwlA_60TlGICHBKiuZwp7MzRba0ZfXE/s1600/dscn0877.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfbBF-ZuWYUE3Useg64zemH2Yww_7heUrSZUGDWJJ0jSZFpe3wphstHs-qCvjmPSs047Nlc4TmFgsOwrFlgkum9uuCd8uoW_SSqsuvhyCGLs_nwlA_60TlGICHBKiuZwp7MzRba0ZfXE/s320/dscn0877.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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And, while I have loved February fairly consistently, I have not always loved Valentine's Day (especially since most folks think Feb's only redeeming qualities are V-day and the Super Bowl [don't get me started]). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy8B0SzSM4_pHwzGXYhyphenhyphenpP6fJEq3C8hsG3DiHW0QjzZkNMAGcNTrgU-_ylHUYav6VrLTbp_pYOMhom8HuC6uSPw3jd85L9U61Mvy1AELBECPqfZhB1b1EolE53FuGPU6w_HSmPjCmX9bs/s1600/dscn0881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy8B0SzSM4_pHwzGXYhyphenhyphenpP6fJEq3C8hsG3DiHW0QjzZkNMAGcNTrgU-_ylHUYav6VrLTbp_pYOMhom8HuC6uSPw3jd85L9U61Mvy1AELBECPqfZhB1b1EolE53FuGPU6w_HSmPjCmX9bs/s320/dscn0881.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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But, this year I feel inspired to go with it. Not only love the month for all its luscious Februariness, but love the hype. We are a fickle culture. We'll be tearing down our crepe-paper hearts in favor of shiny shamrocks before the leftover cupcakes are eaten. So I want to meditate in the love. It's my way, this year, of slowing down and being aware. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4twQTkgqYW0vugaPPjKY0km7ZQFBxgFU2P3nT4kdXQwZvFCfV5A2tDKAya3ZZ_cribKGUb4szIePpFt0FDc4wYyVJfly3WiDNA5Lg6__8YUIDHrSNgIUKJHwPXWpqXevJR_3MDboYfEQ/s1600/dscn0894.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4twQTkgqYW0vugaPPjKY0km7ZQFBxgFU2P3nT4kdXQwZvFCfV5A2tDKAya3ZZ_cribKGUb4szIePpFt0FDc4wYyVJfly3WiDNA5Lg6__8YUIDHrSNgIUKJHwPXWpqXevJR_3MDboYfEQ/s320/dscn0894.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZpZNfZJzUo">February</a>.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-17668359521396830462011-01-29T13:52:00.000-08:002011-01-29T13:53:47.144-08:00...Time...<div style="text-align: center;">Been thinking a lot about it lately and making some peace with it. I love <a href="http://creativethursday.typepad.com/my_weblog/2011/01/sometimes-i-feel-split.html">this post</a>, because it makes me feel not-so-lonesome about it. And encouraged.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT2Awa8UKA09F0xjScKv_OfdnjkkDx1hNN71DtS_6uY6KWWCujOvasPF2BjBlIatBhsL2E6zpOHxur6YuDCUAi1RINysKGy3jQVAKHnc5rkOkOlM4rggPLty3MjpEIxPdG-w5fWOCa26Y/s1600/nrthbnd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT2Awa8UKA09F0xjScKv_OfdnjkkDx1hNN71DtS_6uY6KWWCujOvasPF2BjBlIatBhsL2E6zpOHxur6YuDCUAi1RINysKGy3jQVAKHnc5rkOkOlM4rggPLty3MjpEIxPdG-w5fWOCa26Y/s400/nrthbnd.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">And I happened across <a href="http://www.wpr.org/BOOK/110123a.cfm">this</a> show on the way home the other evening. So great.... </div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlbJZpQpiUIGYPLR5VGtslznnImnEPTZH6wvsevyRoHbll-QbK7D-8srhP0orHCOgrCq6iZGgCIkVky484RwrCCtMHeZ5AG1nts9Xz-SLlf53ncMcXj8MznA-V_aMveFtdHYLN7cOvfdA/s1600/nrthbnd2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlbJZpQpiUIGYPLR5VGtslznnImnEPTZH6wvsevyRoHbll-QbK7D-8srhP0orHCOgrCq6iZGgCIkVky484RwrCCtMHeZ5AG1nts9Xz-SLlf53ncMcXj8MznA-V_aMveFtdHYLN7cOvfdA/s400/nrthbnd2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Life!</div>Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-72778507220753423302011-01-15T18:08:00.000-08:002011-01-21T10:23:42.677-08:00The "Environment"I'm fuming a little because someone I don't know (and have never met) is "calling me out" in the comment section on my friend's Wall on facebook. I responded to something my friend said, and this person is, well...calling me a liar.<br />
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Sigh.<br />
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I keep hearing about "the current political environment", how it's hostile, how it's rude, uncivil, etc. But can I say (without someone calling me out? just for a little bit?) that I don't think it's the political environment. I think it's the <b>environment</b>, period.<br />
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A week before Christmas, I had an angry tailgater follow me home. I was <i>scared</i>. No one was at my house, it was late enough that I wasn't sure I wanted to call my neighbor for help, so I pulled into another neighborhood. You know. I didn't want to lead this guy to my house.<br />
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And it was fifteen degrees, and it was dark, and my phone was about to die (unusually). I huddled, shivering, in some stranger's driveway waiting for some other stranger to drive away.<br />
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And it's not the first time I've been harassed by road-ragers. *I drive the speed limit.*<br />
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So, can I vent and ask: What in the world is wrong with people?! Who does that?!<br />
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Please and thank you. Yes, ma'am. After you. Can I give you a hand?<br />
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Or, "What can I do to put you in your place, which is below me, (naturally)"?<br />
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I tell you...RECLUSE. That's my future. Lots of dogs.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixtD0YjwxhXTsXP1sp4SAl6nm-It66WoykKKFA4vLh1zOW6_GyWj38HVSqvXjyTGG3Kx0jN3A_yUyvx1dhb_XVaqQswafI14u0VOJhYQdXhyphenhyphenEQcxl8hu4x1TpPpwcF2_JlA6GOhfaNkTw/s1600/DSCN0735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixtD0YjwxhXTsXP1sp4SAl6nm-It66WoykKKFA4vLh1zOW6_GyWj38HVSqvXjyTGG3Kx0jN3A_yUyvx1dhb_XVaqQswafI14u0VOJhYQdXhyphenhyphenEQcxl8hu4x1TpPpwcF2_JlA6GOhfaNkTw/s320/DSCN0735.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-54098960967363833642010-12-23T10:59:00.000-08:002011-11-25T11:00:17.183-08:00Remembering...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPiecuu3Aa_7POfSaz3D6k0Ca1IbKW24THwtKnjdAnKtlmZ_wzCCu3dqKMHMeSqNjnkqkA8ULNTNsdZHyYYMZ1UK-Ep31EXdMzosOvyTRnyMFvDfijdxddxcgTkCmdh0uyJXf-57_OEA/s1600/gene_service.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPiecuu3Aa_7POfSaz3D6k0Ca1IbKW24THwtKnjdAnKtlmZ_wzCCu3dqKMHMeSqNjnkqkA8ULNTNsdZHyYYMZ1UK-Ep31EXdMzosOvyTRnyMFvDfijdxddxcgTkCmdh0uyJXf-57_OEA/s400/gene_service.png" width="286" /></a></div><br />
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My grandfather passed away last December on the fourteenth. Christmas, I think, was his favorite time of year. He'd upwrap presents and give them the obligatory look-over, and then get back to what he really loved--watching the rest of us and setting the scene in his big, beautiful home.<br />
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So, here's to my grandpa: the complicated, sylish, bigger-than-life rascal. We miss you.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-41967152085324301882010-12-17T08:29:00.001-08:002010-12-17T11:08:04.053-08:00They Canceled Christmas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXuZz_qOfJsqI4SVru43GiMV8eBFAZDCud-TbgSuBS0DgdKTwoUixAWf1hsLMyisnj8-6A_2SzZZjX2sS91ID3n7kNlNUXPFtjgVV38gNyXM9eKE6Ukd_cVou0JGgr2Oq8NlNBSzjzo4/s1600/dscn0732.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXuZz_qOfJsqI4SVru43GiMV8eBFAZDCud-TbgSuBS0DgdKTwoUixAWf1hsLMyisnj8-6A_2SzZZjX2sS91ID3n7kNlNUXPFtjgVV38gNyXM9eKE6Ukd_cVou0JGgr2Oq8NlNBSzjzo4/s320/dscn0732.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551689528769082098" border="0" /></a><br />Actually, it was just the last day of school before Christmas Break. The day of our annual Christmas Party. When, traditionally, I wear these:<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkOtrlUUBWUDTL73mkXRbnDlm9Q3IYFG-I0gDbqtDaFdrHWZrhQQfNvI6OK_xZhVtef7IRnifk7RoTyqisRyeFlqkO8ZdyfkSUJyrH2TNkXjw45SEvA2-0u-jNIvaCa5YcoiYnvQ7n38M/s1600/DSCN0736.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkOtrlUUBWUDTL73mkXRbnDlm9Q3IYFG-I0gDbqtDaFdrHWZrhQQfNvI6OK_xZhVtef7IRnifk7RoTyqisRyeFlqkO8ZdyfkSUJyrH2TNkXjw45SEvA2-0u-jNIvaCa5YcoiYnvQ7n38M/s320/DSCN0736.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551729649280411698" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />We were supposed to arrive, overly excited, chomping at the bit for ridiculosity. A few of us would take a test (hopefully not two tests! Oh, procrastination!). Then we would change into our snow clothes, go to the field and zoom down the hills on our lime green brand new saucer sled... I'm guessing everyone bought the same color as me because, honestly, why would you choose any other color?<br /><br />Then we would grow numb with cold and exhaustion and trudge back up to the school. We would change our clothes and toss them around to dry and it would look like someone's hall closet exploded. We would sip hot chocolate and apple cider and eat junk until noon when we would watch the younger grades' Christmas play... They've worked so hard and now it's been canceled twice!<br /><br />After this, the pizza would arrive and, again, we would eat junk. By this time we will all be feeling giddy/nauseous from high fructose corn syrup poisoning. A few of us would compete in wrapping-paper-tube-fencing. Gifts, cards and love would be exchanged. I would haul my frozen-solid Christmas turkey home and thaw it in the passenger side floorboard of my car, as is my custom, since there is no room in my freezer for it.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjWGKjlrV3htj7gZFcBG-Rx-3X0dFvrWoMiRyTC24rO9iY-0IF4auNc1PRFJcZ0yJL_VkGu2G5BVcZV7qpmxhjpN9-IaqBig5CB7D0To_BpK3LuN-cpC0GehiLBonzj2Ok2HlrK8KlPiE/s1600/dscn0731.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjWGKjlrV3htj7gZFcBG-Rx-3X0dFvrWoMiRyTC24rO9iY-0IF4auNc1PRFJcZ0yJL_VkGu2G5BVcZV7qpmxhjpN9-IaqBig5CB7D0To_BpK3LuN-cpC0GehiLBonzj2Ok2HlrK8KlPiE/s320/dscn0731.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551689846751780258" border="0" /></a><br /><br />That's how it went in my head, anyway.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonaeYONQdKQ6Q2o2hY7R5UGQ0QhK9hrtOiWAMMucpBlCVPV3_tZciuhTri-CX86_t3CXiztgWuSVoEWeOOjMXmiMqKq7hOGCO3usGHaKUEXW2Wi5Mab5l0r2gn1QX4QOa4ldlZwcU8hA/s1600/dscn0729.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonaeYONQdKQ6Q2o2hY7R5UGQ0QhK9hrtOiWAMMucpBlCVPV3_tZciuhTri-CX86_t3CXiztgWuSVoEWeOOjMXmiMqKq7hOGCO3usGHaKUEXW2Wi5Mab5l0r2gn1QX4QOa4ldlZwcU8hA/s320/dscn0729.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551690211122031170" border="0" /></a>Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-73574460792021513142010-12-01T07:25:00.000-08:002010-12-02T15:21:36.298-08:00Sick Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmcbnw8OX6HLmAzkmGWeql-3yzaV7Nib48vRErUfaIvz5DYGfbW4Sezrnt0Xt1DKpFxa-VY6nQVC-Q_UQAh_aA76EYSFBH74_BQVb50KNrf06gkQ19RnO04849tijWjys3AGCqaukMYTs/s1600/dscn0712.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmcbnw8OX6HLmAzkmGWeql-3yzaV7Nib48vRErUfaIvz5DYGfbW4Sezrnt0Xt1DKpFxa-VY6nQVC-Q_UQAh_aA76EYSFBH74_BQVb50KNrf06gkQ19RnO04849tijWjys3AGCqaukMYTs/s320/dscn0712.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546229022268655602" border="0" /></a><br />Well, it appears I have succumbed to the constant germ-barraging. Here's to CoCo Wheats, finishing <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Made-U-S-Billie-Letts/dp/B003IWYIHS/ref=tmm_hrd_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1291217346&sr=1-1">this</a> traumatic book (if she doesn't get out of all that trouble soon, I'm going to pitch it. seriously. can't take much more), and getting some online work done. (Hel-<span style="font-style: italic;">lo</span>, <a href="http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/">Apartment Therapy</a>...)Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-7752038902064859692010-11-26T06:33:00.000-08:002010-12-01T07:23:29.918-08:00.Black.Friday.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmA7MM-B3b0cnL8eHN20yqc16OlEI2t2o_ZWy_JLJ7moWy2IS2oNQXu2c-daIbVdsiFBKfCq7PcFSFAK3DXvOZ67sDKSYdV5JzLxlpuTXW9_NRLknkjNaDYiVRSZagT3DzdlFTXRLMSg/s1600/dscn1388.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmA7MM-B3b0cnL8eHN20yqc16OlEI2t2o_ZWy_JLJ7moWy2IS2oNQXu2c-daIbVdsiFBKfCq7PcFSFAK3DXvOZ67sDKSYdV5JzLxlpuTXW9_NRLknkjNaDYiVRSZagT3DzdlFTXRLMSg/s320/dscn1388.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545734761495491010" border="0" /></a><br />To celebrate this weird cultural phenom that is competitive shopping stuffed up the rump of a turkey called materialism, I have assimilated an xmas list of my own gimme-gimme's:<br /><br /><ul><li>This <a href="http://www.superbuzzy.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=69_158&products_id=7349">bento box</a></li></ul><ul><li>Ikea pendant <a href="http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/60071344">lamp</a> (design!)</li></ul><ul><li>cases and cases of <a href="http://www.beveragesdirect.com/detail-1296-San_Pellegrino_Limonata_24_Pack.asp">Limonata</a></li></ul><ul><li>a <a href="http://www.gregorypacks.com/products/womens/technical/47/dipsea">pack</a> that fits my back </li></ul><ul><li>a <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/62255468/fox-jam-8x10-print">fox jam print</a></li></ul><br />Peace on Earth, goodwill to consumers.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-39557291513591188112010-09-30T19:51:00.000-07:002010-11-19T20:06:11.241-08:00A Field Trip<span style="font-family:webdings;">Went to the <a href="http://www.little-mountain.com/oilandgasmuseum/">Oil and Gas Muse</a></span><span style="font-family:webdings;"><a href="http://www.little-mountain.com/oilandgasmuseum/">um today</a>. Loved it. But there was one room that really stole my heart. A weird and slightly creepy room.</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNybgJimjcPXmzc62ZmuR2FtUl4zgd-ZSHz8SHDtVArUbfglb_oqA1mvb9wVEwKwWYTH0oruKGykSfZRkGKELKjAdanwhpdERfoFk1m8BAdc-_2h08unf4OC6zv6R5r2aQwLYSaPLwQ2Q/s1600/dscn0629.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNybgJimjcPXmzc62ZmuR2FtUl4zgd-ZSHz8SHDtVArUbfglb_oqA1mvb9wVEwKwWYTH0oruKGykSfZRkGKELKjAdanwhpdERfoFk1m8BAdc-_2h08unf4OC6zv6R5r2aQwLYSaPLwQ2Q/s320/dscn0629.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541475007931281778" border="0" /></a><br />Old worn wood smell. Oily cast iron. Flaking tin ceilings.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHTjHGZ2Jkcwy1WRjCCYD_WJWm0psDklGFEWNwjLH8jVyu7fTe9qKJdm0ashH4WCFsbwsLxeHiFeyXDI9NI3RE4WkZojgxP2HC8maFvE4fHN3dZ_-8_XIEgqIhGH3R77PUCtGhl4tw-k/s1600/dscn0632.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHTjHGZ2Jkcwy1WRjCCYD_WJWm0psDklGFEWNwjLH8jVyu7fTe9qKJdm0ashH4WCFsbwsLxeHiFeyXDI9NI3RE4WkZojgxP2HC8maFvE4fHN3dZ_-8_XIEgqIhGH3R77PUCtGhl4tw-k/s320/dscn0632.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541475361355596146" border="0" /></a><br />Lovely, lovely apothecary shelves. And tell me with complete honesty you've never wanted to glide on one of those rolling ladders before. You can't.<br /><br />And there was a romantic/industrial skylight. I spent much more time in this room than the others...especially the creepy basement. Horror movie stuff down there. Definite "vibes".<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_Ir2e2fzaFnfGEMwHtXkP-i5Rg8u79thukLs_S8bFIVGxxuCQyrHDLhgfc7btk-VzAHbasRSdQifRkRZ-QJKdL-2tM_EFAdde5MM16L-hKS4OnSp7YUQkiAPci97YFZJkgorjyznG18/s1600/dscn0630.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_Ir2e2fzaFnfGEMwHtXkP-i5Rg8u79thukLs_S8bFIVGxxuCQyrHDLhgfc7btk-VzAHbasRSdQifRkRZ-QJKdL-2tM_EFAdde5MM16L-hKS4OnSp7YUQkiAPci97YFZJkgorjyznG18/s320/dscn0630.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541475195961818738" border="0" /></a><br />It was a grand time. You should go. Oh, yeah, we learned a lot, too. Of course!Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-74168454451434895352010-06-15T15:27:00.000-07:002010-06-15T15:27:00.390-07:00On the Way Home<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM60oYIinkIE7voUuIQ8yGOiyII439neyIPfYxqQ6zlNUXSeSbnZLZ6oZCwByGxkyssISw8AaMxlKQgyd8GBR4vvPF2N9bZnoNUAKS-EtzgOr9E7erw1DlSYMvfGrBTFj8IS7Wp-PZCC0/s1600/chkncrossroad.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM60oYIinkIE7voUuIQ8yGOiyII439neyIPfYxqQ6zlNUXSeSbnZLZ6oZCwByGxkyssISw8AaMxlKQgyd8GBR4vvPF2N9bZnoNUAKS-EtzgOr9E7erw1DlSYMvfGrBTFj8IS7Wp-PZCC0/s320/chkncrossroad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483078250298363042" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />I took the scenic route.<br /><br />The conference finished up just before noon, and I was at loose ends. Too late for church. Husfriend at work. Was trying to avoid the horrific situation at in the basement.<br /><br />So I decided to take the back way home. The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Way_Back_Machine">WayBack</a> way. I drove Rt. 33 and Rt. 14 back to Parkersawfulburg. You know, I didn't get carsick at all until I was in the dairy section of WalMart. Hm.<br /><br />Aaanyway, it was great. I drove my little car around those turns and listened to my music and smiled the whole time. So beautiful.<br /><br />I saw a sign for "Historic Buffalo Log Church" and thought, hey, that's for me. I turned onto a one-lane patchwork paved road and looked around.<br /><br />A house.<br /><br />I decided I would go a mile and if I didn't see it, I'd turn back. At one mile, there was an old couple (yes, they were actually old, not relatively old, and I'm only mentioning it because they passed me later in a flurry of gravel) unloading their four-wheeler and strapping on their helmets (so cute). The gentleman told me it was three miles ahead, which was confirmed by the sign he pointed to that read: Buffalo Church 3 miles.<br /><br />Let me tell you. Just after that sign, the road turned to gravel and got <span style="font-style: italic;">steep.</span> Not Dolly Sods steep or Pickens steep, but, yeah, it was intense. There were cows. There were bulls. And calves. In the woods. It was so dappled and lovely, even with storm clouds threatening. You should have seen it.<br /><br />Then the church at the top, on a ridge.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjicq5HRi7fiB0r6lYSkeu2Y9eksVcAAWucQJiIKokNw-VYcFlv9EtW3a9C3FUFeQwELFWgSQ4WUNkIOL-xaU63QFQaFhLsqLOUklRvedFhKmbA22wWTSzQVXGoMa-A44L8oZfEDQ1O9J8/s1600/buffaloridge2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjicq5HRi7fiB0r6lYSkeu2Y9eksVcAAWucQJiIKokNw-VYcFlv9EtW3a9C3FUFeQwELFWgSQ4WUNkIOL-xaU63QFQaFhLsqLOUklRvedFhKmbA22wWTSzQVXGoMa-A44L8oZfEDQ1O9J8/s320/buffaloridge2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483077482380661554" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SQvYNvtSSvf20L5eu-PvLiOL2YnhQ2XYgLh8qJK62nneLzZTxBreurg3lQGYHJCdRV-8C6UQMa4N2ZK-ivY3m-7UhssG91DtfNC-cnG4g8JA1ijlbunutCS9Cps2CI4h52ppN9TjQk8/s1600/buffalochurchridge.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SQvYNvtSSvf20L5eu-PvLiOL2YnhQ2XYgLh8qJK62nneLzZTxBreurg3lQGYHJCdRV-8C6UQMa4N2ZK-ivY3m-7UhssG91DtfNC-cnG4g8JA1ijlbunutCS9Cps2CI4h52ppN9TjQk8/s320/buffalochurchridge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483077881444110290" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />I need to find that man and ask why the Log Church wasn't made of logs, but that's another post.<br /><br />There was this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAWz64UzVAkBHdifNDgq_70IqJiIud_ho31kFYcfKwxkUu7yqKBcX1ifDOWp98LzixVDI__a6CK3u2j0cCdwAnkQ-hxgoc8nSWpuZoGYoIIWuf7gLmgrfSQEmKG0nfhixBD9mq31vleC0/s1600/buffaloouthouse2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAWz64UzVAkBHdifNDgq_70IqJiIud_ho31kFYcfKwxkUu7yqKBcX1ifDOWp98LzixVDI__a6CK3u2j0cCdwAnkQ-hxgoc8nSWpuZoGYoIIWuf7gLmgrfSQEmKG0nfhixBD9mq31vleC0/s320/buffaloouthouse2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483076623019939810" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-R6n4R_AoX3TIPtUITNiGNW1PHtJebRsatOlt2Sf9PQ1_147aMwoConHOvswxicx1dCfOrRPC4aK7FLlS2-44rl1rAv_tTJqK2uVJ8_XUm8D7c9bZgfBfvaMvXAEjOLRrULBmPrOMWM/s1600/buffaloouthouse.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-R6n4R_AoX3TIPtUITNiGNW1PHtJebRsatOlt2Sf9PQ1_147aMwoConHOvswxicx1dCfOrRPC4aK7FLlS2-44rl1rAv_tTJqK2uVJ8_XUm8D7c9bZgfBfvaMvXAEjOLRrULBmPrOMWM/s320/buffaloouthouse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483076889519553522" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There was a huge spider. Yes, I left the door open a crack.<br /><br /><br /><br />This:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGEc_NpLgSoflmKNYogbgozdjd9XN0EraV1dGAvnnDy4BX9gdoROlkI8qLjUw81GOKes9M_kbFTcwK1bOQcFminY_10tJSMmVYa7XGOf-gWCwGt2GdtUdFukP0KB-gfeWWty4smG80BIA/s1600/buffalonimrod.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGEc_NpLgSoflmKNYogbgozdjd9XN0EraV1dGAvnnDy4BX9gdoROlkI8qLjUw81GOKes9M_kbFTcwK1bOQcFminY_10tJSMmVYa7XGOf-gWCwGt2GdtUdFukP0KB-gfeWWty4smG80BIA/s320/buffalonimrod.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483076212154418162" border="0" /></a><br />Oh, yes, they did...<br /><br />And this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosLa0VubxrT6ufoGSejfU1HZdOLK5xvPc5-Pnak5AS3_HwI7c2k5PVQ9_PuTfyLIUsBgqHr2wD04PSE7iigxfx5wbxNb_-porYabwBNKmyx8aQqiSHVS-1xjREKWJTJx56dSwn69Vuwk/s1600/buffalochurchflyer.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosLa0VubxrT6ufoGSejfU1HZdOLK5xvPc5-Pnak5AS3_HwI7c2k5PVQ9_PuTfyLIUsBgqHr2wD04PSE7iigxfx5wbxNb_-porYabwBNKmyx8aQqiSHVS-1xjREKWJTJx56dSwn69Vuwk/s320/buffalochurchflyer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483075795883653666" border="0" /></a><br />The event was already past, but, look, it says they need donations. So help out, if you feel inclined.<br /><br />And to cap it all off, I saw a scarlet tanager. Excellent drive.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-66822267594889069512010-06-13T15:15:00.000-07:002010-06-18T07:30:06.800-07:00Back Home...for a While<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLt6oloELI6Vub2Oy6gNP4uDSQrNFyq1OIOHTZuP7bcWQjnH6RBQKRm_fLuBXyxjpsKQcZF-r4T_HrDCtLlvLlSaPqQJrxyTYgWwVIW7_CF61DgoqtaH98Wgz_FuKtzxUT7XSL5NRDUtQ/s1600/dscn1279.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLt6oloELI6Vub2Oy6gNP4uDSQrNFyq1OIOHTZuP7bcWQjnH6RBQKRm_fLuBXyxjpsKQcZF-r4T_HrDCtLlvLlSaPqQJrxyTYgWwVIW7_CF61DgoqtaH98Wgz_FuKtzxUT7XSL5NRDUtQ/s320/dscn1279.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483080906085077314" border="0" /></a><br />So, is it just me, or does the basement drain back up with sewage only on the night before dayshift/fun things out of town (say, Writers Conferences)?<br /><br />Oy giminee cricket for the love of goodness vey!?!!<br /><br />But that's fixed. Still cleaning...but it's fixed.<br /><br />So, the Conference, right? Waaaaay too much to talk about, as usual, but I'll hit on some highlights:<br /><br />- the lovely and talented <a href="http://www.wvwriters.org/conference10/conference10descriptions.html">Renee Nicholson and Natalie Sypolt</a>, back again with writaliciousness. Scored three workshops.<br /><br />- always love a workshop with El Presidente <a href="http://www.wvwriters.org/conference10/conference10descriptions.html">Eric Fritzius</a>. Podcasting this time...<br /><br />- discussion panel called "The Appalachian Inquisition" with Irene McKinney, Denise Giardina, Daniel Boyd, Norman Jordan, Gretchen Moran Laskas (love her!), and Tim Noland. Does an authentic Appalachian voice exist? Is Appalachia a myth? Hmmm...<br /><br />- pitch session with an honest-to-goodness, award-winning agent...! Hyperventilated. I'll let you know.<br /><br />- got to catch up with the incredible <a href="http://grannysu.blogspot.com/">Granny Sue Holstein<br /></a><br />- laughed at the banquet with my table of friends until we nearly shot tea from our nostrils.<br /><br /><br />Sigh. And now, it's over for another year. I dearly love the WVW Conference...Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-91965949570778237662010-06-09T18:17:00.000-07:002010-06-09T18:22:27.227-07:00The Conference!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjdHGATGIK1RFknsQv3bKucHWwNhjiXBpwFBGIxedZxDFB5aS0C-63Y8-oLLOn3JBL4oe2eWlBjAm-fKUQCwBEJxXX9WGdmRkXoR7THxBB0S9xCDYFPKzU1WuQ5NjwZLI0FYFr6T8djA/s1600/dscn0923.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjdHGATGIK1RFknsQv3bKucHWwNhjiXBpwFBGIxedZxDFB5aS0C-63Y8-oLLOn3JBL4oe2eWlBjAm-fKUQCwBEJxXX9WGdmRkXoR7THxBB0S9xCDYFPKzU1WuQ5NjwZLI0FYFr6T8djA/s320/dscn0923.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480949200040240834" border="0" /></a><br />Getting ready to go the West Virginia Writers Conference! Yessss!<br /><br />And this year I have a lot of excitement scheduled.<br /><br />But I'll tell about that later...Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-75141115408974824192010-04-16T17:48:00.001-07:002010-11-19T19:39:08.514-08:00<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">1.) When do you feel happiest?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">When I'm outside.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">2.) How do you take care of yourself?</span><br /><br />Go to bed on time (or early?!)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">3.) Are you internally (by yourself) or externally (by others) motivated?</span><br /><br />Internally. If the external pressures me too much, I retreat inside or run off. But I push myself harder than external influences most of the time, anyway, so...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">4.) What do you do for fun?</span><br /><br />See blog title.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">5.) What intimidates you?</span><br /><br />People. And paperwork.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-65422843008922160792010-04-04T19:33:00.000-07:002010-04-06T14:04:48.089-07:00That morning...<p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-11549">15</sup>Jesus spoke to her, "Woman, why do you weep? Who are you looking for?" </p><p> She, thinking that he was the gardener, said, "Mister, if you took him, tell me where you put him so I can care for him." </p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-11550">16</sup>Jesus said, "Mary."<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>And, just like that, He calls our names and we suddenly recognize the One we've been looking for all along...</p><p><br /></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmqt3nR78VxNFEhQPC2VW4t3I1L5onkK6mSoSVxVsE21xqtxSkWbSDmL0kHt1OnBas9yzg21TEpk-3Nuy1_Zklmg2_1W6nLaU76bhVOAHiHIAaZNa_8ceZ7msupiW5cJxDbQddMzmVOW0/s1600/dscn0725.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmqt3nR78VxNFEhQPC2VW4t3I1L5onkK6mSoSVxVsE21xqtxSkWbSDmL0kHt1OnBas9yzg21TEpk-3Nuy1_Zklmg2_1W6nLaU76bhVOAHiHIAaZNa_8ceZ7msupiW5cJxDbQddMzmVOW0/s320/dscn0725.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457132647415841458" border="0" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p>...And our dead hopes come back to vibrant life, better than we ever could have imagined.</p><p><br /></p><p>Happy Easter!<br /></p>Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-92161113652711401862010-03-31T08:18:00.000-07:002010-04-02T06:29:45.816-07:00Staff Work Day...on April Fools' Day. Uh-oh. Nervous.<br /><br />I made a little playlist for the occasion.<br /><br /><br /><object height="400" width="250"> <param name="movie" value="http://listen.grooveshark.com/widget.swf"> <param name="wmode" value="window"> <param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"> <param name="flashvars" value="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&widgetID=20663911&style=metal&bbg=B4D5DA&bt=813B45&bfg=B1BABF&p=0"> <embed src="http://listen.grooveshark.com/widget.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&widgetID=20663911&style=metal&bbg=B4D5DA&bt=813B45&bfg=B1BABF&p=0" allowscriptaccess="always" wmode="window" height="400" width="250"></embed></object>Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-18894591531392770532010-03-26T17:47:00.000-07:002010-03-27T08:17:55.958-07:00AneurhythmsObsessed with this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8tBPidveM4">song</a> right now.<br /><br />And this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxDJTWee-zY">one</a>, too.<br /><br />Thanks, <a href="http://rosylittlethings.typepad.com/posie_gets_cozy/2010/03/playlist-for-jeannemarie.html">Alicia</a>.<br /><br />Have a sweet weekend!<br /><br /><br />**UPDATE**<br />Hey, remember Savage Garden? Hahahaha, they just popped up on my Pandora station. Soooo huge with <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQnAxOQxQIU">this song</a> when I was gearing up to graduate high-school. I'll just thumbs-down them now...Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-27042759077231881742010-03-02T12:14:00.000-08:002010-03-26T17:46:24.003-07:00Slow DownSo I have <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Chris-Carmichaels-Food-Fitness-Right/dp/B000BNPFYC/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1269649400&sr=1-3">this</a> book, and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bike-Life-How-Ride-100/dp/1569244510/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1269649441&sr=1-1">this</a> book, and I'm attempting to do <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sports_periodization">periodization</a> as a training program this year. I did it, somewhat loosely, last year, and thought it was pretty great, so I'm trying to stick to it a little more closely this year.<br /><br />The thing with this program, though, is that for the first three months of the year, you go <span style="font-style: italic;">slow</span>. It's counter-intuitive. And sometimes it's hard to go slow.<br /><br />I think, a lot of times, in this society/culture, we want to go fast. We feel the need to go fast <span style="font-style: italic;">right now</span>. If I don't hurry up then __________ will happen, and this will mess everything up/put me at a severe disadvantage/be the end of the world. There's so much pressure to do as much as you can, as fast as you can, as long as you can.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBKPsDSW_jm5dhoSFO56Y-P3GjE1rBPx2Zjby8kZTA7gnKQ-JJjz3ppeSQUgsnYMJ__0cu2kaMGHXxr_-YFBwWGvz0zlm-A1V8EfdC9epHYTvJRDNy2BXct2npSk8poBzfYBFypdyNAmM/s1600/snowwood.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBKPsDSW_jm5dhoSFO56Y-P3GjE1rBPx2Zjby8kZTA7gnKQ-JJjz3ppeSQUgsnYMJ__0cu2kaMGHXxr_-YFBwWGvz0zlm-A1V8EfdC9epHYTvJRDNy2BXct2npSk8poBzfYBFypdyNAmM/s320/snowwood.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453102233529267858" border="0" /></a><br /><br />But in periodization, you learn that training too hard, too fast will limit you in the long run. Oops... It kind of puts a ceiling on your performance. You end up hurting yourself.<br /><br />The thing that takes so long is building aerobic capacity, and your ability to, mm, process oxygen more efficiently. You have to give your body time to build more of the tiniest blood vessels, capillaries. So all this is going on while you're pacing yourself at this slow, steady rate. Invisible. But it's happening. You end up getting more out of each breath you take.<br /><br />And I was thinking that it's the same, spiritually. We want to rush results. We want growth now. We try to force it.<br /><br /><br />We get burnt out.<br /><br /><br />Sometimes the fastest way is to go slow.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQwekfVvWpc-aBC2L0aqPHcOilG4Rte5DolGaVHlXS6DfZWfY13qKrtTJoIV5JZSBrmkw9tYoWKATFbWvIx4I8ipM_pUUqPhCj-XTz6qwAbHs8LtcRU1xW1dLLk60XKqmJfw3DmtCFwKo/s1600/dandelion.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQwekfVvWpc-aBC2L0aqPHcOilG4Rte5DolGaVHlXS6DfZWfY13qKrtTJoIV5JZSBrmkw9tYoWKATFbWvIx4I8ipM_pUUqPhCj-XTz6qwAbHs8LtcRU1xW1dLLk60XKqmJfw3DmtCFwKo/s320/dandelion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453106152032505938" border="0" /></a>Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-70018353180357790542010-02-28T11:09:00.000-08:002010-02-28T12:38:47.979-08:00Snow Day...againJust signed up for an <a href="http://www.creativethursday.com/e-course.htm">e-course</a> I've been eyeing for a while. Excited! Nervous!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Church is cancelled again this morning for snow. All this snow, and I can't find a sled. Wal-Mart has the sand shovels and beach blankets out, but no sleds. I guess the boogie board might work; not as if it's getting much use these days.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Guess I should organize my work space in preparation for the e-course. Clear off a spot. Stare at the walls, hoping they will tell me what color paint they want. Later I will roast a chicken.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9RqayM-hIUZ6RcI5z5OaEtZ6RqI2N4FSlHCRH2EH9s1DzIVDZGdZcxfX5g2U_SkXYYDSBNOxryfAhWI-rs_ePweX_6kUIi_bZXWaX5vdrtpDbmyPFgR4Mqb-XUkD6rVqbb_kxMZqHsIk/s1600-h/collegesunset.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9RqayM-hIUZ6RcI5z5OaEtZ6RqI2N4FSlHCRH2EH9s1DzIVDZGdZcxfX5g2U_SkXYYDSBNOxryfAhWI-rs_ePweX_6kUIi_bZXWaX5vdrtpDbmyPFgR4Mqb-XUkD6rVqbb_kxMZqHsIk/s320/collegesunset.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443382476162097986" border="0" /></a><br />So that's our lazy Sunday.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-60021309404309136852010-02-26T17:22:00.000-08:002010-02-27T17:29:44.928-08:00As Far As Days Go......this one was not-so-great. Not a "bad day", as in a series of annoying things, one right after the other. I would say it was a "hard day". Therefore, I'm going to my happy place:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAHvqRVV5JI52KpZg-QGBsktOg2pYM_Mh06ypJkkzqXoOOrS1eRPk-Y_ryjYjtdTETlCa_5_EdOkJz8ZhQ3D44ABkK8TchFcoaskLcBPOdS56sRJe9XqwZ8rivhMzbUb4zTdXq8YR-F7s/s1600-h/DSCN1136.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAHvqRVV5JI52KpZg-QGBsktOg2pYM_Mh06ypJkkzqXoOOrS1eRPk-Y_ryjYjtdTETlCa_5_EdOkJz8ZhQ3D44ABkK8TchFcoaskLcBPOdS56sRJe9XqwZ8rivhMzbUb4zTdXq8YR-F7s/s320/DSCN1136.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443099464115102978" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">**Where do you go when you need to detach and escape?</span>Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-53486828972280860252010-02-26T14:10:00.000-08:002010-11-19T19:39:48.629-08:00Bad Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFU-TxJr9N8Czd61TNyPI6zQOsReA-fL0k2x8xQj_p4BVnM4MiCSJpF0mZNExd5QJ8-V6Sj1w1p6IM2a5bDhIUsZStJkHMs9VripBBO_Gxb_OBw2iheahdQGAwvna9hkwb9GgVXzOuy4/s1600-h/DSCN1167.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFU-TxJr9N8Czd61TNyPI6zQOsReA-fL0k2x8xQj_p4BVnM4MiCSJpF0mZNExd5QJ8-V6Sj1w1p6IM2a5bDhIUsZStJkHMs9VripBBO_Gxb_OBw2iheahdQGAwvna9hkwb9GgVXzOuy4/s320/DSCN1167.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442680934015320994" border="0" /></a><br />see title.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-6153116171876932012010-02-24T16:09:00.000-08:002010-02-24T16:33:46.481-08:00~~.G.R.I.M.M.~~<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9eR4eA5f_QkWDfXq3JEg0NIF2nOGo77d0AI-bUqTB5AdUe44WrJBeibKUeqlkcWmMWHypFDZdVHHpOcBCzMscyB2SgSF6xVdrNpBXkKwvhWzlanW0FAWZEua4k1Uve3pTxmBxsxVHjkc/s1600-h/Rapunzel-Gruelle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 236px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9eR4eA5f_QkWDfXq3JEg0NIF2nOGo77d0AI-bUqTB5AdUe44WrJBeibKUeqlkcWmMWHypFDZdVHHpOcBCzMscyB2SgSF6xVdrNpBXkKwvhWzlanW0FAWZEua4k1Uve3pTxmBxsxVHjkc/s320/Rapunzel-Gruelle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441972471558493186" border="0" /></a><br />So, I move in cycles. Right now, I'm in a Grimm's Fairy Tales whirl. Probably has a little to do with the fire in the woods, and the images that came with it...<br /><br />I'm reading the Tales to my high schoolers, and they've been aghast:<br /><br />"Are you <span style="font-style: italic;">serious</span>?"<br />"What?!"<br />"Did they not think it was strange that there was a cake house that didn't have birds all over it?!"<br />"How did Rapunzel eat?"<br />"No way, that guy couldn't shoot a fly's eye at two miles!"<br />"Eeeew, what kind of mother tells her daughter to cut off her toe for a man??"<br />"What kind of witch puts a spell on him that he's a frog until someone tries to kill him?"<br />"Don't these people have ladders?"<br /><br />I have, too. I don't think I've ever read "<a href="http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/authors/grimms/52thrushbeard.html">King Thrushbeard</a>" before. I <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> that story. It reminds me of our <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah+9:6&version=NIV">Prince</a>. You should read it.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-22156888969174409122010-02-22T15:00:00.000-08:002010-02-22T15:00:00.406-08:00Help!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY8KpS0pkRi4OGecjaxn4s2bNUOeAbLm_dtlZHovMxCyGMixR6SJg1AKSPFTwc-aYESalp3_lAuNTXOuOAXAeslLl54oRTAkB-8vhPZp652ueBbT9yP2_h0UIOLtwF2Qnl-MPkuOCyZ68/s1600-h/paintchips.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY8KpS0pkRi4OGecjaxn4s2bNUOeAbLm_dtlZHovMxCyGMixR6SJg1AKSPFTwc-aYESalp3_lAuNTXOuOAXAeslLl54oRTAkB-8vhPZp652ueBbT9yP2_h0UIOLtwF2Qnl-MPkuOCyZ68/s320/paintchips.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440676445021775602" border="0" /></a><br />Yeah, so, I missed the sale. Yeah.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-68259992211507946462010-02-21T04:03:00.000-08:002010-02-21T04:41:01.768-08:00Road Ride x 2I went on two--TWO!--road rides this weekend. Greedy? Perhaps. Selfish? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhPeNEczv9-vCMcH6MdsVff5-ObHldWkGKeQQUH6z2oSRupaL_YomZiGMXXNyMRLtyjQw1wmi0pZxVXIv338ItqyggX2zJVqsAZ8tZYTc4Ed5B0xa_fmWPRYNxc4Lt1eIoBQPn52QUMao/s1600-h/snowbethanychurch.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhPeNEczv9-vCMcH6MdsVff5-ObHldWkGKeQQUH6z2oSRupaL_YomZiGMXXNyMRLtyjQw1wmi0pZxVXIv338ItqyggX2zJVqsAZ8tZYTc4Ed5B0xa_fmWPRYNxc4Lt1eIoBQPn52QUMao/s320/snowbethanychurch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440666408455299394" border="0" /></a><br />I was so happy yesterday. If <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Chris-Carmichaels-Food-Fitness-Carmichael/dp/0425202550/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1266755032&sr=1-3">Chris Carmichael</a> showed up (but why would he show up? I don't know; it's a hypothetical. Focus.), I think I would've smooched him. On his <span style="font-style: italic;">face</span>. That's how happy. I don't want to jinx anything, but I'm pretty excited about the upcoming year of cycling. 'Cuz it's only February, dude. Two rides. In two days. Mmm-hmm.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FD1oXtxDnDCS2AQNOpMhLcCscfrumqP3CIYTGk84gi_2KoWRhDlCzFQQBtckIScvYkNS9Im9M2EBfSFxGKDg6eQaX85VBq9BqAqA63_Gm9u1tzMnVSBFXSsENZ0j_81RI8fd6oi9g1g/s1600-h/snowride2_19.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FD1oXtxDnDCS2AQNOpMhLcCscfrumqP3CIYTGk84gi_2KoWRhDlCzFQQBtckIScvYkNS9Im9M2EBfSFxGKDg6eQaX85VBq9BqAqA63_Gm9u1tzMnVSBFXSsENZ0j_81RI8fd6oi9g1g/s320/snowride2_19.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440667356785893170" border="0" /></a>And the sun! The sun was so bright on Friday, I had a semi-permanent wrinkle between my eyebrows. Also, I couldn't look directly at my safety shirt. For obvious reasons. Hey. It's saved my life, probably a hundred times. At <span style="font-style: italic;">least</span>. Don't hate.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWTei-oVAI-5Ue6EO3hTczLnD8RM8MgdZwahTbvEXOaYfgzgTy-I1VYyDnMfOWEQfFPpPOf4rJXe2htWd3xCAfNHi6XWYKiq_4DnRjNOLrdHaNk0CIRwdjYrMK5ube7c9MoLKbcKtMJQ/s1600-h/3sunvalley2_20.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWTei-oVAI-5Ue6EO3hTczLnD8RM8MgdZwahTbvEXOaYfgzgTy-I1VYyDnMfOWEQfFPpPOf4rJXe2htWd3xCAfNHi6XWYKiq_4DnRjNOLrdHaNk0CIRwdjYrMK5ube7c9MoLKbcKtMJQ/s320/3sunvalley2_20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440666760584994226" border="0" /></a><br />I think there are so many little things that make riding at this time of year so lovely. For one, it's nice to not be all slimy and hallucinating from the 90% humidity. And to be able to breath. Gee, that's nice.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9ziGMLJEYapTiZT5Nzf-NipoejyRy2R78oOWtjj_VE42gMpBIRrFn8WRi-DfibhbdVcfHLKA0ywEbr2WMn8OI0NCco9bg6ntGTHsrtTDryX4qvvaB1OecGjxX114TIMfyJdMhbbxAQI/s1600-h/4sunvalleyrd2_20.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9ziGMLJEYapTiZT5Nzf-NipoejyRy2R78oOWtjj_VE42gMpBIRrFn8WRi-DfibhbdVcfHLKA0ywEbr2WMn8OI0NCco9bg6ntGTHsrtTDryX4qvvaB1OecGjxX114TIMfyJdMhbbxAQI/s320/4sunvalleyrd2_20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440667652819776722" border="0" /></a><br />On the other hand, with the leaves off the trees and with me wearing my slightly garish safety shirt, it's a little challenging to find good spots for a bathroom break. TMI? Tough, that's the hard truth. Which has me wondering: I know how the male pro-cyclists relieve themselves on long rides, but, uhm, what about the female pros? Anyone know this? I'm a little afraid to research it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL9ZeLhOYRxYkRxVcQp9TIOQ2P3LoFZfdTmJd0OSSesXUfPOaWhdhGnu7XaDAFp1Z639r-Lk9CJsSAEArS6oImYLs_2PQWScwxflQUIGMScjkTg5YVKj3C2zFGxNHbkQd9h8Eiu73HV10/s1600-h/sunvalleyrd2_20.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL9ZeLhOYRxYkRxVcQp9TIOQ2P3LoFZfdTmJd0OSSesXUfPOaWhdhGnu7XaDAFp1Z639r-Lk9CJsSAEArS6oImYLs_2PQWScwxflQUIGMScjkTg5YVKj3C2zFGxNHbkQd9h8Eiu73HV10/s320/sunvalleyrd2_20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440667904560179138" border="0" /></a>February has been my second-favorite month (it's so hard to pick!) for some years now. There are all these small, subtle, almost-sneaky changes happening for Spring. The sun tilts differently. Birds start singing differently. I think it even smells different. And no one seems to love it but me. Sad. I think it is so dynamic and exciting, with this electric undercurrent buzzing and humming away.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFz8fUhLeUBle8r7YdGeXTmiv27U75mciSah2IXJ_5FCRD3-ARMR9nb-S-eNSNC7rFSaRf8aAqEoyXjeH4OO-P1XrdepFxw-LQ1VgSwAS3s407zeHf8gbgkRAKa1_REoNLWcoLmF_KIA/s1600-h/2sunvalley2_20.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFz8fUhLeUBle8r7YdGeXTmiv27U75mciSah2IXJ_5FCRD3-ARMR9nb-S-eNSNC7rFSaRf8aAqEoyXjeH4OO-P1XrdepFxw-LQ1VgSwAS3s407zeHf8gbgkRAKa1_REoNLWcoLmF_KIA/s320/2sunvalley2_20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440667005839861042" border="0" /></a>And, you don't have to mow the grass.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2398637616805416316.post-86597504207490905972010-02-18T16:26:00.000-08:002010-02-18T16:37:09.787-08:00Still<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1k8Ca5MNWacisde0vnM-lYDXNaqU2J-bDnkDLuE5TQEyWZFYmbMCFvwC1YQPuqgzF2CfDPHGG21_4fc-lNC-hVRzIua7r3Pcf04i2kmeYx774ZjFV_F2ufkooAAS6RXXfhVBZKStUq8/s1600-h/snowshrine.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1k8Ca5MNWacisde0vnM-lYDXNaqU2J-bDnkDLuE5TQEyWZFYmbMCFvwC1YQPuqgzF2CfDPHGG21_4fc-lNC-hVRzIua7r3Pcf04i2kmeYx774ZjFV_F2ufkooAAS6RXXfhVBZKStUq8/s320/snowshrine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439744448174687890" border="0" /></a><br />I'm thankful for my husband. When I whine that I have no sled, he doesn't tell me to grow up or warn that I'll get hurt. He only reminds me we don't have a hill :) <br /><br />Took Slarty for a walk tonight as it was getting dark. (Does it ever get dark when there's snow on?) We went to the next neighborhood, a"holler". We heard voices and noticed there were some people high on one hillside, burning a bonfire. With the backdrop of bare trees, the gray light, the white snow, the fire all above us, I was quite struck. It reminded me of <a href="http://grannysu.blogspot.com/2010/01/here-comes-snowstorn.html#links">this story</a> I read on Granny Sue's blog. I wanted to hike up there and see if February was sitting on the highest perch. It was a very Grimm's-Fairy-Tales sort of a walk.Colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06598474898641135769noreply@blogger.com0