tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57569452877038102532024-03-13T21:12:48.260-07:00bigyellowbowlCatherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-2390568140957762202016-10-11T10:04:00.001-07:002016-10-11T10:16:57.335-07:00What doesn't kill you....<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m a person who has always loved exercise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mostly I loved to play, but I have found as I
got older, folks don’t say, “Hey, do you want to go out and play?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They say “are you going to yoga?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you going to spin? You wanna go for a
surf?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You wanna go for a walk?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you going for a bike ride today?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have always derived great joy from my
ability to move, work, think, play, and create.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved how strong I was. I loved being a Big Girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would refer to myself as such.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most people would say, “you’re not a Big
Girl”, like being big was bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe
when I was over weight… I have had those seasons in my life, and those were not
so good from a health perspective, but whether you are 18 or 54 years old and
you’re 6 feet tall and 170 lbs.…. you’re big, compared to the general
population.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I personally loved being
Big, Smart, Fit, Creative, Loving, and Strong.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On July 15, 2016, I woke up, called work to make sure they
needed me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer was “YES!!!” So I
got up, put on the clothes I had set out the night before, drank coffee, ate
breakfast, loaded up my lunch in my already prepared work bag, I did all the
things I normally did to prepare myself for a full day of “saving lives and
stamping out disease.” Before heading out to the garage, I walked over to the sink to give Robert a
kiss, tell him I loved him, and then bury my nose in his neck and breath in a
good strong whiff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I then squatted down
to my dog, Rodeo, to do the same…. Tell him he’s the best dog in the whole
world, get a kiss from him, and then bury my nose into the back of his neck and
take in a giant breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stood up,
swung my bag over my shoulder, and said “If I could bottle up the smell of you
and Rodeo, and just pull it out of my pocket to pull out when work gets too stressful, I’m
pretty sure I could handle anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Robert gave me the “Oh Catherine” look; I turned out the back door,
through the backyard, into the garage, strapped my bag to my bike and my helmet
on my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wheeled my bike to the
driveway, and took off for work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within
the next 20 minutes, a truck would hit me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My life as I knew it, would be turned inside out, upside down, tumbled
around incessantly, and then spit out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not just my life, but also the lives of my husband, my kids, my parents,
and my friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dodged death.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Previously, I had thought ending up in the center of a mosh
pit at The Clash concert at the Hollywood Palladium in 1982, or being held
under a massive wave and tangled in seaweed while body boarding at Willow Creek
in Big Sur, were my near death experiences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Apparently not, I needed to get hit by a distracted driver of a truck, while riding to work. Did I mention uninsured distracted driver?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have recently been given permission by my surgeon to ride
a stationary bicycle, “gently”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
does “gently” mean? Well the first time I got on the bike it hurt like hell
after 5 minutes so I decided it wasn’t time yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried again this past Friday and while it
hurt, it wasn’t the same level of pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“OK, I can do this, gently.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yesterday, after having given myself two days of “gentle bike” recovery,
I got back on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the wheels turned
slowly and gently, I thought about a saying that on multiple occasions people
have said to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You know Catherine,
what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In my head I would “Could you just shut up!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no US here, it’s ME.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m the one with the messed up head and
broken leg among other things…” I have managed for the most part to keep these
thoughts to myself, to later have a crying fit with Robert or Rodeo. Depending
on the source, some people mean well, they just don’t know what to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unless a person has experienced a traumatic
injury, that person does not know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
injuries are our own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, as I was
peddling away, I thought to myself, “Wow, I really understand that now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understand that saying.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel it in my soul.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The reality is that because of my age and the type of
injury, I won’t be doing some of the activities I loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I literally have to think, every time I put
my foot down, turn, and do anything that requires my right leg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, it is healing, but that is my new
reality. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not anywhere near the end
of my recovery, at least I hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
BIG plans for this body and mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Strong
and Big do not necessarily mean physical strength or physical size, in my case,
it’s starting with the mental portion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes, what doesn’t kill us can make us stronger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just have to allow the process to reveal
itself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am still unable to
drive and my friends and family are worn out from “will you????”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have you ever heard of Uber Anxiety?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It happens when Uber drivers wear too much
cologne, have stinky air fresheners attached to their air conditioning units,
they are drivers who don’t show up at the last minute because they got a better
fare, they don’t speak English, I have to tell them how to get where I want to
go, and cannot seem to know to open the door for the lady with crutches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stayed home A LOT because of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Problem solved by hiring a driver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After my second ride, she felt comfortable
enough to ask me what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave
her the short version and she said, “Do you want to know what the psychic who
used to be on 101 would say?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said I
didn’t really believe in psychics, but sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“The psychic would say, sounds to me like the Universe gave you a Time
Out.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>2 months ago I wouldn’t have had
the ears to hear this, but in actuality, they were the right words at the right
time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So now, at this stage in my Universal Time Out, I will focus
on what I’m supposed to learn from this, as well as exercise my physical body,
within my limitations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you happen to
see me in the ocean or the pool, know that I am envisioning myself with a
perfect stroke, I am thanking God I get to swim and have learned the joy of a
seated shower after my swim, that I’m praying for the folks who pop in to my
head, including the guy who hit me, or pretending I’m just a regular old land
locked mermaid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just playing in the
pool.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, I can honestly say “What didn’t kill me, will make me
stronger.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll let you know when I’m
there. In the meantime, thanks for reading my streams of consciousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if you happen to be one of the many who
brought meals, visited, prayed, sent a gift, called on the phone, gave me a
ride, sent snail mail, or joined me in a bed party, just loved on me from near
and far via social media or real life, Thank You.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This post is dedicated to a most excellent nurse at Sharp
Memorial Hospital, Dave Marinelli.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wheeled me out on my discharge day, my 31<sup>st</sup> wedding anniversary, and
his parting words were in effect, “Catherine, some of us took a look at your
blog and I think you’ve got some stories to tell.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks Dan, for the care of the individual
patient, Mind, Body, and Soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A real
note is coming…. Baby steps… Gentle steps…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hope this finds each and every one of you having a
beautiful day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Health and Love,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Catherine<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjmhLyxdnYCsNqjOzgJ31VUT33uaf0yPDdcf1SVxNEtG2RmOwZo1CWg5tFouQQQHuFtvR9tN4BgGsOaEcq0_QXvXaxsgDaGBh2KrLsWoqKr3uRc8o6jLz7tNM7T853Yb6MhdqERtp9lwBF/s1600/IMG_1127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjmhLyxdnYCsNqjOzgJ31VUT33uaf0yPDdcf1SVxNEtG2RmOwZo1CWg5tFouQQQHuFtvR9tN4BgGsOaEcq0_QXvXaxsgDaGBh2KrLsWoqKr3uRc8o6jLz7tNM7T853Yb6MhdqERtp9lwBF/s320/IMG_1127.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<o:p> Public service announcement. his is me and my new helmet when the day they were bought, in 2015. Wear a helmet, and if you think you don't need a helmet, wear one anyway. It could save you life and your brain. Mine did. #helmetsarecool And always be a mermaid. If you can't be a mermaid, be one anyway. #imreallyamermaid I don't know if the driver was texting, but please please please please please.... Do not text and drive. Thank you.</o:p></div>
Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-72292802219046333342014-08-25T11:15:00.000-07:002014-08-25T11:15:27.812-07:00It's a Knock Off
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Have
you ever gone into a store, seen something you really like, only to have
sticker shock? I do all the time, and
decide to either purchase it anyway or not at all. Well friends, I have a new plan… “The Knock
Off.” I purchase said garment with the
intent to copy it. It’s a new thing for
me. This whole being an empty nester and reading all kinds of sewing blogs... Well it has
opened a whole new world of stitching to me.
Kind of like recapturing a lost love…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Caitlin
was recently home for a visit. Now that
she is “working for the man”, we treasure those short bursts of time, when she
comes home for a week end…. And inevitably, there’s a bit of retail
therapy. On her most recent trip, she
wanted to get a cute bathing suit cover up.
She was headed to Greece and had a wedding reception/pool party to attend. After our morning beach walk and coffee, we
stopped in one of the local surf shops to peruse the racks. We both saw it at the same time. Then came the sticker shock. FIFTY DOLLARS???? Holy Crow, I could make that! Of course I used my "inside the store voice" and whispered, “I didn’t bring my phone, could you take a photo?” We start snapping photos on her phone. Then I
remembered I had stuck a credit card in my shorts. In hushed whispers… “I’ll buy it. Then I’ll copy it, then return it.” I was informed by you know who, that I didn’t have time… It
wouldn’t get done… Blah Blah Blah…. Magic happens when someone tells me I can’t
or won’t do something.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold"; font-size: 16.0pt;">In
the quiet of the evening, I started to make a pattern. I’ve never done this with much success, but
I’ve been sewing a lot lately, so I felt more confident. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7rGtRTeFBKv-fk54HO-YCf5YI5AI6GEH6UN-WcnLCkSKkNEEHc6hbcTd-Zdq9eGBnXnySBSCeUEBxkXbFIwuby5W4oaKSueAvfopEbLBxYKkxvVDbPr4YaP0Uo9nXd1MpLmjYUnNVsMA/s1600/photo-26.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7rGtRTeFBKv-fk54HO-YCf5YI5AI6GEH6UN-WcnLCkSKkNEEHc6hbcTd-Zdq9eGBnXnySBSCeUEBxkXbFIwuby5W4oaKSueAvfopEbLBxYKkxvVDbPr4YaP0Uo9nXd1MpLmjYUnNVsMA/s1600/photo-26.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">My first real attempt at making a pattern from finished clothing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUzZkS4RLicUgYZ5YrKeyMWJAVIHFYwyUalWKWkJDfO8QO2EEcaJbSfYlI1H70PkfrtQURfdAOqsJkcnnzoH-Pw3ojOY7H9q-vp1-gwuX_EA5xixuJNO16affPi6ZkIWaVjUyL6I7KnOUt/s1600/IMG_1046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUzZkS4RLicUgYZ5YrKeyMWJAVIHFYwyUalWKWkJDfO8QO2EEcaJbSfYlI1H70PkfrtQURfdAOqsJkcnnzoH-Pw3ojOY7H9q-vp1-gwuX_EA5xixuJNO16affPi6ZkIWaVjUyL6I7KnOUt/s1600/IMG_1046.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you say "The Clothing of a Goddess???"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold"; font-size: 16.0pt;">After drafting a bit of a pattern with my
tracing paper, I started digging around in my “stash”. I knew there was something in the den of creativity, that
would work perfect. I found some white
eyelet, </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pZEAaXK9nHt55NFYV6nzl5OGhGeQikGPO6CpX1BzohcMTuGOnG_APJAHfh2h2Q9Iy6Bg_gWRvkJG_KBUW82w_zh8qsOCVZvi1l5zqMEykMDBeu7yecjoUSLjJeD6pVh1otEXObke3CJr/s1600/IMG_1047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pZEAaXK9nHt55NFYV6nzl5OGhGeQikGPO6CpX1BzohcMTuGOnG_APJAHfh2h2Q9Iy6Bg_gWRvkJG_KBUW82w_zh8qsOCVZvi1l5zqMEykMDBeu7yecjoUSLjJeD6pVh1otEXObke3CJr/s1600/IMG_1047.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Love Love Love This part</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold"; font-size: 16.0pt;">some lace that would work for the front, and started brainstorming how
I could make the sweet little tassel in front.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghOBO5Yzj9cQNPmlayEQsI1ydze4nmbfVezVoaANykTsHXIdvFOZGBrGs1c4M5gftC17Iar-f_J038Ol5j91_R1c295U3r8jt2FzzErcjM9dNGQ-hvzzzz-oovoiQZa7h30OTObv_rqJ_L/s1600/IMG_1045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghOBO5Yzj9cQNPmlayEQsI1ydze4nmbfVezVoaANykTsHXIdvFOZGBrGs1c4M5gftC17Iar-f_J038Ol5j91_R1c295U3r8jt2FzzErcjM9dNGQ-hvzzzz-oovoiQZa7h30OTObv_rqJ_L/s1600/IMG_1045.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Yup, I make tassels!!!<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold"; font-size: 16.0pt;"> Over the course of a couple
days, I managed to complete my project. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSNCk-T-mfkzADY0XZCQWFD0Bf-mLSrOBoqy62fUpN2a3z_nZkGnCf1jNuj1klY0Qdwbk5E6ZGf3a5zfaiLj2ecrDB0jhPlwROlAqfRfeZg3_yWtUk_nB2f6jwPExwpHeqK9m09nAH3t4/s1600/IMG_1044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSNCk-T-mfkzADY0XZCQWFD0Bf-mLSrOBoqy62fUpN2a3z_nZkGnCf1jNuj1klY0Qdwbk5E6ZGf3a5zfaiLj2ecrDB0jhPlwROlAqfRfeZg3_yWtUk_nB2f6jwPExwpHeqK9m09nAH3t4/s1600/IMG_1044.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Always add dingle balls to any garment. They're kinda like glitter. :)<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold"; font-size: 16.0pt;">There
were times in the quiet of my sewing room, I would look over at Rodeo and show
him the awesome thing I’d made.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49cG3Cu-7ST0PmO1SvBUPPKDQPGt_HLZINf2Mgqm3iSwQXLxjJ-sp95JZmtHnfr4uFmXUFoNqXszhkajExrauCftgbp6XnNsOf8cYarvDG9x6ZJNPuASsvgU4E2cX7gz5myeLUC0-d5BC/s1600/IMG_1053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49cG3Cu-7ST0PmO1SvBUPPKDQPGt_HLZINf2Mgqm3iSwQXLxjJ-sp95JZmtHnfr4uFmXUFoNqXszhkajExrauCftgbp6XnNsOf8cYarvDG9x6ZJNPuASsvgU4E2cX7gz5myeLUC0-d5BC/s1600/IMG_1053.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Rodeo says, "Mom, I love it when you use dingle balls and leave the left overs for me."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Arial Rounded MT Bold;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> I’m most pleased with how the front set in lace
turned out. Actually, I'm stoked with the whole damn thing!! I'm a </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">flipping</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> seamstress!!! While Caitlin had already returned to Houston, Adam, her boyfriend,
was still here, living Caitlin’s life.
He was able to bring the completed project, I mean knock off, home to Texas. I included a note that said, “if you want me to send the real one, I
will. Oh, and I’d rather give you the 50
dollars to spend in Greece.” That’s what
mom’s do… When their daughter’s are “Working for the Man….”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold"; font-size: 16.0pt;">I
think my “knock off” turned out SPLENDID!!
What do you think?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYRWqG0sMIjW9hte61exjvO1BhtcNCFiaBuQh_31Mq7hsROgkEgjWuZu7GPpStZB-ciJYtXgReggFjBjmDgyfqOpYLfRZ7pzEQpr4opZn78ntHuCe_sJ8UM0W7nCDSdembTsAPOnQ3evS/s1600/IMG_1038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYRWqG0sMIjW9hte61exjvO1BhtcNCFiaBuQh_31Mq7hsROgkEgjWuZu7GPpStZB-ciJYtXgReggFjBjmDgyfqOpYLfRZ7pzEQpr4opZn78ntHuCe_sJ8UM0W7nCDSdembTsAPOnQ3evS/s1600/IMG_1038.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Rodoe's blessing of the garment.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqiJA5ibNQC-N5n40nn4hbRHoZhSQcunNkXoC97QHNDQZo0PFTjrrWUNfHKvjeHorINEZsGq89ZSapfhXT5uvyErTKCO8C2GsXDFgExjnfEoLyIVfn6ceMNj0BQjbnMRH8B3K-WKKP3Rye/s1600/IMG_1040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqiJA5ibNQC-N5n40nn4hbRHoZhSQcunNkXoC97QHNDQZo0PFTjrrWUNfHKvjeHorINEZsGq89ZSapfhXT5uvyErTKCO8C2GsXDFgExjnfEoLyIVfn6ceMNj0BQjbnMRH8B3K-WKKP3Rye/s1600/IMG_1040.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">I know it's for Caitie, I just wanted to try it on.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRCWzjsjJLabkVgjaCwRYF2UHJ-sm_cpkpTIRSEiIUtaJ-8hlvW1_UBI5OuGOUu1JpfJQumzqI7evRbcliZigL9Zb-7HW80_QI8i83fAuNx_LhsVXpeDBCyyS-KkyAO2btZeDXQs711KK/s1600/IMG_0451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRCWzjsjJLabkVgjaCwRYF2UHJ-sm_cpkpTIRSEiIUtaJ-8hlvW1_UBI5OuGOUu1JpfJQumzqI7evRbcliZigL9Zb-7HW80_QI8i83fAuNx_LhsVXpeDBCyyS-KkyAO2btZeDXQs711KK/s1600/IMG_0451.jpg" height="320" width="284" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Ginger Goddess of Texas<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhScs3AzFc93ojgmnDdGurUdZSzN9lIJu-Lr0fbJVE0wTeLRHZqvOd7pRxvXCkrnweyZOjtnGE9cs46uxhfXhYm9Q8l583FaLNmdEO1qw8h-kJLKvQWcPY_wnYLpY48Ps_KPd_D9vSUwLhH/s1600/IMG_2709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhScs3AzFc93ojgmnDdGurUdZSzN9lIJu-Lr0fbJVE0wTeLRHZqvOd7pRxvXCkrnweyZOjtnGE9cs46uxhfXhYm9Q8l583FaLNmdEO1qw8h-kJLKvQWcPY_wnYLpY48Ps_KPd_D9vSUwLhH/s1600/IMG_2709.jpg" height="320" width="276" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">THANKS MOM! I LOVE IT!!<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Arial Rounded MT Bold'; font-size: 16pt;">I
hope this finds</span><span style="font-family: 'Arial Rounded MT Bold'; font-size: 16pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Arial Rounded MT Bold'; font-size: 16pt;">you having a lovely day.</span>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold"; font-size: 16.0pt;">In
Health and Love, Catherine<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-17692762859507965712013-12-18T21:57:00.000-08:002013-12-18T21:57:55.071-08:00Making Gramma's cookies for Puppa's Birthday Season<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I didn’t grow up with my Grandparents close by. Dad’s mom was in Wisconsin, his Dad was deceased, Mom’s were in Boston, travel wasn’t as easy so we just didn’t see them much. Every other year my Gramma Porter would come out on the train or plane for Christmas and those were the best years, because she made cookies. And cinnamon rolls. Both were the best I had ever tasted. My mother recalls the kitchen being a mess, I just remember flour all over the counter and cookies, lots of cookies. Tomorrow’s my Dad’s 86th birthday. What the heck do you get an 86 year old that can go get anything he wants himself? I decided this year I would make him his mom’s cookies. It wasn’t an easy task getting the recipe. However, after a few phone calls and a trip down memory lane with a cousin in Michigan, I got the recipe for Gramma Porter’s cookies AND her frosting. I made up a batch today and from the very first bite, I was a little kid in the kitchen with my Gramma. I guess the thing I am most grateful for is that my Dad is still around to enjoy the cookies. And that he is really good at keeping in touch with folks, so he can call around the country and get phone numbers for me to call. Happy Birthday Dad. I hope you enjoy the cookies as much as I enjoyed making them.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">PS For those of you who have recipes in your family that you love, make sure you get them while you can. Rumor has it that Gramma made the best lemon meringue pie, I sure with I had tasted that too.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I hope this finds you having a great day.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In Health and Love,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Catherine<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_oq7P2YerymUs_PllRUQbUCbmboL0RbO9UXDDXswHUjmkWe2jEgmPfynLOys-rNel77CaTModkjrGrlihQgVCNKPdum0xfPPIKyLwakbTT0Xj8fs2tFws_cvCO40mdos4v9dqjDmYr6J/s1600/IMG_6374.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_oq7P2YerymUs_PllRUQbUCbmboL0RbO9UXDDXswHUjmkWe2jEgmPfynLOys-rNel77CaTModkjrGrlihQgVCNKPdum0xfPPIKyLwakbTT0Xj8fs2tFws_cvCO40mdos4v9dqjDmYr6J/s320/IMG_6374.PNG" width="268" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roy and Eugene loving on Gramma, I'm just along for the love.</td></tr>
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</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVv_iQa2iZmbY120ff8cbeflM2dQU82wV7jEdTGE1XDsPAF9z7ud4eDGsrw6m7EVFEIuFjfTR6VnFzA874rvaQgSoC04iAGLkMBBb64zcqtkXfAZa0yAmsyo7ayXPrNEVz5LF2lnZ1MQc6/s1600/IMG_6360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVv_iQa2iZmbY120ff8cbeflM2dQU82wV7jEdTGE1XDsPAF9z7ud4eDGsrw6m7EVFEIuFjfTR6VnFzA874rvaQgSoC04iAGLkMBBb64zcqtkXfAZa0yAmsyo7ayXPrNEVz5LF2lnZ1MQc6/s320/IMG_6360.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good things start here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's the flour!!!!<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Decoration supervision</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puppa and Mr Poppins</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puppa's Box of Birthday Booty... Aunt Grace Style</td></tr>
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-31706682193739488562013-11-15T22:45:00.000-08:002013-11-15T22:45:15.241-08:00Back to Texas<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I know my life is a sound track. I have a vivid memory of crossing the street in New Brunswick, New Jersey, behind Caitlin and her friend Rosie. I was just singing my usual stream of consciousness when Rosie turned around and said “Catherine, I think your life is a soundtrack.” Well, it is. I may not be able to carry a tune too well, but they always seem to be filling some space in my brain and occasionally have to bust out in song and dance.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I can’t believe that I’m moving my daughter to Texas and that this event would be the catalyst for the return to me blogging. The last time I blogged was after I had driven her and her stuff FROM Texas, post her college graduation. Blogging is a lot of work. In writing, I remember things and get to share my adventure with others. Some things are just too good not to share.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It seems that just about every day for the last couple weeks, I’ve made some kind of goodness in the big yellow bowl to either say thanks to someone for being so awesome to my daughter, or just because I needed a little comfort and making pie or Caitlin’s favorite foods seemed to be the best thing to do. Tears that fall into pie crust or turkey loaf seem to be the perfect seasoning. This morning, after last night’s feast, I thought, “Well, today is the day, time to hit the road.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Yesterday, it seemed better to work on my “play list” for the big road trip than pack the one back pack of clothing I was allowed to bring on the trip. By not packing and focusing on the music list, it meant the trip wasn’t really happening. As I was revisiting my CD’s in the sewing room, I found my Honk CD, the soundtrack for a surf movie from the 70’s, “Five Summer Stories”. I thought, “This is perfect!”, and I immediately emailed a photo of the album to my friend Chris, because I knew he would totally get it. I said, “No road trip is worth it’s salt without this one.” This morning, I had a response in my inbox, “Absofreakinglutely!!” and one verse... “The dew of your back drop changes, and each new day brings more delights.” Despite the sun not shining today, despite the fact that my baby was off to live the rest of her life, everything was gonna be ok. So after a nice walk to Swami’s with Caitlin and Rodeo, and the best poach eggs I’ve ever made, we set out in Caitlin’s car packed full of her worldly belongings. First days destination was Tucson, Arizona.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Last time we drove through Tucson, it was late at night and we were on a two fold mission. To get to Encinitas in one day from Carlsbad, New Mexico.... And for me to find the sign commemorating Jerry Garcia... In the blink of an eye, in the middle of the night, we saw that sign! I screamed for Caitlin to pull over. About the length of a football field later, she did, and proceeded to back up. Now mind you this is late at night, there are big rigs hauling past us, she’s tired and just wants to get home, and I want to find that roadside sign because I thought it would somehow make up for the fact that I hadn’t gotten to go to the Grand Canyon or White Sands National Monument. I hop out of the car, trying to get a photo, and Caitlin yells “Mom, get back in the car! I have a bad feeling and you told me to listen to those bad feelings so get back in the car NOW!! Who am I to argue with my daughter about listening to her gut? So I get a lousy photo and I arrive in Encinitas at about 3 am. Fast forward 2 more years.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It’s today, November 15th and I’m driving to Texas to drop my baby off to be with the man she loves. . .A new life that doesn’t include Mom making poached eggs or asking about her day. We get closer to Yuma, she had googled where the sign would be on the road and has me keep my eyes posted. We get closer. I tell her if we listen to some Jerry Garcia, maybe that will help... We drive though Yuma, no sign, and I decide it’s OK, it’s just a sign. I put different music on the ipod, I look up and at the same time, we see it. IT’S THE SIGN!!!! “Caitlin, pull over!!!! We can run back!!!!!” She keeps driving, I know she’s thinking. She keeps driving. “Mom, do you want me to pull a U Turn? Do you really want to go back to that sign?” I’m uncertain if I said yeah, let’s do it, or no, don’t worry about it, but then, out of nowhere, Caitlin pulls a UTURN!!!! I thought Lady, (Caitlin’s Car) was gonna slide out on the gravel, but my race car channeling daughter pulls it off, we figure out where to turn around again safely, we pull over and she’s taking my photo and I’m just overwhelmed by what my girl just did, and then we see a truck slowing down and pulling over. “Hey, do you want us to take your picture?” It’s a nice clean cut looking couple. “Yeah, and then we’ll take yours.” We’re just a couple of people, hanging out on the highway, taking pics with a sign and loving life. And I’m thinking this trip’s gonna be OK.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">After the photo incident, we’re driving along. My heart’s overflowing with what just happened. I put on some Grateful Dead. The song Willing comes on, Caitlin likes it so much, she wants to hear it again. She asks about the lyrics and I explain. Yeah, this is a great road trip and I’ll just say thank you.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’ll leave you with another favorite quote from The Grateful Dead. “Sometimes the light’s all shining on me, other times I can barely see. Lately it occurs to me, what a long, strange trip it’s been.” I’m sad that I’m going to be an empty nester, but I also know that Robert and I grew a couple of really awesome kids. Kids that are nice to people, that love whole heartedly, are kind, smart, know how to read maps, and love a good road trip. I’m excited to see tomorrows delights. Maybe I’ll relive them and share them with you. Regardless, I hope this finds you having a good day/night.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In Health and Love,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Catherine</span></div>
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Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-39908288706011499562011-05-31T21:43:00.000-07:002011-05-31T22:09:50.167-07:00All Gone To Look For America - The Final Chapter<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFLe0LWYkglcoQ6iFUFQbkidSp2f5h3U1cqGyk6-b39nY4-nPoQu5N-hQOh5BCk4pDhN-lb18TyurTLnobE9MrK96yCEAYOByx4Yp3e_WFY2oFyCRxJ6EnEuGvCjHGbGyVp4EXDGKCLds/s1600/mail.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 222px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFLe0LWYkglcoQ6iFUFQbkidSp2f5h3U1cqGyk6-b39nY4-nPoQu5N-hQOh5BCk4pDhN-lb18TyurTLnobE9MrK96yCEAYOByx4Yp3e_WFY2oFyCRxJ6EnEuGvCjHGbGyVp4EXDGKCLds/s320/mail.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613111917007324594" /></a>this is Westbound Lola... Loaded to the ground<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgYrRFgXRPmvSP1rBQv_twlnpNAhSmAHMLl36ucjwY0BbPtXzZrQgcy7aJyNbtpLxQ0xQfZlJmlfaDhDT1tfY7oUaRsd_Oz9qDEqaP1p8LF54cx1EJv9GzAYWQa5OKrQzPmlWuTIwkok94/s1600/mail-2.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 124px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgYrRFgXRPmvSP1rBQv_twlnpNAhSmAHMLl36ucjwY0BbPtXzZrQgcy7aJyNbtpLxQ0xQfZlJmlfaDhDT1tfY7oUaRsd_Oz9qDEqaP1p8LF54cx1EJv9GzAYWQa5OKrQzPmlWuTIwkok94/s320/mail-2.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613111914658206226" /></a>Our route, on a map......Yes, Catherine will use a map and a gps.....<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBLUZmFeXPSiy-gvIPCtWAAiZlMi_3h09BuraXQJgMR8Tj2qlPFZPn5VCj2zGr9-p3BzNoVGIceBZVTRyr6znQN-CM_PeN0wX9tZPhyiLAsZshTmmFnX8Jfy8Wtod2VXRVLpiXxE4ZnyX/s1600/mail-1.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 124px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBLUZmFeXPSiy-gvIPCtWAAiZlMi_3h09BuraXQJgMR8Tj2qlPFZPn5VCj2zGr9-p3BzNoVGIceBZVTRyr6znQN-CM_PeN0wX9tZPhyiLAsZshTmmFnX8Jfy8Wtod2VXRVLpiXxE4ZnyX/s320/mail-1.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613111906786031090" /></a>Do we know how to pack or what??? Vintage Saxton Road Trip<br />Hello!!! What's a road trip without Jerry Garcia? I'm gonna go look for this.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVTiTTpEAvSQ5F97fxPCKC6BBK2t5Ta7usa11froQFNSB-p8l4vkwrI_50QNAYmNUAOgZMT0MjjvH6ql02OzDKDkhvwQ0kaZ5DsBnDWJvQC2MXgMIatAdsPS5rfxrcXut-lHuqU2rVBS6/s1600/highwaysign.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVTiTTpEAvSQ5F97fxPCKC6BBK2t5Ta7usa11froQFNSB-p8l4vkwrI_50QNAYmNUAOgZMT0MjjvH6ql02OzDKDkhvwQ0kaZ5DsBnDWJvQC2MXgMIatAdsPS5rfxrcXut-lHuqU2rVBS6/s320/highwaysign.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613111907847777490" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br />This is going to be a quick one. Three years ago, Dr. Farrell wrote down on a little yellow card from an epidural kit, "No hay mal, que por vien no venga." There is no bad that some good will come. I was driving home from a work meeting today and decided to think of the things I'm grateful for. Besides the usual bitchen house, relatively decent health, great husband and dog, roaming turtles, great kids, I was grateful for all the places I've gotten to go because my daughter ended up in New Jersey for the last three years of school. Yeah, and I am still going. Tomorrow I leave to fly to Texas, to do the last portion of what Caitlin has called Westbound Lola. I kept waiting for blogging action from her, guess I'm going to attempt to do it. Wanderlust occurred at an early age for me. Road trips, that's what our vacations were. Still are. Right here in America.<div><br /></div><div>So here's a few of the places and things I'm grateful for.....My daughter's college education. Rutgers and the Rutgers Women's Volleyball Team. New Jersey including Glen Gardner and Rahway, New York including NYC, Nyack, Fiddle Camp, The Jersey Shore, getting to hear warm ups for Social Distortion for free, good places to eat in Edison, NJ including Rasaoi and the thai place, Laramie, Wyoming, Delaware, Virginia, North Carolina, Maryland, all the great National Parks and State Parks I got to see bits of, Indiana, Chicago, The Carri bean, Michigan, getting lost somewhere on Lake Michigan, Kentucky, Cincinnati, Florida... I been a lot of places that had Caitlin not gone so far away to college, I may have never seen them. Big Shout out for NCAA women's athletics, all the staff at Rutgers University, those nice young ladies at the Hyatt New Brunswick, all the wonderful people I came in contact with, who helped when I was lost and had time to talk story with me. Thank you. OK, I hope I have time to write while Caitlin and I are on the road.</div><div><br /></div><div>In Health and Love,</div><div><br /></div><div>Catherine</div></div><div><br /></div><div>PS, I haven't quite learned all the tricks of my new computer so the pics are not where I want them... enjoy them anyway :)</div>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-38079841636735486642011-05-09T20:42:00.000-07:002011-05-09T21:13:49.862-07:00St Catherine of Craftlandia<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>I stayed home from work today. I didn't feel well. I folded laundry, watched daytime television, drank tea, talked to a friend on the phone. I kept looking at the dried up, dead flowers in my Mermaid Vase.... It's a bad economy. It's extravagant to buy new flowers every week. Especially when I'm staying home from work and not getting paid.... But I LOVE my vase and don't want her to be empty... There went the lightbulb, I could make some tissue paper flowers!! They turned out great. I sent a photo via phone to some of my peeps. Molly replied, "Mom, you need to blog about it." Margaret replied, "St Catherine of Craftlandia." My favorite mermaid blogger replied, "I LOVE IT! So crafty!" She needed some pop, so I made one last gold one, in honor of Jules, and <a href="http://mermaidiaries@blogspot.com/">Mermaid Diaries</a>. She had made some big paper balls using the same method for Caitlin's Golden Birthday. It was just what my arrangement needed, tonight and at the birthday. So tonight's blog is dedicated to Jules. And Molly. She's the one who said I didn't have to write a lot. <div><br /></div><div>All I did was fold and cut tissue paper. I used pipe cleaners to hold the accordion folded paper, and then got pieces of bamboo from the garden and attached the flowers to the bamboo with the wire pipe cleaners. <div><div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSyWwEpWWg_WNkBeFgfCsHwG4cbDZcNRp2vahiyR05ZVXW4Q1qnfLCn0LkrnXo7v1u8g7Kk94LMFshU3x9UjBNhoXuC3xP8AE6aNfhC0BZLUqsTT6JZ38Jkqqt6B33gxpI9JOc_LbpYcXh/s320/IMG_1037.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604933083591817202" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div>I hate doing dishes. I don't like picking up messes. I did both tonight. After I finished my crafty floral arrangement.</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihoUOZ59nagWS_Je6-c7-6SYUQJG5ujPA_2DEtq3hg7LHXyUgmQWmRnnbRgDIMEaGSSgEGfpyFAKKKg_s9R219B1wL9SH0DtHkvcCMQJhgoDjOGvTLB3bos5zoNFARqze4V3dk62FZrmXk/s320/IMG_1034.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604933087084019042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9tpnaEFoGnbee0j2Z1xPN4oHbfdOqsgix1kZXUtAuW-ZvRTUBrFG67wopOEjcCNQl0j9qJGT9UKyuZvNVFGZVPr-BSMnl2DCPqYRs52maMcEfgPHpu1ag9XDVZdp5sEss9AKnnFeRCR8u/s320/IMG_1035.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604933092349857122" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD6CrfjHEbQBLN4eWymGQSpGvUZtvCCbN66FQzKVPaWdC5Y5q_JfsJ7_p5uR86W-NQnx4JQAS_PTHZ3G_5mhuw1nzfPuedBuQ__1_WHxrWhs7TfQLqkkhGI3x8EbupVef0prXbhQaAl5BK/s320/IMG_1036.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604933098018432242" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">PS..... I also like my new nickname..... Saint Catherine of Craftlandia.</span></span><div><br /></div><div>I hope this finds you having a groovy day.</div><div><br /></div><div>In Health and Love,</div><div><br /></div><div>Catherine<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-20423621943018509302011-03-02T21:57:00.000-08:002011-03-02T22:25:37.327-08:00Catherine, Warrior Daughter....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2fCw_V_FdbMGCsRk8I2Gnk-T9Gzfqe3vxSmoE7nbj4jOkq8h8SaF7CLOzURSUqK6J2PyfJP_ubLB9jaEvm5xcamaB30qDorKRfSOxGHwRI8FTqVj4IKKorxnC7g7F0MuVZgXfm4A2cQz/s1600/photo.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEdRDiKmZKtcV7MiVB0N2TbQZcYq-SIuUn92xIGA2mDxl6q1i3s5Pc5A9Lcbjch070fsXUENV-ebWK_XcZc9TZEsHIx_0PUsv4WWj5o34kHcBXW4Szh_qsoyzq2HfKJrP3YWclMG4SbEtn/s1600/warrior-pose-virabhadrasana-ii-picture.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEdRDiKmZKtcV7MiVB0N2TbQZcYq-SIuUn92xIGA2mDxl6q1i3s5Pc5A9Lcbjch070fsXUENV-ebWK_XcZc9TZEsHIx_0PUsv4WWj5o34kHcBXW4Szh_qsoyzq2HfKJrP3YWclMG4SbEtn/s320/warrior-pose-virabhadrasana-ii-picture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579729144570116002" border="0" /></a><br />Yesterday, I had the pleasure of having a few hours off from my current season of parental duties. I had three hours, I folded laundry, loved on my dog, went to yoga. Some days everything comes together, some days it doesn't, I was most pleased to have Daniella teaching. So we're going through our asanas and for once I am actually breathing, praying, getting in the groove, and we get to the Warrior Series. I love the Warrior Series. I'm a big girl and I love the gracefulness that comes with moving in this series. Graceful, yet strong. The poses were named for the mythic warrior sage, Virabhadra. It encourages strengthening the entire body while improving mental capacity and self control. We can all use a little of that. While Daniella was explaining and encouraging us to be Warriors, I thought to myself, "I'm a Warrior. I'm in battle for my Dad." I instantly got stronger and while I went through the series in a second set, my prayer went up to the high heavens, for strength for me and all of the people involved in getting him back to Baja, and self control for me, when I get pissed off at the lack of communication in the health care system.<br /><br />I've been sleeping at mom and dad's. This morning my mom called me into her room to show me one of her treasures. It was a music box that my dad had given his mom. He got it in Japan on one of his ship adventures. I told mom I remembered how I used to dust it and how I was super careful because if I didn't do it properly, "Mrs Clean" would surely let me know. And there at the top, I saw the Warrior<span style="text-decoration: underline;">.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2fCw_V_FdbMGCsRk8I2Gnk-T9Gzfqe3vxSmoE7nbj4jOkq8h8SaF7CLOzURSUqK6J2PyfJP_ubLB9jaEvm5xcamaB30qDorKRfSOxGHwRI8FTqVj4IKKorxnC7g7F0MuVZgXfm4A2cQz/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2fCw_V_FdbMGCsRk8I2Gnk-T9Gzfqe3vxSmoE7nbj4jOkq8h8SaF7CLOzURSUqK6J2PyfJP_ubLB9jaEvm5xcamaB30qDorKRfSOxGHwRI8FTqVj4IKKorxnC7g7F0MuVZgXfm4A2cQz/s320/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579731978041823234" border="0" /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">I tried winding up the music, the mechanism had not been wound in many many years. I took it apart and got it to work. I was talking to my mom. "Mom, you know why this is really cool that you brought this out?" I then proceeded to tell her that yoga is where I breathe and set intentions for myself and other people. It's where I can pray, uninterupted. I demontrated downward dog, and then showed her my warrior pose. "Mom, I'm going into battle for you and Dad. We're gonna get the correct feeding tube and Dad's gonna get back to his real life."</span></a><br /><br />I enjoyed my early morning chat with mom. Being around here all the time, I get some special moment's, in between the not so special. Good is overwhelming bad. Today. <br /><br />Tomorrow, Dad goes in to get a feeding tube placed in his stomach. It's going to give him more freedom, more time to get his broken flapper fixed.<br /><br />By the way, God was making dad's bed tonight in the form of mom, straightening the Lovey and saying good night one last time for the day. I need to get to bed, we have an early day tomorrow and I need to be at my best as we go into battle. Warrior Style. Lot's of mental capacity and lots of self control.<br /><br />As always, I wish you health and love,<br /><br />CatherineCatherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-63647184466853257062011-02-26T10:41:00.000-08:002011-02-26T10:54:13.467-08:00God Showed up in the thrift store<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitR5FhKo-a5hme3ZCNwQQqzKBU3T0XyOii9wxmgaHfjY5THSmi6IvXzYoPs2qUGfDDDm3Lct8xoBJ1emlRHbNvVQ-rz78Jd6zj4d85j5VZVrUhYt-b__YOPvkbWxOf8R20Pnnx9wB4Y79n/s1600/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg"><br /></a><br /><style>@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal"> 15 days ago, my dad went in to the hospital to have what was supposed to be a “relatively” simple surgery…. For an 83 year old… The surgery itself, you know cutting and stitching, removal of a kidney and the cancer that thought it needed to take residence in dad’s body. All that went well.<span style=""> </span>But then dad’s tongue swelled up, he thought he’d have some chest pain, and his body forgot how to swallow properly.<span style=""> </span>Note to self… Do not EVER take the ability to swallow for granted.<span style=""> </span>What was supposed to be three days in the hospital turned into 6, along with Puppa being discharged with a feeding tube that goes from his nose to bowel.<span style=""> </span>All this for a man who has never made a big deal about himself or caused too much “commotion”.<span style=""> </span>Even now, as he and my mom’s house is over run with their “Gestapo” daughter, the brother’s, my mom, and any help I can gather along the way, I have not heard one complaint from dad, other than “I thought we were going to get to go have some oatmeal.”<span style=""> </span>This after his second failed swallow test.<span style=""> </span>“My flapper’s not working” is Dad’s description over the phone to his people that call.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">If Dad’s “flapper” was working properly, he’d be doing groovy, instead he’s hooked up to a pump 16 hours a day.<span style=""> </span>My brother’s and I have all taken turns running the show; I have taken on the position of patient advocate.<span style=""> </span>It’s all trial and error, I am in previously uncharted territory, and I seriously wonder constantly what the people who don’t have an advocate do. I suspect get sicker, stay in hospital longer, wither away, and don’t go fishing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> Spending a large amount of time in the role of scheduler, Dr. caller, list maker, direction giver, nurse, daughter, mother, and sister…. I’m pretty worked. As my friend Erin put it, “Even if you’re not physically there, you are there.”<span style=""> </span>So I look for God, wherever I can find him.<span style=""> </span>I thought I would share some of the places I saw God this past week.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> I turned my head to look out my front window, and there he was in some peach blossoms in the yard next door.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>He’s my brother Roy making food, perfecting the medication time list on the computer.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> He’s my husband just doing what I say, even when I don’t say it in a nice way.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> He’s my brother Pat providing his expertise on stuff I don’t know about and making us laugh.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> He’s my mom saying, “Bob, I missed you,” when Dad and I have been gone all day in an attempt to get things going in a better direction.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> God came to the yoga studio when I needed to be reminded to just breathe, when my<span style=""> </span>teacher walked on my feet and pushed on my back when I was in child’s pose, or when another gently eased my shoulders down and rubbed my head in savasana.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> God showed up at orchestra Tuesday night.<span style=""> </span>As we played Andante and Nocturne from the Rabinowitz Suite, He helped everyone find their correct notes and me smile and silently cry at the same time in the beauty of D minor.<span style=""> </span>He was my buddy Mary sitting next to me giving me insight on what the piece was written about.<span style=""> </span>Brian telling a new person that the only reason he stayed with orchestra is because I told him (Brian) to just play the notes he knew.<span style=""> </span>Brian is in his third season with North Coast Strings.<span style=""> </span>God was here in the Dome when I came home and had Robert was playing something in a minor scale on his harmonica. He’s Irma who vacuumed up all the threads up off the sewing room floor.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> God’s the speech pathologist who shares the same name as a friend from fiddle camp.<span style=""> </span>He’s a home care nurse.<span style=""> </span>He’s a dietitian who plans my dad’s feeding and calls to check on us.<span style=""> </span>He’s the Dr who put his feet up on the counter today while he talked to Dad.<span style=""> </span>I took it as I’m going to just sit here, be with you, and listen gesture.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> God is my dog, Rodeo, who is so happy to see me when I come in the door, who will follow me around mom and dad’s house if he comes with me, who is happy to let me smell his dog nose, who gives unconditionally when I want some quality dog time on the sewing room floor.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> God is my kids who call or show up when I need someone to give someone a ride or spend time with Gramma, so I can be where I need to be with Dad to learn some new thing to help him get better and go fishing.<span style=""> </span>So he can go back to taking care of Gramma.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> He’s my brother Giles and his blunt practicality, Giles who is here being Eugene and Giles, because it doesn’t work for both to be here.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> He was the wonderful sunshine and the smell of the sea on Shelter Island, as Dad told me about ships and we watched them come and go.<span style=""> </span>He was in my friend’s back yard today, while Dad and I sat under an umbrella, and I could hook up the feeding so Puppa could get a little nutrition to go the long haul.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">He was a snail mail letter from Sue, a phone call to my girlfriend Shelly, emails from other folks.<span style=""> </span>He is one of my co-workers who brought in a book to work that I need for a test.<span style=""> </span>He’s an art project.<span style=""> </span>He’s all over the place, even if he decided Dad was going fail his swallow test and I would be pissed off at Him, he still shows up in the most random places.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> God showed up in a thrift store in San Diego today.<span style=""> </span>Dad wanted to take the scenic route to my friend’s house.<span style=""> </span>I turned off the GPS, and let Dad lead the way.<span style=""> </span>I heard more stories about when my parents were in the Navy, where my dad worked on boilers, I heard bits about my parents honeymoon.<span style=""> </span>I learned Dad’s first car was a ’47 Nash, named Milou.<span style=""> </span>Part of “the scenic route” passed a thrift store I had seen from the freeway on my way to the airport, never managed to get to it.<span style=""> </span>“Dad, can I just run in and do a quick walk through?”<span style=""> </span>“Sure, go ahead, we’ve got plenty of time.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> Mom was angry this morning because she was missing a yellow bowl that had made it’s way to my house over Christmas time and wasn’t returned.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t need to start my day with someone getting angry with me for something I had no control over.<span style=""> </span>“Mom, you’ve got two others, do you need it right now???” “No, I just want it back.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> I walked up the ramp to the entrance to the DAV Thrift Store. I thought to myself, “How is it that I have never been to this mother of all thrift stores???”<span style=""> </span>I looked down, and there on the shelf, waiting for me, was a big yellow Pyrex bowl.<span style=""> </span>I had no eyes or need for anything else, I was just too excited to go to the car and show Dad.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> I have never before, seen the beloved big yellow bowl in a thrift store in California.<span style=""> </span>Today, God was a big yellow bowl at the DAV.<span style=""> </span>Before I left to take Dad this morning, I stuck 5 dollars in my sweater pocket, thinking I would use it to pay for parking.<span style=""> </span>Dad paid for parking.<span style=""> </span>I bought a yellow bowl.<span style=""> </span>I don’t have to look for the one that came to my house.<span style=""> </span>Mom’s happy.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitR5FhKo-a5hme3ZCNwQQqzKBU3T0XyOii9wxmgaHfjY5THSmi6IvXzYoPs2qUGfDDDm3Lct8xoBJ1emlRHbNvVQ-rz78Jd6zj4d85j5VZVrUhYt-b__YOPvkbWxOf8R20Pnnx9wB4Y79n/s1600/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitR5FhKo-a5hme3ZCNwQQqzKBU3T0XyOii9wxmgaHfjY5THSmi6IvXzYoPs2qUGfDDDm3Lct8xoBJ1emlRHbNvVQ-rz78Jd6zj4d85j5VZVrUhYt-b__YOPvkbWxOf8R20Pnnx9wB4Y79n/s320/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578071649260166114" border="0" /></a><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">For now, this moment, I give thanks for all the times I got to see and feel the Divine in random places and not so glorious times.<span style=""> </span>I ask for patience for all of us in this situation. I also say thanks for God’s sense of humor.<span style=""> </span>I look forward in anticipation for when He shows up tomorrow.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">In Health and Love,<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Catherine</p>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-76860548455653549692011-02-10T21:21:00.000-08:002011-02-10T22:20:06.698-08:00It's a Lovey<style>@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }@font-face { font-family: "Tahoma"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1</style><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >It's a Lovey.<br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >At the beginning of December, my dad was diagnosed with kidney cancer and learned he would have to have one of his kidney’s removed.<span style=""> </span>Dad and I had just gotten the news at the hospital, I had told mom over the phone, and by the time Dad and I got back home, mom had a bag by the door.<span style=""> </span>Bags, from my mom, by the door, are not an unusual occurrence.<span style=""> </span>What was unusual was how she grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me into the other room.<span style=""> </span>“I have Daddy’s robe and his Merchant Marine jumper, I think you need to make a blanket for him for when he goes to the hospital.”<span style=""> </span>I opened the bag, pulled out the robe, and with it my entire childhood of Sunday morning “dutch-rubs”, Christmas’ with dad in the chair with his robe on, mom with curlers in her hair, and Uncle Walt, all filled my thoughts in one split instant.<span style=""> </span>Next, I pulled out the blue wool jumper.<span style=""> </span>I put it up to my nose to see if it smelled like Puppa, the sea, or mothballs.<span style=""> </span>Just wool.<span style=""> </span>I was happy to see the fabric of both garments had maintained their color for over 50 years.<span style=""> </span>I looked at mom, “I can’t cut these up unless he knows.”<span style=""> </span>She replied, “He doesn’t know I have them.”<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >Not two seconds later, dad walks around the corner into the kitchen and I blurt out, “Dad, mom just gave me your robe and merchant marine jumper and she wants me to make a blanket with them.”<span style=""> </span>He gave me a Puppa style grin and said, “She took those from me and hid them. Uncle Walt gave me the robe, I guess it has some holes….<span style=""> </span>and she shrunk the jumper.”<span style=""> </span>I said, “but are you ok with me cutting them up?”<span style=""> </span>He just chuckled a little, I took it as a yes.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >I took the bag home, knowing I had Dad’s blessing for an art project.<span style=""> </span>A few days later I was telling my friend Erin about mom’s idea.<span style=""> </span>“That may be the best idea your mom’s ever had.”<span style=""> </span>Next thing I know, Erin’s bringing over a pair of blue jeans that had been worn by my daughter Caitlin for 4 or 5 years, and then by Erin for another 4.<span style=""> </span>Erin had patched and re-patched the pants to the point of not being able to wear them in public. Erin had thrown the pants away, heard about Puppa’s lovey, and soon the soft worn denim called to Erin from the trash, “We want to be used some more!”<span style=""> </span>Erin heeded the call and from the trash returned to my house.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >Christmas came and went.<span style=""> </span>All the while the lovey was in the back of my mind.<span style=""> </span>What fabrics would I use, how big was it going to be?<span style=""> </span>What would I use to accentuate the beautiful red patches of the jumper?<span style=""> </span>Red corduroy!!</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVc3j22X25eNahJUqZWva0zz-ws0qXyl0pdt0FW1uf7g9fTc0B0G5EOhGfDIKNgnopn-dEGVyDDYU4QSNFJUrM0glSQAReeN-kox_vRISrN702rpqiLdmZo7UWtJNSOc-QHsr5jPtjzy0p/s1600/IMG_0075.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVc3j22X25eNahJUqZWva0zz-ws0qXyl0pdt0FW1uf7g9fTc0B0G5EOhGfDIKNgnopn-dEGVyDDYU4QSNFJUrM0glSQAReeN-kox_vRISrN702rpqiLdmZo7UWtJNSOc-QHsr5jPtjzy0p/s320/IMG_0075.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572307567319487058" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfE5hVK_0eNOBxpJan1_U5sQo6FqzM5Zo54HSmch3bYngseWhotZ2nqrbzX3nNvCOVbRgXYIcligXEimoaYg0sk7ABPeJxaIZVLOBZsHCTGC2ICSQmXrNxyg3FF16awsRo7AbFJIEI_av9/s1600/IMG_0080.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfE5hVK_0eNOBxpJan1_U5sQo6FqzM5Zo54HSmch3bYngseWhotZ2nqrbzX3nNvCOVbRgXYIcligXEimoaYg0sk7ABPeJxaIZVLOBZsHCTGC2ICSQmXrNxyg3FF16awsRo7AbFJIEI_av9/s320/IMG_0080.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572307575722284562" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" ><span style=""> </span>I had decided it would be mostly recycled, soft clothing. Robert donated some shirts, I had other fabrics from my stash that I thought would go well with what the clothing donations, I was assembling a pile of old clothes in the sewing room.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOO-1UD8jKRWHSqsRuC-Jv4M7pL-yJRPm2bIp4UiE9Xn11torVm_LtjHLpm2ZzkiLFW5r1nB5i9V5HqeiLtcCDRorH9dVDNKdFug8Sb5zC80yrXnnTWktDwQoluCthEvmqmO4SbIf0CVd/s1600/IMG_0073.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOO-1UD8jKRWHSqsRuC-Jv4M7pL-yJRPm2bIp4UiE9Xn11torVm_LtjHLpm2ZzkiLFW5r1nB5i9V5HqeiLtcCDRorH9dVDNKdFug8Sb5zC80yrXnnTWktDwQoluCthEvmqmO4SbIf0CVd/s320/IMG_0073.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572300013269103746" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > Then, I tried on Puppa’s robe.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEK9T7zwkNddOxeHGMvGv8T5SOIscwTiaVvk3I2oiMkT-VxQMZlgkH0CXRz_HHr60lkZphecwa4SuL_hWpK0QfuM73p085Mg4e0KqwoqtKz3ajjcLCoFTDZScOUxHgw8sKMzjcRAmTdG62/s1600/IMG_0084.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEK9T7zwkNddOxeHGMvGv8T5SOIscwTiaVvk3I2oiMkT-VxQMZlgkH0CXRz_HHr60lkZphecwa4SuL_hWpK0QfuM73p085Mg4e0KqwoqtKz3ajjcLCoFTDZScOUxHgw8sKMzjcRAmTdG62/s320/IMG_0084.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572301699550471906" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" ><span style=""> </span>I walked around the house in it.<span style=""> </span>I examined the holes.<span style=""> </span>Overwhelmed with reminiscence of youth, my brothers, the houses I’d lived in, the dog’s I grew up with, I announced to Robert and Caitlin that I couldn’t cut up the robe.<span style=""> </span>This followed with Caitlin taking her own little trip down memory lane and soon she was trying on her 7<sup>th</sup> grade jeans!</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-mBs9sDJS0wKGoxeMmb9yBXeiXas-16aIoYZo4GYJp0LlWPUOn9Izt3xPu9I-Y3BKCBJFYYtqwqPjS5wfhmsV0UGePITum_VVloPQvEwA2hC-G1-lWUv63DRV4kg_xFIsdrKIvowOz7A/s1600/IMG_0079.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-mBs9sDJS0wKGoxeMmb9yBXeiXas-16aIoYZo4GYJp0LlWPUOn9Izt3xPu9I-Y3BKCBJFYYtqwqPjS5wfhmsV0UGePITum_VVloPQvEwA2hC-G1-lWUv63DRV4kg_xFIsdrKIvowOz7A/s320/IMG_0079.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572301703037514450" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" ><span style=""> </span>We all agreed that between her and Erin, those jeans had gone on many adventures, as had Puppa’s jumper.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >I started to cut and piece and sew and cut and piece and iron and sew the lovey together.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjD6H8s914aM4AYitkvwvBn4ssTCmxQBuq9hJ3yFL0luTbaw3ydz_zNzWOOO_b8oNlIHctmyz0yMmNNOTa8pbak6g8OvjpZQP289Umw4jKtS7PILGt323DK9AnieYixyzmxTFK3CUvLol/s1600/IMG_0102.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjD6H8s914aM4AYitkvwvBn4ssTCmxQBuq9hJ3yFL0luTbaw3ydz_zNzWOOO_b8oNlIHctmyz0yMmNNOTa8pbak6g8OvjpZQP289Umw4jKtS7PILGt323DK9AnieYixyzmxTFK3CUvLol/s320/IMG_0102.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572307578149171394" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" ><span style=""> </span>The song by Dolly Parton, “Coat of Many Colors” would pop into my head.<span style=""> </span>The song speaks of a coat her mom made from a box of rags.<span style=""> </span>I think it was appropriate considering Dad’s Kentucky roots.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >As with any art project, once I get going it takes on a life of it’s own.<span style=""> </span>As I ripped apart the shirts I thought about my dad’s generation that wasted nothing.<span style=""> </span>The shirts, jumper, and pants, all had pockets.<span style=""> </span>How could I incorporate the pockets without ripping them apart?<span style=""> </span>They seemed so useful.<span style=""> </span>I remembered Sue’s lovey and one of it’s square’s had a pocket.<span style=""> </span>Norma called it a God Pocket.<span style=""> </span>Puppa’s could have lots of pockets and he could hold tissues or anyone who wanted to write him a little note could write a note and put it in the pocket!<span style=""> </span>Or treats!!!<span style=""> </span>Snickers bars!!!!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >Initially I started designing the lovey on a sheet hung up on shelves in the sewing room.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sdZr4eknkGknsHgPrPpflC1s42OAAR1xFcqvmPNYvjvbNJCiEzYDnROICGPPZHbXJR7jXqR7lORGIW_x542Ir8lgvcMEahLd-xjb4cvSaRE26lhX3sr8V_gQTVT66F3LvFwayVzErVt5/s1600/IMG_0101.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sdZr4eknkGknsHgPrPpflC1s42OAAR1xFcqvmPNYvjvbNJCiEzYDnROICGPPZHbXJR7jXqR7lORGIW_x542Ir8lgvcMEahLd-xjb4cvSaRE26lhX3sr8V_gQTVT66F3LvFwayVzErVt5/s320/IMG_0101.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572307582989963314" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" ><span style=""> </span>When it got too big, I moved it to the living room floor.<span style=""> </span>Robert stood over me as I placed the sewn strips together. “That is a handsome lovey.”<span style=""> </span>Having it on the floor gave me opportunity to walk past, move squares around, visualize the size, and let Rodeo, the dog, walk around on it or take a nap on it when no one was looking. Part of what makes a lovey a lovey is having Rodeo spend time on it.<span style=""> </span>Considering he is my constant companion in the sewing room….I sew and cut, he will lie down between me and the machine and the iron, wag his tail when I have to walk over him, and occasionally we have a little quality dog time on the floor, we rub noses and I tell him how much I love him.<span style=""> </span>Plus, Rodeo loves a nice blanket and Puppa.<span style=""> </span>So spending time on the unfinished lovey is his way of sharing the dog love.<span style=""> </span>I don’t worry about germs or dog hair as lovey’s are made to be used and washed in the washing machine.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHjmvH7lyvlVlgciCtyimyVGU4SfJXPhW2j6EJa11IRe0QdvAsZKSqJ0qtYQFByKBbgko81VeIIE_Dp59GlqF7uFq5WVyjft0_E5E8SzFvYFXHHF2Gp-SJyKtnx1gPPQTmeKlHw4msJU18/s1600/IMG_0122.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHjmvH7lyvlVlgciCtyimyVGU4SfJXPhW2j6EJa11IRe0QdvAsZKSqJ0qtYQFByKBbgko81VeIIE_Dp59GlqF7uFq5WVyjft0_E5E8SzFvYFXHHF2Gp-SJyKtnx1gPPQTmeKlHw4msJU18/s320/IMG_0122.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572307588537306818" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >With the top layer completely stitched together, the batting, backing, and tying process begins.<span style=""> </span>My back gets a little tired getting all the layers just right so I’m grateful for my work table.<span style=""> </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-VbwAafuMHvnbMJzAEEDWvzKQG7xLWZ6mOO5FwtU1KgAD3fTxSyoa-2ugacVy061oFwjYmL841A8fGGj5EPgl8EcpU946sQf8PQqPSuekQwnCEruH8qY8Ct-rcxXB-gR2atOJwAptI5F9/s1600/IMG_0013.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-VbwAafuMHvnbMJzAEEDWvzKQG7xLWZ6mOO5FwtU1KgAD3fTxSyoa-2ugacVy061oFwjYmL841A8fGGj5EPgl8EcpU946sQf8PQqPSuekQwnCEruH8qY8Ct-rcxXB-gR2atOJwAptI5F9/s320/IMG_0013.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572310458892973922" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" ><span style=""> </span>With the lovey spread out, I have the opportunity to take a little rest on my creation, feel the fabric textures, say a word for the person that will receive it, basically get it ready to give.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" ><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >You may have asked yourself, “What is a Lovey and how did it come to be?”<span style=""> </span>A lovey is my own style of blanket.<span style=""> </span>It is usually an old quilt top that was never finished and I either found it in a thrift store, it was given to me, or I bought it on ebay.<span style=""> </span>I wash it, dry it, and figure out where and if it needs repairing. I repair any worn fabric or holes with bits of fabric from my own stash. The fabric tells stories and gives pictures of different eras.<span style=""> </span>I like to imagine the lives of the women that made them. Then I put in new batting and soft flannel for the back.<span style=""> </span>A few lovey’s have been made with new fabrics.<span style=""> </span>One was made with blocks designed by all different people for a friend that was undergoing chemo.<span style=""> </span>The name “Lovey,”<span style=""> </span>came to me when I finished my first one.<span style=""> </span>I wrapped it around my body and felt enveloped in its softness and warmth.<span style=""> </span>I thought to myself, “This is a Lovey.”<span style=""> </span>The name has stuck. I have been told, by more than one person, that their best nap or a night’s sleep was under one of my lovey’s.<span style=""> </span>They lovey enjoys going to Baja, to fiddle camp, on long car rides, or just when the kids come home from college and want to keep warm watching television. I also feel they are the blanket of choice for anyone recovering from surgery, just ask my daughter Molly.<span style=""> </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDLbY3u1whgja2pTpycErj2Wxk_7j4k_sOPHusa83D50rsFOVRCVI24tag1y5wRAEkBChPnaFNfzCms3KRHmlX_LwzeXULp12cVWiHbe1T5S9Fj2TKA_fAJpN-sePkQb9fFIOpOJJwBav/s1600/IMG_0014_2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDLbY3u1whgja2pTpycErj2Wxk_7j4k_sOPHusa83D50rsFOVRCVI24tag1y5wRAEkBChPnaFNfzCms3KRHmlX_LwzeXULp12cVWiHbe1T5S9Fj2TKA_fAJpN-sePkQb9fFIOpOJJwBav/s320/IMG_0014_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572310461015127986" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" ><span style=""> </span>So, I just keep making and giving them when I feel led.<span style=""> </span>Or when my mom suggests it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >Erin and I have decided that Puppa’s is the Luviest of the Lovies.<span style=""> </span>Yes, we also agree that this particular lovey is one of Mom’s best ideas.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >It’s dark outside.<span style=""> </span>I have a nice view to the northeast from Puppa’s hospital window to my left, Puppa and his lovey to my right. People here are enjoying looking at the lovey and putting their hands in the pockets.<span style=""> </span>One sweet nurse recognized 7 jeans immediately.<span style=""> </span>Puppa won’t remember much of this, but I wake him up every hour and make him do his breathing exercises.<span style=""> </span>Anesthesia and surgery can take its toll on the old folks. I want Puppa to be able to return to the sea and the people he loves.<span style=""> </span>I’m thinking he needs a few more fish stories.<span style=""> </span>All, with the help of a lovey.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgh8jfgncbJd1SlacHhJ0cyESUhjTlyndN-0DiYVzovl95CMiC8OUi6GbHmJnP1TCQWdlk-etYHl3ZK8MDc5BRA0xvNBotz_AQA1fZ4gke4eAgw8TCZ-QltWJejgLJKMxI8mjt4TxaRWk/s1600/GetAttachment-2.aspx.jpeg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 120px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgh8jfgncbJd1SlacHhJ0cyESUhjTlyndN-0DiYVzovl95CMiC8OUi6GbHmJnP1TCQWdlk-etYHl3ZK8MDc5BRA0xvNBotz_AQA1fZ4gke4eAgw8TCZ-QltWJejgLJKMxI8mjt4TxaRWk/s320/GetAttachment-2.aspx.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572310467996683426" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >I hope this finds you and yours having a good day.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:Tahoma;font-size:16pt;" >In Health and Love,<span style=""> </span>Catherine</span></p>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-6765818726494832592011-01-07T20:05:00.000-08:002011-01-07T20:51:22.380-08:00All day pajamas<div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiH0OZTuF7ijoP4ZwCEjv5G-6BuMhLW1DFpn7pD-NrEfwJYT6pQvwxmuKBEyqIcUzos27UVoDiY5xEbI81mpdcniMerCNTUDf_MwV12E-aPy6ZjTNQLNWE_BN4NW9lgDsHmdrMjl-l7m29/s1600/IMG_0090.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: arial; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; ">I can't find my favorite blue and green swirl Lisa Hetman "warmy" hat. I thought maybe if I organized my chest of drawers, I would find it and live happily ever after.</span></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivx8l3pAcdLT2xMXwMmyNAjKBbp4wskzeriY8SNRXG00FaFgf_APL_4RVvA5WVLykeFHE7F_TPq7XLjeWQucFXGW7qRhJydRTbdenF5uaYubAschfErc_pWo249dpu5rVoO14Jc72E5FBi/s200/IMG_0087.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559666462950065010" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 200px; " /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span>Nope, while I was getting rid of old shirts and things and "organizing", I got to thinking about another special project I'm working on. Old shirts of Robert's are going into a Lovey I'm making. I had difficulty last night, throwing away the button hole and button hole facing of the shirts. I figured they had to be useful for something. Not wanting to be acused of being a hoarder.... rather than the daughter of parent's that grew up in the depression... I threw them away. Like glitter for reindeers, fabric pieces were calling to me from the sewing room trash can.</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4oy1uUiqlB-tzdiFIWXL9vGASG2DHwSO3Yi4HPD3A7flLFwoTylw5RopmWunBDRU2aE8KuUMzBoZHyFRlmb_TfRoqw2KTlhS6_htPgOJYPA6AzsBLQr-9WrBNVAL2rELlvEBzPgtlv8c5/s200/IMG_0085.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559666473855470738" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">With my dresser organized, a bag for the Goodwill, a bag of trash, and a bag of loved t shirts for a quilt, I started to get my earrings together. They're a lot like Christmas ornaments. Some given by people, some from far away places I visited, it's own little bit of jewelry memory lane. "How could these be useable art?" Then I remembered the button hole strips!! I bolted into the sewing room and stitched a few together. I really like the contrasting red zig zag.</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxunvD_70ESMCL4Qd9pV99eBlubIxhd2qm6U-J80pZtOixsCZxx0em5c7-W_Vwv2NK_qbGY4nYrJnRGPz30az0mgcL4BHFUqA6nT3hRRTj1VPhPgCz-cyD-z4ClUTxJg2n8v_cyoRUrio-/s200/IMG_0086.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559666477405736162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;">There weren't enough buttons or button holes for all my earrings. I remembered the sewing stuff that Puppa had dug out of a dumpster for me. A grommet hole maker!!!!!!</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZPMz5QH262XBIo7eHImwd3QJzpAAkd2ofJIVZsjfRLjOb_9A_FrqB-IlP84VHmGOkt3JzA-hGOmUnY8uBN9osShlLufNfTL7nOlhd9-6KtojaJuEqTSZsr5J2ui7uE4nL6Nfqd4O6drq/s200/IMG_0089.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559666480403513826" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Now I had plenty of holes for my earring art. I used a chopstick up at the top for stability.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiH0OZTuF7ijoP4ZwCEjv5G-6BuMhLW1DFpn7pD-NrEfwJYT6pQvwxmuKBEyqIcUzos27UVoDiY5xEbI81mpdcniMerCNTUDf_MwV12E-aPy6ZjTNQLNWE_BN4NW9lgDsHmdrMjl-l7m29/s200/IMG_0090.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559666490862123122" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn3dRmWHYbFuNXD6Owg8JYnfjvEGbnyWNujzKw4Dq6v-e4mOMQryqWmpHKK96ZZuvtTl4RXP3HbM-I7rzbpboUP6w5U1OKdMqYNrO59HPiWoQenkXEUpn4v2p2WvL8DGjxgzTi7PQA4TRe/s320/IMG_0093.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559668625607931762" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Even my orphan earrings, (the one's that have no sister) are useful now. I grouped them together. I'm kind of impressed with my design. Good thing I don't have a matchy kind of house, I think this organizer is perfect.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGDEdXXqnIN1YRsXy6zK7aJS-weZDqUh-8_nag7eCmGb2ZuktndX-3vW9TgGx9o2wQvSii3BI59Y9kOwpxjWtltuvV01snOunX8nDsrMm7E1OY1sgn0B_Ui6V5Kcub0RqIhAcdY1-63mHC/s320/IMG_0091.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559668616726601842" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">I didn't get out of my pj's today until it was time to go to yoga. No, I didn't find my hat, I'm sure it's around somewhere, or in the car that went up to Santa Barbara today with Caitlin. Regardless, I've got a shout out to my buddy St. Anthony, "Hey Saint Anthony, come around. Something's lost and can't be found." In the meantime, I've got a couple other hats, I just prefer my striped one.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhEfBPitZ9uRDqjb1mGmUO0eyY5w7WkU07o9zX4zzqvz4bqWLgLwQQtCRR6piwNUqJtXAESHt4xWR7ag9LUUJsZSEz4GeqF82H4D8un4vI_N_hcmSEbJrcx_DxHmuHHajc9_bVLW5P1r7/s320/IMG_0094.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559668628267151090" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Back to the grind of work and real life tomorrow. Hope this finds you having a good day. </span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In Health and Love,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Catherine</span></span></div></div>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-14077894080842874982011-01-02T15:50:00.001-08:002011-01-02T15:58:44.603-08:00Adios 2010!!!!!!!!!! Welcome 2011!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;">I hated kindergarten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Most everyone I know loved it, I hated it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Mostly I think because I was only four and a half when I started, I was probably as tall as my teacher so a lot was expected of me, I just wasn’t ready for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My teacher, Mrs Iwosaki was a mean. One day, I was having a particularly bad day and couldn’t finish my Three Bears puzzle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She didn’t let me have my milk and banana snack, wouldn’t let me have rest time on the mat, made me wait to go to the bathroom, all because the puzzle I chose was too difficult for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And then she called my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>“Your daughter never finishes what she starts.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Somehow mom grasped on to this and every time I didn’t finish something and mom was mad, I could hear it before it came out of her mouth, “You never finish what you start.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Maybe Mrs. Iwosaki was doing me a favor in the long run?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I think not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I remember the day I graduated from Nursing School, I wanted to scream to the world, “SEE, I FINISH WHAT I START!!!!”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I wanted to hunt down Mrs. Iwosaki.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I didn’t yell or scream. I just smiled to myself feeling quite proud of my success.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;">Yesterday was New Years Day, 2011.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t have resolutions, but I do have goals and one was to finish off 2010 with a blog post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Mrs. Iwosaki…. Mom…. Here it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;">2011 is finally here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had high hopes for 2010 and it didn’t turn out that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I could go on and on about all the bad things starting with the house flood in February, my mom’s horrific car accident, and lastly, my dad’s diagnosis of kidney cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Yeah, some bad shit happened in 2010 but now that 2011 is here, I’d rather focus on the good times and the things I learned.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;">I learned from the flood, that no matter how pissed off I am at the person working on my house…. Even if he or she didn’t finish the job, calling them up and screaming at them on the phone does no one any good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So Catherine, just breathe and talk to someone else before you go calling or screaming at anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Kelly, I am sorry many days that I lost my temper and I have used this lesson many times at work and at home since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So… good has came out of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Now that I got that out of the way, I can go on to the some wonderful things.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;">I got to see far more of the country this year that I ever thought possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had what I refer to as “All Gone To Look For America” (AGTLFA)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Three times!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Each trip involved a different state or some states were revisited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I got to meet up with folks I don’t normally see and I got to have what I now refer to as “One of the best days of my life.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Caitlin’s senior volleyball weekend, we had an afternoon of just Caitlin, Molly, George my son in law, Robert, and myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Our afternoon adventure to Wave Hill Garden’s in New York started with Caitlin announcing to the car that the weekend was all about her and that if we all remembered that, we would have a great time.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was a wonderful, the five of us in the car, me driving through New York and New Jersey, I had my AGTLFA soundtrack playing, the gps guiding my moves, it was one of those great unexpected days where every song went with the wonderful moments that were happening and I just kept quietly giving thanks at many moments. That car ride gave me opportunity to think and relive some of the other places I’d seen in the previous couple months and the music that had been playing at certain moments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was the perfect culmination of my 17 years of being a mom on the sidelines at one daughter or another’s volleyball matches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Besides the great photo we got with Caitlin’s camera, I got to hear my favorite U2 song, “One Tree Hill” as I drove back to New Jersey over the George Washington Bridge, the sun was setting I had a full heart and a car full of those closest to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Yep, it was the best day of 2010.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJGq_B7Evnawe0UPYRj_IUY4MM4a3IxR6G78c7sCzAB4BBszm_-9-afTbVd7FgyaEhaqe58tMuGRMVWXZGQ5r4iq46DSUcG61qc3NZLob6TpR-UfSDE5fof15Y9xawULhZ5VyKokkDnUZl/s200/IMG_1902.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557740676627931746" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /></span>I can end 2010 now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My end of the year/begin the New Year goal complete, I have finished what was started, I can move on to another project!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m curious to see what 2011 brings, you can be sure I’ll keep you posted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Mostly I feel good about finishing what I started.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgVnZWGWETXqLCsSjvmsyv7ua802dcZVgVaGTGN8PKMFNdqqWvgYJBAYaP7cS6rWToUS2Ef2YvgvxTT5H6ECe5oTw6SKqYvCS1bsb4fshVuOJXr1vt-L-pOq_EsyGCOSNz0ntZGIoc7Xig/s200/IMG_1939.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557740460714962770" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px; " /></span>HAPPY NEW<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;">In Health and Love,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Catherine<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Big Caslon";font-family:";font-size:14.0pt;color:black;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span></div>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-67885181444883927812010-12-29T22:43:00.001-08:002010-12-30T00:05:05.422-08:00DIY..... Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Yes, blogging takes a fair amount of time. Here it is 12.29.2010 and I haven't written for over two months. Before I close out the Christmas season, I will share what has been a few of my favorite things about this year's Christmas. DIY reindeer. (Do it yourself)<div><br /></div><div>First off, I should give some credit to my neighbor Mila for my "holiday spirit." I had barely recovered from the trip to Baja, which requires it's own blog entry, when I came home from work one night to see Joe and Mila's house, all lit up. For me, it screamed "Santa's Coming!!!!" It put a smile on my face and set the wheels in motion for CHRISTMAS 2010!!!! This photo does not do justice to the brilliant light display I get to see every night. It helps that their son works for SDGE :)<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWFZKCPzCKyxpyOSJjutKC2Lq6ZmOA8tZkGCRRljrZH7pTqckeKduln9nrLxyoyJ4yx4wF5Fzq5FT8wwIkDbOXi96kWfPuDjj8BVTpXxId7Nh1WM_d09aOMljbG7KI_z-mBoxK7uy1rzR3/s1600/IMG_0028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWFZKCPzCKyxpyOSJjutKC2Lq6ZmOA8tZkGCRRljrZH7pTqckeKduln9nrLxyoyJ4yx4wF5Fzq5FT8wwIkDbOXi96kWfPuDjj8BVTpXxId7Nh1WM_d09aOMljbG7KI_z-mBoxK7uy1rzR3/s320/IMG_0028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556363845916944226" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">During senior volleyball weekend at Rutgers, Molly, Caitlin, and I went for some retail therapy at Anthropologie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We couldn’t find anything to buy, but we did find this keen reindeer.....With a price tag of $65.00!!!!!! "Holy Crow!" I thought and said out loud, “I could do that!" I snapped a photo with my phone and set it on the brain back burner.</span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ9oQpY_imAdlz89Do9z44V8SxOdTywdG_ldUSWEIAQbc4yyMzq5lBJtUsPxzkqzKAe4IvJLgYv_ELe-6Q_CUoxEzx6pjnlXu6mS34UFUhqUFbsDcas8ZybjEs2u5xKL3_fOjFaNuZ5jjh/s320/IMG_0622.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556364637314308802" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">A couple weeks later I read something somewhere about breaking through creative blocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At the same time I was procrastinating over studying for my ACLS renewal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Fabric, glue, and glitter seemed to be calling out to me from the sewing room.</span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXoIiGYjR2C1-HYCJa8QIqMnKW93gPhTYxQgEHJCy7KUA7xKZ3nDcSwHvSjeliWFfC7nxwItCu3x-2gjRkZ9DblMYOg9eoASoRiyilPC3tmQaIgUhvCIJtQ5a-A_iXfTeyOSVcqqNXR4h/s320/IMG_0657.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556364641640787074" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">On a warm, sunny December afternoon, I started experimenting and over the course of a week, came up with a finished reindeer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After admiring my handiwork for a couple days, I gave the reindeer to my neighbor, Heather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Heather loves Christmas and decorations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She also is the one who gave me a giant stash of Christmas fabric one year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It seemed only fitting that he should go to her.</span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1CPq0Ji8wB7tgmnG1Fokj2pYtx-0CmbmKLdUC4mfRu4yyG0q2hTVg2vty4MS6RRiuzhpp5zRHQKNEEYISiNl5s6ME_oWFHYfTx81Y3QJtSYY3p-Uf0FRVDGraTRU_kcKXPqZaigYBNaC1/s320/IMG_0643.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556364653244973682" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";"><br /></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcb8cbDTIKqiYQcSWMmMMrUQ06Ri0f79EqEzex04Pr7WOZvj7oZn_xBAwYxaba2wiOmmvviLRHZos-boRDpiThXeeb2VBBv_7npSvLq-N3O__D6HYamsqLYkEPwIxSniBa2mAoaQsf4MKK/s320/IMG_0647.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556365490062902946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">I had found the first reindeer body in a thrift store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was lucky to find two more at Michael’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>ACLS now complete, in between saving lives and real life, I could make some art for Molly and Caitlin!!!!!</span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdGhIBj_-D62u3UvO4Yzp34iLsyauxCVciANcI_SHisO4Jgbk2I2YWemwHA_RkF2DU3Vkc_vzsCCUwyoZSAemVteCl1MibsgQsLmtpRk-M9BIyrRMhIMiCFwAbMVF-wy1D0be1yTvDRWcB/s320/IMG_0656.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556365494391143874" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">They loved them!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They shouted out with GLEE!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Actually, Christmas day arrived…</span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJVNL7YHpIr-e6Qqdg_scx2p1phugL4jHXEIx7WnQqk0mFmnZIjMOZ6d2GF68VN_IsWhHUJUSv6vi8XxYGHDY7SCwp4o4ExPWdSAan_Ippn_GMTuMaIPXlLrlNrDnJ3R0lHVWhJPCLIfoY/s320/IMG_5445.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556365500947881682" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">My mom, who had been giving her Christmas stuff away, saw the reindeer at Molly’s house and mine.</span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4YUBJSoEqdq35AvVcdZoyCREcSh9LcjcZU0gGzjmApG0u8zWfX5Xu-eQmtl-YIskEr7XvRGwb45pz8J4PLs1P9MghKyff7AXRwC3k232yVFi1CeOQg4gbsZcJM6ZaQtVnSTMOQE4YIAg/s320/IMG_2817_1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556365513850636322" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 320px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">Yep, Gramma was coveting the reindeer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>“Mom, I would have made you one but you were getting rid of all YOUR stuff”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>“Catherine, it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and if I had one I would keep it out, all year round.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Well, I love a challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I found another reindeer body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I want to see if she keeps it out all year.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">More glitter, glue, fabric, and mess…</span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDFnBnswTpyfW8UJG-FTlorRZsn9v7eOKdU-yeJi7cbC7BtMjkdurmWQbdi-Er9nl62NjsXHvBx_merDWBkb9Dm5gT-m5sbY3di1PhzrFvVyUrX8gFm4I74x2rdQgVmyUJsw3BGC8_N3I/s320/IMG_0030.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556377049713641618" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqt6XVHRLLtDlSY5Y1pn5WNbszgkpOoVwfBCAi5ucJOcfESASkv6qhVtcCekq3WhIHWq3klflB5W3oimZAKfeJ5Lkocu_AstCL7VlQuxMujAbbjAXcSKOY0cHCdUWAW4PhyphenhyphentrpMeUmQn9V/s320/IMG_0035.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556368402178666930" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">A finished product!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I think it’s the best one yet.</span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuCN3KncpXt83Ag3DEM_4Sw9CQTbXe8GVTqyYeqtHqF9NAZdDPnv1EG_SfLihpjDRdP2TYHhenz8pMJD5RHX8LT99-zokFU0wwuK1w9h8upU0lSDCiyRw67LJjSU0dEWBKxIClkTGlqkBB/s320/IMG_0043.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556368413370108258" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">I started to think about the "best one yet" concept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was reminded of the story of Jesus turning water into wine at a wedding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The governor of the feast remarked to the servants serving him that they had saved the best for last.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then I started thinking about my favorite movie, “Babette’s Feast”, and then my brain moved on to my other favorite things about this past Christmas.</span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivRLSuTrTQcRFTZF1aIbGu33qru5tCoNe9YmNOC0yKSXkyLSht_BtUf5WD2iAgl5idmEPney3HS4yl0VFfm0BiNUm8tQJKaTFBCeLdee8FiH5jQ9CasAWAmcwieewWO7kUF47V4GLsZJcL/s320/IMG_2806.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556365508183393474" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">Three of my four brothers were at the house for dinner (along with 16 other people).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>During the week leading up to Christmas I got to see all four!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s been years since all five of us have been together at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was grateful to see them all. We aren't really a family reunion kind of family so maybe that's why when I get to see them all it's pretty wonderful.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">This is the beginning of "Porterama" Giles, Patrick, and I before Giles headed to Mexico to join his family. And leave his dog at Mom and Dad's.</p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOC9X4wTsXCz52NowOZpp2tN9Bctb4VEAsaDg6ZWSgfDJnynO3fJ6hTdJPrm4RSSxagxPSFpw-qenQHIH_jx6Mx9QaAOYJxNjbArkgcvM_CCQ_1zFt9K0wfkfTFkFoclDzYyY_OQCLU4VS/s320/IMG_0669.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556369514108618562" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZp2FkIvPLFUfsj5lijPYjjL6iFcTYmZ6yYT_ZBCcxp10kcC6-1NcNg6Zy9cybYHBT4d-pPLSLKtRAXvCLdI7_4328cIrb6pEDBwkkOaH8PPySrXviTlh1M5cQNGtUDhdCgga9kN_RkZ1/s320/IMG_2799.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556369522726535490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span>(Eugene, Puppa, Patrick, Catherine, Roy)<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";"> I get from Anthropologie to DIY reindeer to Jesus to food, movies, and my brothers…..<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s what happens when I sit down with some fabric, glue, glitter, old buttons, scraps of ribbon, and a little free time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Stream of consciousness... that only comes from Catherine.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJICs4LQETJ4sO1kCMkpyTEqD1PQrv_XQL9KAk1BXbuNPk2aNkAJaImwxKZjHxS3aWe8qzePGnWZ5cZqnHcoxSAg8u8JmIMus0ddtQYoCXzlLxfAXdnKesPbCGLOkk_Et27PqLwrnTZUw1/s320/IMG_0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556369535328313298" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="Arial Bold"font-family:";">I hope this finds you enjoying some little sweet thing and sets a lot of creativity in motion as well.</span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmj5B0xtbo9Bh5Ycolkan-dmQrPGFHiPdptMRJ02pvvAnvx57w3yuZkg1akBq4lI2meCuHMFkcQKukeJpOyE6N24bi_itf1LQMImzwosYvKi9Dr6yERWpO8KVM_VncMXGlIypuTAcn5VrU/s320/IMG_0037.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556368407480577826" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">(I like this photo because of the artsy shadow)</span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In Health and Love, Catherine</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHvR892sxaxV_wHyT6ZVCE_b9_dxdUCLb4v2K3ArUqKU85T4SB37hC4DWFQORFSX9M2yre31qqtjFYX78LQu4XXG-4XLKTaOwyRSrYuBWZfmqLkr7Yr-tFO07gRVI53i671UAJsLOwKIHg/s320/IMG_0029.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556369532458779426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span> <!--EndFragment--> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;">PS This post is dedicated to Deb Barends who turned me on to the magazine "Cloth-Paper-Scissors" on my last visit to New Jersey. Creativity begets creativity, I think that's someone else's quote, my visit to her house jump started my brain. Thanks Deb!</span></div></div>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-74436282935664754032010-10-25T21:06:00.000-07:002010-10-25T22:00:12.229-07:00Channeling June Cleaver<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinCmRPxV0vaLIMbaMaGCoRe-cT8asd6TwytbMjNSsXuufTHpxPCfUXRZbAX2XYgSTxoPVA4CtYBQLa2wcSmiEsTIQSmAG0anp3hl3aM80JTMB3uamwXy2JyUTGiCaaZ_rO0pAYZoM7lf8S/s1600/200px-B_barb02.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinCmRPxV0vaLIMbaMaGCoRe-cT8asd6TwytbMjNSsXuufTHpxPCfUXRZbAX2XYgSTxoPVA4CtYBQLa2wcSmiEsTIQSmAG0anp3hl3aM80JTMB3uamwXy2JyUTGiCaaZ_rO0pAYZoM7lf8S/s320/200px-B_barb02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532201635151932146" border="0" /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:verdana;">There hasn't been a lot of sun in Southern California, for a long time. We usually get a nice hot summer where the ocean gets warm, you can surf till dark in just your bathing suit, and then fall comes, the kids go back to school, and then the weather gets really good, and there is still plenty of time for fun outside till dark. Well, it's almost November and I'm beginning to think maybe California is the new Oregon? The good news about rainy, cloudy weather, it provides more time for sleeping, eating comfort food made in a yellow bowl.... or adventures in the sewing room. Last week, Barbara Billingsley died. She was more famously known as June Cleaver of "Leave it to Beaver". She was Ward</span></span></a>'<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:verdana;">s wife, Wally and Beaver's mom. An American Icon.<br /><br />June was a great mom. Never got too made, was always polite, didn't use foul language, made nutritious meals for her family, wore an apron, wore pearls. I'm beginning to think that just wearing an apron and pearls can make housecleaning a lot more enjoyable and dinners more delicious and healthy. Uh oh, there goes the mind of Catherine...<br /><br />Anyway, last week it was raining, again.... it way my day off, and I was trying to think of something I could make for a friend who's birthday was in September... Her day happened while I was busy off seeing America and as a firm believer in the Birthday Season... which means gifts up to six months after or even more are great.... Just bring on the Birthday Booty, or in this case give. Anyway, I like to give things from the heart and was waiting for inspiration. Well, rain, a tired body, and lack of surf provided it. That and June Cleaver on the brain. I'll make an apron!</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbebvkSAjAWzcHFh1nk36mruoHopupK4jmw7khBMMvCDRAAAvuev7pJR6BiuaPdtJ4agjR8T6dVYF1ozMoRBuvsjZ-PPWsIbWZ6vhyphenhyphenYUvnmJDhbxrqVd266-AqKoavVKcneLyLk-TN_Ibu/s1600/IMG_5204.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbebvkSAjAWzcHFh1nk36mruoHopupK4jmw7khBMMvCDRAAAvuev7pJR6BiuaPdtJ4agjR8T6dVYF1ozMoRBuvsjZ-PPWsIbWZ6vhyphenhyphenYUvnmJDhbxrqVd266-AqKoavVKcneLyLk-TN_Ibu/s320/IMG_5204.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532205791726645602" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGxxcNF-IGNTIMOW10mjCKIoyx7vmnpv6G9aGM0YM7uCZT-2s4ImQGLszXG4p3w2CNuzboWckKbIOdtePBr4yn69FwR9B5TKUstxS_2_pgeIRxHZyqTJ_h0mA-6LNeHB3DPSJ7jdxbdqg/s1600/IMG_5204.JPG"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Like I said, I like to give things from the heart. If I can use things from a past garage sale, thrift store, or other fabric store finds, all the better. I sat in my comfy chair and envisioned what was in some of my scrap and salvage boxes. I made this apron with all things I had in some of my many nooks and crannies of the sewing room. The body of the apron is a tablecloth from the 60's that was stained and had a few wear holes. The stains and holes were covered with heart appliques I made using wunder-under other and bits of fabric that I liked. The pocket is a sweet old napkin, rick rack embellishments were left over from another project, the ties and the front belt are two different ginghams that I had in other scrap boxes. I was quite impressed with the end result. So much so, I just had to go put on my pearls and channel a little June Cleaver.</span></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCZhwY0kd4uGSpp2y158H3oNLjh0XmKxhnNWnBlKwK56dgk-rpiDMbCd93NaTq_J8TpyVslpCi7nVLchmg1BaGBz2KBXfpXnIwwhH6vG99-okDXtLaqxtOgvziNlg6ZpVXrLzjYEfmLJJa/s1600/IMG_5202.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 179px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCZhwY0kd4uGSpp2y158H3oNLjh0XmKxhnNWnBlKwK56dgk-rpiDMbCd93NaTq_J8TpyVslpCi7nVLchmg1BaGBz2KBXfpXnIwwhH6vG99-okDXtLaqxtOgvziNlg6ZpVXrLzjYEfmLJJa/s320/IMG_5202.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532207367581174370" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGxxcNF-IGNTIMOW10mjCKIoyx7vmnpv6G9aGM0YM7uCZT-2s4ImQGLszXG4p3w2CNuzboWckKbIOdtePBr4yn69FwR9B5TKUstxS_2_pgeIRxHZyqTJ_h0mA-6LNeHB3DPSJ7jdxbdqg/s1600/IMG_5204.JPG"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family: verdana;">All from a rainy day that caused those creative juices to start flowing.... For the love of a friend who will finally get her dream kitchen... All the while I'm stitching, I'm thinking she's gonna feel the love in the stitches and that the meals she prepares while she wears it are gonna be that much better and the dishes she cleans are gonna be that much cleaner. All from an apron!</span></span></a><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Next time you start thinking you have to throw something away because it's got a stain on it, or somethings not perfect so you get rid of it, sit back for a second and see if there's something else you could make from it. Or someone else could make something with it. One woman's trash could end up a sewing room treasure.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Thank you June Cleaver. For my love of aprons. My love of pearls. For the countless hours of entertainment you provided when I was sick and got to stay home from school and watch television. With no remote control. In black and white.</span></span>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-62492879068201231772010-10-11T14:14:00.000-07:002010-10-11T15:29:47.612-07:00Of Visualization, Travel, and Athletics....<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I've often told my kids and my patient's, "it all starts with a thought, you've got to visualize it first". Today's blog is dedicated to the Wright Brothers. I went many places on round two of "All Gone to Look for America" and had originally thought I'd just blog every day during the adventure. Life had it's way with me so now it's a week later I'm home, and I'll just blog about each spot as I feel led. So keep posted if you want to hear about Kentucky, Ohio, The Outer Banks of North Carolina, Coastal Virginia, or New Jersey. For now I'll start with Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJroKDeiufMhWz2Mrhu1eBtF4uIWLqDMD0vSh0DM3v8Gw9neH-CcNPf_quxJyk_Uldf3Ww7o7KCOwhP-5Mhj5f4bYEG9zHjHNwppY0_UXUzeY4Q7yy9-AmQUlLdPYwddOEJyex7FCrnMDp/s1600/IMG_5123.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJroKDeiufMhWz2Mrhu1eBtF4uIWLqDMD0vSh0DM3v8Gw9neH-CcNPf_quxJyk_Uldf3Ww7o7KCOwhP-5Mhj5f4bYEG9zHjHNwppY0_UXUzeY4Q7yy9-AmQUlLdPYwddOEJyex7FCrnMDp/s320/IMG_5123.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526901290650153842" border="0" /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:verdana;">See that monument if the rear of this photo? Well that's the point at which the Wright Brothers had their first flight. All something like 3 or 30 seconds. Each flight got longer and longer. Started on hill, now we think nothing of jetting across the country or flying to the moon. I'm not good on dates and numbers, only general ideas, and I am overwhelmed at times to think of how these two brothers figured out the basics of flying, the time and energy and brilliance it took, and where flight has ended up in roughly a hundred years. I mean, all my far away adventures happen because of flight, so I'm just gonna say Thank You Wright Brothers!</span></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFl1If1LL0kbbTwv8Z4dSPM2Bag3LdN3Zu1eXZ2O44Ifo0SXMIzH9myqxWNkyTQu7IhsKehGd6wHXqZ01j4lnQMAkOX47xNvvPXte5UTtOwhOEHylJ2nb_hhoJeZr6RsqBChB1LD7dc8d5/s1600/IMG_5119.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFl1If1LL0kbbTwv8Z4dSPM2Bag3LdN3Zu1eXZ2O44Ifo0SXMIzH9myqxWNkyTQu7IhsKehGd6wHXqZ01j4lnQMAkOX47xNvvPXte5UTtOwhOEHylJ2nb_hhoJeZr6RsqBChB1LD7dc8d5/s320/IMG_5119.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526902890167884594" border="0" /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I was pleased to see that the brothers also required a bit of sewing in their quest for flight. Good strong sewing machine helped make it all happen. Not to mention math,physics and all that other stuff we occasionally think of as kids that we don't need in school.... Which brings to mind why I'm even writing now. As I stood up by the monument, after going though the museum and walking in the National Park, I could envision those boys and all their friends and the people who made it possible, up high on that hill, arms outstretched, thinking like they were birds. I really enjoyed the afternoon at the museum and learning new stuff.</span></span></span></a><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:verdana;">We got home, I went back to work and went back to the business of my regular life, trying to fit exercise into a busy work schedule, laundry, the dog,etc. One day last week, I was in Elia's yoga class. I was so happy to be stretching and moving and doing all those good things. Part of the series of postures or "asanas" moves from Virabhadrasana III (Warrior III) to Dekasana (Airplane)</span></span>. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_8LYpHc0_foYtSV13nhdJI2ufIGSAKqlS0l9Mr8J5YLtnTbd5E7nhZ-wN86Mj-juZArusWWhCYy8ntfot6L6DD_pmYzaIzsHi9syOWw9lkSdxOefN5AL46GPn7eCYPFxxKfbfKDlz2j6/s1600/airplane-300x225.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_8LYpHc0_foYtSV13nhdJI2ufIGSAKqlS0l9Mr8J5YLtnTbd5E7nhZ-wN86Mj-juZArusWWhCYy8ntfot6L6DD_pmYzaIzsHi9syOWw9lkSdxOefN5AL46GPn7eCYPFxxKfbfKDlz2j6/s320/airplane-300x225.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526905617478292194" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTcceqNYBCLYtRa3khXPEb7h9Wd9h10RvJhsE2SWxvB16rqmMj7NefGbdzPz0gfT2p8ZdEawPOszRniEzrhVkZif-eUhOuGt4MsB_Bn43BbbtaE1u3CZONA-HjKzIdZcRC2Cs1sihQKlc/s1600/Dekasana.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTcceqNYBCLYtRa3khXPEb7h9Wd9h10RvJhsE2SWxvB16rqmMj7NefGbdzPz0gfT2p8ZdEawPOszRniEzrhVkZif-eUhOuGt4MsB_Bn43BbbtaE1u3CZONA-HjKzIdZcRC2Cs1sihQKlc/s320/Dekasana.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526909796171976306" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">I know that part of yoga is attempting to just breath and clear your mind of everything before and after class, but I'm still a baby yoganini and so I have to visualize what I want this big gyrl body of mine to do, otherwise, I'll never do it. I love the warrior postures in that I just feel strong and graceful when I practice them, in a way that the only other time I feel as strong and graceful is when I'm surfing well or coasting down a big hill on my bike with my hair blowing behind me. <span style="font-family:verdana;">So on this particular day, I'm breathing and concentrating, and suddenly, I am back on the hill at Kitty Hawk. The wind is blowing, my face and heart uplifted, my warrior is stronger and my airplane wings are just a little bit stronger. I'm back on adventure in North Carolina, for just a moment. When it happened again on Friday afternoon in another class, I thought, "I guess I better blog."</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEA8ilie9V1jNVxmXNBU9TCe1ImCn2nGGcMTg2v1tZRLPILnj5Ad5l28qR0zGZ9TCWlB29YXh7zvZIL8DnBPeis-8_WIRCQ0RREtUb5rePXY1LAWfk4poJfWo04COo1T7XB0rjC-793Gv/s1600/IMG_5124.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 179px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEA8ilie9V1jNVxmXNBU9TCe1ImCn2nGGcMTg2v1tZRLPILnj5Ad5l28qR0zGZ9TCWlB29YXh7zvZIL8DnBPeis-8_WIRCQ0RREtUb5rePXY1LAWfk4poJfWo04COo1T7XB0rjC-793Gv/s320/IMG_5124.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526914581365474818" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;">Around the memorial is inscribed "conceived by genius</span>, <span style="font-family: verdana;">achieved by dauntless resolution and unconquerable faith". I'd like to add a little bit of imagination helped. At any rate, if you make it to the east coast, have a stop by Kitty Hawk and the museum. I don't have any food places to recommend for the area, just a great memorial. Until the next time.....</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFl1If1LL0kbbTwv8Z4dSPM2Bag3LdN3Zu1eXZ2O44Ifo0SXMIzH9myqxWNkyTQu7IhsKehGd6wHXqZ01j4lnQMAkOX47xNvvPXte5UTtOwhOEHylJ2nb_hhoJeZr6RsqBChB1LD7dc8d5/s1600/IMG_5119.JPG"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></span></a>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-7040722498540187552010-09-22T19:54:00.001-07:002010-09-22T21:40:53.294-07:00All Gone To Look For America<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRVW6zJev9gptAgxSu0SJkte2pggrqgNkiZm9YZL1uNjkQXZVGQbMf5UxrXfOl3jSJOvOcScqhZ_Y76-EmNEfs3xfJCKJ850WAw4Ko0xMNnIqq_NZgpP3F8nRyu40xRLcz31OMuSaHnPxu/s1600/IMG_0307.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRVW6zJev9gptAgxSu0SJkte2pggrqgNkiZm9YZL1uNjkQXZVGQbMf5UxrXfOl3jSJOvOcScqhZ_Y76-EmNEfs3xfJCKJ850WAw4Ko0xMNnIqq_NZgpP3F8nRyu40xRLcz31OMuSaHnPxu/s320/IMG_0307.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519957780439068546" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1sRF4gHFqqQekdniRePJ7leuUsAQqsoA7XUso6y7tg93YiV_EkNlu1fit5E8nV9di_YsneMMeZw7lycewBbFM_-V_wCMOwu8qHWnZ40ZCGuOUrA9Twwa9PJkN14ANnK2RptaT2xitrfr9/s1600/IMG_0307.JPG"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Simon & Garfunkel's song "All Gone to Look for America" played over and over in my head before the trip even started. Who knew I would have 2 flats in less than 12 hours....??? I chose not to look at it as "a sign", rather according to Caitlin, "Lola just wanted some new accessories." 4 tires and an oil change later, I was off, "Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike They've all gone, to look for America..."</span></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjly1QJyBeXbQwLY6i2KJ4jBVArsc7BvtE7ZMOfgeo7p_Gw2_m3HTPBzEx_TljzyimebLJME_b_EYpKoi8LYyG-esj3yIU5mmM1aSBUXWOJJWgg_RNLVbOPpe-qmFHn5VBbcbYJknv0JATK/s1600/IMG_4867.JPG"><br /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjly1QJyBeXbQwLY6i2KJ4jBVArsc7BvtE7ZMOfgeo7p_Gw2_m3HTPBzEx_TljzyimebLJME_b_EYpKoi8LYyG-esj3yIU5mmM1aSBUXWOJJWgg_RNLVbOPpe-qmFHn5VBbcbYJknv0JATK/s1600/IMG_4867.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjly1QJyBeXbQwLY6i2KJ4jBVArsc7BvtE7ZMOfgeo7p_Gw2_m3HTPBzEx_TljzyimebLJME_b_EYpKoi8LYyG-esj3yIU5mmM1aSBUXWOJJWgg_RNLVbOPpe-qmFHn5VBbcbYJknv0JATK/s320/IMG_4867.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519938000788253650" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">A brief stay in New Brunswick, I drove to Newark, Delaware. How nice that the town would announce my arrival with a sign.</span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> I knew I was going to love that town when I happened upon a strip mall on the main drag that had a bike shop, a yoga studio, and a Goodwill!!! So many treasures!!!!</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1sRF4gHFqqQekdniRePJ7leuUsAQqsoA7XUso6y7tg93YiV_EkNlu1fit5E8nV9di_YsneMMeZw7lycewBbFM_-V_wCMOwu8qHWnZ40ZCGuOUrA9Twwa9PJkN14ANnK2RptaT2xitrfr9/s1600/IMG_0307.JPG"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0MZqCWFY0pV3W1OfWz9-tpSqG77tRngbKnNTfVpGiRMP7jEfZqXLbPHgIC16rFbZMj73lJzPePe0OBaxUSZlK9SW0R1rwlxQ4utBXwrPSKJxkzzz4_2dKNm3lZeSbBkqqxyMKu8hKFWz/s1600/IMG_4870.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 179px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0MZqCWFY0pV3W1OfWz9-tpSqG77tRngbKnNTfVpGiRMP7jEfZqXLbPHgIC16rFbZMj73lJzPePe0OBaxUSZlK9SW0R1rwlxQ4utBXwrPSKJxkzzz4_2dKNm3lZeSbBkqqxyMKu8hKFWz/s320/IMG_4870.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519940415157592146" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In between volleyball matches, I rented a bike, got lost on some roads, found myself on a trail in White Clay Creek State Park. Sitting by my bike, with a puzzled look on my face, many strangers stopped to give me directions. I ended up taking a lovely ride along the creek that brought me back to right where I was supposed to be! Without having to go on roads!!! I love America!!!!</span></span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Part of the bike ride included riding along part of the Mason Dixon Line.</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMSCC9h2t98snYC0UObuZpSCWhgO2WR2swcVBCe6YX4gtVgPFS5saEIHwknuOfeSu2LBL5aMPar3a4-6yraqgN_Welu7tTczMpQc7nCCpYsDhKOdwS4Qg5iiRQsjKhRs3aoX_MguK1VSX_/s1600/IMG_4879.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMSCC9h2t98snYC0UObuZpSCWhgO2WR2swcVBCe6YX4gtVgPFS5saEIHwknuOfeSu2LBL5aMPar3a4-6yraqgN_Welu7tTczMpQc7nCCpYsDhKOdwS4Qg5iiRQsjKhRs3aoX_MguK1VSX_/s320/IMG_4879.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519941469265609858" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">After the bike ride, the first nurse I officially mentored, Allison, came to Caitlin's games, we got to hang in the stands and cheer. She brought along her husband Javi and son Alex. I call them "the Sweet Little Family". I love reconnecting with some of the people that I just love on the last year of volleyball adventures!</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMtIxxpvLIoiv475_ZiOQ0lWYgcq3xZCioEckrSnSAboyZ7K_HM7rHS3du7Wvakzb72YhTl1ROAs99GkbFGX6lwQG8eGchwlYxP0q3JQOEpAEKLE8It3mgpaha5utIyB-6B8AxFnAUOSD/s1600/IMG_4897.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMtIxxpvLIoiv475_ZiOQ0lWYgcq3xZCioEckrSnSAboyZ7K_HM7rHS3du7Wvakzb72YhTl1ROAs99GkbFGX6lwQG8eGchwlYxP0q3JQOEpAEKLE8It3mgpaha5utIyB-6B8AxFnAUOSD/s320/IMG_4897.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519943305113770434" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMtIxxpvLIoiv475_ZiOQ0lWYgcq3xZCioEckrSnSAboyZ7K_HM7rHS3du7Wvakzb72YhTl1ROAs99GkbFGX6lwQG8eGchwlYxP0q3JQOEpAEKLE8It3mgpaha5utIyB-6B8AxFnAUOSD/s1600/IMG_4897.JPG"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">From Newark, Delaware to Takoma Park, Maryland, for a visit with my friend Stan from Fiddle and Dance Camp. He gave me a behind the scenes tour of his town, his yard, his Glen Echo National Park! He was a Park Ranger there for many years. The day included the merry go round, The Spanish Ballroom, puppet show, stream, the Pottery Yurts, it was a fun filled, jam packed day! I still can't waltz, maybe after volleyball ends, I'll take some lessons. From there it was off to Herndon, Virginia!</span></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNur57tgrFt5JM4yPbf6XFaABybqiHpJNU6XcRbw1PT4d5ULjTxeImE8GuQMt-2UMbvvYqjZXSIhYzRL9FQcH3kbQgAI9KwhuqtrmmWsJILo0JM4XNydAPiF_fRQznZOPmQKz7hxiaZRP/s1600/IMG_4952.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNur57tgrFt5JM4yPbf6XFaABybqiHpJNU6XcRbw1PT4d5ULjTxeImE8GuQMt-2UMbvvYqjZXSIhYzRL9FQcH3kbQgAI9KwhuqtrmmWsJILo0JM4XNydAPiF_fRQznZOPmQKz7hxiaZRP/s320/IMG_4952.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519946209479755970" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Herndon is where my dearest girlfriend in the world lives, Shelly. We worked together as young cardiac nurses, she would move and come back, we always stayed in touch. The sister I never had. She told me about 17 years ago that they were moving back to Encinitas. I'm still waiting. She works with her sister Mary now, painting and selling glassware, "Glorious Goblets". I got to sell glassware with them at the Herndon Wine and Music Festival. Another fun day, perhaps I missed my calling doing sales? I was just happy to be with her and her family.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEYXRuDAIxwAOgR8aj_djOt6EorXYe7kRZ2wX25dHfJbktatDghP_p49hwdZDIa-61Q7Qbhz0lnGPamNN9cIO_x4gR7jSbQYBV7MSuKkYJJ9olHT8ZRAKehE3NnZswEfhR5N_2BvXR2Tb/s1600/IMG_4954.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEYXRuDAIxwAOgR8aj_djOt6EorXYe7kRZ2wX25dHfJbktatDghP_p49hwdZDIa-61Q7Qbhz0lnGPamNN9cIO_x4gR7jSbQYBV7MSuKkYJJ9olHT8ZRAKehE3NnZswEfhR5N_2BvXR2Tb/s320/IMG_4954.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519947481094946642" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEYXRuDAIxwAOgR8aj_djOt6EorXYe7kRZ2wX25dHfJbktatDghP_p49hwdZDIa-61Q7Qbhz0lnGPamNN9cIO_x4gR7jSbQYBV7MSuKkYJJ9olHT8ZRAKehE3NnZswEfhR5N_2BvXR2Tb/s1600/IMG_4954.JPG"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEYXRuDAIxwAOgR8aj_djOt6EorXYe7kRZ2wX25dHfJbktatDghP_p49hwdZDIa-61Q7Qbhz0lnGPamNN9cIO_x4gR7jSbQYBV7MSuKkYJJ9olHT8ZRAKehE3NnZswEfhR5N_2BvXR2Tb/s1600/IMG_4954.JPG"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">What day is it and what state am I in? I got up early tuesday morning to drive back to New Jersey.... by that evening after a Rutgers volleyball game, I realized it had been 5 Days - 500 miles - 5 States. And I still had 5 more days!!!</span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifc8axViDH9QhU2A68Gkg7ao3Os4EhYpJtOK8jA4N-TXEDKi-rWiCfWd7TvipDe_sjNYaNxC-8LVja9c779cLNcqmLHkaFEz7hPQthmJZutytc0P-2UKy_s7Pq-Ey57HD9oZOn-7Pfrc94/s1600/IMG_4956.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifc8axViDH9QhU2A68Gkg7ao3Os4EhYpJtOK8jA4N-TXEDKi-rWiCfWd7TvipDe_sjNYaNxC-8LVja9c779cLNcqmLHkaFEz7hPQthmJZutytc0P-2UKy_s7Pq-Ey57HD9oZOn-7Pfrc94/s320/IMG_4956.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519951273425227778" border="0" />This is Rosie. She and her mom and sister Fran come to our house for Christmas every year. She graduated from college, sold all her stuff, and up and moved to New York City!!! Well, there's a whole other adventure in that story, you'll have to read her blog.... She ended up staying a few days with Caitlin and the rest of the girls... </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiGntT1LllalGph9N3KYboWbVSjYSj1Gncz-wBRIe_bsDTB66uSUxjeabocuc74a9JfvVOV7i9_cR_2_Gj2x2w7WsYP3sgcC4LbyfDYaCuKQz0TOtatQE_OvJPe0YakRxdpQlGwokeZUN/s1600/IMG_4976.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiGntT1LllalGph9N3KYboWbVSjYSj1Gncz-wBRIe_bsDTB66uSUxjeabocuc74a9JfvVOV7i9_cR_2_Gj2x2w7WsYP3sgcC4LbyfDYaCuKQz0TOtatQE_OvJPe0YakRxdpQlGwokeZUN/s320/IMG_4976.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519948785819299026" border="0" /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Wednesday brought me to Nyack, New York. My friend Maggie from Fiddle Camp lives there with her husband Laren and dog Chester. I had a great walking tour of Her town, THREE thrift stores!!! a delicious lunch, but mostly a great visit with a new friend. The drive to her house was beautiful, I kept having to stop and look at things along the Palisades Parkway... </span></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9QkDdBq9JPnbpMQ3PuDH_Qd4fOjv5d-8ya21u0JSdZexlLSiTq4jJO9IhTnKXO7Norw3T_s_63CW8jyTiMvXGtx3mdjJhRdY95zbpA8Dw24ti8VkUKk2b9IwUUznHRX_s0g7hff2kNTeb/s1600/IMG_4984.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9QkDdBq9JPnbpMQ3PuDH_Qd4fOjv5d-8ya21u0JSdZexlLSiTq4jJO9IhTnKXO7Norw3T_s_63CW8jyTiMvXGtx3mdjJhRdY95zbpA8Dw24ti8VkUKk2b9IwUUznHRX_s0g7hff2kNTeb/s320/IMG_4984.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519949944491392354" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After my visit with Maggie, I was back to stay put in New Brunswick for a week end of Volleyball, Volleyball, and Volleyball. Oh, and Caitlin had to go to class. I did get to have one dinner with her and Adam. I love to just sit back at Old Man Rafferty's, feed the kids, and listen to the stories of their lives. I am so grateful. It overwhelms me at times. Adam is also the "car savior", he stayed with Lola while Emma came to get Caitlin when she was stranded on the turnpike at 11:30 at night.</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFeBloCKn0I_cAwInU38pW4P0_RtS8gxBH9cfcgC5p-JQu7qXUWioRfTUkWFwKzsvq-x0Z5G6JFVb-U4kgFVCNCoMejymxdiR3k6bhBu0l893KpVJNpyQfyYySJ2wzI3zdtNh3nzj7J3Ad/s1600/IMG_5016.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 179px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFeBloCKn0I_cAwInU38pW4P0_RtS8gxBH9cfcgC5p-JQu7qXUWioRfTUkWFwKzsvq-x0Z5G6JFVb-U4kgFVCNCoMejymxdiR3k6bhBu0l893KpVJNpyQfyYySJ2wzI3zdtNh3nzj7J3Ad/s320/IMG_5016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519952896545323250" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">While all the girls were at class, I was grateful for the quiet in the house, with just street sounds coming through the windows. I had asked Caitlin if there was something she wanted me to do while they were gone. "Do you think you could do something with our stove? We tried a lot of things and it's got years of dirt" I love a challenge. </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyCL1GABtEedkEaGdd2n84pkqakJ3Zyipkpdfck0jh0MPdIqpH3Qw27Toh9X3oji_Gvsf1Zw8FVxjZ9UEcnZDsNL-4sWv1sKhW3oWSyRyvmbQm7oXg8DL17PpIyPzstQ_pLHr9FefZzeL/s1600/IMG_5022.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyCL1GABtEedkEaGdd2n84pkqakJ3Zyipkpdfck0jh0MPdIqpH3Qw27Toh9X3oji_Gvsf1Zw8FVxjZ9UEcnZDsNL-4sWv1sKhW3oWSyRyvmbQm7oXg8DL17PpIyPzstQ_pLHr9FefZzeL/s320/IMG_5022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519953719587126098" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I call this the "Zen and the Art of Stove Cleaning" photo. 2 hours and a lot of elbow grease and toxic chemicals later... the stove was clean. I actually loved the cleaning, my thoughts could just go where ever they wanted, a lot of love went in to that scrubbing, as well as a feeling of great accomplishment. All from cleaning a stove....</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFl_uqXyyZvS2E9XtTZ1aE_58PkjSYa5VKcLj67FswZiMsCbQCN22bCwJE7PsqlTQcyHm2vdj3SFpFPS5unYSmKzNERsL1meHuOKmxjEZMZyE7o1PlETjfSD2qrJgKUu3reiUpkgyFNMM/s1600/IMG_4990.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 179px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFl_uqXyyZvS2E9XtTZ1aE_58PkjSYa5VKcLj67FswZiMsCbQCN22bCwJE7PsqlTQcyHm2vdj3SFpFPS5unYSmKzNERsL1meHuOKmxjEZMZyE7o1PlETjfSD2qrJgKUu3reiUpkgyFNMM/s320/IMG_4990.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519955106792190658" border="0" /></a>This has to be one of the best sandwiches I have ever had. Fiores Mozzarella in Hoboken. Caitlin and I took a brief food journey to Hoboken. Just get the special, whatever it is.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJA2U00ioEae0SNdvHiDDJ6vOcAQ641jfVMIJQ1zWVe_39ZbtUrDT-z3do_9DbmH4CbAqVd34vugYSxIAd8IjF9UmmY0ZHIutMQPvtVtmrAzRiUeLMkvPt39FHVjo8GacXbXXOqIoblRg/s1600/61639_434495774169_747314169_4879090_1132843_n-1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJA2U00ioEae0SNdvHiDDJ6vOcAQ641jfVMIJQ1zWVe_39ZbtUrDT-z3do_9DbmH4CbAqVd34vugYSxIAd8IjF9UmmY0ZHIutMQPvtVtmrAzRiUeLMkvPt39FHVjo8GacXbXXOqIoblRg/s320/61639_434495774169_747314169_4879090_1132843_n-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519955120734159746" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Missy, Emma's mom and I wanted to get the parents together between games on Saturday. Potluck was the original idea, then it was suggested we meet at "The Olive Branch", thank you KB!!!! Wings and beer, it was a good time! We may have a new way of tailgating.... </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5jmU1RtNZ49HD-XW9ylb5wSuX8sYeLj1YHUjo01JGzNO6neeQlTUkWT924lO8PunEX2xyG8VPIn0zXvc2N7OZWxGp-PWL9CWCkAPH2Hyuhdb3Fsr_4Vhxz2fpKkKbKVsFk6lM9pKtHzU/s1600/60525_435263119653_550764653_4853931_900198_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5jmU1RtNZ49HD-XW9ylb5wSuX8sYeLj1YHUjo01JGzNO6neeQlTUkWT924lO8PunEX2xyG8VPIn0zXvc2N7OZWxGp-PWL9CWCkAPH2Hyuhdb3Fsr_4Vhxz2fpKkKbKVsFk6lM9pKtHzU/s320/60525_435263119653_550764653_4853931_900198_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519955111405090722" border="0" /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">A special note of thanks to these fine women for allowing me to share their space. At one point there were 5 girls, 2 moms, and one bathroom. It all worked out and I was missing them terribly the first few days I was home.</span></span></a><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Hopefully, on the next leg of my journey, I'll write less, more frequently. I love that I have an iphone and a gps. The gps has opened a world to me that I would not have ventured into, given my terrible sense of direction. The iphone allows me to look things up at a moments notice. It also has a gps but I need something talking to me with a visual so Gar takes care of that. The thought foremost in my mind is that for many years, I thought I had to fly across the ocean to lands where I don't speak the language for adventure. Yes, it's there too, but I have learned it's here in my own country. Travel and adventure is all about the food you eat, the people you meet, and the things you see. It's how you deal with flat tires and wrong turns.<br /> Round two of volleyball travel starts tomorrow. Caitlin's friend Rosie remarked as we walked home from the College Ave Gym one afternoon, "Catherine, I think your life is a soundtrack." I like that. Originally, the next leg of the journey would be called GTLFA Part II, I decided to call the next phase, "This Land is My Land." Woodie Guthrie's music...... and Robert will accompany me.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">First stop, Kentucky! Birthplace of my Dad, Puppa. Stay tuned.<br /><br />In Health and Love, Catherine</span></span>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-38641240857470988782010-08-26T21:49:00.000-07:002010-08-26T22:40:58.261-07:00"Because when I look good... You play well"I've never been one to put much effort into my appearance. I've been known to pick clothing up off the floor, shake it a few times, and wear it again the next day. Of course the older I get, I put in a bit more effort. More for me is not much for others. It's all relative. I was never the teenager to experiment with make up, in fact, my parents paid for someone to put make up on me when I got married and I didn't even recognize myself! I prefer the "natural look." When my eldest daughter got married, my younger daughter convinced me that to look good in the photo's, I needed to wear make up and when I found out how much it cost to have someone do it, she also suggested I learn to do it myself. "We'll just go to Nordstrom and then buy what they suggest." Such a thinker, that one. It was actually fun and I saw the benefit's in the photo's, so now, on occasion, I wear make up. Tomorrow is such an occasion. It is the first game of Caitlin's senior season playing volleyball. I have been on the sidelines, cheering for one my girls on the court for 16 years, it's been a good ride, I have loved it, and I am in anticipatory grieving over the end of this time in my life.<br /><br />I love women's volleyball. I loved to play when I was young, I loved that both of my girls played, I love how the game has evolved, I just love it. The only other sport I love is surfing and women's volleyball is the only sport I love being a spectator, especially if one of my girls are on the court!<br /><br />Most athletes have good luck charms. Mine happen to be dressing up, wearing certain pieces of jewelry, and yes.... putting on makeup. Not a lot, but enough. It didn't start until about 7 or 8 years ago. I realized that the better I felt in the stands, the better I cheered, the better I cheered, the more other people cheered. The fans cheering are the 7th player in volleyball. I remember Jace, one of Caitlin's team mates saying, "Catherine, you look good!" My reply, "when I look good, you play well!" It stuck. It got to a point where I had to start planning outfits when they had far away tournaments. The team did well. It was my good luck charm, a way for me to channel my energy, it was me doing my part for the team without ever setting foot on the court.<br /><br />Doing well doesn't necessarily mean winning, although winning IS a beautiful thing. It means going out and doing your best, using your brain and the talents God has given you. So while those girls are on the court, I'm gonna do my best cheering and my best looking put together. I will wear my mother in laws pearls because she loved to come to games. I will love every minute that I get to see the team play this season.<br /><br />After work tonight, I was putting things together. "What are you doing?" "I'm putting my outfits together." Robert asked, "Do I need to plan my outfits?" "Nope, just me."<br /><br />When Caitlin was 9, she started playing volleyball. Her coach, Ed handed each girl a notebook. He explained to these little girl sponges the importance of a good nights sleep, clean socks for games, sportsmanship, being on time, and it had a quote from John Wooden, "Failure to prepare is preparing to fail." I can't sleep right now because I am so excited and I'm not even playing! My outfits are just about ready. As I prepare, I also looking back with so much fondness, at what my kid's athletic's have taught me.<br /><br />So for now, I will continue to say thank you as I plan the weekend's outfits.<br /><br />GO RUTGER'S WOMEN'S VOLLEYBALL!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br />I'll figure what to do with the rest of my life when the season is over.Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-83025836120690623102010-08-08T18:16:00.000-07:002010-08-08T19:54:32.862-07:00I'm a Fabriphile....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYmbHPLkzY552_pMjieUG58LSzcLcHRA2TLUs-TOiMneCyEJBcxYGMDnNw-sYXNBvgX2w_kPj8HOn1Q4AAwiDpqJUbezbpd5THyw_QvJ40ICgtZT6roE7opkdsElczjpITcMyI8qiBlo8Y/s1600/GetAttachment.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8w5Bq15QxHZjaro_rlb3FN05aQvF3tKBJg0HKO27pnYskOG6E0w4x7TnnLhxuS8RSNfZa8worMhXGb9U2BPpSwilDf208q2KspKtNax391BQkn49RBwv4oO42hBoR4S6D5SJ097bi8i3a/s1600/IMG_4797.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZOSFifNld1nGuSCnvVE36i94Yp5rXE1BSmlKEVrXmWz-JTcVXhvePOdI2dUWCvs_7wzJmP5Onsi9oS539007VIvEkHIw9YHUvZeCpwlkAtaC4Zgix02gMMx0EOcK9pBVGAFGkY1fhz1M/s1600/IMG_4796.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ZOSFifNld1nGuSCnvVE36i94Yp5rXE1BSmlKEVrXmWz-JTcVXhvePOdI2dUWCvs_7wzJmP5Onsi9oS539007VIvEkHIw9YHUvZeCpwlkAtaC4Zgix02gMMx0EOcK9pBVGAFGkY1fhz1M/s320/IMG_4796.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503213800338305618" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:webdings;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Is that a word? Fabriphile. I think it must be. A person who loves fabric. I like to sew, I'm a kinda good at it, I get by. Along with those old things I like, I like to take old sewing patterns and them update them a bit. Like this little treasure I found in a thrift store a long time ago.... It's a McCall's, from the 70's!<br /><br />I've been known to buy fabric just because of how it feels, I've also been known to greet people and then ask to feel the fabric of their clothing. I like fabric "with a good hand", there's a fabriphile saying for you. Anyway, a couple weeks ago, before my credit card was used fraudulently and I could shop at will.... I was in my favorite local fabric store, perusing the remnant table. My original purpose was to buy batting for some quillow's I was making, it's near impossible to go into a fabric store and only spend 5 minutes. I glanced upon this green, black, and yellow gem at the bottom of a pile and thought, "Hmm, those are good colors for me. I thought to myself "it's a bad economy and I need to save money and NOT buy more fabric", I purchased the batting and was on my way.<br /><br />In the back of my mind, I kept thinking, "you should have bought it, it was only $2.98. Remember those green silk pajamas you DID'T buy in New York!" Well, about three days later, I couldn't take it anymore and went back. I prayed as I drove to Yardage Town. Hallelujah! It was buried underneath and the treasure was mine!!!! I still had quillow's to finish, but those stripes kept calling out to me from the sewing room.... "Hey, Catherine, don't you think I'd make a cool jacket to wear to Cardiac Rehab?" The wheels of creativity were spinning. Quillow's mailed to New Jersey, I got sewers block. This is what happens when I know I want to make something that involves doing things I've never done before...for example sewing stretch knits, using less than than adequate fabric for a project, sewing in separating zippers, and that ever present fear.... what if it's ugly, doesn't fit, and it's a total waste of time.<br /><br />Self Doubt. It will knock you down every time. It's been known to keep me and many others from doing things that could be great. Happily, I worked it through in my head and one night, in a spur of energy, I thought "now or never, just do it, Catherine!"<br /></span></span><meta equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8w5Bq15QxHZjaro_rlb3FN05aQvF3tKBJg0HKO27pnYskOG6E0w4x7TnnLhxuS8RSNfZa8worMhXGb9U2BPpSwilDf208q2KspKtNax391BQkn49RBwv4oO42hBoR4S6D5SJ097bi8i3a/s1600/IMG_4797.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8w5Bq15QxHZjaro_rlb3FN05aQvF3tKBJg0HKO27pnYskOG6E0w4x7TnnLhxuS8RSNfZa8worMhXGb9U2BPpSwilDf208q2KspKtNax391BQkn49RBwv4oO42hBoR4S6D5SJ097bi8i3a/s320/IMG_4797.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503217602985135266" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">As I started to put the pattern pieces out, I realized (1) I really didn't have enough fabric (2) look at those stripes and (3) who are you trying to fool</span>? I <span style="font-family:lucida grande;">pushed that doubt guy back, shortened up the arms and the jacket body, I figured if it didn't fit me, it would fit someone else...<br /><br />I waited before I cut. I waited before I sewed. Fear. I decided to google sewing stretch fabric. Heck, I learned to free motion quilt from a 4 year old on youtube, maybe there's something. Sure enough, there was.<br /><br />A few days of struggle, a walking foot failure(this is a special foot for stretchy stuff and different types of fabric being sewn together) and my own self doubt.....Voila!!! A cute little jacket to wear to work!!<br /></span><meta equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYmbHPLkzY552_pMjieUG58LSzcLcHRA2TLUs-TOiMneCyEJBcxYGMDnNw-sYXNBvgX2w_kPj8HOn1Q4AAwiDpqJUbezbpd5THyw_QvJ40ICgtZT6roE7opkdsElczjpITcMyI8qiBlo8Y/s1600/GetAttachment.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 120px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYmbHPLkzY552_pMjieUG58LSzcLcHRA2TLUs-TOiMneCyEJBcxYGMDnNw-sYXNBvgX2w_kPj8HOn1Q4AAwiDpqJUbezbpd5THyw_QvJ40ICgtZT6roE7opkdsElczjpITcMyI8qiBlo8Y/s320/GetAttachment.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503219897991380706" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">I ended up adding black Lycra to the arms for added length, the non shiny side. I'm excited to try making another, reversible jacket with some <span style="font-family: lucida grande;">contrasting fabric on the inside. Oh, the possibilities are endless.<br /><br />"Imagination is more important than knowledge"~Albert Einstein<br /><br />When I learned to sew in junior high, there were a lot of rules. Those rules were important, but somewhere along the way I got lost in the rules and didn't let my imagination take me where it needed to go. Mistakes get made, some projects turn out right, some not so right. More life metaphors.... The good news is that I allowed myself to experiment a little, it turned out well, so I'm gonna go experiment some more. I'm thinking it's good to have some creative challenges. It's a really good release for life stresses. <br /><br />In the meantime, a shout out to all those youtubers and bloggers that are sharing their how to and explanation video's. There's a lot of stuff to create in the world.<br /><br />You got any creative challenges in the back of your brain? Ready, set, go! Until next time......<br /></span></span>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-7457845546425162312010-08-05T14:21:00.000-07:002010-08-05T17:22:04.667-07:00Geromolina's Last Ride<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggF5DTnFPAvPW5fmsOKV4ZxGNCFIe3wkFkCRxTZRrVuKMYaDC5pKWgfJckp5eQKHh6q4QvL-FO25a20jsN3ANcnOoZfv4AUNSNRQf_9EVTEU17z7Z5UWP-KlbrbJNAXHBwOhR6_4YkLzCF/s1600/DSC_0161.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></span></div></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpseA9b52Ct1lnlcIaLzj-lIfkw9DP4eNavfv1rI1zzIYhvf_azgP6g2XRrRK2Ly5WKQ85xuOg4SDbCZoOq3yABqIP0mD-NOB78-qs4jq5gH9PeeFc9YlGUNKixSVb9METMp-Si7KNxzeC/s1600/IMG_0260.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpseA9b52Ct1lnlcIaLzj-lIfkw9DP4eNavfv1rI1zzIYhvf_azgP6g2XRrRK2Ly5WKQ85xuOg4SDbCZoOq3yABqIP0mD-NOB78-qs4jq5gH9PeeFc9YlGUNKixSVb9METMp-Si7KNxzeC/s320/IMG_0260.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502042605168028194" border="0" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpseA9b52Ct1lnlcIaLzj-lIfkw9DP4eNavfv1rI1zzIYhvf_azgP6g2XRrRK2Ly5WKQ85xuOg4SDbCZoOq3yABqIP0mD-NOB78-qs4jq5gH9PeeFc9YlGUNKixSVb9METMp-Si7KNxzeC/s1600/IMG_0260.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:verdana, serif;" >I have had a long standing love of Volkswagen's since before I could remember. I was thinking last night that it is my German roots trying to overpower my more prevalent Irish roots.... Either way, a love of old VW's is one of my genetic flaws. Last night I said good bye to Geromolina, my 1969 bus that has lived with us since July of 2000. A friend commented a couple weeks ago, "Catherine, I don't know you to be one who is attached to stuff, so why the angst about a car?" Well, only a lover of old VW's knows the feeling. We just love them and don't ask why. It did however give me reason to think of all the great VW memories I have. I'll share just a smidge of them now.</span></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;">1977 Joan McMann and friends would chip in 25 cents each for gas and drive all over Huntington Beach in her VW Bug. 1977 I was in my first car accident in Joan's Dad's VW Bus. 1978 I ran away from home in a VW Bus, I don't remember what I returned in....</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;">1979 Graduated High School and left on a west coast excursion with Kim Benedict in her VW Beetle. Left home again that year, I could fit everything I valued in that beetle including my sewing machine, stereo, and favorite chair.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;">1980 Gave birth to my daughter Molly. My parents were in Mexico, I had my roommates go get my Gramma who was visiting from Wisconsin so she could see her great grand child, born on her 80th birthday. She wouldn't go in my parent's car. Danny picked her up in his bus....</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;">1985 Robert and I got married. Our car of choice for our honeymoon/surf trip....A Volkswagen... </span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3bCB37MxfA6ZJENle4JzKf0YRymVzoMy05sIYxAPyGv33I89NXd2JvdCMDzGL5ZmV15kDQeNrqy5u9Pej7X6zwo3AQVETb9wa0YMqorCXAy_2rhVza1GVxcgEuAOAEz8tnbwEvAo-VpOX/s1600/IMG_0258.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3bCB37MxfA6ZJENle4JzKf0YRymVzoMy05sIYxAPyGv33I89NXd2JvdCMDzGL5ZmV15kDQeNrqy5u9Pej7X6zwo3AQVETb9wa0YMqorCXAy_2rhVza1GVxcgEuAOAEz8tnbwEvAo-VpOX/s320/IMG_0258.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502044191769289218" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMTo6BKToIohtq6hbSydiCdWvCnVAjPp_gR5pZGFhe-aqtV4tnMM3I2PljtJyPKvOVXejEdfn6rxOqRifJjfbKtAZK2k31C4i_4-AvrYj1AD21DfqgKjSVhgBriwbLnEn0FCQ3PMLOGMN/s1600/IMG_0269.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMTo6BKToIohtq6hbSydiCdWvCnVAjPp_gR5pZGFhe-aqtV4tnMM3I2PljtJyPKvOVXejEdfn6rxOqRifJjfbKtAZK2k31C4i_4-AvrYj1AD21DfqgKjSVhgBriwbLnEn0FCQ3PMLOGMN/s320/IMG_0269.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502044999021829330" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;">Somewhere around 1992 we got our first bus. Born in 1967, her name was The Magic Bus. It was a good time driving her around. Caitlin got her first black eye when she tried to run from one end to the other...Inside the bus. She had beautiful wood carved cabinets and a comfy bed. We enjoyed many a beach day and "bus dates" with her. When Molly started driving, the Magic Bus went to go live with Billy. It was nice to see her driving around Carlsbad. Billy had restored her and we recently heard she lives in England now!!!!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;">One spring break in Molly's junior year, we were wondering why we were depressed. We realized that we didn't have a Volkswagen and ended up buying a Vanagon. We thought this would be safer and not so much work. Wrong. We didn't keep her too long.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#330099;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', verdana, arial, sans-serif;color:#999999;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: normal;font-family:Georgia, serif;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejtAbSS-o16zNDVUJ-00z-x8cx-4gK6KlFWMiIALaK7O20mV_J5kD-IQGRv1Ha3GznI0-u70oxo0usgGF8frpEtnQ3GQVgLeDzf2cNeMC3-MhTfo8gOVUXoLDwHISNNPmlrcCxiG2xQaE/s1600/IMG_0255.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejtAbSS-o16zNDVUJ-00z-x8cx-4gK6KlFWMiIALaK7O20mV_J5kD-IQGRv1Ha3GznI0-u70oxo0usgGF8frpEtnQ3GQVgLeDzf2cNeMC3-MhTfo8gOVUXoLDwHISNNPmlrcCxiG2xQaE/s320/IMG_0255.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502053808986831250" style="float: right; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></a>July of 2000, we were surfing in Cabo and met a lovely Australian couple, Craig and Marnie, who had bought a bus in Washington, drove her all over the west coast including Yosemite and Las Vegas, and now were in Cabo. We invited them to visit on their way home. They ended up staying a week, we bought their bus, and gave them a ride to the airport. $1200. So many good times, good memories, she became a neighborhood fixture. </span></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>When I turned 40, Robert surprised me with a great gift! A brand new VW Beetle.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYkQGJpY2aWJxmCSyqKr_bDuxr58C_JcA2onCjl6l5DAZwlks77c2krrHb7xA5zPsrsfvMfY0Ij69hilEc5UNely49fqGf45f2LiBo9_A83OzxPDo_X0gqijbAquooh0gFerrw-ZBMBUeh/s1600/IMG_0263.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYkQGJpY2aWJxmCSyqKr_bDuxr58C_JcA2onCjl6l5DAZwlks77c2krrHb7xA5zPsrsfvMfY0Ij69hilEc5UNely49fqGf45f2LiBo9_A83OzxPDo_X0gqijbAquooh0gFerrw-ZBMBUeh/s320/IMG_0263.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502056160066786226" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#cc0000;">Wow! Two Volkswagen's living in one house. She was fun to drive, Caitlin and I had many fun volleyball road trips in Bella. Lot's of heart to heart conversations, we got lost driving to Vegas once, she went a lot of cool places. I used to drive my father in law Bill, to see Violet or go to Dr appointments. He would always say, "Are we gonna take the red car?" He loved German engineering. But Bella was made of plastic and more and more things were getting broken, so she was replaced by my Honda, Emma.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;color:#cc0000;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;color:#cc0000;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;color:#cc0000;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#3366ff;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;color:#000000;">All the while, Geromolina is getting rustier and rustier, and she spends more time getting worked on than riding the open roads or going surfing and the kids have all left home so she doesn't go on bus dates anymore........</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;color:#000000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;color:#000000;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLA8kx-KlZeY-m4lHyVk9nXpwR45lUhjuejhHPmm5y7_eMMAqw1Xfc8CWMhTH9MUqSKs7LZwnbRp7mPeWXM_xHOOCktxI9fn1MEgPeQJp29glBIS1C7tFGy3PTr7GWLSnRXXUe2p5qR07k/s1600/IMG_0191.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLA8kx-KlZeY-m4lHyVk9nXpwR45lUhjuejhHPmm5y7_eMMAqw1Xfc8CWMhTH9MUqSKs7LZwnbRp7mPeWXM_xHOOCktxI9fn1MEgPeQJp29glBIS1C7tFGy3PTr7GWLSnRXXUe2p5qR07k/s320/IMG_0191.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502062497650826386" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;color:#000000;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Georgia, serif;" >Sometimes, it took a few neighbors and the dog to get her going......<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#3366ff;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Georgia, serif;" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Georgia, serif;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyGeEs2qanmBMZPf2aF8fPK9oVgWorsjDjeGqNAST1GAwb8s7ehRtJC4sfqiQ5JxlQY4QzjYvTlJoQwzMvAAjus5mtNX_jCzMl8NvYinBs5Jy4WGZVt-pZlbV_foi6OI4hfXV7TPL3h4XP/s1600/IMG_0215.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyGeEs2qanmBMZPf2aF8fPK9oVgWorsjDjeGqNAST1GAwb8s7ehRtJC4sfqiQ5JxlQY4QzjYvTlJoQwzMvAAjus5mtNX_jCzMl8NvYinBs5Jy4WGZVt-pZlbV_foi6OI4hfXV7TPL3h4XP/s320/IMG_0215.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502062504365843218" style="text-align: left; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;">Unless you are one of those people....(I know they are out there) That have this love of the Volkswagen, you many not fully comprehend the relationship some of us have with our vehicles. My dentist recently remarked that my mourning was like that of losing a family member.... Not the same, but as a feeling being, we may sometimes attach feelings to an object; a favorite blanket, the rocking chair where I fed my children, a yellow bowl, or a Volkswagen.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6633ff;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Qdpd8fbrFJhhpT_RurgxzdT_UhBI-Qtl4DukWEb-6LlWGVqLXbbSyUcxef5ZFXF_uHcTXmjLNeTdiZeeekqCzecJRaU6KF5nuW3QC3y8JnCv03FDVw86078dIpcT5vSIkGQMAOYR-6Fw/s1600/IMG_4826.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Qdpd8fbrFJhhpT_RurgxzdT_UhBI-Qtl4DukWEb-6LlWGVqLXbbSyUcxef5ZFXF_uHcTXmjLNeTdiZeeekqCzecJRaU6KF5nuW3QC3y8JnCv03FDVw86078dIpcT5vSIkGQMAOYR-6Fw/s320/IMG_4826.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502065221455813106" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" border="0" /></a>Geromolina has gone to live with Brian now. Originally from Hawaii and newly laid off from his computer engineer job, he's got some time and money to spend on a project. He said his girlfriend wants to go camping in her. He won't try to restore her to her original beauty, but so she can get around and be reasonably safe. He said he'd bring her buy and we could have a party. After she left on the tow truck last night, a few neighbors expressed sadness and disbelief that she would no longer be with us here on Alviso. As one boy pushed his new baby brother in a stroller, he said, "I loved that car, Man." No, the street will never be quite the same.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggF5DTnFPAvPW5fmsOKV4ZxGNCFIe3wkFkCRxTZRrVuKMYaDC5pKWgfJckp5eQKHh6q4QvL-FO25a20jsN3ANcnOoZfv4AUNSNRQf_9EVTEU17z7Z5UWP-KlbrbJNAXHBwOhR6_4YkLzCF/s1600/DSC_0161.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggF5DTnFPAvPW5fmsOKV4ZxGNCFIe3wkFkCRxTZRrVuKMYaDC5pKWgfJckp5eQKHh6q4QvL-FO25a20jsN3ANcnOoZfv4AUNSNRQf_9EVTEU17z7Z5UWP-KlbrbJNAXHBwOhR6_4YkLzCF/s320/DSC_0161.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502068028976746226" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></a>I had originally thought I would keep the rear door and window, to make an art project in my back yard. After all, it had some of favorite bumper stickers. Through some gentle urging by my friend Rod, I decided to keep her whole, minus a few hubcaps. I found enough trinketry and history inside her to make a nice little art project. The proceeds from her sale will go towards a custom Roderick Treece mirror for my bathroom. Somewhere in the mirror will be a mother of pearl inlay in a VW insignia. Yes, my love of all things Volkswagen is a metaphor for life. We start young, we go on adventures, we gather up good stories, we start to get rusty, we need more and more work. Then we go on to another adventure. It doesn't mean we are unlovable, we just need a little more time, some occasional bodywork, and then some more love. Then we're ready to go some more. Thanks for all the good times, Geri. I will always love and miss you, I hope your new family makes some good memories with you.<br /><br />What are your fond VW memories?<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5756945287703810253.post-73679244994793995612010-07-23T19:45:00.000-07:002010-07-23T20:13:24.590-07:00Why Big Yellow Bowl<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333FF;">Seems to be a summer for blogging. My daughter Caitlin's friend Julia started blogging, then Caitie started with her blog, "Mom, I don't understand why you've never had a blog..." Perhaps my love of stream of consciousness writing that she has come to appreciate? My oldest daughter Molly was a blogger prior to facebook and I always enjoyed that. Now, I seem to be captured by sewing blogs, they've taken my creativity to a new level when I think technology is going to get the best of me. Anyway, I started thinking about blogs and what I would write about and what would I name it. Big Yellow Bowl came about because it's one of my favorite things. I like old things. Occasionally I think I should have been born in the 40's. Well, I wasn't, so I hold old things dear to my heart. Bowls, fabric, chairs, sewing machines, bikes, cars, kitchen utensils, just lots of stuff. I appreciate things that made to last and with integrity. The Big Yellow Pyrex Bowl.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#3333FF;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#3333FF;">I grew up in a family of 5 kids. Four boys and me smack dab in the middle. The only girl and middle child. When I wasn't getting picked on or picking on one of them, it was a good time. Roy, Gene, Giles, and Pat. We are all as different as night and day. We were raised Catholic which meant no meat on Fridays. That meant tuna casserole or macaroni & cheese for dinner. It was easy for my mom and we could all descend on it after a big day of being kids. Piping hot from the oven with that browned cheesy crust, there was always enough if some kid from the neighborhood happened to stay for dinner. I'm quite certain my mother thinks of that time as chaos and noise, but for me, the yellow bowl signifies a table with food, people, good times, and laughter. A simple bowl that could feed a lot of people, was pretty to look at, and highly functional in that it went from oven to table.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#3333FF;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;color:#3333FF;">Life is hectic. Invite someone over to your house for a casserole. Put your cell phone away. Or better yet, make a casserole and take it to someone's house. I think everyone needs a yellow bowl. Have you got one?</span></div>Catherinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15237980779534293304noreply@blogger.com2