tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196766362024-03-13T13:35:48.666-05:00Bits and PiecesThoughts oozing from my overworked, overfilled brain onto the computer page. Pending events, travel, lifework, it all provides fodder for thought.PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.comBlogger696125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-10413946361524979522019-06-13T10:41:00.000-05:002019-06-13T10:42:02.952-05:00The Clock and the Painting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This painting by Aunt Helen, Painted in 1986 started the creativity discussion. She had taken an art class and produced this oil on (unknown medium) for my Dad. Ahh...but there's a story. I wish I remembered the dates of it all...unfortunately the only firm date is the one on the painting. As remembered by the various participants, the story goes like this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My Dad gave Aunt Helen the antique mantle clock. (Helen is his next to the youngest sister in a sibship of 12. The two were particularly close probably because he was 15 or so when she was born and looked out for her.) Back to the clock. One day, on a visit Dad and I somehow talked about that clock after it was gone. He discovered that I liked antiques and that I admired that clock. I didn't give it another thought. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Unbeknownst to me, he asked Helen for the clock back. (I know, right???!!) She said she wasn't done with it yet. However, she then decided to paint a picture especially for him. He always liked Courier and Ives scenes with snow, horses and sleighs, so she made one for him. She gave him the picture in lieu of the clock.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Years later, Dad gave me the painting. (I don't remember when.) I loved it and used it during Christmas above my mantle and left it up all winter for many years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Then, a few years later, Helen told me that she knew my Dad wanted me to have the clock, so she gave me the clock. Therefore, for a number of years, I had both!! (But had no idea of the drama behind the gift!!) And Helen didn't know I had the picture until she saw it in a Christmas picture I posted on Facebook one year!! (I really need to look for a picture of the clock AND the painting.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Recently, I've been trying to purge the "stuff" I have in my house. Thinking about not leaving a mess for my kids to clean up should I meet my demise. I decided I wanted to give the picture to Tracey (Helen's youngest daughter). Since it was painted by her mom, she would treasure it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So when I brought the painting to the family reunion this year, the story came out! Would that all family secrets were that benign!!!</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /></a><br />
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PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-59418231302323645752019-06-13T09:48:00.002-05:002019-06-13T09:48:51.108-05:00<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the family reunion this year, we decided to post some of our creative endeavors. Growing up, survival was more important than creativity, especially for those of our parents generation. Thus, productivity was valued far more than creativity. However, some of us explored a bit in the arts. Here's an oil on canvas painting by me, with a poem that I also penned. For me, it encapsulated what I remember of my Grandpa.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1vkRpP37ZF8/XQJhjS7pYdI/AAAAAAAA8uA/Uvq9YVNAbwYUmINroJ_8VNx5wiIX45KOQCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20190613_084500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1228" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1vkRpP37ZF8/XQJhjS7pYdI/AAAAAAAA8uA/Uvq9YVNAbwYUmINroJ_8VNx5wiIX45KOQCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_20190613_084500.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /></a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-87556815476210374472016-08-02T16:08:00.001-05:002016-08-02T16:08:06.516-05:00My last Uncle<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My
last uncle died, my Dad's last male sibling. Grandma had seven boys
and six girls. Two of the girls are living still. But Elton was the
last living boy from this sibship of thirteen. I'm depressed. Yet I
acknowledge that the loss is greater for the sisters, and Uncle Elton's
spouse, of course. Not to mention their four daughters and various
grandchildren. My prayers go out to them.</span></span><br />
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Some days I really miss living near family. I mean, hubby and I
have a lovely life -- immediate family, including kids and grands, and a
bevy of friends. The kind of friends who are there when you need them
and might well be family measured by the strength of connection.</span></span><br />
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Still, in moments like these I find myself longing for the cousins,
those companions of childhood who just were. . .not quite siblings, but
more than friends, connected by blood and mutual history.</span></span><br />
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Perhaps my current funk is also brought on by that spectre of middle
age -- the sense of one's own mortality that descends with the passing
of relatives and friends so close to one's own age -- or even younger.
This reality is compounded by the fact that I no longer get "carded"
when asking for the senior discount. I could further depress myself by
making a list of cousins my age and younger who have gone on. But I
won't -- or maybe I will, but I won't include it here.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> So what's the upside? Or, why on earth am I writing/posting this?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
For one thing, just writing makes me feel better. The grief no
longer sits in my gut eating on my tranquility. Rather it resides on a
page outside of myself, a testimony to grief. </span></span><br />
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For another, some reading this will relate and realize they are not
alone. The blue funk hits the best of us. Even Jesus wept. . . though
for more profound reasons.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pCVPAneEmLo/V6EKckpVEpI/AAAAAAAAeX8/TE8kgpHMYQEe34lK_TtuBAqesflvX5YdgCLcB/s1600/inpiration-grief-quote-joy-multiplies-when-it-is-shared-among-friends-but-grief-diminishes-with-every-division-that-is-life-ra-salvatore.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pCVPAneEmLo/V6EKckpVEpI/AAAAAAAAeX8/TE8kgpHMYQEe34lK_TtuBAqesflvX5YdgCLcB/s320/inpiration-grief-quote-joy-multiplies-when-it-is-shared-among-friends-but-grief-diminishes-with-every-division-that-is-life-ra-salvatore.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Nonetheless, scripture describes Jesus as "a man of sorrow, acquainted with grief." And His words provide comfort:</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Matthew 5:4 </b>Blessed are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>John 14:27 </b> I am leaving you with a gift-peace of mind and
heart! And the peace I give is not fragile like the peace the world
gives. So don’t be troubled or afraid.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>John 14:18 </b> No, I will not abandon you or leave you as orphans in the storm--</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will come to you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> And with those words, I shall shake of<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">f </span>this ennui and get packed for the journey "down home." </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /></a> PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-27891786960630641522013-09-21T17:50:00.000-05:002013-09-21T17:50:14.291-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-99peIHXMdL4/Uj4iEJTAaRI/AAAAAAAAEk4/e9VCuSG-kiA/s1600/brad_n_m2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-99peIHXMdL4/Uj4iEJTAaRI/AAAAAAAAEk4/e9VCuSG-kiA/s320/brad_n_m2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
And here they are 6 years later!!<br />
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Love this picture of my younger son with his younger daughter.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /></a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-19581039214481488902013-06-27T21:00:00.000-05:002013-06-27T21:00:32.549-05:00A New Phase of LIfe<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span id="goog_840503279"></span><span id="goog_840503280"></span>My grandmother would never say the word "pregnant." Even "expecting" was too explicit for her. She'd rarely use "in the family way." In those days, the young couple didn't make a public announcement. It was spread through the family by way of the kitchen. I remember my grandmother heralding the news to several women who were helping in the kitchen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Jean is, well, you know. . ."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of her younger daughters blurted out, "Mom, just say it. She's pregnant. She's pregnant."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's how I'm feeling now. No!! Not pregnant!! Reluctant to make the announcement. I prefer to call it "A New Phase of Life", "Closing one door," "Making a change." But, truth is, I've retired from my beloved profession of teaching. It's not a joyous moment for me. I'm faced with the fact that perhaps my strength and stamina are declining. Okay. My strength and stamina ARE declining. I rarely even pretend to multitask anymore. One thing at a time is more than sufficient. Yet, I'm not ready for the rocking chair. Nor the senior center. If I spend too much time contemplating, I drive myself into a mild depressive state. Today was one of those days. Blah. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Isn't it marvelous that God always knows what I need? So today, he sent several angels of encouragement. One after another, each reminding me of an era, people that I had helped. Two of the four overtly thanked me for my help, influence in their lives. The other two greeted me happily, in such a way that it left me with that warm fuzzy feeling of having made a difference in the lives of people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Within the space of an hour, a senior citizen, a twenty-something, a thirty-something, and a teenager stopped to greet me. All from differing eras, each expressing appreciation for my contribution to their lives. It was as though it were a "This is Your Life" episode orchestrated by God. One from teaching, one from my years as an immigration specialist, one a former church member, and the other a random stranger whom we invested in. Not an accident, I think. God has a sense of humor.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, I still can't say it without making an apology or an excuse. I have retired from teaching. But I shall continue, possibly in another profession, possibly teaching in a different capacity. Certainly I shall remain open to the guidance of the Lord. If he can pull such diverse people together in such a sort time as a reminder to me of his hand in my life, he certainly can guide my next steps.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am retired. . . or am I? </span><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" />PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-46914430514424642522013-03-27T20:00:00.000-05:002013-03-27T20:18:48.808-05:00VCI the Wicked Thief of a Parent<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Some things in life cannot be explained until one has experienced them. <span style="font-size: small;">The birth of a child o<span style="font-size: small;">r a <span style="font-size: small;">grandchild is like that. So is the sud<span style="font-size: small;">den onset of Vascular Cognitive Impairment<span style="font-size: small;"> (VCI) </span>in a parent. Hearing one's pare<span style="font-size: small;">nt beg to be <span style="font-size: small;">taken home when he is in the <span style="font-size: small;">place he has lived for more than <span style="font-size: small;">30 years, in a house he remodeled and <span style="font-size: small;">added on the very room in which he <span style="font-size: small;">is lying<span style="font-size: small;">, is disconcer<span style="font-size: small;">ting to say the least. He was able to agree wit<span style="font-size: small;">h my brother that <span style="font-size: small;">the <span style="font-size: small;">two of them had carried the stone<span style="font-size: small;">s for the wall over a matter of weeks, <span style="font-size: small;">carrying them up a steep bank from the creek bed and trucking them home. He said he remembered, even added a small detail. "Those things were heavy," he said. Yet, two minutes later he's again asking to go home.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> He woke up one morni<span style="font-size: small;">ng convinced <span style="font-size: small;">that he had owned 160 acres in Flori<span style="font-size: small;">da (a state he has never even visited) and that a woman was trying to cheat him out of them. He demanded to see the deed and the letter with s<span style="font-size: small;">ix signatures all day long. He was angry with my stepmother when she couldn't produce the deed and letter. The woman had faked an ID<span style="font-size: small;">;</span> she'd pasted a <span style="font-size: small;">Polaroid picture over <span style="font-size: small;">the one of him and pretended to be him. (Why a woman...pretending to be him?) This 160 acres dominated a couple of days.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The following morning he woke up with <span style="font-size: small;">a murder scenario firmly fixed in his brain. There'd been a<span style="font-size: small;"> man sitting in <span style="font-size: small;">Dad's living room. Another younger man had entered and <span style="font-size: small;">shot him. "Ban<span style="font-size: small;">g Bang. Just like that. Point blank. Shot him."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> All day he alternately worried <span style="font-size: small;">about the shooter (W<span style="font-size: small;">ould he get <span style="font-size: small;">a sentence of life imprisonment? Would the<span style="font-size: small;">y even catch him?) and the victim<span style="font-size: small;">. He wanted to go to the funeral of the <span style="font-size: small;">man, convinced that not very many people would be there. Apparently no one but him kn<span style="font-size: small;">ew about the murder.</span> These long rambling monologues (we would only respond <span style="font-size: small;">uh-hu<span style="font-size: small;">h<span style="font-size: small;">, really, or I-don't-know</span>) took hours <span style="font-size: small;">that morning. Almost two hours at the beginning of the day he chattered a<span style="font-size: small;">bout. The topic</span> kept coming up later.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-size: small;">Sometim<span style="font-size: small;">es we had to laugh. <span style="font-size: small;">Pat was <span style="font-size: small;">gi<span style="font-size: small;">ving him Dr. Pepper. (He's lying in bed; she h<span style="font-size: small;">olds it while he drinks with <span style="font-size: small;">the straw<span style="font-size: small;">.) He turns to me on the other side of the bed a<span style="font-size: small;">nd asks if I want some Dr. Pepper. I say no thank you. He insists, "Here." H<span style="font-size: small;">e reaches toward me with <span style="font-size: small;">his right hand cupped as though it held a can of Dr. Pepper. I reach out and <span style="font-size: small;">pretend to take it. I say, "Thank you." And then turn to my sister, pr<span style="font-size: small;">etend to hand it to her saying, "You hold it for me." We held a straight face for a few minutes longer<span style="font-size: small;">, then exited to the kitchen to laugh and cry at the same time.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> How can you <span style="font-size: small;">understand if you've never been there? Laughing at<span style="font-size: small;"> the lud<span style="font-size: small;">i</span>cr<span style="font-size: small;">osity of pretending to take a Dr. Pepper from my Dad<span style="font-size: small;">, and of course the <span style="font-size: small;">mischievousness</span> of handing it to my sister.</span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Then weeping with intense sadness tha<span style="font-size: small;">t he is in <span style="font-size: small;">this state of unknowingness. <span style="font-size: small;">An<span style="font-size: small;">d wondering how long the craziness will last<span style="font-size: small;">?</span> How long wi<span style="font-size: small;">ll <span style="font-size: small;">his wife <span style="font-size: small;">be able <span style="font-size: small;">to handle this nonsense and the intense care he requires<span style="font-size: small;">?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-size: small;">S<span style="font-size: small;">ometimes his knowledge was u<span style="font-size: small;">ncanny,<span style="font-size: small;"> yet he was unable ma<span style="font-size: small;">ke sense of what he knew. My brother had fixed the rocking recliner so it wouldn't rock as far f<span style="font-size: small;">orward. Previously he'd been able to get a rocking motion going until he could pitch forward into the floor. He believed that he could walk and that only <span style="font-size: small;">we were stopping him from standing. If only he could stand, he believed he'd walk. The therapist tried earlier. He still cannot walk although both legs have remarkable strength. He realizes that the chair is not doing what he wants. So he starts complaining that the chair has too <span style="font-size: small;">much air in it. It is <span style="font-size: small;">an overstuffed chair, and quite soft. He insisted that someone<span style="font-size: small;"> had inflated the chair. Actually Don put a couple of two by fours under the fron<span style="font-size: small;">t </span>springs so that it will rock, but <span style="font-size: small;">not rock forward enough to allow him to dive out of it. He still has a knot on his head from the last dive for<span style="font-size: small;">ward. That, of course, he cannot remember. He castigates all of us for <span style="font-size: small;">keeping him im<span style="font-size: small;">mobile.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Later that day his sister came to visit. The first thing he started with her was telling her his Florida propert<span style="font-size: small;">y story. She looked at me <span style="font-size: small;">questioningly. I filled her in<span style="font-size: small;">.</span> "He has <span style="font-size: small;">this 160 acres in <span style="font-size: small;">Florida that a woman is<span style="font-size: small;"> trying to take from him. That's what he's talking about," I say.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> We can'<span style="font-size: small;">t use the word dream or fa<span style="font-size: small;">nta<span style="font-size: small;">s</span>y or hallucination <span style="font-size: small;">because those will set him off on his paranoid delusions. That results in him not knowing any of us. We become the enemy. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I start messing with my phone, thinking I'll take a p<span style="font-size: small;">icture of him and his sister. He continues <span style="font-size: small;">the conversation with her. She doesn't miss a beat and just talk<span style="font-size: small;">s about the property. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> "You know<span style="font-size: small;">,<span style="font-size: small;"> we could <span style="font-size: small;">use a house in Florida<span style="font-size: small;">. We live in a trailer when we're down there. Owning <span style="font-size: small;">that much property would be nice." (All true)<span style="font-size: small;"> The next <span style="font-size: small;">thing we know, he's trying to sell her the property. My brother gives a shout of laughter.... My sister snaps a picture and we head to the kitchen to <span style="font-size: small;">laugh/cry<span style="font-size: small;">. As we are in the kitchen shaking our heads, her husband joins them and <span style="font-size: small;">the three of them dicker abou<span style="font-size: small;">t the price and the <span style="font-size: small;">value of the <span style="font-size: small;">Florida land for the nex<span style="font-size: small;">t hour. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The next morning, he says<span style="font-size: small;">, "You know I don't think H<span style="font-size: small;">elen and D<span style="font-size: small;">on are serious about buying that land in Florida. I think they were just talking."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Some things are jus<span style="font-size: small;">t not comprehensible until one has experienced them. I sincerely hope that you never, ever understand.</span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<br />PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-57925585085323205292013-03-17T19:54:00.001-05:002013-03-17T19:59:27.008-05:00Will you please just say what you mean??An acquaintance came by this afternoon. We know his brother and have met him a couple of times. He knocks on the door and asks for my husband. This sounds bizarre but I didn't know where he was. The cars were in their usual spot. I vaguely remembered hubby telling me that he would be doing something...going somewhere...something. I did an Uh-huh without really listening (Did I just admit to that in writing?) and went on with my work...or play since I was on FB!! <br />
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So I called hubby a time or two and looked through the house without finding him. "Sorry. I don't think he's here," I tell my visitor. <br />
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I ask for a phone number so that hubby can call him back. He hesitates. Then the real reason for the visit. He is on foot and wanted a ride.<br />
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Well why the heck can't you say so!! That's my point! By this time, I'm annoyed. If he had wanted a ride, I could almost have taken him there by the time we had finished the "where is hubby" charade.<br />
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Then hubby appeared. He was making phone calls and has a habit of walking as he talks. He'd stepped outside momentarily. Hubby, of course, took the man home. It was a matter of 30-40 minutes.<br />
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Our visitor comes from a country in which the indirect is the rule....and IT DRIVES ME CRAZY! If you want something, just tell me!! <br />
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But before I come to this realization, I had a half hour of conscience pangs. Am I so hard and unfeeling that I'm now unwilling to help people. Why am I so annoyed. One cannot schedule a hardship need to fit my schedule. And on went the self talk. UNTIL.... I realized, this direct/indirect thing is one of the ways that I have SO much trouble adjusting to South American culture. The direct, plain-speaking American is rude in that setting. And one might as well wish for snow in July as to wish for them to speak simply. Round-about speaking is the rule. I know that and can deal with it in their country. But now?? We're in my country!<br />
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So...I'm not harsh and unfeeling about helping people. I'm just impatient and annoyed with someone from a culture that won't be direct with me! Is it better?? or worse?? I'm not sure. But at least I feel better about it.<br />
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Wonder what God is thinking?<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"> <img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /></a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-79880753143995541402013-02-22T19:44:00.000-06:002013-02-22T19:44:27.135-06:00Who's Ready for Retirement?<br />
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I've been teaching for so long that it is difficult to think of myself in other terms. teaching has become my identity. Yet, I realize that the classroom is not the only place that I inhabit. A teacher does not define nor comprise all that I am. Still, that six hour chunk of my day is consuming. It's consuming in terms of thoughts and ideas in my quiet time; it definitely inhabits most of my "purpose in life" thoughts and energies. In a sense, it's right that it should; right that I spend so much of my time and energy on planning, purchasing supplies and paraphernalia, fulfilling plans and executing activities, lessons and exercises for the classroom. Those little lives that are entrusted to my keeping are important. My actions, words and ideas may change lives. Now that's a monumental thought!<br />
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However, just lately, I've been able to think of the near future when headed to a classroom everyday will be a thing of the past. And I've been almost anticipating the relief that perhaps my tasks will not be so numerous, so time-consuming, so exhausting. Almost.<br />
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The uncertainty of what's to come is also part of my ennui in thinking about the future. Most of the time I'm excited to be heading into the unknown, into a great new adventure. And that is how I must think of this -- a great new adventure. It will be an adventure to find myself sans classroom and perhaps cast into some new profession or project. If I could just know what that adventure will be, I might be able to dredge up more enthusiasm. <br />
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For now, I'll be satisfied with looking forward to discovering that enthusiasm!!<br />
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<a href="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /></a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-86759757646791116212013-02-09T17:19:00.004-06:002013-02-09T18:21:11.310-06:00In Contemplation of Retirement<span id="goog_2116433594"></span><span id="goog_2116433595"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here I am sitting in my kitchen contemplating what shall be the course of my life when I am forced (more or less) into retirement in June, to the tune of hubby singing "True Love" while he builds up the fire in the fireplace on this cold February afternoon. I've found several things I could "do" after retirement, none of them particularly practical. I could win the HGTV Dream house and move to Kiawah Island, South Carolina and write my memoirs sitting on that lovely porch/deck overlooking the ocean. I could, for only $49, purchase The Barefoot Writer's Club which will guarantee me a six figure income for life, or at least as long as my fingers can work the keyboard and my brain will shovel out drivel. I could increase my lottery ticket purchase from 0 to 1 per week and win the next mega-million payout. Or not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In all probability, in two year's time I shall be sitting in my kitchen, listening to hubby do some task while singing and still be contemplating what shall be the course of my life now that I am retired. Or not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This sounds cheerless. I am, in fact, not unhappy, just having a moment. If I have learned anything, it is that the more things change, the more they remain the same.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"> <img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /></a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-89466292669530164572012-09-07T19:57:00.001-05:002012-09-07T20:05:11.225-05:00My Momma didn't raise no dummy?
Nope. My Momma didn't raise no dummy? (Double negative for emphasis!!) I had to explain!! We're looking a new phones. Hubs has finally decided he shall leave the dark ages and go with a smart phone. Amazing. So... prior to checking with the mobile carrier that we have had for umpteen years, I checked out the price at other places.
So when the young lady made an offer for a price for us, I countered with, "I guess I'll just go to X-vendor and get it for $79 less (per phone!!).
"Well we wouldn't want you to do that now, would we." She says brightly. "Let me get you a senior representative on the phone. Perhaps they know of some plan that I don't have access to."
So here I sit with my mobile on speaker phone, waiting for this mysterious senior representative to appear.
Actually, my son taught me this trick. He's quite smart, that self-proclaimed "techy-nerd" of mine! I take his advice often. That would mean his Momma didn't raise no dummy, either!!
That acorn doesn't fall far from the tree!! Ta-Ta.
Oh. Glory! He's also giving me one month free service! Hee Hee.
Can't wait to get my hands on that new phone with a 1.5GHZ dual core processor...in a phone! Who would have thought it!
Certainly not Tom Watson. once IBM chairman, who said in 1958: 'I think there is a world market for about five computers.'
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z_Wnm7c9PCM/UEqZKO2jniI/AAAAAAAAEcQ/eIyPHDiEJPY/s1600/samsung.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="185" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z_Wnm7c9PCM/UEqZKO2jniI/AAAAAAAAEcQ/eIyPHDiEJPY/s200/samsung.png" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" border="0" /></a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-3086115357887147352012-09-06T18:44:00.001-05:002012-09-06T18:44:46.611-05:00Unfolding GraceI'm on a FB hiatus. Feels strange. I'm not sure how many time today I thought of some little phrase for a "status." It's no wonder that that daily posting is so addictive. The very idea that there are people out there willing to read some little tidbit posted is rather exhilarating. Or is that just me?
I'm training myself to think in larger chunks now. Entire paragraphs. And I wonder why my students have trouble writing larger pieces!
I just read 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 in The Message
"So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever."
I experience that 'Unfolding Grace' on a daily basis. On hectic chaotic days, in troubled times, at moments in which I really don't know what to say, He's just there, speaking to my soul. Spreading Grace.
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" border="0" /></a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-34302972122942995322012-08-01T12:13:00.001-05:002012-08-01T12:13:54.575-05:00TEA GARDENMy fav accomplishment this summer was creating a Tea Garden out of my blah, empty lot, side yard. I'd tried making the back yard livable...but apart from the small deck, had been unsuccessful at making it livable. It always felt small and confining, the fence too close, not room to move if I put a table there large enough for the family.
SO I solved it with ideas from a few friends, a few articles, some elbow grease, and the help of a couple of guys to dig and plant!
Of course, it isn't finished. I must create something to divide that fire table from the front part of the empty lot. The girls and I are working on stepping stones. The paths with a few more flowers might be just enough to do the trick. We shall see! I might need a few larger plants -- I've never tried growing roses. Maybe next year will be the right time!!
Here's the work in progress:<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wwa1FVUXNBk/UBlinlWympI/AAAAAAAAEbc/QNSeNkXZtas/s1600/DSC_0052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="213" width="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wwa1FVUXNBk/UBlinlWympI/AAAAAAAAEbc/QNSeNkXZtas/s320/DSC_0052.JPG" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" border="0" /></a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-17678083475781737662012-01-09T18:12:00.000-06:002012-01-09T18:12:22.056-06:00So Finally, I'm blogging. What for? In order to upload to Pinterest!<br />
Yep. I'm that addicted to social media. Use my precious blog to feed the frenzy!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KLP3BIy0uqA/TwuCFBu4z5I/AAAAAAAAEZE/OTPTv31xSOg/s1600/b-w+old+house+2011+semo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KLP3BIy0uqA/TwuCFBu4z5I/AAAAAAAAEZE/OTPTv31xSOg/s320/b-w+old+house+2011+semo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V8x-0ldeUFQ/TwuCFpFaRnI/AAAAAAAAEZM/waUaqaGSfJ4/s1600/cotton+fields+and+niece.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V8x-0ldeUFQ/TwuCFpFaRnI/AAAAAAAAEZM/waUaqaGSfJ4/s320/cotton+fields+and+niece.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dE8dua65Ly0/TwuCGqbDTDI/AAAAAAAAEZc/-gWSNwQGYig/s1600/pit+seating+music+room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dE8dua65Ly0/TwuCGqbDTDI/AAAAAAAAEZc/-gWSNwQGYig/s320/pit+seating+music+room.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /></a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-53128039298965990502011-08-19T18:20:00.002-05:002011-08-19T19:28:57.628-05:00<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">RANDOM THOUGHTS OF A TEACHER</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sitting in my classroom this afternoon I opened an email that warned: " Two Worst Foods for Weight Gain." I, of course, was munching on hot wings dipped in potatoes and gravy. (That makes the best dip for wings!!) Yum! I stopped mid-mouth. Oops. No, I can keep chowing down. Two worst foods? Potato chips and soda. Whew! I didn't have either.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The next email contained five questions to diagnose ADHD:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><ul><li>Have great difficulty wrapping up the loose ends on projects?</li>
</ul><ul><li>Have trouble staying organized?</li>
</ul><ul><li>Miss appointments or obligations?</li>
</ul><ul><li>Procrastinate on big projects that require thought?</li>
</ul><ul><li>Have trouble sitting still?</li>
</ul><ul><li>Struggle with restless energy?</li>
</ul><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What? Like all the paper lying around my classroom; the stacks of chairs; the unpacked supplies; my home office that stays buried in piles of paper; my living room curtains that still need to be sewn (since Christmas); my habit of sharpening pencils. Although I generally don't have trouble sitting still. At least not my body sitting still. My mind, on the other hand, is most often a whirlwind. My body is tired enough of late that it isn't physical restless energy, but the mental kind sure. Get me some Rit*alin! Quick!</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">However, I have accomplished some things!</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">School starts on Monday, for teachers. Students come on Wednesday. I've been working for two weeks to get my classroom set up, books on shelves, bulletin boards up, desks arranged, curriculum ready for one more year. Today was productive. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><ul><li>Purchased and cut gutters to serve as book display.</li>
</ul><ul><li>Bought two new plants: a fern and a Brown-eyed Susan</li>
</ul><ul><li>Put posters on wall - (bought the tape with which to mount)</li>
</ul><ul><li>One more section in the writer's notebook (teacher version)</li>
</ul><ul><li>Bought last of supplies (I've spent at least $700 on supplies and stuff this summer)</li>
</ul><ul><li>Copies for first three lessons requested</li>
</ul><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This weekend: Finish the writer's notebook (And just maybe finish the curtains!)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Monday: Tidy up the room</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><ul><li>Organize my desk area</li>
</ul><ul><li>Finish the PBIS brochure</li>
</ul><ul><li>Consult the core about the website, begin maintenance</li>
</ul><ul><li>Start core brochure</li>
</ul><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Tuesday: Panic because all of the above is not done!!!</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Wednesday: Fake it really well when the kids arrive!! Aren't we excited about his year???</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Well, folks. That's the first week of school for ya! I'll be sure and remember to leave off the chips and soda. So glad I read that!!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3G6iqDtujwo/Tk79TccVFBI/AAAAAAAAEWg/ntCpU64mrnM/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3G6iqDtujwo/Tk79TccVFBI/AAAAAAAAEWg/ntCpU64mrnM/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Bulletin Board -- Done!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zggLO2qFQFA/Tk79UE5o-NI/AAAAAAAAEWk/2HRPsDhtM-U/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zggLO2qFQFA/Tk79UE5o-NI/AAAAAAAAEWk/2HRPsDhtM-U/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Gutters/shelves purchased</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BbXRdwbXPFM/Tk79UnzsFWI/AAAAAAAAEWo/eXgHqXt5BC0/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BbXRdwbXPFM/Tk79UnzsFWI/AAAAAAAAEWo/eXgHqXt5BC0/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+015.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Me, doing the Vanna White thing</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eUHrfXp7ims/Tk79VFC9q-I/AAAAAAAAEWs/-GPeYSm2uiA/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d4WV01MQx7k/Tk79Vi9-mLI/AAAAAAAAEWw/89QSvEUlG_E/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d4WV01MQx7k/Tk79Vi9-mLI/AAAAAAAAEWw/89QSvEUlG_E/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Boston Fern</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nckiX9jAK84/Tk79WBm0wTI/AAAAAAAAEW0/fI89WgAdpyc/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nckiX9jAK84/Tk79WBm0wTI/AAAAAAAAEW0/fI89WgAdpyc/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+018.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Brown-eyed Susans</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHbnKUS_BpI/Tk79WnQqHNI/AAAAAAAAEW4/laypsGAhdVA/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHbnKUS_BpI/Tk79WnQqHNI/AAAAAAAAEW4/laypsGAhdVA/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+019.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sunflowers</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iLPOvhk41xQ/Tk79XJK_z5I/AAAAAAAAEW8/Is6OEBnX9RE/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iLPOvhk41xQ/Tk79XJK_z5I/AAAAAAAAEW8/Is6OEBnX9RE/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+020.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A poetry bulletin board</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YnfJryZ5PBY/Tk79XoGCqnI/AAAAAAAAEXA/1FCWNdHy3XE/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YnfJryZ5PBY/Tk79XoGCqnI/AAAAAAAAEXA/1FCWNdHy3XE/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+021.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Another view of the shelved books and bulletin board</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wXYOS9QHyWY/Tk79YPIFeWI/AAAAAAAAEXE/r-YcIdJvNb0/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wXYOS9QHyWY/Tk79YPIFeWI/AAAAAAAAEXE/r-YcIdJvNb0/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+022.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The entry welcome!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y2pYBTqnmkU/Tk79Yor8AWI/AAAAAAAAEXI/CWbFnZ1Km4Y/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y2pYBTqnmkU/Tk79Yor8AWI/AAAAAAAAEXI/CWbFnZ1Km4Y/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+023.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Aha! Still to do!! Papers everywhere!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uFbG_9c9xqA/Tk79Zr8kRwI/AAAAAAAAEXM/cEF7uuqylSI/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uFbG_9c9xqA/Tk79Zr8kRwI/AAAAAAAAEXM/cEF7uuqylSI/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+024.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">More piles and stack of STUFF!</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xzlMH0hQQKU/Tk79aIZ5XUI/AAAAAAAAEXQ/i9J11YwLWtw/s1600/JCC+%2526+Ellis+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xzlMH0hQQKU/Tk79aIZ5XUI/AAAAAAAAEXQ/i9J11YwLWtw/s320/JCC+%2526+Ellis+025.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Stacks and piles of other stuff!!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">TaTa for Now!<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></div><a href="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /></a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-28478256501301684852011-08-14T08:01:00.001-05:002011-08-14T08:02:18.072-05:00<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.hisgirlamber.com/2011/08/idea.html">An idea</a></span><br />
<h3 class="post-title entry-title"> </h3><div class="post-header"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Do not let <b><i>any </i></b>unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but <b>only what is helpful for building others up</b> according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><b>Be kind and compassionate to one another</b>, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Ephesians 5:29-32</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #001320; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I love social media. It's given me so many opportunities to connect with people I otherwise might not even know. And the re-connections! To see how my childhood friends have grown and blossomed has been nothing but a blessing.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There's one feature I would like to build in, though- something that Christians could have installed on their accounts as a safeguard: a passion-delay option. When someone's feeling especially riled up, it would be great for a little screen to pop up with the following questions before they change their status:</span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
Did you pray about this?<br />
Are you being kind? Even to your enemies?<br />
Are you helping the situation?<br />
Are you sure this is true?<br />
If an unbeliever reads this, will it draw them to Christ?<br />
What is your honest motivation?<br />
Is this truly a prayer request, or is this an attempt to find a loophole big enough to slip gossip through?<br />
Are your words causing unity or division?<br />
Would this be better leftunsaid?<br />
Is anyone going to be hurt or stumbled by this?<br />
Who will benefit from this post?<br />
Would this be better said privately?<br />
Are you SURE you don't want to cool down before you post this?</span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wouldn't it be nice if this feature existed? Wouldn't it be nice if everyone used it?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It makes me cringe when I see someone I love post remarks on FB or Twitter that are clearly meant to be a barb at someone else I love. Do they realize the rocks they throw hit other people in the crossfire? Are they aware of the pain they're causing? Do they worry that the world is watching us tear each other apart? I can't know.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Here's what I <i>do </i>know- it's making me much more aware of the words<i> I </i>use in social media. When I feel compelled to complain about service in a store, I am going to remember that it's someone's livelihood. When I want to insult a person's outfit, I'm going to remember that the wearer is someone's child. When I feel compelled to take a stab at someone's church leadership, I am going to remember the congregants. If I wanna say something about a celebrity or politician, I'm going to remember that person has a mother, a child, or a spouse who loves them. Above all, I'm going to try to be really mindful of the fact that Christ died for all sinners, not just me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I can't control what other people write, but I can be more careful about what <i>I</i> write. Will you join me in an effort to make social media a brighter place?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">May God bless us all.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /> </a><br />
<br />
(Courtesy of <a href="http://www.hisgirlamber.com/">His Gir</a>l ) PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-581366389029988472011-04-27T22:33:00.001-05:002011-04-27T22:34:07.290-05:00<div style="background-color: yellow; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">THE FIRST SENIOR MOMENT</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UMqLdHMG-8s/TbjesOF-9xI/AAAAAAAAEWE/yI_b3XQLRJc/s1600/First+Senior+Moment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UMqLdHMG-8s/TbjesOF-9xI/AAAAAAAAEWE/yI_b3XQLRJc/s320/First+Senior+Moment.jpg" width="312" /></a></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">That's what happened to the dinosaurs!</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" />PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-83462292964527031642011-03-20T14:06:00.001-05:002011-03-20T18:23:41.383-05:00<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Don't forget to take the Garbage Out</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">By PJDHuerta</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-8Wo_MVWbE0I/TYZP3MJviHI/AAAAAAAAEWA/mvRkPGk_U-w/s1600/Don%25E2%2580%2599t+forget+to+take+the+garbage+out%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-8Wo_MVWbE0I/TYZP3MJviHI/AAAAAAAAEWA/mvRkPGk_U-w/s320/Don%25E2%2580%2599t+forget+to+take+the+garbage+out%2521.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Euodia and Syntyche, saints without doubt,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Would not take the garbage out!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">They'd pray in the altar and sing in the choir,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Teach little children, to sing higher and higher.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">They'd give of their tithes every nickel and dime;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">They'd go feed the poor every single time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Reading the Bible was fun to do;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Memorize scripture, they knew quite a few.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">They would wash the windows and polish the sash;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">They simply would not take out the trash.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Deep in each heart, it piled up every day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">They wouldn't let go, no siree, no way.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Each offense they remembered and harbored them near.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">They could quote much gossip they happened to hear.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">They knew every sin of every member.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Some dating back past the year 51, November.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Every fault, every error of each saint on the way,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">They kept tight in their hearts -- refusing to say</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">"I forgive. God forgives. There is grace for you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">We can pray gaining strength every day, anew."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">It piled high in each heart, the injury to self.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">The things people said, stored safe on a shelf.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">They remembered well every jot and tittle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">"You don't belong. You're too Ugly and Little"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">In each brain echoed daily, the faults that were found,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">The list of the failings, tossed round and round.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">It kept them from living each day to it's fill.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">It kept each soul in a permanent chill.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">That garbage piled high it blinded the view.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Grumbling set in, depression, too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Finally, Syzygus, in sheer desperation,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Called them aside, despite aggravation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">"You very well know God doesn't like grudges.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Here in this church, we can't act like judges.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Jesus himself set us an example.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">On Love, we don't dare to trample.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Forgive one another; be friends; learn to trust.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Trample your differences into the dust."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">And so they did, cheerfully, no bickering.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Not even a sneer or an eyebrow flickering.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">They cleared out their hearts with a cheerful smile,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Remembering God's goodness all the while.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">The Master came by and offered free</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">to cast it all out to the sea.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">"Please do." they echoed with felicity.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">"We need to be free of toxicity."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">And so with a smile and a happy shout,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Euodia and Syntyche took the garbage out!</span></div>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-65801675405893743062011-02-12T19:08:00.000-06:002011-02-12T19:08:59.026-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4AmVgXV3iHk/TVcuz23eJ1I/AAAAAAAAEVc/cqELZNgYMBs/s1600/snowbank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4AmVgXV3iHk/TVcuz23eJ1I/AAAAAAAAEVc/cqELZNgYMBs/s320/snowbank.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And I thought we had a lot of snow!</div><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" />PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-79378953109250005842011-01-23T22:32:00.000-06:002011-01-23T22:32:22.735-06:00<div style="background-color: blue; color: cyan; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>RANDOM THOUGHTS</b></span></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> I really have to learn to use my cell phone for recording stuff. Stuff, like ideas. I think of the most marvelous things to blog about...when I'm driving, when I'm sitting in church, when I'm up singing. Whenever I'm in a situation that I can't write down my ideas. And now.....when I'm settled in nicely ready to write....my brain freezes. Completely</span>. <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> I could blame it on chemofog...but it's been almost 3 years since I finished chemo. The brain does heal itself. So I'm thinking I have to admit that part of it, at least, is simply due to age. There I said it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Like this morning, I'm looking in the mirror and trying to fix whatever it was that happened with the primer for the eye makeup that I was applying. Little globs of "stuff" appear. Not very attractive "stuff." While cleaning it all off to start over again, I noticed that woman in the mirror. "Who is that old woman looking at me?" Or maybe I should be politically correct and clean up my thoughts to myself about myself. (Do I need to do that?) Probably not, but as a teacher, it's habit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> So, the "elderly lady" in the mirror. What happened? What happened to the face that used to greet me every morning? The face went from Bible School, through a couple of assistant pastoral stints, then to a missions assignment. And a couple of baby boys born. Life in the jungle for a few years. Life in a mile-high city in South America for another year. Steamy jungle; dry mountain air. Then back to the mid-west for a few decades. A few decades of assisting, pastoring, studying, (a bachelor's degree, a master's degree, a Psy.D, a teaching certificate, a couple of endorsements, etc.) a liver donation, breast cancer and chemotherapy. A few side jobs squeezed in there somewhere: immigration counseling, administrative assistant, counselor, emergency room consultant. Always the pastoral work, public school teaching, parenting and grandparenting. I suppose the wrinkles are well-earned. Every dry spot, every scar, every droop and jiggle of skin. All well-earned. All contribute to the look of that stranger in the mirror.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Interestingly, inside I feel much the same. Still have hopes and dreams, things I'd like to accomplish. However, with the miles comes some wisdom, with wisdom, a measure of peace. So....as the cup a friend gave me for Christmas says:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"ALL I REALLY WANT ... IS PEACE ON EARTH AND A CUTE PAIR OF SHOES!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Blessings!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TT0AJyi77OI/AAAAAAAAEVU/UiWoo2-uMRQ/s1600/2008Miscellaneous+076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TT0AJyi77OI/AAAAAAAAEVU/UiWoo2-uMRQ/s320/2008Miscellaneous+076.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><b>or three...!!! (Models: Hubby & Granddaughters, 12-31-08</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TTz_fdoDM3I/AAAAAAAAEVQ/k9HuFSE2L60/s1600/2008Miscellaneous+076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-27092886648940926132010-12-20T21:44:00.000-06:002010-12-20T21:44:36.311-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #073763;">It's a Winter Wonderland World out there!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #073763;"> </span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TRAgGq_5BlI/AAAAAAAAEUs/rPzutpxboBQ/s1600/snow+043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TRAgGq_5BlI/AAAAAAAAEUs/rPzutpxboBQ/s320/snow+043.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #073763; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TRAgHekaC2I/AAAAAAAAEUw/PI_2SKox5yM/s1600/snow+044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TRAgHekaC2I/AAAAAAAAEUw/PI_2SKox5yM/s320/snow+044.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #073763;"> </span><span style="color: #073763; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Right above this tree is where the moon would be if it were not hidden by clouds and snow. So much for staying up to see the Lunar Eclipse tonight.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TRAgIZpiXFI/AAAAAAAAEU0/RBY6hg-refY/s1600/snow+045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TRAgJPni7qI/AAAAAAAAEU4/ee-IMorOQbY/s1600/snow+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TRAgJPni7qI/AAAAAAAAEU4/ee-IMorOQbY/s320/snow+046.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Home, where the heart is!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TRAgKhC3W2I/AAAAAAAAEVA/S6j5Ij9ZcG0/s1600/snow+048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TRAgKhC3W2I/AAAAAAAAEVA/S6j5Ij9ZcG0/s320/snow+048.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The empty chair by the fireplace where I'm headed as soon as I finish with these pictures!!</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Snow falls softly outside, a snow globe world where all is silent in a blanket of white. Huge flakes falls, adding volume to beautiful, awful piles of snow.</span><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" />PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-15758245956567153082010-12-11T19:45:00.000-06:002010-12-11T19:45:37.086-06:00Merry Christmas! A Savior Is Born! (E-Card)<iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/z-arGsNRKyM?fs=1" width="425" frameborder="0" height="344"></iframe><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" border="0" /></a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-74878408950023873362010-12-04T12:35:00.000-06:002010-12-04T12:35:44.666-06:00<h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Over-Stimulated Teens </span></span></h3><div class="post-header" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> The amount of words and ideas that I am unable to use due to over-sexualized boys this year is amazing. Story Topics like "My favorite Toy" (Okay it was dumb to have on a list -- one I procured from another school) in a list of 50 ideas, resulted in the disruption of 30 students for several minutes. I am appalled at the lack of parental supervision, at the lack of control over these children.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> For 25 years I've taught public school adolescents and have never had a group this reactionary. It makes teaching tantamount to walking on eggs. I can't even remember what previous triggers have been this year; they are many and diverse. The entire English language is mostly off-limits to these little boys who have been subjected to an adult-oriented world that I can only guess at. They listen to music that contains vocabulary and innuendo that I neither know nor want to know. They watch the trashiest of TV programs and apparently believe that the world does or should operate on such lurid devices and with total lack of principle.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> How does one teach common civility to such ill-bred children? How does one even have conversation, much less encourage them to explore memory and imagination when such as been contaminated by the basest and vilest that American media can offer?</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> I'm not ready to give up, nor am I ready to blame the victim, for I do see them as victims as much as little girls whoa re treated as sexual objects by perverted family members, other adults, or even by the same adolescent boys.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> How does one go about rescuing the most vulnerable among us from the vile filth to be found online, in media and very possibly in their own homes?</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Indeed, it seems as though this year will be spent putting Band-Aids on damaged psyches. However, at the same time, I must encourage them to find a healthy outlet for natural energy to be expected in adolescents and find some manner of helping them drain off the disgusting putrification that has collected due to damaging experiences.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Heaven help us all! No wonder I'm exhausted on a regular basis. It's a battlefield out there. Pray for teachers!! Pray for Students!!! Pray for parents!!</span></span> <div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /></a></div>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-53700653032004660462010-11-26T22:07:00.001-06:002010-11-26T22:10:05.075-06:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Thanksgiving Dinner</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBvkkxrmlI/AAAAAAAAESY/Mfli_Ga-IAI/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBvkkxrmlI/AAAAAAAAESY/Mfli_Ga-IAI/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBvoOt2mHI/AAAAAAAAESc/QGlH_dZWghU/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBvoOt2mHI/AAAAAAAAESc/QGlH_dZWghU/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPCCxxV-ijI/AAAAAAAAEUo/_2tVgkugCzU/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPCCxxV-ijI/AAAAAAAAEUo/_2tVgkugCzU/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBv21X3aTI/AAAAAAAAESg/LVUrxXIm3j0/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBv21X3aTI/AAAAAAAAESg/LVUrxXIm3j0/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBv6GiWccI/AAAAAAAAESk/QqSQnhEPyR4/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBv6GiWccI/AAAAAAAAESk/QqSQnhEPyR4/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBv9SWjxyI/AAAAAAAAESo/vgz3gwFrYhg/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBv9SWjxyI/AAAAAAAAESo/vgz3gwFrYhg/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwAD6nvqI/AAAAAAAAESs/vm_bWVLplT4/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwAD6nvqI/AAAAAAAAESs/vm_bWVLplT4/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwC1WLx0I/AAAAAAAAESw/l2yCi-Zgo-0/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwC1WLx0I/AAAAAAAAESw/l2yCi-Zgo-0/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwGCjmJ8I/AAAAAAAAES0/GwnQC7mRaKI/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwGCjmJ8I/AAAAAAAAES0/GwnQC7mRaKI/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwPbxqHwI/AAAAAAAAETA/WoHaVJo6J5U/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwPbxqHwI/AAAAAAAAETA/WoHaVJo6J5U/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+021.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwSCwRxvI/AAAAAAAAETE/4u_mM5Do8pc/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwSCwRxvI/AAAAAAAAETE/4u_mM5Do8pc/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+022.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Appetizers: The food you eat before eating food.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwUkiVkHI/AAAAAAAAETI/xhOD-aaS3QU/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwUkiVkHI/AAAAAAAAETI/xhOD-aaS3QU/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+023.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwflrQyKI/AAAAAAAAETU/0mqLyZt3P7k/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwflrQyKI/AAAAAAAAETU/0mqLyZt3P7k/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwinOHsOI/AAAAAAAAETY/QWV8svm-Nrc/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwinOHsOI/AAAAAAAAETY/QWV8svm-Nrc/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+028.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Papa Entertains us all with a B-Me (Best Memory Ever)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwl0GNzfI/AAAAAAAAETc/RPQF_nBlN6A/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBwl0GNzfI/AAAAAAAAETc/RPQF_nBlN6A/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+029.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBw_xbpcZI/AAAAAAAAET4/DVT6Sanq10M/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBw_xbpcZI/AAAAAAAAET4/DVT6Sanq10M/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+048.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxFzYYesI/AAAAAAAAET8/JwbiyQwtFD4/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxFzYYesI/AAAAAAAAET8/JwbiyQwtFD4/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+049.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Dinner: The food you eat</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxKdvHspI/AAAAAAAAEUA/siGivSdtV8g/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxKdvHspI/AAAAAAAAEUA/siGivSdtV8g/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+050.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxSfhkbtI/AAAAAAAAEUM/flFwUrvWWL4/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxSfhkbtI/AAAAAAAAEUM/flFwUrvWWL4/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+055.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="color: #b45f06;">Dessert: The food you eat after eating food!<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxXmizRSI/AAAAAAAAEUQ/pcrX9zmLVZE/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxXmizRSI/AAAAAAAAEUQ/pcrX9zmLVZE/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+057.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxf_s1u7I/AAAAAAAAEUY/ABvCAUiG5EI/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxf_s1u7I/AAAAAAAAEUY/ABvCAUiG5EI/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+062.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxhWRQxzI/AAAAAAAAEUc/Xwikd7cRXNw/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxhWRQxzI/AAAAAAAAEUc/Xwikd7cRXNw/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+063.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">He's just resting his eyes!!!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxkn3Dm5I/AAAAAAAAEUg/shzlCu9kYIM/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxkn3Dm5I/AAAAAAAAEUg/shzlCu9kYIM/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+064.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The World's Slowest Game of Speed!!!</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxpGFtnNI/AAAAAAAAEUk/4aqykwcuI3M/s1600/Thanksgiving+2010+065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBxpGFtnNI/AAAAAAAAEUk/4aqykwcuI3M/s320/Thanksgiving+2010+065.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Happy Thanksgiving to all</span></span></div><br />
<img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" />PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-9375725713738069382010-11-26T19:56:00.000-06:002010-11-26T19:56:19.200-06:00<div class="separator" style="background-color: #783f04; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Post Thanksgiving with family</span></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBjo9r886I/AAAAAAAAEQ0/STyWyePxTeA/s320/IMG_0694+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBkGgZnkKI/AAAAAAAAESQ/lB275kNN_2o/s1600/IMG_0750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBkGgZnkKI/AAAAAAAAESQ/lB275kNN_2o/s320/IMG_0750.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pKlNRGnkMvc/TPBkH-drHzI/AAAAAAAAESU/wKEuTbpfZaw/s320/IMG_0751.JPG" width="320" /></span></div><div style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Great day: at home, on the train, at the John G. Shedd Aquarium in Chicago</span></div><br />
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<img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" />PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676636.post-40985968392219911232010-11-05T22:15:00.000-05:002010-11-05T22:15:40.514-05:00 NaNoWriMo.org<br />
I'm on the 30-day writing program!!<br />
Bound to do a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.<br />
So far I'm at 11,860 words<br />
<br />
Here's the synopsis and an Excerpt. You can say you knew me "back when."<br />
<br />
<div class="tabcontent" id="tcontent2" style="display: block;"><div class="excerpt"><div class="coffee"><div class="synopsis"><h6 class="novel"> </h6><h6 class="novel">Synopsis: Run for the Hills</h6>A precocious eleven year old from the hills attempts to solve a murder mystery and uncovers much more than she intended!<br />
</div><h6 class="novel">Excerpt: Run for the Hills</h6> Paw and James came in to the aroma of tomato soup and grilled cheese. Momma had Lucy beside her in the wooden highchair with a rabbit decal on the back. The chair had belonged first to James and then to me. Worse for the wear, it was Lucy’s now. At first I thought Paw wasn’t going to wait for the blessing today. However, he nodded at Momma, and she asked for God’s blessing on this food and this family. Then she prayed the Lord’s prayer. Her intensity increased at “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”<br />
<br />
So much for not talking about anything with Momma. She already knew too much, maybe more than I knew.<br />
<br />
I’d taken only a couple of bites when we heard the sound of a car. That meant only one thing: the Sheriff had arrived.<br />
</div></div></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85702/pjdhuerta/01ab5681de78b8883b5220d5fa1bcbe4.png" /> </a>PJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10630048078969557476noreply@blogger.com3