tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82757097245845000562024-03-05T20:16:26.623-05:00GrayzeeelifeIn 2010, I endeavored to be more creative. I succeeded! This blog will be a showcase for those new challenges... and the ordinary 'life stuff'.grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-5370283028756519452015-03-20T12:03:00.004-04:002015-03-20T12:04:37.094-04:00It's been a year of change<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have been gone from posting for over a year. I can actually pinpoint when the 'change' happened... it didn't involve hot flashes or thinning hair or insomnia. It wasn't THAT change.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The changes we went through looked more like:</span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">less sleep, and absolutely no sleeping in late</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">lots of internet research on "normal" things for babies</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">little boys clothes and toys strewn around the house</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">no 'me' time</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">frequent visits to the pediatrician's office</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">visits from friends and family and many inquiries as to how we were doing</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">intro into the world of daycare</span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What we had... a case of two 5-week old foster boys given to us in February 2014. We quickly picked fitting nicknames for them - Squeaks (for the one who made many, many little noises all the time) & Squirms (for the one who couldn't stay still for anything). </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Cop'er and I have been licensed foster parents (for fostering and adoption) since May of 2011. We had only received two other calls prior to that for placement and neither was the right fit for us at the time. When we got the call about S&S, it was a quick "yes" from Cop'er and a little more hesitant "ok" from me. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Two babies? We hadn't even raised one!</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The boys are 15 months old (in a week) now and I do find it hard to remember when they weren't with us. Don't get my wrong - I still long for sleeping in and more 'me' time, but this opportunity has been something Cop'er and I didn't know if we would ever have - being parents.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now, I will say that being foster parents adds another layer of complexity to the situation because there are many more people involved in the decisions and raising of the two boys. They are not "our" boys in the eyes of the state, but we love them and care for them as if they were. Our case worker reminded us once that it means we are doing everything right. The boys are supposed to be enfolded into our families in order for them to feel the security and stability they need to grow up as healthy individuals.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As we go through the progression of this case through the foster care system, I like to look back on the first year with S&S. It has been HARD work raising two boys (especially never having kids) and working full time - there is no getting around that. It's been challenging, at times, on my marriage, my job, my sanity, and more. It has made me change in ways I didn't want to and didn't expect to. But I think about all we have been through with the them and know no matter what happens in the future, the boys have been so loved by Cop'er & me & our families. And in a world that's as screwed up as ours, that counts for so much more than I can put into words.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-56254752785269590752014-01-26T19:01:00.001-05:002014-01-26T19:01:50.243-05:00It's like coming home.<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">To say that I have been away from my blog for a while would be quite the understatement. My last post was September 11th, 2011 --- It's now 2014. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It's true... life passes in the blink of an eye.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I could sit here and list off all the things -- good and bad -- that have happened in those 2+ years, but why look back? It's time to think about what's going to happen THIS year!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm feeling renewed in my endeavors to put more of what's in my head down 'on paper'. I'm not sure any of you have thought about what might be in my head, so let's just say there are no rules up there. It's uncharted territory.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">To start things off right, I'm flashing back to something I wrote with my critique group. It's a little something based on a writing prompt - first line of a song.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Witchy Woman</b> --- by Amie Grayson</span><br />
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<![endif]--><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>Raven hair and ruby lips, sparks
flew from her fingertips. I knew it wasn’t fire, but the way the light caught
her highly polished nails made it appear she possessed magic. </span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>Maybe she did have
extraordinary powers. I found myself entranced by her since the moment I walked
into the room. Wearing a dark-colored, sleeveless dress with a short skirt that
fluttered wide with her movements, hers steps were filled with purpose and
poise. She must have felt all eyes on her, but she never acted like it. </span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>I stood across the room and
took in every exquisite detail of her. From the full gorgeousness of her long
tanned legs to the way her dress caught the curves of her body, she could have
stepped directly off the beaches of Miami
to the hole-in-a-wall club we were in.</span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>I tried but was unable to take
my eyes off her and as I watched her, caught a hint of Latin heritage in the sultry
features and dark wavy hair. The exoticness of her ancestors, and all the
generations before her, were reflected in the beauty before me—deep, wide eyes,
full lips and the way she moved her hips. I’ve come to realize that only Latina women are born
with hips that move like that.</span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>After I watched her travel
from partner to partner, finally making her way off the floor, the music
changed from a fast-paced Samba to a slow Rumba, or the “Dance of Love” as I
was taught. The moment had come. I knew if I didn’t take the chance now, I
never would. <span> </span></span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>Taking a quick inventory of
my clothes, I ran a hand down the front of my shirt in hopes the wrinkles I
arrived with had fallen out in the steamy heat of the night. Inhaling in a deep
breath, I held it slightly as I walked closer to the vision from the dance
floor. </span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>She stood by the bar laughing
with the bartender and I watched little rivets of sweat run down her skin as
she lifted chocolate-colored locks of hair in order to fan her neck. It was
such a simple gesture, but I found myself staring at the way tiny strands stuck
to her silkened skin. </span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>“Excuse me…” I said and she
turned her eyes to me. </span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>“Hola?” </span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>I smiled, held out my hand
and asked, “May I have this dance, por favor?”</span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>She returned the smile, only
it was 1000 times more beautiful when she said, “Si.”</span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>She took my hand and allowed
me to lead her onto the dance floor. In a situation where I would typically be
a bundle of nerves, I pulled her close and began to dance the steps that my
mother taught me many years before.</span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>I caught a brief flash of
surprise when she realized I did know how what I was doing and the steps came easily
to me. Admittedly, I didn’t look the part of a traditional Latin dancer.
Natural blond hair and blue eyes were passed down from my father’s side of the
family—immigrants from Europe.</span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>Encouraged by the hand she
rested on my arm, I placed my own hand in the small of her back and closed the
distance left between us. I could feel her hips rotate against me and was
immediately seduced by her body. </span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>The way her laughter caught
in the rush of air as we danced brought back memories of how my mother taught my
father the steps of the Rumba over and over until he was able to master them. Watching
the two of them together over the years gave me the desire to learn the steps
myself. My mother had an unlimited amount of patience as she repeated the dance
until it was second nature to me. </span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>Feeling that pride inside
that my mother had for me, I spun my partner around and felt her come more alive
under my hands. The sparks from her fingertips appeared again as the light reflected
upon them and I remembered my thought from earlier in the night about how she
must possess some sort of magic. As I held her in my arms, feeling out bodies
move against each other in time with the music, I could believe she cast a
spell on me. The scent of her was intoxicating and I drank it in with every
step we took. </span></span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span>I didn’t want the music to
end. I wanted there to be no space between the two of us, only to have her in
my arms on the dance floor as long as the spell lasted.</span></span></i></span></div>
</blockquote>
<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">See ya soon!</span></b> <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></i><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</blockquote>
grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-55249839124395583092011-09-11T00:33:00.000-04:002011-09-11T00:33:11.677-04:00Ten Years Ago: Reflections<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Even today, everything about it is haunting—the sights, the stories and the images. There’s no way to describe it and everyone has a different memory of the day. Some were at the sites, many watched the events unfold on the TV, and others could only listen to accounts through others. The world was captivated by the unspeakable horror.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Ten years after they were taken, the pictures of 9/11 bring it back to life in an instant. Seeing the smoke billowing from the North Tower of the World Trade Center can still stun me to silence and throw me back to my desk at Circuit City headquarters where I was when news of the terror attacks first reached me. Like most of the rest of the world, we watched from afar, not knowing if the plane flying into the tower was accidental, but gravely concerned for those people who were in the building. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">As the staff listened to the radio and tried to keep up with the news on the internet, the second plane flew into the South Tower. And immediately the world knew it was intentional; it was no accident. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">The news continued bringing details of the attacks and my co-workers and I had congregated in one of the rooms with a TV. The room was silent, every one of us rapt to any new information we could glean from the news. We watched in disbelief as the sky surrounding the Twin Towers became darker from what was to be the beginning of the end for the people in those buildings. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">As the minutes passed, we learned of the plane crashing into the Pentagon and the hijacked jet that crashed into a field in Shanksville. The destruction was unfathomable. In many ways, it didn’t seem real. Never in my life had there been an event of that magnitude. The loss of life, of security, of innocence—those are things that can never be recovered from that day. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Though I didn’t have loved ones in any of the attack sites, I ached and was heartsick for those who did. I’m sure the rest of the world felt as I did—helpless. All we could do was look on from the safety of our offices and homes and pray for all those involved. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Please, let them be rescued from the rubble, from the crashes. But, somehow, though you didn’t want to think it, you knew, after the towers collapsed that those people would not be found; there would be no rescues. The reality of it took your breath away. Tragic and unfair and unacceptable—it shook me to my core. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">That day changed the world, and especially the USA, forever. Our country had been violated in a way most of us had never imagined. But from the destruction, the country, backed by nations from around the world, united in new ways. Beauty from the ashes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but each pictures from 9/11 speak so many more than that. I will never forget the images of people standing in the middle of the street, staring at the Twin Towers, crying or the ghostly figures emerging from the clouds of dust with fear in their eyes. Nor will I forget the pictures of the many heroes who were born that day. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I wasn’t in NY or DC or PA during the attacks… but I’ve been there ever since. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Always remembered, forever grateful.</span></div>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-31338065121706766492011-08-05T21:06:00.000-04:002011-08-05T21:06:08.648-04:00Wow! I've been away for a while!<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I don't have many followers and I'm pretty sure that no one has been checking my blog for updates on a daily basis... but that doesn't mean I should have abandoned my poor little blog for 3 months.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I can admit that I have been busy. At work I had a new website launch and a conference to plan for -- all going on at the same time. It was stressful and I didn't get much done other than actual work, and that's even when I was at home.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The website launched and the conference went well, so now I'm picking up the pieces and seeing what is left in my wake. Lots of things were neglected! But, I'm back and I might even consider doing more than just posting this update!</span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-8632571363575035832011-05-08T23:24:00.000-04:002011-05-08T23:24:16.380-04:00A Walkerton Writer Strikes Again<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Our most recent writing assignment was to find a news story and write it from two different perspectives. We needed to use details from the story, but were allowed to take liberaties and add fictional elements as we liked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I selected a story about a sandstorm in Germany. The storm, however bizarre, caused an 80-car pileup and many of the cars were burned as a result. Here's my take on the story:</span><br />
<br />
<blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Clare</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>I know I’m forgetting something! I don’t know how people can be ready at a moment’s notice to fly out of the country on business. Some of us need a little time to consider what to pack. What’s the weather? Will I need a dress? Are there any social functions? And that’s just the clothes! What about this crazy red mane? The constant rainy, damp weather in London will be a complete shock to it! It may need special attention to tame. There are just too many variables for my taste. At least I managed to throw some things into a suitcase and head to the airport in the short window I was given. I should consider that a good omen!</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Now I just need the traffic to cooperate. The route to the airport is always an adventure. Faint-hearted drivers just stay off the Audubon. I still remember my first time on the famed roadway—saw my life flash before my eyes! These days it is just a way to get from Point A to Point B. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>What is going on? Why are the cars ahead slowing down? I hope it’s not an accident. That’s the last thing I need! </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Come on, folks! Let’s go! Move ye arses!</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Shite! Oh… maybe that’s what people are slowing for! I’ve never been in one, but I’m fairly certain that’s a sandstorm heading this way. It looks just like a summer storm brewing, but it’s a strange glowing brown color. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>If we all just keep at this pace, nice and slow, easy going, I might make it to the airport right before the plan takes off. I wonder if they still expect me to be there two full hours ahead for my international flight. I don’t want to have to call my boss and tell him I missed my flight. I’ve only been at my job for five months. I don’t think he’d looked highly on this. I’m supposed to be show him I can handle the responsibility. I’m actually very good at my job—not just another pretty Irish redhead named Clare. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>I still can’t believe I landed this position. I moved to Germany nine months ago to live with my boyfriend and I’d nearly given up landing a job at the prestigious Fischer Marketing Firm. Irish luck must have been on my side though—several resumes, numerous inquisitive calls and even offers to work for free finally wore down the Director. Now I need to show them all I am up for the challenge! And the first challenge I have to overcome, obviously, is making my flight!</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Right now, all I can do is concentrate on the road ahead, because it looks like I am going to have to drive right into that massive brown cloud. Great. I just paid this car off and now it’s going to get a sand-papering from the storm. I wonder what my insurance will cover in a situation like this. After this, my car may need a new paint job. But if I knock ‘em dead at this meeting in London, I might be able to afford something extravagant like that paint job.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Bloody hell! The wind is really picking up! I can see the cars ahead of me struggling to stay in their lane. I sure hope this storm passes quickly. I am not a fan of driving in less-than-ideal conditions—especially on this road where just keeping up with the masses seems dangerous.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Ok, wee car, just stay on the road. I’ll guide us through this mess. We’ll be on the other side in no time. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Isn’t this grand? I can’t see anything! What’s the point in headlights if they aren’t lighting the road? All I see is the wall of sand surrounding us. I guess as long as I don’t see any other cars I’m fine. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Damn! That was close! </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Just a little further, I’m sure of it. How big can this sandstorm be? My palms are sweating and I’m white-knuckling the poor steering wheel. I guess I’m a little more scared than I thought. Deep breaths. I’m going to be just fine. Breathe.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>OH NO! NO! NO! NO!</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>What happened? Never saw the cars—they came out of nowhere. I couldn’t hit the brakes fast enough. They must have piled up in the sandstorm.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Something doesn’t feel right. I can’t move my legs. And I think I’m bleeding. Yeah, that’s definitely blood on my hand. I must have knocked my head on the steering wheel when I hit that car. So much for paying off my car. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>WOW. I feel sore in places I didn’t even know were there. I hope someone called an ambulance and the police, possibly a few firefighters to get me out of here. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<em></em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Oh my God. What is that smell? Does a sandstorm smell like that? Like dirt and burning rubber? It must be coming from the other cloud—that thick, black one ahead. At least I can see the orange sky starting to show through the brown haze ahead of me. God, I hope they hurry up and get me out of here. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<em></em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Firefighter</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>What was that noise? How could the world be so heartless and wake me from the best dream ever—spring break in the Caribbean with a bevy of models. Who can I talk to about continuing this dream every night? Note to self—I better not mention this to my girlfriend. I’m not sure she’d have the same fun imaging it as I did.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Ok, Ok. I’m up! I know the drill—not my first fire, people! You’d think after five years on the job here and four before that in the U.S., they’d stop treating me like the new guy. I guess they’ll always see me as the newbie since I’m only 26 and youngest of the lifers on the crew.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Ha! Look who’s the first one on the engine! Take that—I showed those old guys! </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Even though I wish I could have stayed in that dream a little longer, I never tire of the rush of excitement I get from jumping out of sleep into rescue mode. I think that’s what sold me on this job. I don’t have a hero complex, but I have to admit to being an adrenaline junkie. But nothing gets me going like a fire. I can’t explain it. There’s just something mystical and timeless about it. Fire has been around forever—it’s amazing!</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>I didn’t hear the call specifics, only the alarm, but from what I can hear the guys mumbling, it’s going to be a nasty one. A freak sandstorm or something on the Audubon caused a pile-up. I have no idea what kind of scene we will find when we get there, but with that many cars and people involved it’s going to be pretty bad.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>I’ve never been one to shy away from gruesome scenes, but a few in my career have tested my strength. Those are the ones you never forget and I hope I don’t ever get used to those kinds of scenes. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Damn! How can the Captain see the road ahead of us? The sandstorm may have died down, but there is still plenty of brown dust in the air mixed with black smoke. I better put my mask on if I plan on getting my job done in this mess.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Oh my God… I’ve never seen anything like this. How many cars are involved? There must be close to 100! We’re going to need more help! We can’t possibility handle this alone!</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Snap out of it, Luca. You have a job to get done. No time to waste. Do what you were trained to do and tune the rest out.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Deep breath. First, is the fire under control? I smell burning rubber and am seriously thankful I put my mask on before getting out of the truck. That smoke! It’s moving across the scene before me like a solid being. I’ve only been able to get a few glimpses of how bad things really are. I’ll have to rely on instinct.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Ok, the fire is out. It’s just smoke lingering. The cars I’ve been able to get to on the outskirts of the pile-up aren’t too bad. Of course, the drivers are really shaken up and unable to get out of their wrecked cars, but otherwise alright.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>“Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>No answer. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since his SUV is now the size of a Smart car. I need to say a quick prayer for him—I’ve done that for all the accident victims I’ve come across in my career. There’s always time for that.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Keep moving, Luca. Don’t linger more than you need to. There may be people still trapped who need help. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Climbing over the tangled mass of vehicles and wreckage, my attempts at finding anyone alive went unanswered. Closer into the middle of the pile-up, cars were blackened with heavy fire damage and no longer recognizable. Scenes like this you don’t know whether to hope for survivors or not. Living or dying through this is something no one should have to go through.</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>I’m not holding out much hope of finding anyone alive, but I know I still have to check each car. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Only one more vehicle left—another that was fully engulfed in flames. I’m not sure I will ever be able to get this day out of my mind. The number of people killed is astounding. I feel for all the families affected by this tragedy and won’t take for granted going home to my girlfriend. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>The sooner I check this car, the sooner I’m home with Clare.</em></span></div></blockquote><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Link to story: <a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/42497862/ns/weather/t/sandstorm-causes-deadly--car-pileup-germany/">http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/42497862/ns/weather/t/sandstorm-causes-deadly--car-pileup-germany/</a></span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-40523397555203318092011-04-25T20:17:00.001-04:002011-04-25T20:18:15.755-04:00Not for Lack of Wanting<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Assignment: Write and 1500 word essay based around & using the sentence "I have never wanted anything so badly in my life." Below is my essay.</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life. We were at the second specialist in a week and neither offered many options for the future. Though I tried to remain positive, it was becoming increasingly harder to keep hope for a treatment.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We’d been together, me and Roxy (or Miss Priss as I was prone to call her), for nine years—from the day I picked her out among the kittens available from the SPCA. A wee thing back then and only 10 weeks old, she melted my heart right off the bat when I found her curled up into a slightly older orange tabby. It was a ball of cuteness that even hardened men couldn’t ignore.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Two weeks earlier I’d asked my husband, Aaron, to take Roxy to the vet. She’d had a few questionable outcomes with trips to the litter box and I thought it should be checked out. I also instructed him to have her watery eye checked out. If she had an eye infection, she’d need antibiotic eye drops and I’d wrestle her to get them in as I always did.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The day Aaron took Roxy to her appointment I kept myself occupied with work. Though I didn’t believe there was reason to worry, I tended to find myself on edge whenever doctors were involved. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">When I answered the phone expecting to hear news of what was ailing Roxy, I was greeted with a peculiar question from Aaron, “Did you notice this bump on Roxy’s head?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“What bump? I never noticed anything.” I replied, confused by the question and searching my memory for anything I might have missed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He went on to describe the protrusion the vet found on her forehead. It was palpable and even visible upon closer examination, but still easy to overlook due to her multi-colored tabby camouflage. The vet didn’t have a clear understanding of the bump’s origin or make-up and tossed around hypothetical diagnoses of a cyst or cancer. Before Aaron brought Roxy home, they performed a needle aspiration and sent the sample off for testing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I spent the next few days trying to retain positive thoughts, talking myself through the options. If the bump turned out to be a cyst, the fix was easy—lance and drain. Should the test came back as cancer, we’d pick an aggressive treatment plan and take care of the situation. No problem.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Roxy’s doctor called after three days with news of what the biopsy uncovered. None of the scenarios I imagined could really prepare me for the diagnosis she delivered.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Cancer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Cancer was in her sinus cavity, from what they could tell, but they had not yet done enough tests to determine the severity, the extent and the treatment options. Armed with the name of a veterinary surgeon, I immediately thanked the vet and called the number held in my shaking hand. After explaining the news I’d just received to the receptionist, I scheduled an appointment for the next morning.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Our time with the specialist proved to deliver even more dire news. The surgeon, a quiet man in his late 40s with balding hair, had a gentle demeanor. He spoke softly, but compassionately relayed the information we’d need in order to make our decisions.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“I’ve taken a look at the biopsy results your vet sent over and Roxy does have cancer. From what I can tell, it’s a mass in her cranial area where her sinuses are located. The mass is pressing against her left eye causing it to shift slightly from its socket. It’s also starting to crowd the area shared with the brain.” Dr. Trenton explained.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“Is there a treatment for her—surgery? Radiation or chemo?” I asked, inside praying for an easy answer from someone who had experience. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“I’m not sure which treatment would be appropriate or even useful in dealing with the cancer.” He went on to ask, “Has Roxy had any symptoms? Loss of appetite? Seizures?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“No, she’s still eating and playing. She might be sleeping a little more, but she hasn’t had any seizures.” I answered.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“I’m very surprised to hear that. With the amount the mass is pressing upon the brain, I thought she would have had a few more symptoms. She really sounds like a miracle kitty.” The surgeon noted with surprise in his voice and further explained. “To really get a better understanding of what we are up against, we should get an MRI. I won’t know if surgery is an option until I get a clearer picture of where the mass is located.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Agreeing with his recommendation to get further testing, I gave my consent to schedule the MRI appointment. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Aaron took Roxy to the clinic the next morning and dropped her off. She needed to stay there for a while in order for her to be put under anesthesia. It was the only way to keep her still enough for the images to come out clearly. I, again, took refuge in work and tried not to think about what she might be going through. Relief flooded me when the technician called to let me know Roxy woke up from the medication and could be picked up later. I’d happily spring her from the vet’s office as there’s a sadness only a pet owner can understand when they leave with their arms empty. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The results from Roxy’s MRI were explained to us the next day. The news left nothing to the imagination. As we were aware, the cancer had grown into her sinus cavity causing her left eye to shift. Because of the location of the cancer, surgery was not an option and the use of radiation and chemotherapy as a workable alternative had become very slim. Armed with additional information, we were referred to a veterinary oncologist in Northern Virginia. The doctor there was one of two in the state and she had become our last option for Roxy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I scheduled a phone consultation with the oncologist to determine if the treatment she offered would be a viable choice. After Roxy’s test results and scans had been reviewed, it came down to a few simple questions.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“If Roxy was your cat, what would you do?” I posed, hoping her education and the hypothetical plight of her own pet would help me make a decision. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“I would do the radiation and chemo. Cats tolerate the treatment very well and have little to no side effects. From the results I have seen in our office with other cats, this might help her.” She responded.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“Will this cure her?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“No, with this type of cancer, it’s very likely that it will come back in about six months. I have seen some of my patients last longer though. One even lived another year and a half before recurrence.” The specialist offered matter-of-factly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I hung up the phone and suddenly felt the serious decisions looming heavily before me. I wished for many things: to crawl under the blankets and pretend like everything was ok, to find a miracle cure for Roxy, to let someone else make the call. Unfortunately, none of those things happened and I went about going over all the options in my mind.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Life went on as usual at home, with morning escapades and evening cuddle time where Miss Priss was showered with affectionate rubs. She still kept herself busy with her old tricks and habits—sitting on the back of the sofa to look out the window, attacking her brother, pawing us in the morning for food and partaking in meal time when she got her way. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After a very emotional conversation with Aaron, I decided to go ahead with the radiation and chemo treatments, all the while feeling in my heart that Roxy was one of those cats who would do well and survive longer than any doctor ever thought. She would be a survivor. She was a miracle kitty, after all. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Perhaps it was because I knew Roxy was sick that I began to notice her need to get away and hide in strange new places in the house. And maybe because I knew she was sick that my imagination started to drift to places I didn’t want to consider. Finally, I had to admit to myself that there was a real possibility she might not recover. The more I thought about it, the louder the voice of my heart became. If it was this hard to go through Roxy’s illness, how could I put her—or myself—through it all another time when she got sick again? I couldn’t. I called the next morning and cancelled the treatment. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As the cancer progressed, she slowed down a bit more—longer naps and fewer romps with her brother. She never lost her affectionate side or her playful nature and because she still seemed so much like herself, I struggled trying to understand how I would know when it was time to make the final decision.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Though I had spent the last few days in a constant state of sadness and reflection, I was able to clearly see when it was time to take Miss Priss on her last car ride. The cancer growth had progressed in such a way that her left eye protruded greatly, causing the eyelid to flip inside out. It was a sign I could not ignore and asked Aaron to call and make the appointment.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As we drove home after Roxy’s last trip, tears ran down my cheeks as my mind flashed through the wonderful times I shared with her. What a miracle she was to my life! </span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-51909162704673282092011-03-22T23:30:00.004-04:002011-03-22T23:33:28.269-04:00Sometimes It Just Comes to You<span style="color: #93c47d; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I had a line stick in my head enough to make me want to write about it. Tonight, with pen in hand, I sat down & put it to use.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Tribal</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She counted on me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In her time of need</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was not enough</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Most assuredly</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She required more</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A time before</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On the cusp of eternity</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Where life stood </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Long and high before me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">More than exist</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thriving and dominating</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Designed to conquer</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And I did</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Stark shadows loomed</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">n the impending darkness</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The connect was lost</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Electricity once flowed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Powerful and defining</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">From my hand, my gift</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">N</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">ot potent nor healing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Now twisted and fated</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Crimson waves cascaded</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Through secreted openings</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Pounding beats echoed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Rhythmic and circadian</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Of ancient lore and tribal wisdom</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Passed from elder to me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And I, wiser by opportunity</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Watched the last of her</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The end of her line</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Fade before me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With knotted hands.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93c47d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">In case you were wondering what "the line" was that stuck with me, it was... "She counted on me."</span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-68085154960869196102011-03-06T19:08:00.000-05:002011-03-06T19:08:20.646-05:00Example of 10 Minute Writing Exercise<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In both the Creative Writing class I just finished & the Walkerton Writers Group I just started, ten minutes seems to be the magic number for the length of time we should get for a writing exercise. Depending on the topic, ten minutes can be too much time, too little time; move too quickly, move not quickly enough; and sometimes, just right. Typically, I don't get too caught up in finding the 'perfect' story to write about. It is a ten minute exercise, after all. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">In my first Walkerton Writers Meeting last week, we were given the writing prompt "I've never been so scared in my life" for our exercise. In my ten minutes, I wrote the following:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span> <br />
<blockquote><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>I've never been so scared in my life as I was when my little dog, Orion, ran out of the house on that dark night in January. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>I opened the door to step outside to retrieve the mail and before I could close it behind me, he was through my legs and down the stairs. I didn't expect him to go far since the ground was covered in days old snow and he's only 15" high to the tips of his perked ears. Unfortunately,m Orion had other plans, taking advantage of the cleared paths and shooting straight down the driveway to the street. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>A million scenarios flashed through my mind as I considered how I might find him in the dark. Without a flashlight, there was not enough light to navigate my way through the banked snow. Yet, going inside to find a working flashlight sounded like a time-consuming effort in futility. Still, I opted to search for a flashlight, quickly found one and ran back into the freezing night calling the escapee's name.</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>I paused every once in a while to listen for the telltale jingle of his collar and continued dow the street in hopes I'd picked the same direction he'd chosen.</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>After what seemed like an eternity, I turned into the darkness in time to see glance my way and attempt another escape. Calmly, I knelt down, lured him closer with loving, sweet sounds. He ambled my way, crossed right outside of my reach and raced down the street in the opposite direction. The same direction from where I saw headlights approaching in my direction. I doubted the oncoming traffic would see such a small pup, so I did what any mother would do and stood in the middle of the road.</em></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">... and then she called time. Ten minutes was up.</span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-88605471926602087982011-03-03T21:45:00.000-05:002011-03-03T21:45:54.630-05:00From My Sketchbook...<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Taking a break from writing to show shots from my sketchbook... </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoSJBdqak1PICgCnVpkQxFLI-OuMZjO9iC9i0Jpm3d0SvBdgLPJDsPBfxP86JwlgRupOP6VSjIuWS-nId47z0G6qJ8TC-6qe2f9flyAfKBlqWcBpWV9_J8xFiCY0ssPrxetbUS9u6xuW4/s1600/TubesPencil2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="564" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoSJBdqak1PICgCnVpkQxFLI-OuMZjO9iC9i0Jpm3d0SvBdgLPJDsPBfxP86JwlgRupOP6VSjIuWS-nId47z0G6qJ8TC-6qe2f9flyAfKBlqWcBpWV9_J8xFiCY0ssPrxetbUS9u6xuW4/s640/TubesPencil2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvqnG9_P15siu2uo0H2hxmi94UyH6PRNcmo79620tUXb8EOY1N1nkIokFMRm-vc_RtP8PMrQcORQfFIvyhc_Mt68_pzGAItqV9MBugRdU-7N55WzXwlIfwH-ynwSndrx8QX-BHnFePMg/s1600/Frog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvqnG9_P15siu2uo0H2hxmi94UyH6PRNcmo79620tUXb8EOY1N1nkIokFMRm-vc_RtP8PMrQcORQfFIvyhc_Mt68_pzGAItqV9MBugRdU-7N55WzXwlIfwH-ynwSndrx8QX-BHnFePMg/s640/Frog.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLET10QNMU9DLN57UwfcY0qX0YvW05yXhUApJZMsj0ICoHYRn-VGWkj6JAZN40YA_sRfuncY7hbZJqRpa1vTfx6rB6vVZlT-tBIxH0Uew6wIl1P7Sd9sIe0CfQkm6Kw14ggHFtg7Gs3I/s1600/OceanFIsh_close.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLET10QNMU9DLN57UwfcY0qX0YvW05yXhUApJZMsj0ICoHYRn-VGWkj6JAZN40YA_sRfuncY7hbZJqRpa1vTfx6rB6vVZlT-tBIxH0Uew6wIl1P7Sd9sIe0CfQkm6Kw14ggHFtg7Gs3I/s640/OceanFIsh_close.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-37799149586102448752011-03-01T21:31:00.000-05:002011-03-01T21:31:45.595-05:00An Anchor in the Day<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><em>Another Creative Writing assignment... the last for the class... </em></strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I scheduled Friday for an appointment away from work and used it as an excuse to stay out of the office all day. It gave me the chance to sleep in late and not rush out the door still bleary-eyed as I usually do. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The weather cooperated by summoning up a beautiful sunny, yet very blustery, day. I don’t mind the wind; I love the sound of my wind chimes clanging their unique song. And where other people look to the treetops in fear of when they might topple over, I become lost in the way their spindly arms dance and sway from side to side. As much as the ocean waves lull me to deep sleep, so does the sound of the wind rounding the corner of my house.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With time to spare before the appointment and an intense need to keep myself busy while I waited for Aaron to come home, I pulled my well-worn journal out and perched on the edge of the bed. Leaning closer to the nightstand, I reached out and snagged my favorite pen—or perhaps, pen of the moment—and let it slide into the familiar groove in my hand.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Comfortable… that’s exactly how I felt grasping a pen. Sometimes I have an overpowering urge to write, but nothing in my head to write about. So I grab a pen of assorted color and take note of the way the ink flows over the paper or the way the paper absorbs the ink. I keep going, writing nothing, scribbling anything, until my hand gets tired. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As I waited, I let my feelings about the morning and the impending appointment cascade in waves from my mind onto the paper. Soon the page was covered in neat, controlled purple strokes, reminding me of the beauty in a handwritten love note. Lost in the moment, I didn’t give consideration to words or sentence structure but realize the casual observer wouldn’t even have a passing interest in the content. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Suddenly, my concentration broke with the sound of my cell phone playing “Shameless” by Garth Brooks. Aaron was calling—perhaps he was nearby. I paused to take the call and heard Aaron’s voice on the other end, “I’m in the driveway. I’ve been down here for a few minutes.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“Were you planning on staying down there much longer without telling me you were waiting?” I asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Begrudgingly, I capped the pen and put it back on the nightstand. I hated disruptions when I was trying to get my thoughts on paper, but this couldn’t be helped. I had an appointment that needed to be kept. One thing was certain however—after the meeting, I’d have more than enough to write about. I had better check my pen stock! </span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-14802098697662601592011-02-23T20:21:00.001-05:002011-02-23T20:23:16.284-05:00It's All in the Nose<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This week's in-class exercise was writing about a smell or sound that evoked a memory. Specifically, this had to be a bad smell, something stinky, something gag-worthy. Yeah... something goooood.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">In the ten minutes we were given, I wrote the following... </span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>I dreaded coming home this week. I know what will be waiting for me when I get there. The dead squirrel smell. </em></span><br />
<em><br />
</em><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>It seems a squirrel, along with friends, chewed through the siding on our house right outside the master bath. The view from the ground was pretty remarkable - two feet wide, a half a foot tall - the hole was indeed gaping.</em></span><br />
<em><br />
</em><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>I don't know how many squirrels were in the posse that wrecked the siding, so I couldn't even guess the number that used the space under the tub as their own Motel 6. Seems like we did indeed leave the light on!</em></span><br />
<em><br />
</em><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>When we realized there was an infestation, my husband set traps - first for mice and then for rats. Both varieties walked away, leaving no victim behind. Aaron then resorted to poison, but we still didn't know if it worked.</em></span><br />
<em><br />
</em><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>Days later, I noted a new scent in the bathroom. Trash? I wondered. Does it need to go out? Aaron bagged it and took it to the curb. Yet, the stench remained.</em></span><br />
<em><br />
</em><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>The next day the odor was stronger. I knew where it was coming from, but still looked for other reasons. Unfortunately, the siding repairman also noticed the smell - a cross between something very rotten and something overly aged.</em></span><br />
<em><br />
</em><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>Aaron came home that same day to inform me he, too, knew it was the scent of a dead squirrel likely killed by the poison and continued to compare it to a less pungent version of a dead body in a crime scene house.</em></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">...lovely...</span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-42297998059739809732011-02-17T19:29:00.000-05:002011-02-17T19:29:28.250-05:00I am not Obsessed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">More examples of creativity sparked by my online sketchbook class.</span></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9lWHMFyQRzJ_qV3gH_OuB56_4JXlHVsyjncpDZFifB6u4JLaRCG_2NH_rjybCcPZyeJv5cWEqMgpK7i1fHgXmaMwj4e_hsXn0xE-MrmRGVhFtx_OCWdyHz3f04taJtPOzXnxRNqc7lBU/s1600/Lily2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9lWHMFyQRzJ_qV3gH_OuB56_4JXlHVsyjncpDZFifB6u4JLaRCG_2NH_rjybCcPZyeJv5cWEqMgpK7i1fHgXmaMwj4e_hsXn0xE-MrmRGVhFtx_OCWdyHz3f04taJtPOzXnxRNqc7lBU/s400/Lily2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIYDSpTxKlRzbWS_TFqgoZuwo69ibFJRDp0JHhAlUsCAc-5sJwjrgfJAWi3gUTW44vqb79dxGWi4lX2SH78NOY_yrBP4oO93P38XpHoHKZpaXFJpdv-JwOBuQ8ABn2bdQWer2fRgB-eIg/s1600/Lily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIYDSpTxKlRzbWS_TFqgoZuwo69ibFJRDp0JHhAlUsCAc-5sJwjrgfJAWi3gUTW44vqb79dxGWi4lX2SH78NOY_yrBP4oO93P38XpHoHKZpaXFJpdv-JwOBuQ8ABn2bdQWer2fRgB-eIg/s400/Lily.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9rBvFmS8HglBS47tiAdpEUzciG6gvqO2L9FcpIIbQdxnAA88eEvAmUYMRh2UyStdCFHDVM0D1QNFqSqTqyk3ymVgSmALVptOrJqwQJukes5qUI_WFrkHI7dAlrZlYanVdaI6PGdMYw0U/s1600/Lily3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9rBvFmS8HglBS47tiAdpEUzciG6gvqO2L9FcpIIbQdxnAA88eEvAmUYMRh2UyStdCFHDVM0D1QNFqSqTqyk3ymVgSmALVptOrJqwQJukes5qUI_WFrkHI7dAlrZlYanVdaI6PGdMYw0U/s400/Lily3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQ0Q_0fFFh1YRiF9s-Ez-_IXv4HRmMrwkKPhS7EFhoYtDYHwyH9nFXP3135mmIZQzAN3xWnaXp0yYk0Iq6BrBiiHJYhs946ImdqIhg-BfmVMOw3t8obuWP1JfgNk8vNAlAJqExNjJlqE/s1600/WhiteRose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQ0Q_0fFFh1YRiF9s-Ez-_IXv4HRmMrwkKPhS7EFhoYtDYHwyH9nFXP3135mmIZQzAN3xWnaXp0yYk0Iq6BrBiiHJYhs946ImdqIhg-BfmVMOw3t8obuWP1JfgNk8vNAlAJqExNjJlqE/s400/WhiteRose.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoNwkkLUQ4kq_PbQX_BKeYHgh0pfknZEtRPrinrfFN21rTKb8BfqagfeX6IZAcrKI5wbX7iNDaj29KmKW9czWjNx0Gaki4kKV7V5TsLyhyphenhyphen-WUxijCVSUIxGu12M-tXMoFG0TNdV6jVrHc/s1600/RedRose2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoNwkkLUQ4kq_PbQX_BKeYHgh0pfknZEtRPrinrfFN21rTKb8BfqagfeX6IZAcrKI5wbX7iNDaj29KmKW9czWjNx0Gaki4kKV7V5TsLyhyphenhyphen-WUxijCVSUIxGu12M-tXMoFG0TNdV6jVrHc/s400/RedRose2.jpg" width="328" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNUVI35hiQDPZUyLF-hi8QVFJxdL8pQ0A2blbZxNtPBKZgH5rwsiJOTijAf9XXBWzGlSGEUoS6QK4StZv71-6cp6jOkLF8UxJ7oQHQJUnj0Iu1M50CwvtJxUSCjm_R1dnwRmZ4-VdTZoA/s1600/RedYellowRoses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNUVI35hiQDPZUyLF-hi8QVFJxdL8pQ0A2blbZxNtPBKZgH5rwsiJOTijAf9XXBWzGlSGEUoS6QK4StZv71-6cp6jOkLF8UxJ7oQHQJUnj0Iu1M50CwvtJxUSCjm_R1dnwRmZ4-VdTZoA/s400/RedYellowRoses.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Flowers from the bouquet Cop'er sent me for Valentine's Day... Fall colors too. He did good. </span><br />
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</div>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-6242967149488249612011-02-13T20:00:00.000-05:002011-02-13T20:00:33.912-05:00Busy Bee<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have been busy! Between Creative Writing & a new online class with <a href="http://alisaburke.blogspot.com/">Alisa Burke</a> all about sketchbook art & techniques... plus there's the little book that I am thinking about/trying to write - where do I find time for that pesky little job? Or sleep? Or eating?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Sounds a little like I might need an assistant! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">This past week was the first of the online class. I found it very inspiring - full of videos and photos! I am a visual person, so this is perfect for me! I even managed to get to know some of my old art materials again & come up with the following results.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcPv5rl9Eud8qknw-HZSfOcqrI3buezbjiAWkAxFEaZnwSd35DPphmTz2K2pmGHXeY2LQjsJfa7PLL-jnZRu0JgxpMG3o8RhZU57BeL-lMhs5tMVtRPs72vRnCDgO5s6X7Ks2lNdiGh8/s1600/Blending.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcPv5rl9Eud8qknw-HZSfOcqrI3buezbjiAWkAxFEaZnwSd35DPphmTz2K2pmGHXeY2LQjsJfa7PLL-jnZRu0JgxpMG3o8RhZU57BeL-lMhs5tMVtRPs72vRnCDgO5s6X7Ks2lNdiGh8/s320/Blending.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I used different materials and tried out how they blended together.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaEwJXbt7g6N7fqCL4jQLjw-GrkcxGjY1xM1rWpnyPLsjIj5l_C2vGYBwdJgZLtgrMWTj1R5ASFzq0cZGernlhHEe_QAilEejmoAObSw38HXjKC5CDlOWzjxoKPF6lpTTuOZlU4TgSrQ/s1600/WatercolorLeaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaEwJXbt7g6N7fqCL4jQLjw-GrkcxGjY1xM1rWpnyPLsjIj5l_C2vGYBwdJgZLtgrMWTj1R5ASFzq0cZGernlhHEe_QAilEejmoAObSw38HXjKC5CDlOWzjxoKPF6lpTTuOZlU4TgSrQ/s320/WatercolorLeaves.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I used regular ole Crayola markers and water to make these colors blend. I also used a purple gel pen for the edges.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RjodCY5fYIHak45Eve4y5KP62X-4xl-UrSljZwZbXDVXs-DFw_tx3UlRn_gsnRGAwX-XseTXFc-E35EpGWzYQH4lTzpn-ID-Dn80Uyr0IRCRSUusOgEs-RG-NtGm5vaOiEZBudBBNfw/s320/BlackPens.jpg" width="320" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I tested for water solubility with pens I was using. Some are just average writing pens.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrQaXNjxkCaS3LEI5-y0kD_5QeVeHMqL8oT0rdPn6GZQxDipVRtA8cmQRtemKB2_no7OsX7bvh5OO-0g95dhuU-VqFOLgOCk9smwkB3bv-Irv57pev0yysL8IxaOiC5DfpIc1ZSXW1C4/s320/SharpieWatercolors3DPaint.jpg" width="320" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Something I did to work with watercolor, design, black Sharpies and 3D paints. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLxB9duHW0RotWpvJC_bOIiH0TDVS4d9hcy2v-ySLdaHfSxivStzpSxO5XM2-vz7IBrCcCkvBtsrSN7ViQt1mDBPLHmG-agVFrAtJTFRNTA32ZOpTkv2ayHpeboDQQYDs-OfS60VEYKs/s320/SharpieWatercolors3DPaint2.jpg" width="320" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I like the 3D paint effect!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Tomorrow is Week #2. I can't wait to see what inspiration comes! If I am lacking in creative avenues, there's always my Creative Writing class on Tuesday!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Now, when did I schedule that vacation???</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-25134826198205354982011-01-29T23:46:00.003-05:002011-01-29T23:50:09.714-05:00Vampires All Around Us<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I don't typically use this blog to talk about the latest 'crush' I have. I had that little slip a few months ago where I admitted my love for <a href="http://grayzeeelife.blogspot.com/2010/11/open-letter-to-ryan-buell.html">Ryan Buell & Paranormal State</a>, but since I have been good. We haven't talked about NCIS (DiNizzo) or Supernatural (Sam & Dean) or House (Chase) or any of the new movies out or coming out starring Channing Tatum. I've been very good. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Until now.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Now I am going to use this as a forum to let it all out about Ian Somerholder. He is delightful and yummy. Some of you might remember him from "Lost"... or maybe a little known movie called "The Lost Samaritan"... </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I don't. I have purged all images of Ian except for his sexy role of Damon Salvatore in "The Vampire Diaries".</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9EaGzNttbRf5e6wo-XHgHzeZ7RxVNv8TI-Bq4vgRAf5cvd8I8Y9_KJQWfGeMtSkkN7RB2FUzJagfdQS8xczXZkc1rJ6611Ugv7oTCMak8HrsqMrrbNBqCUQMpFiRCuGvpptTdDtodFNc/s400/Ian1.jpg" width="297" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It's not his (obviously) dashing good looks that won me over... it's not the mystic color of his eyes (though very intoxicating)... </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">What it is... what it is, my friends, is the way he does "brooding" and the look on his face when he's in sheer anguish and denying his love for another. Ladies, I know you can understand my desire to jump right into the TV and give him a shoulder to cry on. He is, by far, one of the sexiest men on TV right now. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">In the show, "The Vampire Diaries", Ian is not the main love interest (though I have high hopes this will change!); his brother, Stefan, is. And in the beginning of the show that was fine--human chick hooks up with nice, Edward-like vampire. This is the way these things go.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Then he happens along...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYpN-qNjH92o-6m3A860NL6zLnXanJarEiCXdeA_DZLXry-N2OEttg2GnaHNPcsmyAoIqvBv8zo3OfsCmX3DeRAigv3C9ihIamyh4aDtPzLbuWyCcq4Uh-Cc59Ao8r02pZtRjyyPUp1Kw/s1600/Ian2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYpN-qNjH92o-6m3A860NL6zLnXanJarEiCXdeA_DZLXry-N2OEttg2GnaHNPcsmyAoIqvBv8zo3OfsCmX3DeRAigv3C9ihIamyh4aDtPzLbuWyCcq4Uh-Cc59Ao8r02pZtRjyyPUp1Kw/s400/Ian2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">...and it's all I can do to not scream at Elena and tell her to open her eyes! He's in love with you. Forget the nice brother--take this one!!! PLEASE TAKE THIS ONE!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">But, alas, the writers haven't asked me for input & I can tell they are just toying with me. The looks that past between the two of them, the situations they find themselves in... heavens, look at me, I'm swooning.</span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-82714270533181188692011-01-26T09:42:00.002-05:002011-02-04T19:45:37.275-05:00Random Facts Writing<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A recent assignment in my second session of Creative Writing was to pick a random fact from a list of 31 facts we were given. Once your fact was chosen you were to include it in your writing. For me, this exercise posed a few questions: how long should this be? What exactly am I supposed to write about - fact or fiction? In the end, the writing was short & true. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Read on...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I look out over the balcony to the clear water and can see the reef below. Before coming to Belize, I had never seen such clear water--a clarity that reigns in the Caribbean. Pristine waters, sandy beaches, hammocks in the shade of palm trees all seem to be trademarks of the Caribbean islands. Every vista is postcard perfect.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Back home, the bluish-brown expanse offered little hope for glimpses of the teeming underwater world below. During the many visits to the beach in my youth, I believed this was the way of all large bodies of water. Certainly none could be clear enough to see to the ocean floor! The massive amount of sea life, areas of pollution and typical changes in the weather patterns that affect the currents make it a logical conclusion that ocean water would be churned to a murky shade.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Then I took my first trip to the Caribbean.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Was it the color, the temperature, the vibe of the tropics or crystal blue water that struck me the most? They say the color blue has a calming effect, that it causes your brain to release calming hormones. If that's true, I can understand the laid back mentality of the islands. Blue is all around you--in the sky, the water & the colorful buildings. It's more than a fleeting feeling of relaxation; it's a blanket that envelopes you, shifting your attitude and mood.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I imagine waking every day to find the blue once again greeting me with its soothing effects. It would be a world with little stress and nothing that couldn't be fixed with a journey to look into the depths of the clear sea. Envisioning a world below the water's surface and how peaceful the creatures must live in the blue, day after day, would be enough to transport me to another mind-set.</span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-70429060648452822792011-01-11T21:32:00.000-05:002011-01-11T21:32:40.798-05:00No Words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNalUnS6qK1ffaA7Jn6br8t3XJdftXSxINK2S0cmNjF5RAOofs4pmtGkfPBHnOBy0loMqDFZguLqzKFjV5xsFMVlYwD4IZpWq-Ex4q-ZOp8GzGJ3LwtZbaVAOriB1f5zfE5cu_1f5FnI/s1600/Cozumel_beach8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNalUnS6qK1ffaA7Jn6br8t3XJdftXSxINK2S0cmNjF5RAOofs4pmtGkfPBHnOBy0loMqDFZguLqzKFjV5xsFMVlYwD4IZpWq-Ex4q-ZOp8GzGJ3LwtZbaVAOriB1f5zfE5cu_1f5FnI/s640/Cozumel_beach8.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PJJHMP2yuWo/TS0RT5zBeJI/AAAAAAAAA1s/1XamHa7zNW8/s1600/KeyWest_water2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PJJHMP2yuWo/TS0RT5zBeJI/AAAAAAAAA1s/1XamHa7zNW8/s640/KeyWest_water2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-61386830352818945902010-11-20T23:41:00.000-05:002010-11-20T23:41:51.058-05:00The Great American Novel<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Creative Writing class is over for this session and I feel as though I have been renewed with the desire to write more. Not only write more, but write BIG! In this case, big means that I've decided to write a novel. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Now, for those of you who know how much I like to read Nora Roberts books, don't worry -- this is not a <em>romance</em> novel. Actually, I'm not at all sure what kind of novel it's going to be. I know whatever it ends up being, it's going to fantastic... it's also going to be a best seller... and it's going to be turned into a movie!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">That's not asking for too much. If I'm going to put all the time and effort into a novel, it needs to go the distance. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">So far I'm on page three, but I have characters in my mind with a little story behind it. I'm not sure how it's all going to come together... I'm just hoping it does! I guess when we see my name on the best seller list we'll know it happened.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Well, I have to get back to writing...</span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-31120602162819087612010-11-13T20:06:00.000-05:002010-11-13T20:06:21.897-05:00Laptop vs Pen<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Let's be honest... just about everyone uses a computer in this day & age. And why not? They (usually) make things go much faster and smoother. All your information, documents and photos can all be stored in one central location. I agree - very easy!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">In my creative writing class we've talked about when to write, where to write, how to write, etc. It seems that most people tend to use laptops to write and keep their thoughts on. What ever happened to the good old fashioned pen and paper? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">If you've been to my blog before, you've likely seen me talk about my love of pens, but it's not just pens. I love paper too! I have all kinds at my disposal and I am always on the lookout for more! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">To say that putting pen to paper is a pleasure for me would be an understatement. I feel so much more connected to my writing when i take the time to sit with the paper, to get to know the pen. Nothing can take away the feeling of the ink gliding on the texture of the paper (because we know that paper is not all created equal!), catching the color. Some inks take their time to dry, risking a smear by the movement of the writer's hand; some shimmer in the light and then lay themselves down to permanent contrast on the paper. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Don't get me wrong, I love my laptop too! It's keep me in touch with friends & family I wouldn't be able to. I'm sure you all know those who would rather receive mail than to send it. Email & social networking has made allowances for those people & given them a much better way to communicate! And, along with those people, I'm happy to take advantage of it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">People often compliment my handwriting and I simply say "it's practice." And it's true, I write whenever I feel the urge and, most of the time, the urge is great. I feel the words & the pen & the paper. They all go hand-in-hand. One would not be complete without the others. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">In this technology heavy world today, pen & paper is still this writer's only true option.</span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-13377523804507796622010-11-10T21:17:00.000-05:002010-11-10T21:17:13.148-05:00An Open Letter to Ryan Buell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’m about to write an open letter to Ryan Buell, founder of the Paranormal Research Society, and star of “Paranormal State”, a show that investigates paranormal phenomena in the US. I am a religious viewer—tuning in every week. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7thXioGkuY5GsGa7aZ47hvLPf0xoLoy0nOTOAKhqrqd4ljymLrJkh5OuiS1bmNavyTF7HYbI86Yj3yqZHUJ2My2HylxEtsd_X9aHlZ-47Yv3BJ-8NCaBEnoxfmtVDYG8nREP7VXq37c/s1600/RyanBuell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7thXioGkuY5GsGa7aZ47hvLPf0xoLoy0nOTOAKhqrqd4ljymLrJkh5OuiS1bmNavyTF7HYbI86Yj3yqZHUJ2My2HylxEtsd_X9aHlZ-47Yv3BJ-8NCaBEnoxfmtVDYG8nREP7VXq37c/s320/RyanBuell.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dear Mr. Buell… Ryan, if that’s ok with you,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ryan, I don’t want to come across as a star struck girl about to meet her crush for the first time. That is not me. Ok, that could be me, but not through this letter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I also don’t want to be one of those people who are out to hitch a ride on your coat tails, soaring to popularity on cable TV. And let’s face it, those coat tails are going places! I’m not one of those people!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’m not going to disagree with your beliefs, call you crazy, say it’s all made up, TV stunts… nope, I believe it all! I believe it’s all real, & still, I watch the shows at night, in bed, alone. I’m a sucker for a good spook!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am someone who has been fascinated with the paranormal, all things unexplained and mysteries for as long as my memory will allow me to go. As a young girl, I read “The Demonologist” (and am thrilled to see Lorraine Warren on your show)! I can admit to reading the book, examining the pictures, getting totally freaked out & leaving said book far from my bedroom when I slept. Hiding it (along with Stephen King books) under the sofa was the preferable place to keep items with the potential to remind me that things do go bump in the night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have never seen a ghost, never been to a haunted house, never had anything as life-altering as what you have been through, but I’m still fascinated by it all. I am amazed at the poise & the dedication you have, though all your regular viewers know something deep within you spurs you onward, searching for something you haven’t shared with us just yet. I think it’s very admirable the kind way you work with your team & your clients, as well as always respecting the land & the history of the places you investigate.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Every week when I watch your show I am alternately amazed at the guts your team has and wishing with all my might that I could be one of the trainees on your show. I’ve gone as far as admitting to my husband that if you were to grant this little known wish of mine and ask me to join up, I’d have to leave him & spent a life on the road with PRS, seeking out the next paranormal location. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So, Ryan, thank you fro the entertainment, the chance to take a moment & ask myself ‘what if’ and for the chills watching your show in the dark. You have made a fan for life. And, other than the above-mentioned dream of joining PRS, I only have one little thing to ask. Can you please make your episodes an hour long? Five days a week? All year long?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Yours in the unknown,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Amie</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: xx-small;">This above photo is not mine & I do not have any claims to it. No copyright infringement intended.</span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-87157961878680320952010-11-09T19:19:00.001-05:002010-11-09T19:21:08.199-05:00I love Halloween, by Orion<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This year I decided to take a more 'active' role in Halloween. I wanted my mommy to make me a homemade costume that wasn't too hot or too tight. I like to be able to run! She made me this cool costume - a basketball player! My jersey has my name & I even got to carry my own ball! Oh, she also made little sweatbands for me, but I wasn't digging those & had them thrown to the floor before the camera could even be found!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgedMzvfd3Vv1w1LbCs1dDPfxNrhqI2H9lacTLwdyZPP4sNdisyBOnTOb6PafMcNAT-G-dj8aTHm5M4wI8FI5p9vHdbGUhXL5yakfevyzOLj-Epq7HdbtU3CRb8w2koMn3sk_I1Dq78Y-0/s1600/Orion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgedMzvfd3Vv1w1LbCs1dDPfxNrhqI2H9lacTLwdyZPP4sNdisyBOnTOb6PafMcNAT-G-dj8aTHm5M4wI8FI5p9vHdbGUhXL5yakfevyzOLj-Epq7HdbtU3CRb8w2koMn3sk_I1Dq78Y-0/s400/Orion.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
I love this holiday! It's the best because I get to hang with 'the boys'. I really like those guys. One of the boys is really small - almost my size. He talks to me & follows me around a lot. I don't mind. He's nice enough. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PJJHMP2yuWo/TNnd_-BDJJI/AAAAAAAAAy8/qfa3nGAa5gU/s1600/Kids1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PJJHMP2yuWo/TNnd_-BDJJI/AAAAAAAAAy8/qfa3nGAa5gU/s640/Kids1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">This year there was another lil person with us. I don't think it was another of the guys though. This lil person was dressed like my siblings, Cheddy & Moodles, but in a really weird color. I've never seen a pink kitty before. And the cats at my house, they can be very noisy. Sometimes I'm trying to sleep & that orange one will start talking & won't stop. The only way I can get back to sleep is hiding under the covers next to mommy! I think that's very rude. You can tell he's fresh from the streets! Look how much skin he shows at home! Have a little modesty!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEHSLgVpmU5gZG5i16V2BonML1GffdajQyfBakLfJ0oSQdwYpyZGoetqsojzEpXgp3yNbYwU6KsilxVZLkYrwbCCLBILDr7Av_41DBSl-x4fc7LorXfcXnPV9meXGPP-AAakw-16d-Fs/s1600/Cheddy9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEHSLgVpmU5gZG5i16V2BonML1GffdajQyfBakLfJ0oSQdwYpyZGoetqsojzEpXgp3yNbYwU6KsilxVZLkYrwbCCLBILDr7Av_41DBSl-x4fc7LorXfcXnPV9meXGPP-AAakw-16d-Fs/s640/Cheddy9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Anyway, this pink kitty, she smelled kinda funny too. I don't think I have that smell at my house. And one of the guys kept staring at her! I was sniffing & looking, trying to figure out what he was so enrapt with & I just couldn't see it!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PJJHMP2yuWo/TNneBGvUw7I/AAAAAAAAAzI/fTH4w4Zy8JU/s1600/Kids6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PJJHMP2yuWo/TNneBGvUw7I/AAAAAAAAAzI/fTH4w4Zy8JU/s400/Kids6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The guys & I hit the ground running. I was excited to hear, see and smell all the things they had going on their neighborhood. So many bushes to smell - it was like being in heaven! I wasn't worried about getting candy though because I'm trying to watch my figure. I don't work out on the courts for nothing!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">There was a scary moment that night. I saw these things in the yard & they looked really spooky! I ran between mommy's legs & hid my face. She explained they weren't real & couldn't hurt me. I wasn't so sure about that white guy on top and didn't look directly in his eyes. Good thing we had a sorcerer with us!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_Htx3O0SRV_sNT4akYycTHXATSOjef49p-cBb9VC9scj85irYxf0gBrfsllws8qdZO_NXL6cMe6lvugjUGX6LHFwRjYbhVxMp9ssa8aQrUkNmO_OkDJGLPhQQFIyPS_1ASn_SmI8FRw/s1600/Decor2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_Htx3O0SRV_sNT4akYycTHXATSOjef49p-cBb9VC9scj85irYxf0gBrfsllws8qdZO_NXL6cMe6lvugjUGX6LHFwRjYbhVxMp9ssa8aQrUkNmO_OkDJGLPhQQFIyPS_1ASn_SmI8FRw/s400/Decor2.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZlFNV5Ecv4eSlaK3udHe3q52DiWD0i5tWDHQoYvXvSGJMrkzVydQ9dPKToPFZEGv1rtJ24-E7c2r2HZMIaRA1YkdJCGmi9QEF3WTfAOeFFv20zES69hPTR6VQAURUT3eJsK92X3oZL4w/s400/Decor.jpg" width="400" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">There was another big person with us on Halloween... it was a Pink Cat. It's lucky for them that I likes cats. I don't like pink very much, but Pink Cat didn't stick around the whole time. During our outing the 2 cats went off hunting mice & lil pink kitty didn't come back. I guess she was really hungry for lil mice!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYTCwHpakDgCY-qg-9Mt46MsicdZ2MwxAUEYCZR5aRLBpRR9kt8Jserr_64rjyN8HgXNMCGB05GzuLpCnVP1laqOZJ0sVqcDX0v7Q7JdHAADiYRbPBER1d_8FK5Yhf1wJ1GZqlLQEl8A/s1600/AliHeather5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYTCwHpakDgCY-qg-9Mt46MsicdZ2MwxAUEYCZR5aRLBpRR9kt8Jserr_64rjyN8HgXNMCGB05GzuLpCnVP1laqOZJ0sVqcDX0v7Q7JdHAADiYRbPBER1d_8FK5Yhf1wJ1GZqlLQEl8A/s400/AliHeather5.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have to say it was another good Halloween with the boys. After we said goodbye, Mommy & I went home to tell the others about our adventures. SydSyd & Jakester were very interested in the scents I brought back with me! I think they were a little jealous though... I drifted off to sleep not long after that. Trick or Treating really takes it out of a pup!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I'm already thinking about my costume for next year!</span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-10565004568717916212010-11-08T14:41:00.000-05:002010-11-08T14:41:20.283-05:00Creative Writing Exercise Results<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One class began with the instructor asking us to make a list. Each item on the list had to begin with "I Remember...". There was no task other than the list. So I made my list. It was 2 pages full of remembering. We set that aside & went onto something else. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Later in the class she asked us to get our lists out (the lists we do are never just 'lists'). Instructions were: pick one of your memories & write about the feelings we had for 10 minutes. Below is what i wrote:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><blockquote><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>I remeber the feeling of utter belief the moment the medium started my reading. All my life I'd be entranced by the paranormal and those things that cannot be explained. So when he began to ask questions that made it sound like we were once friends, I knew my experience with him would never be forgotten.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Was there confusion with her passing?" he asked.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Yes," I responded, my voice reflecting my amazement.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>He continued... "Are you a painter?"</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Do you try & talk to her yourself?"<br />
"She's referring to a 'Bobby' with regard to your husband. Does he know a 'Bobby'?"</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>Yes! Yes! Yes! To all of it! I wanted to jump straight out of my chair & discuss one-on-one with him how he did it. He was on the money and I was ready to ask for lottery numbers.</em></span></blockquote>Another class a few weeks later we were asked to pull out our "I remember" topic again & write about one specific feeling or moment we had (for 10 minutes). That writing is below:<br />
<em><blockquote><em>The room was ice cold. We were advised ahead of time to dress warmly, but they neglected to mention the need for parkas & portable heaters.</em><br />
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<em>Though it wasn't explained, I suspected connecting with spirits is enough to raise someone's body temperature. This meant the rest of us, the paying audience, were plunged into subzero coolness.</em><br />
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<em>I wore a sweatshirt over my long-sleeves & several times wished I'd brought gloves, scarf & possibly a ski mask. I couldn't see my breath yet, but with every click of the a/c turning on, I knew it was only a matter of time.</em><br />
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<em>My mom was sitting nect to me, her fleece jacket zipped to her chin. She's the type who is cold in the middle of summer, so I imagined it took a great deal of willpower not to shiver & shake right out of her metal chair.</em><br />
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<em>The medium looked quite comfortable in the chill, wearing only jeans & a long-sleeved cotton shirt. He wasn't rubbing his hands together for warmth or wiping his nose - a side effect of being in the cold too long. No, it was as if he was radiating his own heat. Too bad it wasn't reaching across the room to where I sat.</em></blockquote></em></span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-13176114974963734372010-10-30T22:33:00.000-04:002010-10-30T22:33:17.237-04:00Where Have I Been?<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Mi madre has been making comments lately about the lack of posts on my site! I know, I know... it's true. I've been bad! But... I have reasons - lots of them! Stay tuned & I might just tell you about them!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfxpFHqDBMsvylFmyiwEzk6qbC6po727lx7WsOqJcNMowcBLSjmQh7j_ax6-wlgHTum3c_UDcCucyksRN7fTBx0UkjIhS0XHSEYGnvofJpjxlWqWhAUA7Qzs2Tc39Z8imk8wYsh8yylk/s1600/Pumpkin2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfxpFHqDBMsvylFmyiwEzk6qbC6po727lx7WsOqJcNMowcBLSjmQh7j_ax6-wlgHTum3c_UDcCucyksRN7fTBx0UkjIhS0XHSEYGnvofJpjxlWqWhAUA7Qzs2Tc39Z8imk8wYsh8yylk/s400/Pumpkin2.jpg" width="266" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I *might* be writing about:</span></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">~~ my 20 year high school reunion</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">~~ the reading I had with the medium</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">~~ all the birthday festivities in my family (though, not mine!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">~~ my creative writing class + possible examples</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">~~ Halloween with my pup</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong><em>See? All good reasons to stay tuned! I'll be back!</em></strong></span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-70724865177201023182010-10-12T20:56:00.000-04:002010-10-12T20:56:22.180-04:00Another year...<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Would you look at that? October 11th came around again? I just read a post from my 35th (yes, my REAL 35th) birthday. Seems like just yesterday - not 3 years ago!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Where has the time gone? Zipped right on by. It's true that life doesn't stand still - for anyone!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I'm one of those people who likes to celebrate birthdays. Not just another day for me! Why not do something on the day that's 'yours'?? Life is not nearly full enough of times to make memories, so I'm going to make sure my birthday is one of them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The 'big' things this birthday weekend were dinner with Cattail & DragonSlayer with Cop'er. Always good getting together with them! The other day I got my gift from Cop'er - a new Zune HD. Love it! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I have a Zune currently & it's one I've used since 2006. That's a long time for an MP3 in this technologically advancing world! So, now I have moved up in the world. No regrets either!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We also went to see "Case 39". It wasn't bad, not sure it was good either though. But one thing I know, any slightly 'spooky' movie that has kids and/or dogs in it is going to be that much scarier! I don't know what it is with those 2 additions to scary movies, but it really creeps me out!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I got to spend a little time with my BFF & her sidekicks. We went to lunch & 'walk through' the new Garden Ridge store on her end of town. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The best part of the whole birthday weekend is the day off I got... not because it's my birthday, but because Columbus was thoughtful enough to discover land & have a holiday declared for his efforts. And now I am reaping the rewards of his discovery... on my birthday. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">So, thank you, Mr. Columbus, for all your hard work. Your little discovery really paid off for me!</span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-5336664406581854472010-10-10T22:24:00.000-04:002010-10-10T22:24:53.433-04:00Chester McCheddarton<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwvFoFnPmjCFBUwV2GylO_6Ofb_T2NybnHLwX2aZFfBcmXxGPU1LvAZcSiZs9L0RDygkArOwfmxqLq_Q4dlWW4bkjRTblNkUuS-iljCMkMqr90TV8W98kY4V-DyTSzsgVgpu27gbrlXs/s1600/Cheddy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="401" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwvFoFnPmjCFBUwV2GylO_6Ofb_T2NybnHLwX2aZFfBcmXxGPU1LvAZcSiZs9L0RDygkArOwfmxqLq_Q4dlWW4bkjRTblNkUuS-iljCMkMqr90TV8W98kY4V-DyTSzsgVgpu27gbrlXs/s640/Cheddy1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0PkNz2zguWYNwd8TtUpnCzQETJhw1UDLKmTmLostF0m0ScPwYSwCzd_4WR05YejunAH_m6Q96mHpEX240DzAnhJX0FlIgpxqXEfhAeymIrEwQSwgCxN1rNxtBxvm5gKAqouDc-xOvb-M/s1600/CheddyPaw2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0PkNz2zguWYNwd8TtUpnCzQETJhw1UDLKmTmLostF0m0ScPwYSwCzd_4WR05YejunAH_m6Q96mHpEX240DzAnhJX0FlIgpxqXEfhAeymIrEwQSwgCxN1rNxtBxvm5gKAqouDc-xOvb-M/s640/CheddyPaw2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8275709724584500056.post-31822364315175884522010-10-05T22:29:00.002-04:002010-10-05T22:30:02.172-04:00Being Brave<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In my creative writing class, the instructor touched on a topic that many of us have in common.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Fear of criticism.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After reading an excerpt, a writer's take on being critiqued & critized, she told us something that I'm going to try & remember.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em><strong>Writing is a very personal thing. So personal that it takes a certain kind of person to put their ideas on paper and let others read it. </strong></em></span><br />
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<div><em><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">T</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">hat kind of person... brave.</span></strong></em></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em><strong>When the rest of the world is giving their opinions on what you write, remember that YOU have the guts to put it out there. You were brave enough to take that chance. </strong></em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em><strong>That's more than many people will ever do.</strong></em></span>grayzeeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14023835648400508336noreply@blogger.com0