tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39264416244125936122024-02-19T23:42:24.903-06:00Everything begins with an E.eater • editor • English major • environmentalistEmilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.comBlogger287125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-34728012379561016122018-07-02T13:08:00.000-05:002018-07-02T13:09:38.426-05:00What I'm Doing These DaysI had a really clear lightbulb moment on November 8, 2016. I know the precise date because it was election day. But this has nothing to do with the election, politics, or the ramifications of that election. Or maybe it does. Let's think this through.<br />
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On that fateful day I was talking with Pete Cowdin from the <a href="http://www.rabbitholekc.org/" target="_blank">Rabbit Hole KC </a>who'd just given a fascinating talk at Hallmark during Word Week. I was walking him out of the building. We talked about the Rabbit Hole. We talked about my job. Something Pete said caused a lightblub to switch on over my head and I walked away from him saying to myself, "I think I just got an idea for a Barbara Marhsall project."<br />
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I'd never before had even an inkling of an idea that was remotely worthy of a BMA proposal. So I wasn't sure if the idea I'd had after talking to Pete was legit. I spent a good 12 months thinking about it, refining it, seeking input from knowledgable folks (past BMA winners like <a href="https://storiesofdevotion.com/" target="_blank">Sergio</a>, my wise and wonderful mother, my cleverest confidantes, Pete himself).<br />
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Finally, after much refinement, in January of this year I pitched my idea. And as anyone who knows me knows - I won.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">design by John Donne - illustration by Lynn Giunta</td></tr>
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I'm now one month into a six month sabbatical and have been blown away ... both by the excitement I feel as I explore the breadth and depth of the children's picture book world ... and by the disorientation I feel because - let's face it - I don't know what in the sam hill I'm doing. It's a huge shift to go from knowing just what to do to being so entirely clueless. I mean, even when, at work, I've had assignments that were nebulous, there is at least always some framework within which to work, some guide posts, some clear end goal in mind, and an amazing art director partner by my side with whom to figure things out. Here I am now - all by myself - making things up as I go along.<br />
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Not unlike <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Harold-Purple-Crayon-Crockett-Johnson/dp/0060229357" target="_blank">Harold and the Purple Crayon</a>. Faced with an empty page, I am creating the world in which I'm living for the duration of this sabbatical. And even though it'd be easy (and discouraging!) to say to myself "I don't know anything" - I've challenged myself to say instead, "I'm going to learn so much." And I am loving it.<br />
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I'm grateful for that day in November when a happenstance request ("Emily, do you mind escorting Pete around the building before he leaves?") and a quotidian question from Pete ("What is it you do here?") led me down the path I'm on now.<br />
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And as for the election and its ramifications? Well, I think we'd be fools not to consider the possibility that an important step towards ameliorating many of the problems that are breaking our hearts today is the foundation of empathy, imagination, and understanding that can be delivered so powerfully and poignantly to our next generation through books. From right here in our own homes and in our own laps.<br />
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Join me on the journey - <a href="http://www.thebeginningofyourlifebookclub.com/">www.TheBeginningOfYourLifeBookClub.com</a> - and send me YOUR stories of the powerful way reading books with your kids has made a difference for you.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-2856571807394432282017-07-11T16:57:00.000-05:002017-07-11T16:57:02.871-05:00St Louis - The First Ever Just Us Moreno Akins Family Vacation<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">reflecting on our trip</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">You know what’s amazing? The Gateway Arch in St. Louis! I know, I know - you’ve probably been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. But don’t let that stop you from maintaining a sense of continued awe or from pondering the immensity of the project. You know what baffles me about it? The fact that the Arch - this immense feat of engineering - this “monument to the dream” - was built little by little. Each panel of stainless steel, each nut and each bolt, each pour of concrete. Every little part was strategically planned and placed and it all came together bit by bit, decade after decade. When you stand back and look at it (or ride to the top and look out of it) you don’t think about these little things. But they’re all there. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You know what else is amazing? Cahokia Mounds! You may not realize it right away when you drive past these giant piles of earth - but these are remarkable. Just think about it! The people who built these had only primitive tools which they painstakingly created themselves. No machines. No backhoes. Just flint hoes and baskets, legs and arms, strong backs and keen minds. And little by little - with each strike of the hammer stone, each shard of flint, each basket of dirt filled one by one - an entire community was built, decades at a time; a network of mounds supporting generations of people. When you stand back and look at it (or climb the 150 steps to the top of the largest one and look out from it) you may not think about these little things. But they’re all there. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And you know what else is amazing? Families. Oh sure. We all know what families are and aren’t they great, and we all love our families and blah blah blah. But don’t let your familiarity (pun intended) with the concept stop you from maintaining a sense of continued awe. Nor should you just breeze past them without realizing the immensity or significance. Isn’t it remarkable? The way that families form, little by little, strategically and haphazardly, year over year, decade by decade, bit by bit. Each mile on the minivan, each song on the playlist, each memory made … each milestone, each family member ... each “Mommy, will you help me?” and “Dada!” … each vacation, each stay home day … each giggle, tickle, tear, and hug. When you stand back and look at it (or stand right in the middle of it and look out) you don’t think about those little things. But they’re all there. </span></div>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-18626283507518938122016-12-31T22:55:00.002-06:002017-07-10T17:50:28.247-05:00The Highly Caloric Holiday Baking PostThis is the post where I list all the unhealthy and delicious things I baked (or ate) in the last month. If you want the reflective, emotional holiday post, click <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2016/12/2016-year-in-review.html" target="_blank">here</a>. And listen - if you don't have time to read all this nonsense just promise me you'll jump to the bottom and read about Crumb Pie. Just do it!<br />
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1. BUTTERED POPCORN COOKIES<br />
For the "cookie crawl" at work I made <b><i><u><a href="http://thedirtyoven.blogspot.com/2012/11/buttered-popcorn-cookies.html" target="_blank">Buttered Popcorn Cookies</a></u></i></b> from <a href="https://smittenkitchen.com/" target="_blank">Smitten Kitchen</a>. If you decide to make them, I highly recommend adding the chocolate chips that <a href="http://joythebaker.com/2013/04/buttered-popcorn-chocolate-chip-cookies/" target="_blank">Joy the Baker</a> adds. It might be fun to make it with M&Ms or something, too. Note that the popcorn will be chewy, not crunchy. But still good. And I like it because it makes for some efficient snacking - saving you from wasting time eating popcorn, cookies, AND chocolate separately. You don't want to waste too much time because you still need to make<br />
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2. MOLASSES CRINKLES<br />
This is my grandmother's recipe and one of my All Time Favorite Cookies Ever Ever Ever. It's like a gingersnap but soft instead of hard. And "if you're anything like me, and I know I am," you hate a crunchy gingersnap (or so you thought. See Pfeffernüsse down below.) I have the recipe written out in Jetta's handwriting. It's always a trip down memory lane to make these. Since I know you are going to ask me for the recipe - everyone always does - here it is.<br />
<i><u>Molasses Crinkles</u></i><br />
<i>mix: </i><br />
<i>3/4 cup shortening</i><br />
<i>1 cup brown sugar</i><br />
<i>1 egg</i><br />
<i>1/4 cup molasses</i><br />
<i>sift together:</i><br />
<i>2 1/4 cups flour</i><br />
<i>2 teaspoons baking soda</i><br />
<i>1/4 teaspoon salt</i><br />
<i>1/2 teaspoon cloves</i><br />
<i>1 teaspoon cinnamon</i><br />
<i>1 teaspoon ginger</i><br />
<i>Mix together. Chill dough. Roll into balls (walnut size) and dip tops in sugar. Place 3 inches apart on greased cookie sheet. Sprinkle a few drops of water over the cookies. Bake @ 325 for 8-10 minutes. </i><br />
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3. CARAMELS<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sea salt caramels</td></tr>
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I have no idea what came over me but on a whim one night I decided to make caramels. I thought it'd make a good gift for the staff at the girls' schools. And I thought they looked so cute wrapped in their little parchment papers. Turns out - they're cute and delicious. I made a second batch for family at Christmas. It certainly won't be my last. Here's hoping my beginner's luck holds out! I used <a href="http://www.busyinbrooklyn.com/artisan-caramels-no-corn-syrup/" target="_blank">this corn syrup free recipe</a>. I would like to try some fancier ones (like <a href="http://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/12896-black-pepper-and-bourbon-caramel-chews" target="_blank">this one with pepper</a>!) but would have to succumb to corn syrup.<br />
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4. <a href="http://joythebaker.com/2013/12/salty-honey-pie/" target="_blank">SALTY HONEY PIE</a><br />
I made this with my mom (who is called Honey) when she visited before Christmas. It was so delicious. We all devoured it before I could even take a picture. It's heavenly.<br />
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5. PFEFFERNUSSE<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pfeffernüsse</td></tr>
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The other thing Mom and I made was <b><i><u>Pfeffernüsse</u></i></b> - using <a href="http://www.lifeatcloverhill.com/2013/12/german-pfefferneuse-cookies-peppernuts-recipe.html" target="_blank">this recipe</a>. I didn't think I'd like such a crunchy cookie. Wrong! It really is like a "pepper nut" - like the name suggests. All the spice of a molasses crinkle or gingersnap - but with the kick of "pepper," the balance of the powdered sugar, and a nice crunch. Also - great for gift giving!<br />
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6. VIN CHAUD<br />
At Christmas, Christy's friend Bruselas transformed my two bottles of Two Buck Chuck into a lovely mulled wine or "<b><i><u>Vin Chaud</u></i></b>." It's basically orange juice and wine mixed with spices and drunk hot. And even though you wouldn't think of drinking either of those things hot by themselves (and despite the fact that one friend described it as microwave sangria which made me lol my head off), I thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyed it. The spice, the wine, the citrus. Perfect for winter. (Even if we're having a weird winter.)<br />
<i><u>Bruselas' Vin Chaud</u></i><br />
<i>1 liter of OJ</i><br />
<i>2 bottles of wine</i><br />
<i>1 cinnamon stick + some ground cinnamon</i><br />
<i>11 cloves or more, actually</i><br />
<i>Simmer the OJ and spices for a while. Add wine. </i><br />
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7. PEPPERMINT BROWNIES<br />
I've been on a real mint chocolate kick for the last - I don't know 37 years or so. But recently I've really been parsing out what it is I do and don't love about all mint/choc combos. In the process I decided I should make these <a href="http://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/chocolate-peppermint-brownies" target="_blank"><b><i><u>Peppermint Brownies</u></i></b>.</a> I'm so glad I did.<br />
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8. CRUMB PIE<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">crumb pie dry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Last but not least, I enjoyed (but did not make) a magnificent thing called <b><i><u>Crumb Pie</u></i></b>. It came to me in a little plastic baggie in a gift box from some dear old friends who visited between Christmas and New Years. It's an old family recipe. It is dry and a bit funny looking. It's basically flour, sugar, and spices and salt "pressed" into lard. Which I don't quite understand. So instead of trying to describe how it's made, let me attempt to describe how it tastes by simply saying that when you pour a little bit of hot coffee - or a little bit of milk - on top of it and let the Crumb Pie and the beverage merge into a sort of puddling you will find that it tastes like no other heaven you have ever tasted before. Sweet and creamy, spicy and salty. Unless you're one of those weird-os that doesn't like nutmeg/clove/allspice kind of stuff, you will love it and the magic it creates in your mouth.<br />
<i><u>Green Family Crumb Pie</u></i><br />
Ingredients:<br />
3 1/2 cups flour<br />
3/4 cup lard<br />
2 cups sugar<br />
4 tsp. cinnamon<br />
2 tsp. nutmeg<br />
1 tsp. cloves<br />
1 tsp. allspice<br />
1 tsp. allspice<br />
1 tsp. salt<br />
Instructions:<br />
Mix the flour, sugar, salt and spices in a large bowl. Cut in lard with a pastry cutter and mix well. Press into an 11 by 16 pan or two smaller ones. For a crunchier crumb pie, press down harder. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Cut while warm.<br />
Serving suggestions:<br />
It may be called crumb pie, but you eat it dry like a cookie or mix with milk or coffee and stir into a spice pudding. This was a long time Green family recipe, usually eaten for Christmas morning breakfast. A strange, but yummy concoction. Nothing smells better than this when it's baking!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with coffee</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with milk</td></tr>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-47592857807119009492016-12-31T22:44:00.002-06:002016-12-31T22:56:11.324-06:002016: Year in ReviewThis is the reflective, emotional holiday post. To read the highly caloric baking-only holiday post - click <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2016/12/the-highly-caloric-holiday-baking-post.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">blessings</td></tr>
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I was looking at this thing on my door frame - a blessing I wrote on Epiphany, January of 2016. It means <i>Christus mansionem benedicat</i> or "May Christ bless this house." Since everyone universally agrees - at least in meme-land - that 2016 was an epic fail, I looked at it and thought, "Well, I guess that didn't work."<br />
<br />
But then I remembered that I had no deeply held personal associations with any of the big names who passed away so tragically this year. And while I recognize their loss as significant and unfortunate, none of it made me that ... sad. (And even though I DO feel a tragic sense of loss regarding the election, that's less of a 2016 thing and more of a 2015-2020 and beyond thing.)<br />
<br />
And - I remembered where WE were - the four of us in this little house - on Epiphany, January of 2016. How quickly I have deposited into my memory banks <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2016/01/the-holidays.html" target="_blank">the fragility of our lives last Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year</a>. How poignant it all seems to me now as we move through a much more solid holiday season this year. How profound the simple things are in this context.<br />
<br />
There is a lot to worry about in the world today. And worry about it I will. (I'm good at that.) But for now, the wise thing to do seems to be to take stock.<br />
<br />
I didn't know a year ago that we'd lose Daisy. That was the straw that broke this camel's back. I'd endured a lot already as I watched my most beloved family members endure diagnoses and enter recovery. I thought I was in the clear. I lost it when she died. I found it eventually. Whatever "it" is ... homeostasis I guess? But not without help.<br />
<br />
I also didn't know, a year ago, that I would find Schultz and Schatzi and that they would be utterly delightful.<br />
<br />
Sergio is on a completely different path in life and while his diagnosis last fall and his departure from Hallmark early this year brought major shifts in our world, it also catapulted him into a wonderfully fulfilling career track. It is lovely to stand aside and watch.<br />
<br />
And here's something I don't say too often because it is cliche and it is trite and it feels like I'm gloating but ... I really love my job. Hallmark, like all of us, is flawed. But, like all of us - er, most of us, anyway, it means well. And every day I go to work I look forward to how I'm going to spend the day. This - as I have witnessed in Sergio's case - is nothing to sneeze at. And the last 12 months of work have been especially good for me, full of opportunities to better understand myself and my world. And, if we've played our "cards" right, so to speak, opportunities to a make the world a better place.<br />
<br />
Compassion makes the world a better place, don't you think? That's the other thing hanging with the 20 + C + M + B + 16 above our back door - a Buddhist mantra of compassion. We're going to need even more of that in 2017 and beyond. It will be my hope, my prayer, and my work to make a compassionate dent wherever I can.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-15884339434610050512016-11-18T14:08:00.001-06:002016-11-28T11:43:29.829-06:00Dear Everybody Who is Obsessed With Blue Apron, Green Chef, Hello Fresh, and The Like<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt;">I get it, okay. I know we need convenience in our lives. I know we're all busy - I'm right there with you. I work full time, I volunteer, I have kids, a spouse, dogs - plenty of demands. You and me both, okay? We like getting everything delivered to our doors. Amazon Prime, Bark Box, Honest Company - it all just shows up on our door step and we never even have to leave the house or shop in public or anything! Amazing. But let's step back a minute and talk about what we're getting when we make our food decisions and what our community is getting as a result. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16pt;">First let's talk about freshness - I'm guessing you are really keen on fresh ingredients because that is something that these companies tout. Fresh and organic ingredients. I also love fresh and organic ingredients. But let me suggest to you that the freshest ingredients you can get are the ones that are grown very close by and aren't packaged and well travelled. Try shopping the farmers market or the many grocery stores that sell local produce and get something fresh and organic there. It will be fresher than something that's been shipped to you and it won't come with food miles or extra packaging. It will not have travelled a long journey from the farm to the distribution center to the packaging facility to the next distribution center, etc. etc. etc. There is a lot of energy input for a journey like that so your delivery comes with kind of an outsized carbon footprint. Not unlike when I was a teenager and my feet grew faster than the rest of me: normal sized kid - GIANT feet! Meal delivery services mean a normal sized stash of ingredients - HUGE carbon footprint! </span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Each time we buy food - and we buy
food pretty often, don't we? Three meals a day, snacks, you, me,
our families - lots of mouths to feed and lots of meals to make. Each time
we buy food we are supporting someone. Think about who you support. A local,
sustainable farmer? Or a large corporation? Or a company that supports organic
farmers? There are a lot of decisions to make and we make them everyday.
Sometimes we need to make decisions based on convenience. But whenever we can,
let's make decisions that support our community.</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Please join me in looking for
ways to support local, organic, hard working, small farmers in our region
when you make at least some of your food decisions. Your food will be fresher
and your money will stay in Kansas City. By the way - you know about the
local multiplier effect, right? For every $1 you spend at a national chain,
only 15 cents is invested locally; but for every $1 you spend locally, 45 cents
gets reinvested locally! Think about how much better our home town would be if
each of us chose to spend just a few more of our dollars supporting local
farmers. </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Thanks for your time!</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Love,</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Emily</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 16.0pt;">PS: IF you want to join a Community
Supported Agriculture program, call me - helping people find the right CSA
is one of my favorite past times!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-44522691383734481632016-11-10T16:45:00.000-06:002016-11-29T16:29:17.667-06:00Archer City, TX<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Archer City, TX, located in the northern part of Texas, just below the Oklahoma border, has a population of 1,834 people, according to the 2010 census. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s the county seat, has approximately 1 stop light, a total area of 2.2 square miles, and, as best as we could tell, 3 places to eat. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPEmLQT765IjOyZbHPo7RPx_zs46bkxdx_8cSLyktWNbWe4O2g4ali15sKYxQR4W_X4TFnVysNHN5ecJjzwPnk26v12zS0BM63H7RqlDJDWh8QdG2zkkTGrBed7kTbpe7VLnfIhOp-6A/s1600/IMG_3464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPEmLQT765IjOyZbHPo7RPx_zs46bkxdx_8cSLyktWNbWe4O2g4ali15sKYxQR4W_X4TFnVysNHN5ecJjzwPnk26v12zS0BM63H7RqlDJDWh8QdG2zkkTGrBed7kTbpe7VLnfIhOp-6A/s400/IMG_3464.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And it has 1 very important bookstore called Booked Up, which is owned by Larry McMurtry, author of </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lonesome Dove </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The Last Picture Show</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Booked Up has about 200,000 books. That's far more books than people in Archer City and that’s </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">after</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Booked Up sold off one half of their inventory 4 years ago going down from 4 storefronts to 2. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0tYjEJxZiE4uRLFoX06GiAiclQdEuQPpCuCEgwGLJX9J-luGWzYJqlohZ9y8PF1lCvWdRMLAmj9m7TPZJ-ergwP4rRJDks3qFhgIft9qDckS06-roVSt1Rik3ONYr-A_d-gdKELtFOA/s1600/IMG_3465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0tYjEJxZiE4uRLFoX06GiAiclQdEuQPpCuCEgwGLJX9J-luGWzYJqlohZ9y8PF1lCvWdRMLAmj9m7TPZJ-ergwP4rRJDks3qFhgIft9qDckS06-roVSt1Rik3ONYr-A_d-gdKELtFOA/s320/IMG_3465.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And if this were a piece about numbers perhaps we'd discuss the book-to-person ratio, or the books per capita average, or maybe even books per square mile (roughly 100,000, by my count) or the number of Booked Up storefronts per square mile (roughly 1).</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But this is not a piece about numbers it's a piece about words and about how absolutely dumbstruck I was when I walked in and saw shelf after shelf after shelf after shelf of floor to ceiling books. There I was surrounded by all those words and I was completely speechless. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Like a kid in a candy store I went up and down every aisle and eventually found a few words to utter - like “oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.” Eventually I slowed down and the four of us - my parents, Sergio, and me - started browsing.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the first books I found was </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Lively Anatomy of God </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">published by EAKINS press or, as I read it, E Akins press. I just knew it was a sign. The first story inside it was about a woman who believes in signs. Well, clearly that was a sign! Having once read a book called </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Shadow of the Wind</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> wherein a boy chooses a book - or maybe the book chooses him - from the “Cemetery of Forgotten Books,” I found it quite possible to believe in just this sort of enchanted nature of bookstores. It was easy to think that at Booked up in Archer City, TX, something magical like that is possible. Because clearly this place is magic. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv04KlGa11azHeKxSYDyCPvzo1OWsxb0EvRn4xJCA72_IUkcc14npmnRY0pInLn5MGt0rR3FGTZ3LA4td10H9BiP5cYgeWzo_-mlHA7RAobzAUqDi1dQb8kxU0aDbxZ7c8HXfHflgEdw/s1600/IMG_3459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Except it didn’t seem all that magical to the two people who work there. The woman who welcomed us when we first came in didn’t seem to register my enthusiasm when I had to come back to the front and ask again “where do I find the bathroom?” because I asked her once already and tried to follow her directions but let’s be honest I didn’t hear a word she said because BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS. She and her cohort - the only two employees of Booked Up seem to have more of a cataloging, functional role, perfunctory even … and while they may be interested enough to ask “where ‘yall from?” they certainly aren’t interested in the fact that it took us 15 years to get to Archer City, to actually make good on the original idea that my dad had. They were only politely interested but by then it was 5:00 and magical or not, Booked Up closes at 5:00. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCQKxRoONj0uej_h37Mu8WhzNgJH4CZ7RNw_0SInCUz8kI7S63ffgJzUzkIsngo5Cg933plJqB9nFZC_n-MwPLvqBySUXVyAlhWsiJwnz9vXYcXOIEAbFKbzXT4KzV4Ww-ErlXUUQfg/s1600/IMG_3451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCQKxRoONj0uej_h37Mu8WhzNgJH4CZ7RNw_0SInCUz8kI7S63ffgJzUzkIsngo5Cg933plJqB9nFZC_n-MwPLvqBySUXVyAlhWsiJwnz9vXYcXOIEAbFKbzXT4KzV4Ww-ErlXUUQfg/s200/IMG_3451.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the hours that transpired between our excited arrival and our prompt departure (with books in tow), we found</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The Light Side of Egypt, Aboriginal Indian Basketry, The Southern Expansion of the Chinese People, The Meaning of Meaning, Imperial Dictionary of Universal Biography, Ghost Towns of New Mexico, The Butter Industry, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">an ad for The Times Literary Supplement that asks “Do you get the most out of the books you read? Some books will stand the test of many readings and many are never fully appreciated the first time they are read.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh, and a framed, pillowcase embroidered with this: “In my dream, I was in an underground parking garage. Fred Astaire danced out from between two cars. A sedan almost hit him but he leapt away.”</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYM_rhlhYBbIRhXrZ-E4k-wYvn7JMfn_zb0uyC4JH7NIf_pG9Bsq0Ov1gj7t8phyphenhyphenR4T9duiynoDhU_RH7MAfPMCGd06JYE2fgaHQqAZci8gA1DpVi2X0wqcz_UOCNwy6L5rpznBp6PGA/s1600/IMG_3462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYM_rhlhYBbIRhXrZ-E4k-wYvn7JMfn_zb0uyC4JH7NIf_pG9Bsq0Ov1gj7t8phyphenhyphenR4T9duiynoDhU_RH7MAfPMCGd06JYE2fgaHQqAZci8gA1DpVi2X0wqcz_UOCNwy6L5rpznBp6PGA/s400/IMG_3462.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And I found a set of Harper’s Magazines from 1926. I dusted off their plastic jackets and pried one open to read “The Cheer-Leader in Literature” in which William McFee laments the practice of teaching writing at universities and schools stating that “the ultimate achievement of schools for fiction is the establishment of mediocrity as the controlling influence of American literature.” Oh, Mr McFee - you can sign me up as one of the “cheer-leaders of mediocrity,” Buddy, because that. Is. N</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">onsense. I decided I was going to have to take home one of these Harper's. Maybe this one or or maybe the one with the article called “Seven Deadly Sins of Women In Business.” I went up to the front of the store to ask how much these would cost. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I got to the front I discovered that only one employee was there and that the woman who prices things had gone to pick up her daughter from school. I took a moment while I waited to read the back flap of Larry McMurtry’s book called </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Books: A Memoir,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> in which he shares that for much of his childhood he didn’t have any books in his house. Instead, he and his family and their neighbors would all sit on their front porches and tell stories and so, while he may not have grown up around books, he learned the art of story from the get go. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiId5EUT_rdH2j0U7E4TfjMqBYu7bbm7RAf1A-3TksFmbyC8nY_fMVqVjNiZbd16bBTcXvT-QRZ-r_tCc2snF1hzRrgvN2qxvK_5sqSUx3FMjANRtZQz0jjgXO612sFy-dZaFwyohKGA/s1600/IMG_3438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiId5EUT_rdH2j0U7E4TfjMqBYu7bbm7RAf1A-3TksFmbyC8nY_fMVqVjNiZbd16bBTcXvT-QRZ-r_tCc2snF1hzRrgvN2qxvK_5sqSUx3FMjANRtZQz0jjgXO612sFy-dZaFwyohKGA/s320/IMG_3438.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eventually the woman who prices things comes back with her daughter who, would you believe, is some sort of cheerleader at the local elementary school and is dressed up in her garb. (Did I mention we were there on a Friday during football season? Go Wildcats!) </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What must it be like to grow up in this magic store surrounded by all these books? Maybe she is Booked Up’s cheerleader of literature. But with her fingers smudged from Doritos or Cheetos or whatever it is she’s eating, I don’t imagine her reading very many of these pricey rare texts and probably she, like her mom, doesn’t register the excitement. She is a kid in a bookstore, not a kid in a candy store. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I bought one issue of Harper’s. It was $10. That’s roughly $1 per article inside the publication but really it’s kind of priceless when you get to page 312 of the magazine and read Albert Jay Nock saying “I wish they would sometimes get restless under their own excellences. It seems only human that they should do so… Their temperament makes no room for the great and saving grace of cussedness, whereby one gets tired of a smooth monotonous best and skirmishes around for a look at something that probably is not so good but is restfully different.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Priceless. This is not a piece about numbers - it’s a piece about words. And about how each person who writes in the English language has the exact same 26 letters available to them - 26 letters on each person’s little Scrabble rack in their brain - which collectively have been parlayed into about a quarter of a million words and from there, an innumerable number of ideas and concepts, and from there an inordinate number of books. Books. Books. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv04KlGa11azHeKxSYDyCPvzo1OWsxb0EvRn4xJCA72_IUkcc14npmnRY0pInLn5MGt0rR3FGTZ3LA4td10H9BiP5cYgeWzo_-mlHA7RAobzAUqDi1dQb8kxU0aDbxZ7c8HXfHflgEdw/s1600/IMG_3459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv04KlGa11azHeKxSYDyCPvzo1OWsxb0EvRn4xJCA72_IUkcc14npmnRY0pInLn5MGt0rR3FGTZ3LA4td10H9BiP5cYgeWzo_-mlHA7RAobzAUqDi1dQb8kxU0aDbxZ7c8HXfHflgEdw/s320/IMG_3459.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Promise me you won’t ask yourself - which book would I be if I lived in the dystopian world of </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Farhenheit 451</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and had to choose a book to embody. Because nobody wants to think about burning books.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And let’s not think about whether we love paper books over e-readers or about how many books fit on a kindle. Because this isn’t about reading on a Kindle. It’s about picking a book up off the shelf and discovering that Dorys Grover of 522 Lyon St in Ames, Iowa was sent a postcard on January 17, 1972 from Iowa State University library asking her to return the copy of </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Atlas Shrugged</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> that she had borrowed.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Instead let’s use other “incendiary” words in order to think about how for each person who miraculously parlays their 26 letters into a book, there are how many more readers of that book? And whether you are the writer or the reader, you know full well how a book kindles the fires deep within each of us. An idea that takes hold, that catches on, and grows like wild fire. The words that light a flame under you. The words that you light on fire. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What book were you reading when you first realized - this is it. This is what I want. This is me. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4abBEdWYeilvMcO4jgZI9jV5QyqHJqfZcZ_RFo3DuU5NWsO-l9SmNAbyqzT2skiGHiOYLh8lMokU85JPkDhlZJ28zZgk831RZDErNyh1ZGYjowPbEEHtnyBv6AAgBfaNeQqoZ0hVFA/s1600/IMG_3430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4abBEdWYeilvMcO4jgZI9jV5QyqHJqfZcZ_RFo3DuU5NWsO-l9SmNAbyqzT2skiGHiOYLh8lMokU85JPkDhlZJ28zZgk831RZDErNyh1ZGYjowPbEEHtnyBv6AAgBfaNeQqoZ0hVFA/s400/IMG_3430.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Or how about this - what was your first book? Can you even answer that question? My dad can. It was </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Pinocchio</i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. And it was given to him by his much older sister Ruth when he was about 7. Do you remember your first book? I don’t. And my children won’t. My children each have more books haphazardly wedged between the pillows on their beds than the whole of my father’s library when he was their age. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And Larry McMurtry, the man who keeps 28,000 books at his home as well as owning 2 storefronts full of roughly 200,000 books probably remembers his first book. And in fact he remembers that one of the two books his family owned when he was a teen was a book he gave to his father. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My father gave me my first Larry McMurtry book. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Who gave you your first book? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My daughter gave me a book shortly after we got back from Archer City. It was a book I already owned and had already read and in fact, it’s a book my dad had read as well. It’s </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Papa Hemingway</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. She pulled it off the shelf, wrapped it, gave it to me for my pretend birthday. I flopped it open and found something I’d underlined 15 years ago that had inspired me and spurred me on - something about the challenge that writers overcome to achieve the same pure emotion as artists: “Artists” Hemingway says “have all those great colors, while I have to do it on a typerwriter or with my pencil in black and white.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The same 26 letters per person. Magically transformed. Cheering us on. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLakZt5DaUgG-Dq-TyRMvmlnyK5SA7sUDh0twe9393or4Xy3DS6AkScTjeFbrPhpTnoIrKw70MOZUHqfexZnJ7hyphenhyphenfEWUDa5ZfqB3kqcIEyUdNlX-WfJXqPJng_b0EJHOw3AOH78zatog/s1600/IMG_3460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLakZt5DaUgG-Dq-TyRMvmlnyK5SA7sUDh0twe9393or4Xy3DS6AkScTjeFbrPhpTnoIrKw70MOZUHqfexZnJ7hyphenhyphenfEWUDa5ZfqB3kqcIEyUdNlX-WfJXqPJng_b0EJHOw3AOH78zatog/s400/IMG_3460.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-64888423811455786302016-11-09T16:47:00.000-06:002016-11-10T16:47:37.183-06:00*Rummaging*<div class="_2cuy _3dgx" data-block="true" data-editor="cdo2l" data-offset-key="dmmh6-0-0" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #1d2129; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px auto 28px; white-space: pre-wrap; width: 700px; word-wrap: break-word;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5GmHkrJlKF3ueL6Ea8lkmVYPZVN5JtKNvWM6KXn4yyjzzKVdpV1UO2Yp2tQAsCGwOgNbJx3AUQtPRDZY2OUXO0hghBYoycnCynyD608OTLj4yCuhEQhgsGnftJJ7feao9q5NQ76Jgw/s1600/Grass%252C+Wake+Forest+%2528Damon%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5GmHkrJlKF3ueL6Ea8lkmVYPZVN5JtKNvWM6KXn4yyjzzKVdpV1UO2Yp2tQAsCGwOgNbJx3AUQtPRDZY2OUXO0hghBYoycnCynyD608OTLj4yCuhEQhgsGnftJJ7feao9q5NQ76Jgw/s640/Grass%252C+Wake+Forest+%2528Damon%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span data-offset-key="dmmh6-0-0">I don't know the last time I cried myself to sleep like I did last night. I am drained after the exhausting cycle of emotions packed into the last 48 hours - hope, anxiety, despair, and more. Today is a new day, though it doesn’t feel new as in like “full-of-possibility” new. Just new as in, “is-this-real-life” new. Now I am rummaging around for Hope. Where did it go? I just had it the other day. Maybe St Francis has it?</span></div>
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<blockquote class="_2cuy _509u" data-block="true" data-editor="cdo2l" data-offset-key="5t311-0-0" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #7f7f7f; font-family: 'Hoefler Text', Georgia, serif; font-size: 36px; font-style: italic; line-height: 42px; margin: 56px auto; padding: 32px 80px 28px; position: relative; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap; width: 700px; word-wrap: break-word;">
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<span data-offset-key="5t311-0-0">...where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, </span><span data-offset-key="5t311-0-1" style="font-weight: bold;">hope</span><span data-offset-key="5t311-0-2">; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness joy...</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="bhtu7-0-0">*rummaging* Let’s see what else I can find... </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1e3n8-0-0" style="font-weight: bold;">A Grug & A Tantrum</span><span data-offset-key="1e3n8-0-1"> - Today started with a nice, long “grug” (that's a "group hug") with my little family, each saying “I love you” a thousand times. This quickly morphed into a deluxe, red-faced and screaming 30-minute tantrum on the part of Clara. Here I was, trying to hold it together while my blue feminist heart was breaking - meanwhile Clara just lets it rip because she doesn’t like her underwear or can’t find her favorite shoes or who even knows what led her to upturn her sister’s cereal all over the kitchen floor. Stress was everywhere. BUT we are lucky. We are all 4 of us healthy and happy, have a warm home with a roof and walls, cute dogs for schnuggles, and so much food in our cupboards that it falls out when we open the door to the pantry. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="4v51f-0-0" style="font-style: italic;">"Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console..." </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="ebgkm-0-0" style="font-weight: bold;">Poetry & Islam</span><span data-offset-key="ebgkm-0-1"> - Today proceeded with a presentation at work where I was reminded from </span><span class="_5u8u" data-offset-key="ebgkm-1-0" spellcheck="false" style="background-color: #dce6f8;"><span data-offset-key="ebgkm-1-0"><span data-text="true">Kwame Alexander</span></span></span><span data-offset-key="ebgkm-2-0"> that words matter ... that poetry matters ... indeed that it is what makes us human. And suddenly Word Week is a perfect salve during this contentious moment in history and/or in my life. Kwame says that "the NOs are a part of life but we that have to learn to say YES to ourselves." And there was jazz and we clapped and we laughed. What a relief. I left there and went to a panel discussion where Muslim Hallmarkers spoke to a room of non-Muslim Hallmarkers all of whom had gathered simply to learn more about Islam. If, as David Isay says, “listening is an act of love,” then my participation in this and other such sessions is a profoundly powerful act. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="36a63-0-0" style="font-style: italic;">“...to be understood as to understand...”</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="96fmk-0-0" style="font-weight: bold;">Love & Love </span><span data-offset-key="96fmk-0-1">- Today rounded out with messages of love, which are all over the place when you make Valentine’s Day cards for a living (literally everywhere; you should see my messy desk). And also messages of love in my phone - an emjoi, a text, a heartbeat. I wonder - who else can I reach out to today? Lots of people to choose from. People that I need. People that need me. What do they need to hear? </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3f4g9-0-0" style="font-style: italic;">“...to be loved as to love.”</span><span data-offset-key="3f4g9-0-1"> </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="a7utn-0-0">Still rummaging for Hope. Maybe Longfellow has it. He always has some. Just one stanza - that’s usually enough. Let’s see if it works this time... </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="fbper-0-0">Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.</span></div>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-36615675141283770942016-06-28T00:37:00.000-05:002016-06-28T00:37:52.908-05:00Schultz and Schatzi<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Just over a week ago these two were off to a rocky start; so much doggie discord in those initial encounters. I was a little bit nervous. Now </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I'm pleased to report that they seem to be fast friends. As for us, we love them even more now than we did when we first saw them on the schnauzer rescue sites where we found them. Which is saying a lot because it was mostly love at first sight. </span><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNQF33Lw5f4grVTYQBUWkS1_Gm1U2zIPJCNBf_sPIKnTRPACbDC-Y5PBMR9KiQugdsO1u_31Bf-qzpXGkQbPOcD-czk4fUi-8PVc68NPHfi4Lys7iRz5M-uY9OluIfKpb3okFITSQ9g/s1600/27952314475_7ef34e2a82_k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNQF33Lw5f4grVTYQBUWkS1_Gm1U2zIPJCNBf_sPIKnTRPACbDC-Y5PBMR9KiQugdsO1u_31Bf-qzpXGkQbPOcD-czk4fUi-8PVc68NPHfi4Lys7iRz5M-uY9OluIfKpb3okFITSQ9g/s320/27952314475_7ef34e2a82_k.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">
Schatzi - miniature schnauzer mix, 7 months old, 12 pounds - feisty and sweet - from SRT</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; text-align: start;">
Schultz - miniature schnauzer, 2 years old, 18 pounds - a big old lump of sugar - from MSRH</div>
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We found Schatzi through <a href="https://schnauzerrescuetexas.me/" target="_blank">Schnauzer Rescue of Texas</a>. We had already put in an application there as we had found several promising candidates but who already had adoptions pending. Why Texas? Because apparently Texas has a lot of schnauzers. At least more than KS, MO, and OK combined. Not to mention, the Texas organizations we'd reached out to we're all comfortable adopting to us in Missouri and to a household with small children. PS: if you want to adopt a schnauzer anywhere in the contiguous 48, let me know; I've done all the research. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCctEfau-e5r50TU_4SrBacIVXlo9FLNJ-TdwQXrmY8skbvyCZ_PviVvtGLbQNGskyU_UbHKQ_JocMR9Rj2m_4xyWSi6V9hpVU3L7_ozZdPd-XcXbgepc5ytq6eA92PwF0xD9HYi-Zcg/s1600/27330284453_05db77669e_k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCctEfau-e5r50TU_4SrBacIVXlo9FLNJ-TdwQXrmY8skbvyCZ_PviVvtGLbQNGskyU_UbHKQ_JocMR9Rj2m_4xyWSi6V9hpVU3L7_ozZdPd-XcXbgepc5ytq6eA92PwF0xD9HYi-Zcg/s320/27330284453_05db77669e_k.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">many hours in the mini van - almost home</td></tr>
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<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Anyhow, through the SRT listing on the All Pets website we found Schatzi who was being fostered in Texas while she recovered from two broken legs. Her previous owners couldn't or wouldn't pay for the surgery to repair her broken legs. So a kind vet tech (to whom we are eternally grateful) intervened, arranged for her surgery, and monitored her care for about 6 weeks. We found out that Schatzi would be ready to adopt out about June 20 and - knowing that we were already planning to travel to Texas June 17-19 - realized it would work out perfectly. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetjpJABkdacFW01LlbUeTgB2aX4-FcvHui0SFokiRdQYk-XH5uBpkNLt1NUdt-seTlCc9kHduE7BJhBEP1fMWawmkhZ-DSVlkZOkpIaQOKyZoYXd2-paUvUHkNbCfuf0L_lKNwMdwqQ/s1600/27866151881_23ba5e1622_k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetjpJABkdacFW01LlbUeTgB2aX4-FcvHui0SFokiRdQYk-XH5uBpkNLt1NUdt-seTlCc9kHduE7BJhBEP1fMWawmkhZ-DSVlkZOkpIaQOKyZoYXd2-paUvUHkNbCfuf0L_lKNwMdwqQ/s320/27866151881_23ba5e1622_k.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">meeting the neighbor dog</td></tr>
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<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
We began to choose a name. Julia wanted to name her "Sweetie Bell" - we nixed that. Clara wanted to name her "Knife" or "Tablecloth" or "Chair" or whatever she happened to be looking at at that precise moment. Sergio and I wanted something German (because schnauzer) and when we found the name Schatzi, we liked that it sounded like Schatten, which was the name of my aunt Jetta's dog before Daisy. We were going the schnauzer route any way, in part because there were so many things we loved about Daisy but also because we felt it was a sort of homage to Jetta who had had two schnauzers in a row. We also learned that "Schatzi" was German for "sweetie," which Julia liked. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfj1-9CvWJ6t_J-t0umBpcKSvWARHTlV2FAzE3Tj4KyOkXli3ufbMwueMRCPDOW7Mb342fKPX81DdGd3ndCLPAIMIGfdN29e34PuJ3FqYVA3fpT7pW9DvXnxbmg2R5prpWUByQo2oXQ/s1600/27340018294_fbe2c59be0_k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfj1-9CvWJ6t_J-t0umBpcKSvWARHTlV2FAzE3Tj4KyOkXli3ufbMwueMRCPDOW7Mb342fKPX81DdGd3ndCLPAIMIGfdN29e34PuJ3FqYVA3fpT7pW9DvXnxbmg2R5prpWUByQo2oXQ/s320/27340018294_fbe2c59be0_k.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on guard at the back</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtynVp0M6YSKEenTkcTS8INhiER1yPUwu3su3gI0pP3vAiMsPm_Ee8Rom6nmu7O2fdj3vWKka9AiuE-VaKfT4HAKCcAbEWvMJ609HRSIqrYc76joJJ0f1T5paI5ZBYSrT2YXoq7zj4A/s1600/27866178101_3be40d6056_k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtynVp0M6YSKEenTkcTS8INhiER1yPUwu3su3gI0pP3vAiMsPm_Ee8Rom6nmu7O2fdj3vWKka9AiuE-VaKfT4HAKCcAbEWvMJ609HRSIqrYc76joJJ0f1T5paI5ZBYSrT2YXoq7zj4A/s320/27866178101_3be40d6056_k.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on guard at the front</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
So where did Schultz come from? Good question. By the time we found Schatzi I had signed up to get notifications about adoptable dogs and was following every schnauzer rescue organization on social media. So of course I kept finding dogs. Sergio told me to stop looking. I said "I'm not looking!" But when on the <a href="http://www.msrh.org/" target="_blank">Miniature Schnauzer Rescue of Houston</a> site I found a handsome salt and pepper fellow with the cinnamon ears, I realized I was totally still looking. </div>
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I asked Sergio one night if he'd ever consider having two dogs at once. I fully expected a no. But instead he said "maybe." I was ecstatic. I reached out to lots of folks for advice on two dogs at once - folks I did know who have experience with multiple dogs, schnauzer rescue folks that I didn't know but who were so helpful. We decided we'd try to get Schultz (whose name was Todd at the time). If we don't get Todd, we decided, we won't get two dogs right now. (I was really hoping we'd get him.)</div>
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<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Todd was pretty popular so I tried (and failed) to not get my hopes up. There was one family interested in him but who chose another dog. Then there was an adoption event where I was sure someone else would snag him - but that event got cancelled. At last his foster mom (to whom we are also so grateful) chose us as his "furever" home. The next thing I know - he's ours and we're trying to figure out how to get to Texas, see all our family, and arrange to acquire two new dogs. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30EUVQ-nfPIngJ9fE9jCmRvB6jO_3uhuQZmO-Uftu9VavDzNrZJqHaJID4FMTlXXtiWVGAG7mot1mlqX7glanssjO85X5QrjhvRSym-U-Zkohl542AvF8obxfWxWArr0En4DHP_rbog/s1600/27664308770_428abb0b09_k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30EUVQ-nfPIngJ9fE9jCmRvB6jO_3uhuQZmO-Uftu9VavDzNrZJqHaJID4FMTlXXtiWVGAG7mot1mlqX7glanssjO85X5QrjhvRSym-U-Zkohl542AvF8obxfWxWArr0En4DHP_rbog/s320/27664308770_428abb0b09_k.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">they love tug of war with Daisy's favorite toy</td></tr>
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<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Schultz and Schatzi had never met until last Sunday morning. Despite being perfectly precious on their own, they weren't too keen on each other right away. We accidentally introduced them to each other as we were waiting to get on the hotel elevator with Schultz and Schatzi and my niece were coming off the elevator. So much growling and barking. </div>
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<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Those were the moments where I thought "oh no oh no oh no - what have we done?!" </div>
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<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
We got them to OKC in separate vehicles, Schultz melting into Tyler's lap in the passenger seat of our minivan and Schatzi climbing and snoozing on top of Sergio in my parents' car. </div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">At my parents house they did their growling dance and little by little shifted slowly from aggression to playfulness. By the time we left OKC we were okay putting them in the same vehicle. By the time we got home I thought - wow - this might just work after all. </span><div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">And so far? It's working perfectly. </span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZunFZhbrQdNbyVEKB7OVRHBy4t6j2ZTFzO-oSop_BCI4QTbLf_SCcDEu36y9Q_KfFuhTD_kch0H1s625qWbpnSldu3Bcap_FjjpFFL2TWDex0Wp8-XY3zeis-g53buTPhuk2q-CtVg/s1600/27330869664_3150710458_k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZunFZhbrQdNbyVEKB7OVRHBy4t6j2ZTFzO-oSop_BCI4QTbLf_SCcDEu36y9Q_KfFuhTD_kch0H1s625qWbpnSldu3Bcap_FjjpFFL2TWDex0Wp8-XY3zeis-g53buTPhuk2q-CtVg/s320/27330869664_3150710458_k.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">matching names - matching tags - matching collars </td></tr>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-46191954864716594342016-05-06T10:48:00.000-05:002016-05-06T10:48:09.098-05:00Missing Daisy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnN7RQT4p_lU7aTo5YEKOvmq-0loyqUerRs5LrElyDyHOfVIoBIQgxNvQGr1jV5aT5ZtG0lnqLJ534PE2BvNukRRmFfzyozdPNsFSkiIib_n__DRY2R6XBbARxryj0PYHVOCFpdZSTw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-05-05+at+10.36.41+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnN7RQT4p_lU7aTo5YEKOvmq-0loyqUerRs5LrElyDyHOfVIoBIQgxNvQGr1jV5aT5ZtG0lnqLJ534PE2BvNukRRmFfzyozdPNsFSkiIib_n__DRY2R6XBbARxryj0PYHVOCFpdZSTw/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-05-05+at+10.36.41+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#daisymcdoodle</td></tr>
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<br />
Well, it has been two weeks since we said good bye to Daisy and if I'm totally honest with you it has been one of the hardest two weeks I've had in a long time. And I've had quite a few <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2016/01/the-holidays.html" target="_blank">hard weeks recently</a>. I knew it would be hard to say goodbye to Daisy. But I had no idea it'd be this hard.<br />
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There are a lot of uncomfortable questions - could we have caught the cancer sooner? How long was she suffering before we found out? Did we do the right thing with her treatments? Did we do the right thing when we said goodbye? Questions with no good answers and questions that it does no good to ask.<br />
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So I am learning to stop asking them and to instead focus on the certainties. She led a very good life for 10 years with a multitude of beloved companions and care takers (Jetta, Mema, Papa & Honey, us, to name a few). We enjoyed her so, so much. She is no longer suffering.<br />
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I don't know what it is about dogs that makes missing them so poignant. Maybe it's because they're so constant and reliable. Maybe it's because they're always there; they don't go to work or school or have meetings ... they never even just run to the store; they're always there. Maybe it's because they depend on us for everything. Maybe it's because they're so earnest. Maybe it's because they always love you - no matter how great things are in your life; no matter how bad.<br />
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I know that many of you know what I am talking about - this particularly dogginess I'm describing. I know because you've reached out to us in the last few weeks with such comforting words of condolence, such thoughtful reflections, such compassion and caring. Thank you to all of you. Here's another "maybe" - Maybe dogs bring us together, even when they tear us apart. At least that's what I'm feeling - torn up inside but surrounded by support.<br />
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I have a very powerful memory of sitting on the couch with Daisy and Sergio one night - a long time ago. I wasn't doing anything - not reading, not watching TV, not fiddling with my phone, not talking. Just sitting. I had Daisy on one side of me and Sergio on the other side of me. We were just sitting. And I remember thinking how good it felt to just sit flanked by these two beings. How profound it was to just sit with them. It calms me to think of that moment. That was a moment that I was living in fully.<br />
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That is what I want to do more - to live in the moment like Daisy did - like most dogs do. I want to sit squarely within each moment and savor it.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-75968526640460618002016-05-03T22:21:00.000-05:002016-05-05T22:30:11.488-05:00Thought ProvokingBetween the Hallmark Creative Leadership Symposium today and the Greater KC Interfaith Council's Table of Faith's event tonight, I have had many, many thoughts provoked.<br />
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Both events stirred ideas around the power of the question "why?" and the importance of believing in something bigger than yourself. Curiously, the theme of the CLS was "We Are One" and yet I came away from the event thinking about what distinct perspectives each of us in the creative community has to offer. How do we complement or supplement each other? How are we similar? How are we different? How are we unique? The broad range of great speakers and topics helped bring that aspect of diversity home to me. And those same questions might have been asked of the range of faith perspectives represented on the Interfaith Council. The Table of Faiths event was not themed "We Are One" though there is a sense that each of the faiths represented there all exist in harmony inspire of or because of their differences.<br />
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Each presenter and storyteller that I heard today fascinated me and inspired me. Here are just a few favorite thoughts from the day.<br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">The Highlights - CLS</span></u></b></div>
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"The Disease of Self" - what Dayton Moore warns will tear apart a team or a business or a family<br />
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"Choose the thoughts that you think." Toni Blackman<br />
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"If you want to write, write." Gillian Flynn<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Don't ask the designer to design a bridge; ask the designer to get from one side of the river to the other." Mauro Porcini</span></i></b></div>
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"Believe that what you're doing has to be done." Chris Ciesiel<br />
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"Tear down your idea - what's left standing is something pure." Matt Castilleja<br />
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"Always know <i>why</i> you're doing what you're doing." Ryan Wing<br />
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"You turn folded card stock into joy grenades." Rob Riggle<br />
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"Know you're number 1 but act like the underdog." Carla Moore<br />
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"Music is not just sound. It's a force." Nolan Gasser<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>"My work is not satisfaction from all the people I've proved wrong. It's a tribute to everyone I've proved right." Raul Alejandro</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></span>
<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>The Highlight - Table of Faiths</u></b></span></span><br />
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"People were created to be loved and things were created to be used. The problem is that people are being used and things are being loved." - Shakil Haider (winner of the 2016 Steve Jeffers Award)Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-88988497795460771912016-04-12T22:59:00.000-05:002016-04-12T23:12:50.354-05:00Daisy's Diagnosis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">The day we found out that Daisy has cancer, we cuddled her and coddled her on the couch. She actually seemed more herself that night than she had in a few days. She'd had 250 ml of fluid drained from her chest cavity at the vet. She could finally breathe again! Her ears were perky! She could eat and drink! She barked when Sergio went out the back door and looked for him from her post at the side door! It was like she didn't even know she had cancer.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifZ14d3Jus2UB2NlWLyk3Qe1lnvWctYXvtpADKfV5X42g9jW8AAnQijPvM52qCLD9wCH1XyU8q16-2vHJfoU5AKDW7UD1MKex_IcucMkM7WbYSCKoVhe7U_8d2xVTDP-JM01EJROHWAw/s1600/25795431134_fa3fb9881f_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifZ14d3Jus2UB2NlWLyk3Qe1lnvWctYXvtpADKfV5X42g9jW8AAnQijPvM52qCLD9wCH1XyU8q16-2vHJfoU5AKDW7UD1MKex_IcucMkM7WbYSCKoVhe7U_8d2xVTDP-JM01EJROHWAw/s320/25795431134_fa3fb9881f_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">April 6, 2016</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We began to come to terms with the inevitable. The tumor (the size of a lemon) is too big and she (a 12-pound dog, who has lost a lot of weight) is too small. They will not operate. But they gave us some medicine which we started her on right away. Medicine that was supposed to keep the fluid at bay and that might reduce the size of the tumor. But it might also have some unpleasant gastrointestinal side effects, the likes of which I ought not to recount in decent company.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">She was doing well for a couple of days before those side effects kicked in and during that time, while I was wondering how long doggie hospice was going to last, I was also thinking about <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2013/06/a-tornado-birthday-and-funeral.html" target="_blank">Jetta</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Three years ago, Jetta was diagnosed with terminal, inoperable cancer during the first week of April - same timing as Daisy's diagnosis. Jetta presented with many of the same symptoms. Jetta also had to have fluid drained from her lungs. Jetta also started medicine with everyone eagerly hoping it'd help, only to find out that the medicine was as difficult to live with as the disease. Just like Daisy. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">After we started the meds, Daisy began to eat and drink less and less - just like Jetta had - and we wondered "How long does she have?"</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">The uncanny parallels have created what my friend Pam called a "disturbing emotional echo." Fresh, new sadness with an extra tinge of old, weathered sadness. I know Daisy's just a dog. But she's not. She's <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2013/07/daisy.html" target="_blank">Daisy</a>.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-xepryUSwGHbgqSrcZYcQgXpeRZewS5J2ToMHc-5pyEOZlUz6j5up3Cr5fUVabWmRjh7sN6YvgcfLgzco3BAYvduKe0vwIb0eR8WyPR5DIRt0HnWm81ZWTuOUXp8uqriCJBS35-2nAw/s1600/26106640650_271fdabd87_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-xepryUSwGHbgqSrcZYcQgXpeRZewS5J2ToMHc-5pyEOZlUz6j5up3Cr5fUVabWmRjh7sN6YvgcfLgzco3BAYvduKe0vwIb0eR8WyPR5DIRt0HnWm81ZWTuOUXp8uqriCJBS35-2nAw/s320/26106640650_271fdabd87_b.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not too sick to do her "prewash" duty.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">After a rough weekend, we were advised to take Daisy off the anti-cancer meds and to give her different medicine to help with the nausea and diarrhea instead. Today she's rallying; eating again (and eating a lot!), barking, sniffing, licking the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. She even jumped up onto the couch!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">But the cancer is still there. Doing who knows what. Only time will tell. And I have no idea how much of that we have.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We will enjoy however much of it we get.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWUeyUCRX4JsaM_50aE5bi455oC-yWlRm4cEzHIuPMPWhHcbY1JTQSU3AYeX8vpWR1ykZ5IoryhG65SXG3P31TXYoZh0v7GYLVeLELBXtUaZfJGeqEm1wWTaztjlmAPjWuCTya1NVMw/s1600/26127425180_d4c67978f1_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWUeyUCRX4JsaM_50aE5bi455oC-yWlRm4cEzHIuPMPWhHcbY1JTQSU3AYeX8vpWR1ykZ5IoryhG65SXG3P31TXYoZh0v7GYLVeLELBXtUaZfJGeqEm1wWTaztjlmAPjWuCTya1NVMw/s320/26127425180_d4c67978f1_b.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's her favorite.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mtez8T49hfuH6fxrhuHLj25WIHIbWqnwio_rspGUXBILwQHuhZdt4SUSL_CnY1-75uRAE8GO2_xcairjbRY6O-sj_15bdmxqxbtafiu5YdVy2xVyccpfyAeml8C0I4FFxu45OtP-GA/s1600/IMG_7643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mtez8T49hfuH6fxrhuHLj25WIHIbWqnwio_rspGUXBILwQHuhZdt4SUSL_CnY1-75uRAE8GO2_xcairjbRY6O-sj_15bdmxqxbtafiu5YdVy2xVyccpfyAeml8C0I4FFxu45OtP-GA/s320/IMG_7643.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">I'm happy to be second fiddle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCKhyphenhyphenCxcAWLNsp4k44mb_13n2HwB33faG8Cnt7M9Nn02tZzK2-Op6ajrbM17rl5LiLsFXUa7iPVoX0V_-yYYCX-zIj-Ft9yb0So7Or1j9miJUOylb-yeyA_7EVrUNYhuoco7v7oOlAHQ/s1600/IMG_7621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCKhyphenhyphenCxcAWLNsp4k44mb_13n2HwB33faG8Cnt7M9Nn02tZzK2-Op6ajrbM17rl5LiLsFXUa7iPVoX0V_-yYYCX-zIj-Ft9yb0So7Or1j9miJUOylb-yeyA_7EVrUNYhuoco7v7oOlAHQ/s320/IMG_7621.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Our Girls</td></tr>
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<br />Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-72574229553479935692016-03-27T23:23:00.001-05:002016-04-07T22:46:15.392-05:00How to Make Your Own Natural Easter Egg Dye while also Struggling with Doubt - in 14 easy steps!1) Find a recipe for all-natural dyes using any of the bajillion links on Pinterest. Choose whichever recipe you can find quickly before your demanding children distract you from your quest with an urgent need. (I used <a href="http://www.thekitchn.com/how-to-make-vibrant-naturally-dyed-easter-eggs-holiday-projects-from-the-kitchn-112957" target="_blank">this one</a> from kitchn.com. Because it was the first one that popped up in my Google search.)<br />
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2) Stop by the store to get an assortment of vegetables to make dyes (assuming you weren't able to grow and harvest all your own organic vegetables in your backyard).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_BptVYSeonYbcZDBb-XwP6rD5KlV0bcFFHzfJa5Vmt9QsYQI7qUlFnevlTyIJ6i0I5gQ5LC2GxDGozSqa6rcVuKGd7s0lh3b18FM0zXAfQdXCpChKRu3tkXVPiu1jarUQjiGuCzRA1g/s1600/IMG_0411.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_BptVYSeonYbcZDBb-XwP6rD5KlV0bcFFHzfJa5Vmt9QsYQI7qUlFnevlTyIJ6i0I5gQ5LC2GxDGozSqa6rcVuKGd7s0lh3b18FM0zXAfQdXCpChKRu3tkXVPiu1jarUQjiGuCzRA1g/s320/IMG_0411.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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3) Gather every single pot or lidded pan that you own and boil every drop of water you can find. Boil all your farm fresh brown and green eggs. (I used eggs from <a href="http://greengatefamilyfarm.com/" target="_blank">Green Gate Family Farm</a> located in Wheatland, Missouri.) Don't watch the pot.<br />
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4) Start peeling, chopping, shredding. Get your first batch of dye material onto the stove top (and fast since you'll have to do this again to make 3 more colors. Since apparently you only have 3 pots and pans with lids).<br />
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5) Find an activity for your children to keep them busy while your dyes are cooking (and while you figure out what in the sam hill to do with 4 whole, peeled onions and half a cabbage). May I suggest the following activity for your kids: dying Easter eggs with artificial colors from <a href="http://www.paaseastereggs.com/index.php" target="_blank">PAAS</a>. Why not a bit of nostalgia, right? You know you love it - that octagon-shaped bendable egg tool, those little tablets (especially that orange tablet that strangely makes green dye). Memories! I know, I know. It's <i><b>artificial</b></i>. (Gasp!) But isn't that part of growing up? Realizing just how much artifice there is around you? And looking for something a little more real even while you hold on to your past because it's simple and comforting?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSD1x1Ok5Yj3Qiq5S09zuhBEsXwO4Ryxe4T_iVM3tSCEjFclIv6H9NJ-FHlWGdmFFOnm9lsUymzWeMb6fkxb7uis-Yzo5gdiHRXtJeG-wwgKvZabZTZY8Jy4BepZM54csqlXOBGpdtdQ/s1600/IMG_0423-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSD1x1Ok5Yj3Qiq5S09zuhBEsXwO4Ryxe4T_iVM3tSCEjFclIv6H9NJ-FHlWGdmFFOnm9lsUymzWeMb6fkxb7uis-Yzo5gdiHRXtJeG-wwgKvZabZTZY8Jy4BepZM54csqlXOBGpdtdQ/s320/IMG_0423-2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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6) Go ahead and get factory farm eggs for the PAAS project - you know - the white eggs sold in grocery stores that come from undisclosed locations.<br />
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7) Trade some of your brown eggs for some of the white eggs from your children's batch - that way you can really test both the artificial and the natural dyes. Kids always love a good experiment.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGAnRKhFONypzj530zltrRKGpYHdrtLyUanQYJ3ffwxBMCqXP5S3neZr6y6d-Snh5UgBEmPEy2xXPvatDMjykKfWH2uelMcocVTo2QZy1Ejq4lqgTn_mHyg_Mqiwj5-_VSuxTvnEnXMA/s1600/IMG_0439.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGAnRKhFONypzj530zltrRKGpYHdrtLyUanQYJ3ffwxBMCqXP5S3neZr6y6d-Snh5UgBEmPEy2xXPvatDMjykKfWH2uelMcocVTo2QZy1Ejq4lqgTn_mHyg_Mqiwj5-_VSuxTvnEnXMA/s320/IMG_0439.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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8) Marvel at how little time the artificial dye project takes while you are using your bare hands to wring "blue" dye from a hot wad of boiled purple cabbage.<br />
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9) Hustle all your eggs (brown and white) into their little dye baths in mason jars. Because seriously - what else would you use for a project like this. And also because if you're interested in natural dyes you probably already have a supply of mason jars that multiplies constantly in your cabinets (not unlike bunnies - Easter bunnies, perhaps). Leave the bathing eggs in the fridge for hours on end.<br />
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10) Spend some time while you wait thinking about the enormity of the Easter message and about how joyous Easter is supposed to be but also recognizing how sometimes Easter arrives in a cloud of bad news and about how sometimes that joy doesn't come out just right.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2Iz8sjaTfTiy_vXBx0udMHANo44wrvd1A5IIvv47cKL9v87CwSWyF770z37fdFjNlp65YUhQzJbdqdPHu0gM_B6Cw113XuBohpWwY801lbWme-uzkc6XU3K98u4AcRGSp6t2ki9pxw/s1600/IMG_0446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2Iz8sjaTfTiy_vXBx0udMHANo44wrvd1A5IIvv47cKL9v87CwSWyF770z37fdFjNlp65YUhQzJbdqdPHu0gM_B6Cw113XuBohpWwY801lbWme-uzkc6XU3K98u4AcRGSp6t2ki9pxw/s320/IMG_0446.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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11) Check on the natural eggs and see how strange and weak their colors are compared to the bright, confident, unwavering, familiar pinks and blues, etc. of the PAAS project. Put the natural ones back in the fridge for more dye bathing. Keep trying, okay? Don't give up! <br />
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12) Wait a few more hours for things to sink in (including the colors). Look to some deep thinkers while you process what Easter means for someone like you. (I used <a href="http://rachelheldevans.com/blog/how-was-easter?rq=easter" target="_blank">some work</a> by Rachel Held Evans whose <a href="http://rachelheldevans.com/blog/holy-week-for-doubters" target="_blank">chapter on Easter</a> in Searching for Sunday is spot-on perfect.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiovmHmRGBWr1D4WH_ggu7TjqVBuA7aTFcs_jUdW-ejh1CH5w5S1FFXmxNqx7GALr6KtIS3lCz9tV0rnB2Y3GX__qnWCM5UrjmHuztK9zWduFvn9KPfMcc6uAUJ0k_6TWgqMyTFC9jjMg/s1600/IMG_0483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiovmHmRGBWr1D4WH_ggu7TjqVBuA7aTFcs_jUdW-ejh1CH5w5S1FFXmxNqx7GALr6KtIS3lCz9tV0rnB2Y3GX__qnWCM5UrjmHuztK9zWduFvn9KPfMcc6uAUJ0k_6TWgqMyTFC9jjMg/s320/IMG_0483.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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13) Unveil the naturally dyed eggs at last - remark on how well the colors actually worked! Combine these eggs with their artificially dyed friends and be amazed at what a rich array of character this motley crew exhibits - even though, quite frankly, none of it looks like the pictures on the Pinterest board or the PAAS packaging. Notice how downright lovely your family's Easter eggs look - irregularities and all.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7FZes-H8Qhxiqa8OI4mcRoqfK_eK8UGe-ekKBl_JIbmR9whtx_UcPyl46ycOmEABl4umXijZVQU_WflLKsoy8bks2NvXYfbGaODHi60Rkt5NenWh95u-0XFeZv6DJoeRmBc4_cU6_Q/s1600/easter-2016_25810766020_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7FZes-H8Qhxiqa8OI4mcRoqfK_eK8UGe-ekKBl_JIbmR9whtx_UcPyl46ycOmEABl4umXijZVQU_WflLKsoy8bks2NvXYfbGaODHi60Rkt5NenWh95u-0XFeZv6DJoeRmBc4_cU6_Q/s320/easter-2016_25810766020_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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14) Remember that even if things don't turn out exactly as expected, there is joy to embrace and beauty to behold and so much to be grateful for. And you'd better do that whenever and wherever you can.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZIVfd7U4I0N8e20czn4RkDfPHYqacl-HTEYT49k4Xx2EXfoFBNjIVL6S4UcdLVSf90xSSPHiDFThzB0tH3GYdwpRPJ0apldlg-Q18e3esmNIbcL6zb_xaX6HjMBkxGP1HrewHYll3PQ/s1600/easter-2016_25478849044_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZIVfd7U4I0N8e20czn4RkDfPHYqacl-HTEYT49k4Xx2EXfoFBNjIVL6S4UcdLVSf90xSSPHiDFThzB0tH3GYdwpRPJ0apldlg-Q18e3esmNIbcL6zb_xaX6HjMBkxGP1HrewHYll3PQ/s320/easter-2016_25478849044_o.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQH2Mdb_6yPNnybhIpSU5T7E4hUCGolGF7UmrhbnvStIUA2BtahG2pI6ATgR_Ri1bm1CUau0L1Z86De8Rryz8yRRfbEGr88ds8dkcP6HfM_Wd_7eUG_ePC8YFP-FOqA1sFKEHmCtJj8w/s1600/easter-2016_25809916650_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQH2Mdb_6yPNnybhIpSU5T7E4hUCGolGF7UmrhbnvStIUA2BtahG2pI6ATgR_Ri1bm1CUau0L1Z86De8Rryz8yRRfbEGr88ds8dkcP6HfM_Wd_7eUG_ePC8YFP-FOqA1sFKEHmCtJj8w/s320/easter-2016_25809916650_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Happy Easter. </div>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-25020259756242099432016-02-06T23:46:00.000-06:002016-03-27T23:52:13.528-05:00Valentine's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_exBBqg_mD4qYKnn2BaqYn-AutI4YXUmzptoYqQU_3HJzY6xstAAE-cXckzI-77V1H3OczruEmvxHl9Uw5Hk-S1C7mHEmYtQOjcF9LbK0kr9eYIk1lUcXeYDLM5zneGz2fbRTFlmDg/s1600/IMG_3831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_exBBqg_mD4qYKnn2BaqYn-AutI4YXUmzptoYqQU_3HJzY6xstAAE-cXckzI-77V1H3OczruEmvxHl9Uw5Hk-S1C7mHEmYtQOjcF9LbK0kr9eYIk1lUcXeYDLM5zneGz2fbRTFlmDg/s320/IMG_3831.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">In one of my </span><span class="il" style="color: #222222;">last</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> </span><span class="il" style="color: #222222;">conversations</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> with Mema </span><span class="il" style="color: #222222;">last</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> year, less than a week before she died, she gave me her ideas for valentines. She must have known that very soon I would be assigned to the Valentine's Day line at work and that I would, in fact, </span>be making valentines. Her ideas were as follows: "a heart with a heart, a heart on top of a heart stacked high, a heart with a hole in it, a heart with a bundle on it." </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I don't know what "bundle" meant. But today - on the one year anniversary of her death - we are making a bundle of all sorts of valentines. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFcq2RAv90-zY4oxYBqyJEtO3H85ACjdq54q9C2DUtceST04r8dwKWq0xbpdC_IdQavsYuHBhdIWEBpN0dRnvW_5PXy3h4XJoniKK56aD_8pd2C1F72RsJtIJRQ7IVW9rr2wL4vQsTg/s1600/IMG_3832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFcq2RAv90-zY4oxYBqyJEtO3H85ACjdq54q9C2DUtceST04r8dwKWq0xbpdC_IdQavsYuHBhdIWEBpN0dRnvW_5PXy3h4XJoniKK56aD_8pd2C1F72RsJtIJRQ7IVW9rr2wL4vQsTg/s320/IMG_3832.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mema always did think that love could solve any problem. Or as my mother phrased it last year, Mema "</span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">lived her life as if unconditional love is the cure for everything. And she's right." </span><br />
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-28029842751226275982016-01-30T00:00:00.000-06:002016-12-31T20:47:55.228-06:00New Year's ResolutionThis year for my New Year's Resolution I'm doing something I've never done before. I'm reusing last year's New Year's Resolution. Exactly as I used it last year. No change. No update.<br />
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Am I doing this because I failed at it so miserably? No. I'm doing it because it was a smashing success.<br />
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In a sense I guess I'm not doing something I've never done before - I'm doing something that I have already been doing.<br />
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So here it is: last year my resolution was to never say anything about someone behind their back that I wouldn't say to their face.<br />
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It was hard. But it was so good. If I'm honest, I just did it so I wouldn't get myself in trouble. But it went way deeper than that. I found myself not only striving to <b><i>say</i></b> things that are kind ... but I found myself <b><i>feeling</i></b> more gracious and compassionate. I spent a whole year really challenging myself - and not always succeeding - to think the best of people, to assume positive intent, and to not let pettiness get in the way of a more charitable worldview.<br />
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I didn't do it 100% of the time, but I still feel like I succeeded. So I'm renewing it for 2016.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-26848315312508460162016-01-05T15:44:00.000-06:002016-01-05T15:44:02.119-06:00The Holidays<div>
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<tr><td><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-ZcCCcB61BplH6TAN0m0CJwuMtmgO2cghK11nLTuqZGxuXoXf-IC94LTidNGLcWGeMb688FdM4zzFFPFpMIZfHdQg-93Y2DnfqA2J5XYq5vYfaYYsKojx5SVKTDmK0OOsGug-JtY0g/s1600/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-ZcCCcB61BplH6TAN0m0CJwuMtmgO2cghK11nLTuqZGxuXoXf-IC94LTidNGLcWGeMb688FdM4zzFFPFpMIZfHdQg-93Y2DnfqA2J5XYq5vYfaYYsKojx5SVKTDmK0OOsGug-JtY0g/s400/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Daisy is undeterred by a diagnosis of depression <br />in the house but super sad about those little antlers.</td></tr>
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We had a good Christmas and Thanksgiving. That seems unremarkable, doesn't it? Or obvious, perhaps? But that is sort of a triumphant statement given the context. I had some moments where I thought for sure this holiday season wouldn't go well at all. <div>
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We were completely sideswiped the last two months of 2015. Sergio was diagnosed with depression the first week of November. He writes eloquently and earnestly about it <a href="http://forthetimebeing.net/2016/01/05/on-depression/">here</a>. He is in a dark place that I can't even begin to imagine. All I can do is to crawl in there with him and try to bring him some light.<br />
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It turns out that what he's going through is frighteningly common. But that doesn't mean it's not new to us. It is still very new for us and still fairly unpredictable. We were right in the thick of it from Halloween on. Neither of us quite knew what to expect.<br />
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So when I say we had a good Christmas and Thanksgiving, it's remarkable to me. He managed to avoid the darkness enough to do well on the important days - like Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve and Christmas and our anniversary and our anniversary (observed).<br />
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And he did well on several "unimportant" days, too; but let's be honest - aren't those unimportant days kind of important, too?<br />
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Like the day that we had a pristine picnic in the park where Sergio soaked in lots of missing vitamin D while the girls and I played imaginary frisbee.<br />
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Or the day when we took the girls to see The Peanuts Movie, their first movie in a theater, and the girls had such a good time and we did too. And in the movie, Charlie Brown, who is clearly on his own mental health journey, is told by Linus - "maybe it's time you explore the wild possibility that you're a good person and people like you."<br />
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Yes, let's explore that.<br />
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Happy New Year<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW1JGYXTm0fXQdqVZcGNfNidAyQqbW_bb1tNeSYG7P0BwIIXbcIYXmJWV7L8cWU9r9Q5KVBBPbEgRbsSW1NxjR2y50VRthIiEn5VaYW7KkGZ86y02cYR3KerXtUzri_1Z6YKznT27pXA/s1600/IMG_3521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW1JGYXTm0fXQdqVZcGNfNidAyQqbW_bb1tNeSYG7P0BwIIXbcIYXmJWV7L8cWU9r9Q5KVBBPbEgRbsSW1NxjR2y50VRthIiEn5VaYW7KkGZ86y02cYR3KerXtUzri_1Z6YKznT27pXA/s320/IMG_3521.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Visiting Santa!<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYN3NqS6tjVIY7umeAa_iIzcjcBtObBtU5cwFziJvAEAUkqzKNTqUePya0KJPuRo7Ry5oWMNLDn1oa8Mr4mbUFglazTrxbFjIv4o8xNBHMcVljDCzTgSpOtBHvvDAJmNqIrl1wzlyBDA/s1600/IMG_3611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYN3NqS6tjVIY7umeAa_iIzcjcBtObBtU5cwFziJvAEAUkqzKNTqUePya0KJPuRo7Ry5oWMNLDn1oa8Mr4mbUFglazTrxbFjIv4o8xNBHMcVljDCzTgSpOtBHvvDAJmNqIrl1wzlyBDA/s320/IMG_3611.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Christmas Cuties</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5CmOMUki7Vwqo8HoBk18xzLKmvNmBcE_lQR4cQQOZguHDZEKkNieQOt4XFxvmBOjwGxhJ6V0fFuWMC21sTvfPzooEMO1oHo45pH0M3Hy-V1mDKrpBbi6dgEdiB9FY4MBp3p374ZMoQ/s1600/IMG_3006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5CmOMUki7Vwqo8HoBk18xzLKmvNmBcE_lQR4cQQOZguHDZEKkNieQOt4XFxvmBOjwGxhJ6V0fFuWMC21sTvfPzooEMO1oHo45pH0M3Hy-V1mDKrpBbi6dgEdiB9FY4MBp3p374ZMoQ/s320/IMG_3006.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">vitamin D</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVg1t8EcR6WHCbSeJbyLbM0AEfSxhDiyfWs7BiXE97AII5sQ5q-RQeiuTmouhBmnJk-qGkavpcPmNtizHQ0PNXjXbMMO9qR8IPv6JHqGV_btEVIJCv5lF-qQsr5fXRSjBcL1RS3l6Pg/s1600/IMG_3414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVg1t8EcR6WHCbSeJbyLbM0AEfSxhDiyfWs7BiXE97AII5sQ5q-RQeiuTmouhBmnJk-qGkavpcPmNtizHQ0PNXjXbMMO9qR8IPv6JHqGV_btEVIJCv5lF-qQsr5fXRSjBcL1RS3l6Pg/s320/IMG_3414.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">First Movie<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6dF2l4z-EtQtF35e-jQVsL-joHkBhQoX2FVgj7aHyZRCafYp1xp04A6kc3jIC2xuc3bV1Br2MGg2VOlCGYxWdT_0HUuVtww1hJ9iLV0hykONUmO2EdZ-sU0fxlqZXfSO8T-K3gUTvnQ/s1600/IMG_3406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6dF2l4z-EtQtF35e-jQVsL-joHkBhQoX2FVgj7aHyZRCafYp1xp04A6kc3jIC2xuc3bV1Br2MGg2VOlCGYxWdT_0HUuVtww1hJ9iLV0hykONUmO2EdZ-sU0fxlqZXfSO8T-K3gUTvnQ/s320/IMG_3406.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">grateful on Thanksgiving</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJzyo8Z2XZTv4Z0U_KlZ3ww5IKz7LP0YEYIpcRQisRnAAzclxzsO9KUx5__BUEhgVcxvI2c1OkOTj5yGNftKDFu2NjlTw_Odn5xEqkTdhnMRblqRYmo0DcJz4iCqHqXK5v7_6SVvHkA/s1600/us+at+the+Elms+-+Dec+2015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJzyo8Z2XZTv4Z0U_KlZ3ww5IKz7LP0YEYIpcRQisRnAAzclxzsO9KUx5__BUEhgVcxvI2c1OkOTj5yGNftKDFu2NjlTw_Odn5xEqkTdhnMRblqRYmo0DcJz4iCqHqXK5v7_6SVvHkA/s320/us+at+the+Elms+-+Dec+2015.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">celebrating 13 years - for better and for worse</td></tr>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-29648053134891383092015-11-11T23:27:00.001-06:002015-11-12T15:20:00.233-06:00A good week to be an English majorLast week was a good week to be an English major in my world.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvKMMQspn42qInCXRpsHf4bDAFn2wEPOPkV2C3_g91cDiE9SRegOikOUbRT3UFrvx0IUaKlGZFH7-zZ4y3O3jYfbLeW_dFiuZXSVDoCwlNP9YKF9kRs-VnugsziAnnUorU0yGctKVFA/s1600/IMG_3084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvKMMQspn42qInCXRpsHf4bDAFn2wEPOPkV2C3_g91cDiE9SRegOikOUbRT3UFrvx0IUaKlGZFH7-zZ4y3O3jYfbLeW_dFiuZXSVDoCwlNP9YKF9kRs-VnugsziAnnUorU0yGctKVFA/s320/IMG_3084.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
First there was Word Week, an event that Hallmark hosts every fall, organized by the Writing and Editorial community, in order to celebrate and venerate the craft of the writers and editors. We showcase our own skills and talents and we invite guest speakers to come enlighten us on their particular work. And each year I come away from Word Week with a keen appreciation for the work that my colleagues and I do.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uJzFZoo3skuAoJaIRo0Ip7uXQ5DuUxV7O6pDgVdyNu2rl01odpq3nDh3F3C8cea19UYdHT9h4DAXsgJfUGhFRVTBhnPUshTrJP4d3IgIThJJMyL8bYK9urGHDlJIQx4qmaFmrETUvg/s1600/IMG_3127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uJzFZoo3skuAoJaIRo0Ip7uXQ5DuUxV7O6pDgVdyNu2rl01odpq3nDh3F3C8cea19UYdHT9h4DAXsgJfUGhFRVTBhnPUshTrJP4d3IgIThJJMyL8bYK9urGHDlJIQx4qmaFmrETUvg/s320/IMG_3127.JPG" width="320" /></a>Then, I left Word Week and headed to OKC for the weekend to attend homecoming at my alma mater, Southern Nazarene University. I typically don't attend homecoming but this year the school is honoring the Division of Cultural and Communication Studies so I made the trip down. Back when I was in school it wasn't called that; it was called the English Department. But nowadays the school has an entire division devoted to modern languages, literature, mass communication, and graphic design.<br />
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Since the homecoming focus was on the English department and our ilk, and since Word Week had just wrapped up at Hallmark, I found myself ruminating on all of us in that department - the storytellers of our day; the hard working word people wielding our rhetorical powers for good, not evil.<br />
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The writers and editors, yes, but also the broadcasters and bloggers ... the translators and interpreters ... the lyricists, the poets, the playwrights ... the advertising copy writers, the graphic designers ... the debaters, the PR folks, the speech writers and lawyers ... the professors and the presenters ... the VPs of corporate communications and the heads of foreign languages departments.<br />
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We are the ones who see the stories that others miss. Or we write the stories that others need to hear. We are the observant ones that find the patterns, the analytical ones that make you think. And the funny ones who make you laugh. We are the ones who ask the unanswerable questions and who don't shy away from trying to answer them. We are the ones that tell the narratives that help people find their place. We are the ones that make sense of a senseless world and find beauty in the darkest moments; we process the confusion and smooth out the rough spots and bridge the gap. We are the ones who write your greeting cards and who write the things you share on Facebook. We are the ones that write the songs, sermons, poems or prayers. We are the ones that know that just the right well-crafted message can make all the difference.<br />
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Everyone has the same set of 26 letters to work with. But we are the ones, the alchemists who take those same 26 letters and make some magic.<br />
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From the commercials that go viral for all to see ... to the blog posts that only a few people read - writing that matters is everywhere. Maybe we don't sign 4 year contracts for 80 million dollars, nor will we be welcomed home with a ticker tape parade and 800,000 attendees. But we know how hard we work and we know how important it is that we celebrate our skills.<br />
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Here's to all my fellow word people. Thank you for what you do.<br />
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<br />Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-61193813120049505022015-11-03T01:59:00.001-06:002016-04-11T12:33:47.260-05:00Halloween: the Colorful and the Contemplative<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp5XfzLGsS2M8pvrludKCX0T18kNWclwfPaRcLt4uLrOkx8xpyUlXCGQgIoPwjIzSRvaoQ-rpD6l0DhoX1JqpFPGe41mvYoPljbtiQMMU4B5AQemi_X-ZocQoBScK1fqE7w9oqqxGSxA/s1600/IMG_2985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp5XfzLGsS2M8pvrludKCX0T18kNWclwfPaRcLt4uLrOkx8xpyUlXCGQgIoPwjIzSRvaoQ-rpD6l0DhoX1JqpFPGe41mvYoPljbtiQMMU4B5AQemi_X-ZocQoBScK1fqE7w9oqqxGSxA/s320/IMG_2985.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halloween - 2015</td></tr>
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Halloween is a little bit of a high holiday around here. I have been really getting into it <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2012/11/halloween-in-brookside.html" target="_blank">since we moved to Brookside</a> and <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2013/11/hayoween-halloween-2013.html" target="_blank">since the girls have gotten old enough to love it</a>. This year's preparations have been underway for a while.<br />
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Honey offered to make the Halloween costumes for the girls (<a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2008/11/sinners-and-saints.html" target="_blank">certainly not the only time recently that my mom has brought Halloween to life</a>) - a rainbow fairy, sometimes called Brite Rainbow, for Julia and "Clara Caterpillar" for Clara (from <a href="http://www.scholastic.com/teachers/book/clara-caterpillar#cart/cleanup" target="_blank">the book</a> by the same name). The costumes were superb and I could tell that the girls felt like a million bucks as they embodied their alter egos. "I'm a cabbage caterpillar!" Clara declared many times with a winning grin (a frightening costume for all my farmers, I'm sure). And Julia with her rainbow fairy wand, abracadabra-ing everyone and everything. Because rainbows give you powers. Obviously.<br />
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We carved our pumpkins weeks ago; they had long since been consumed by decay and squirrels by the time the actual day arrived. But we've been decorating the house in other ways since early October. Ghosts in the trees and skulls on the mantel. We are slowly building a collection.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcATbn0uEwXoBh2LBu9xhXNu2PLjqVu63Jfzs0kYfUDQrr_y1Im2zSYeKAadTlBjsZcggUlESJRuW7cL3XkV1NQL9ApCUnfDjehW2wdr_5A9PTiRnexgbeCAh0y1ZXcpA5ozVdd_PXQ/s1600/IMG_2670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcATbn0uEwXoBh2LBu9xhXNu2PLjqVu63Jfzs0kYfUDQrr_y1Im2zSYeKAadTlBjsZcggUlESJRuW7cL3XkV1NQL9ApCUnfDjehW2wdr_5A9PTiRnexgbeCAh0y1ZXcpA5ozVdd_PXQ/s320/IMG_2670.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pumpkin carving</td></tr>
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We're also talking a lot about Samhain these days, not just Halloween. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samhain" target="_blank">Samhain</a> (pronounced "sah-win") is a Gaelic festival (October 31 - November 1) that celebrates the changing of the seasons. Many of our modern Halloween traditions are rooted in Samhain traditions (for example, pumpkin carving came from making lanterns out of turnips with faces carved in them). Samhain also focuses on gratitude for the cycles of life, death, and rebirth.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNvqzbaYeezAmbRr4z-fQN1YgV_5LSE74DAbtXbeFbeae1tKp451fLBydLsWpB_O-z_wd8NUzG3IfDIXLPBfFr8wp38tnTibtcHkCq8WBCs0PqmW60n4zwaSTzTThgiVoPN9f23ZFzeA/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNvqzbaYeezAmbRr4z-fQN1YgV_5LSE74DAbtXbeFbeae1tKp451fLBydLsWpB_O-z_wd8NUzG3IfDIXLPBfFr8wp38tnTibtcHkCq8WBCs0PqmW60n4zwaSTzTThgiVoPN9f23ZFzeA/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">altar or memorial</td></tr>
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<a href="http://storiesofdevotion.com/" target="_blank">Sergio's recent interfaith work</a> (and his familiarity with Day of the Dead traditions) spurred him on to create what in Mexican, Catholic, or Pagan tradition would be called an altar. You might also call it a memorial. This year felt like the right time to bring this element into the mix. Not only have we lost several close family members in the last year, but the girls are old enough to know about these losses and are certainly old enough to talk about them.<br />
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Having pictures of our loved ones out for us all to see was a wonderful reminder. And the beautiful white display that Sergio created was a striking spot of clarity and calm that encouraged a pause and a moment of contemplation. Halloween goes hand in hand with All Saints' Day (November 1 on the liturgical calendar in the Episcopal church - a day to recognize those who have gone before). In Day of the Dead tradition (as well as in the Jewish Yarzheit tradition) you light a candle as the spirit of your departed loved ones returns for just a moment. As we discussed each photo with the girls, we brought everyone back if only for just a moment. </div>
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Halloween day arrived and we had way too much to do, far too little time, <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/search/label/depression" target="_blank">a major distraction</a> threatening to spoil everything, and a hell-bent determination on our parts to have a fun Halloween party despite it all. Miraculously we pulled through. Friends and family gathered and we joined the entourage of little ghosts and ghouls and Annas and Elsas all traipsing up and down the sidewalks of Morningside. We came back home and put Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin on for the kids, and we ate chili, taking turns handing out candy at the front door. <br />
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There's nothing like a Halloween party to infuse your life with delight and to entice you to be like your children who don't have to try very hard to be happy. After the revelers had all gone home (or fallen asleep on the floor next to a pile of legos), I began cleaning up and discovered a drawing that Julia had made in the early morning when Sergio and I were far too preoccupied with worry and concern to have a clue what she was doing. It is a drawing of a rainbow (not surprising these days; she does a lot of those) but this one came with a caption. Some days we don't have to try very hard to be happy. But there are other days when we need all the rainbows we can get.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9k7foQUN8QnD5jSKbERfR_l3Gcb-pnNjb_vgn8k1ZUcVm6TqZIoDpEL0DgK4nhpBCKQc1OVeHFo2rnMolbbBHsgxYVRvTgyTeNH_PLIS1eydToDjFOM2Iwmfioq492BDLOgZqcwAnFA/s1600/IMG_3038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9k7foQUN8QnD5jSKbERfR_l3Gcb-pnNjb_vgn8k1ZUcVm6TqZIoDpEL0DgK4nhpBCKQc1OVeHFo2rnMolbbBHsgxYVRvTgyTeNH_PLIS1eydToDjFOM2Iwmfioq492BDLOgZqcwAnFA/s320/IMG_3038.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-86809882329653765392015-10-08T13:28:00.002-05:002015-10-08T14:33:52.106-05:00Complex Choices <br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">“The more we know about our food system the more we are called into complex choices.” </span></i></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">- Barbara Kingsolver</span></i></b></b></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-2e955835-48a7-221a-3f2c-317bdf9acab0" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wow! What a great experience and a fascinating conversation. I was so honored to be included in the discussion on the environmental impact of our food choices today on <a href="http://kcur.org/programs/central-standard" target="_blank">KCUR’s Central Standard</a>. I learned a lot from the other guests, <a href="https://landinstitute.org/testimonials/tim-crews-director-of-research-0" target="_blank">Tim Crews of the Land Institute</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and <a href="http://www.ageconomics.k-state.edu/directory/faculty_directory/taylor/" target="_blank">Mykel Taylor from KSU</a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and I appreciate the way that their specific perspective on agriculture really enriched my own take on things. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is so true that we face very complex choices as Barbara Kingsolver says. And isn’t it fascinating that choosing what food we eat - which is such a personal decision - necessarily involves so many other people? But I hope that as individual consumers we can find a way to do a little bit at a time - to not bite off more than we can chew, if you will (pun intended). As we pay close attention to what kind of negative impact our choices have on the environment, I think we can also look for ways to have a positive impact on the world around us and on our KC community. Buying from local farmers means choosing to support the people who are taking good care of the soil and the land in and around KC. You can also keep more food dollars in our community rather than sending them to far-off companies and marketers and other entities. These are positive environmental and economic impacts. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As Mykel Taylor suggested - there may not be just one thing that will solve our problems. There might be a variety of solutions to address our great strain on the earth. I'm glad to know that there are groups that are laser focused on finding solutions for the parts of the system that they can impact. And I hope that the <a href="http://www.kcfoodcircle.org/" target="_blank">KC Food Circle</a> can inspire folks to focus on what they can impact most directly - which is - what's on your plate. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Or bowl as the case may be. And speaking of which, here's my bok choi soup! </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">BOK CHOI SOUP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2013/04/bok-choy-and-garlic-soup.html" target="_blank">I posted it once before</a> but when I made it again last night I included lemongrass, which was a very nice touch. I also like to add a fresh garnish along with my sriracha. At lunch today I had scallions - tonight when I eat this soup again for dinner (because it's just that good) I'll add some very finely chopped radishes. I made a big batch of it last night since last night was CSA pick up night so I have plenty of soup to keep me going. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: 1.38; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; white-space: normal;"><b><u>Baby Bok Choy and Garlic Soup</u></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; white-space: normal;">from </span><a href="http://thirtyaweek.wordpress.com/2010/03/29/baby-bok-choy-and-garlic-soup/" style="color: #888888; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;" target="_blank">30 Bucks a Week</a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://thirtyaweek.wordpress.com/2010/03/29/baby-bok-choy-and-garlic-soup/" style="color: #888888; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;" target="_blank"><br /></a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; white-space: normal;">Ingredients:</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; white-space: normal;">7 c veggie broth</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; white-space: normal;">4-5 cloves garlic, crushed</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; white-space: normal;">1 piece of ginger, peeled</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">*a stalk or two of lemongrass! Hard outer leaves removed and just chopped into a few long pieces - remove before eating </span><span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre-wrap;">the soup.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">handful of brown rice (between 1/4-1/2 cup; PS this is a great recipe to use up leftover rice)</span></div>
<span style="line-height: 1.38; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">1 kohlrabi or turnip, peeled and chopped</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.38; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">1 lb bok choy, trimmed and chopped</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.38; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">salt to tast</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.38; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">sriracha or other hot sauce, to taste</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.38; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">1-2 eggs</span></span><br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">garnish with fresh scallions and or radish and or mint</span></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; white-space: normal;" /></span></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">Instructions:</span></span><br />
<span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">Boil the vegetable stock and add the crushed garlic and ginger and lemongrass in a big pot. Let that simmer over low heat for about 5 minutes.</span></span><br />
<span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">Add the rice and kohlrabi (or turnip); cover. Simmer for 20 minutes (unless rice was previously cooked.)</span></span><br />
<span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">Add more broth if you need it and add the bok choy. Taste and season with salt and sriracha.</span></span><br />
<span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">Cover and let the bok choy cook down - should only be 5 minutes or so.</span></span><br />
<span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none; white-space: normal;">Ladle a small portion of the broth out into a bowl and add the egg(s). Stir vigorously with a fork and then pour it all back into the pot. Give the soup a good stir and serve.</span></span></div>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-39843426813218394062015-08-01T22:17:00.000-05:002015-10-08T13:37:47.253-05:00Chez PanisseI don't really have a bucket list, per se, but if I did, eating at Chez Panisse would have been on it. I can't even remember when I first heard of Alice Waters or her trend-setting approach to food. But once I read the book <i>Alice Waters and Chez Paniesse: The Romantic, Impractical, Often Eccentric, Ultimately Brilliant Making of a Food Revolution,</i> by Thomas McNamee I knew I had to come. So when we started planning a trip to San Francisco, I started planning a jaunt over to Berkeley.<br />
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We opted to go just a few of us adults to Chez Panisse rather than all 9 members of our traveling party (including small children who I'm sure would have left a lot of crumbs to be scraped up by the crumb scraper).<br />
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It ended up being a lovely outing for me, my mom, and Tyler. We ubered over the Bay Bridge, saw a tiny bit of actual fog (finally!), and arrived right on time at the unassuming restaurant where we were greeted by a peace sign fashioned out of innumerable heads of garlic.<br />
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We ate in the café upstairs instead of the restaurant downstairs which is a prix fixe menu. In the cafe we were able to order a la carte which meant a chance to sample a variety of options.<br />
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What struck me about the entire dining experience - the food, the wait staff and host, the decor and music and even the wallpaper - was how simple and unassuming it is. Very straightforward and clean, without gimmick or frills, without complication or distraction. Very plain. Refined, I suppose. But also delicious (the food) and inviting (the ambiance).<br />
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first course<br />
chilled beet soup with yogurt, chives, and dill<br />
fattoush: tomato, purslane, cucumber with mint and flat bread<br />
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second course<br />
pizza with wild nettles and sheep's milk ricotta<br />
grilled eggplant with garlic cream, Provençal tomato, stuffed squash blossom with tapenade, and mesclun salad<br />
hand-cut green noodles with Elliot Ranch lamb ragu, marjoram, hot pepper, and Parmesan<br />
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third course<br />
blackberry sherbet with Zee Lady peaches and an ossi die morti<br />
summer berry shortcake with mascarpone<br />
Ruby Grand nectarine galette with vanilla ice cream<br />
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<br />Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-42682021274589214492015-07-12T00:13:00.001-05:002015-07-14T00:19:18.064-05:00Radish SalsaMichael Pollan would have us believe that we are a nation more obsessed with cooking shows than with cooking. And I think he's right to some degree. But I'm proud to report that my hours and hours and hours of watching <i>Chopped</i> is not for naught because it is on that show that I first heard about Radish Salsa.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Radish Salsa!</td></tr>
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I jotted that down in my mental notes back in the winter when I was watching that episode. Now that radishes have been abundant and I've had my fill of my all time favorite <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2011/05/rapturous-radish-sandwiches.html" target="_blank">Radish Sandwich</a>, I decided to try this salsa at last.<br />
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I googled it and used the first recipe I found because it was a Mark Bittman one, so I thought it was reliable. Also, It was 6:00 when I was googling and I and my children were hungry so I wasn't about to go researching a bunch of radish salsa recipes and variations. Ain't nobody got time for that.<br />
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Mark Bittman's is nice and simple and makes a large portion - I made a much smaller portion, went easy on the crushed chiles in the hopes that the girls would eat it and wouldn't find it too spicy (ps: they did NOT eat it but Julia did tell me, unprompted, that she thought it was beautiful).<br />
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This salsa was the perfect high pitch accompaniment to go with the low tones of the <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2009/08/summer-squash-soup-with-salsa.html" target="_blank">Golden Summer Squash</a> soup I made for dinner into which I added beans and lots of smoked salt. The soup was earthy, the salsa was bright. It was such a delicious combination that all my exclamations and exaltations while I was eating it convinced Julia to try the soup, even though she had initially refused it. And even though she never did try the salsa, she happily ate two full helpings of soup. I credit the salsa for that.<br />
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<a href="http://markbittman.com/sunday-supper-radish-salsa/" target="_blank">RADISH SALSA</a><br />
<a href="http://markbittman.com/sunday-supper-radish-salsa/" target="_blank">from Mark Bittman</a><br />
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Radish Salsa</div>
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Makes: About 2 cups</div>
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Time: 30 minutes</div>
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Radishes are a classic salsa ingredient in Mexico, and the technique—mixing a vegetable (or fruit) with onion, an acid, chiles, and fresh herbs—is downright common. </div>
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2 cups chopped radishes, like daikon, red, or a combination (about 1 pound)</div>
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1/2 English cucumber, peeled and diced</div>
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1/2 small red onion, chopped</div>
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1 scallion, thinly sliced</div>
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1 teaspoon minced garlic</div>
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1 tablespoon minced fresh chile (like jalapeño or Thai), or to taste, or hot red pepper flakes or cayenne to taste</div>
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2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice, or more to taste</div>
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1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro leaves</div>
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Salt and freshly ground black pepper</div>
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1. Put all the ingredients in a medium bowl and mix thoroughly.</div>
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2. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding more chile, lemon, or salt as needed. Serve immediately or cover and refrigerate for up to a day.</div>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-74422133759871945912015-07-11T00:01:00.000-05:002015-07-12T00:17:06.668-05:00The Odyssey<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzUpye5mLVJd8oKd0mYGI1yd6GhilAX_gSl5Feuqc3bh8Cz7UJzNFirOuvep5-KUsqx2iR4kVxgqGxy-caf3s5XUMlhsqp_2m-r_lajArzfynOm7v1nFFtCbpxOAjdCDvp3BRLmZ5hQ/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHzUpye5mLVJd8oKd0mYGI1yd6GhilAX_gSl5Feuqc3bh8Cz7UJzNFirOuvep5-KUsqx2iR4kVxgqGxy-caf3s5XUMlhsqp_2m-r_lajArzfynOm7v1nFFtCbpxOAjdCDvp3BRLmZ5hQ/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I really hope I can convince Sergio that we should name our van "Homer." </td></tr>
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About a week ago we became a two-car family. This is something we've been scheming for a long time. We held out as long as we could, enjoying our one car status for 11 years; especially enjoying our no car payments for 12 years. Having just one car was simple and clean. Well, maybe the car wasn't always clean. But the having of just one car was clean. You know what I mean. Anyway - it was very simple before we had kids. </div>
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It has become increasing more complex with the addition of two children as well as (let's not blame the kids for everything) the addition of a number of extracurricular activities on the part of me and Sergio. In the last two years we would occasionally think, <i>wouldn't it be nice to have two cars</i>. But those moments were few and far between and not worth a car payment to solve when - with a moderate amount of planning ahead and some dependence on friends and public transit - we could get by just fine. </div>
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This year we reached our transportation planning capacity. Not only did we run out of ways to solve our limited transportation hiccups on a regular basis, we also decided we would prefer to be able to travel in large groups on occasion. Whether it's grandparents visiting or cousins (out-of-town ones and in-town ones) - it seems there's often a good reason to seat 8 people in our car. </div>
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Enter: The Honda Odyssey. Ours is a gently used 2013 LX model that still, if I'm honest, feels like a rental. A really nice rental. I still can't quite absorb that it's actually ours. Even though we've already smudged up the clean floor mats and learned how to work all the fancy doors, I'm still adjusting to A) having such a nice car (our other car is a fantastic, but quite minimally appointed <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2009/06/fit-is-go.html" target="_blank">Honda Fit</a>) and B) having two cars. </div>
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This morning I took Clara in the van with me one direction and Sergio took Julia with him in the Fit in another direction. These were short trips and we weren't apart that long, but this was perhaps the first time that we've split up like that. Maybe ever. The four of us are together a lot and, what's more, the girls are together a lot. So when Clara climbed into the van she asked where Julia's carseat was and said to me, sort of sad-like, "I can't talk to my sister?" Having two cars will be an adjustment for all of us. </div>
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But a good adjustment. Last week, when I told Julia we were buying a minivan, the very first thing she said was, "you mean my cousins can ride in our car with me?!" She was delighted. </div>
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And that's just what they've been doing as we've been tooling around town together as a family - especially this week - cousins, aunt, and Grandma Joyce visiting from Mexico, Sergio and the girls and me. It's nice to be able to all be together. </div>
Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-85194200704357684382015-06-23T23:48:00.003-05:002015-06-23T23:48:55.010-05:00Old Friends and Fathers - a weekend in OKC<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8cTyLXegfon_Cb_4n7hVKs9mqpUGLs47UUzj_nBzXlFf2fATU8z6WvNlpnzTTBIxdlln5tAYgMTXwtDXSJn_l3u_b47q8xxK9OJzaXVMI9lbXIDb8P0ZuwALabKBBUF3mEzfLM2PqjQ/s1600/IMG_0647.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8cTyLXegfon_Cb_4n7hVKs9mqpUGLs47UUzj_nBzXlFf2fATU8z6WvNlpnzTTBIxdlln5tAYgMTXwtDXSJn_l3u_b47q8xxK9OJzaXVMI9lbXIDb8P0ZuwALabKBBUF3mEzfLM2PqjQ/s320/IMG_0647.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hilly part of Kansas. Not that you can tell. </td></tr>
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Many months ago my friends from high school and I decided to gather from all four corners of the earth (and by that I just mean Boston, New York, Kansas City, and Oklahoma) for a mini reunion. (We have been friends for 20 years now. How is that possible?) We didn't intentionally choose Father's Day weekend as our timeframe for this event. But I'm glad it worked out this way.</div>
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The road to OKC was long - as always - but the drive was well worth it. At the end of that road was a very happy Honey & Papa, a couple of delighted cousins, some very dear old friends (and some new babies to meet!) ... and quality time with my dad on Father's Day - a treat not to be overlooked. </div>
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On the way there, Sergio was able to get in a little early Father's Day affection when we stopped on the turnpike to get our wiggles out and the girls tackled him with a hug. Also en route, Julia whispered to me, "Mommy - you picked a good guy to marry." </div>
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And of course she's right. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeOif2E3HnHadkF-R4xnoQevdT2bSF7ekVI3AgI0Yn9yZ2qQiCbG3LvdZrLNqziUdXv6AU3UGm88WG62BjyP2H9bhTM6Up8-eIt6w7yNjVfsUglPXAEELtMyelYx6sn6WIBpwhyphenhyphenrjS5g/s1600/IMG_0652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeOif2E3HnHadkF-R4xnoQevdT2bSF7ekVI3AgI0Yn9yZ2qQiCbG3LvdZrLNqziUdXv6AU3UGm88WG62BjyP2H9bhTM6Up8-eIt6w7yNjVfsUglPXAEELtMyelYx6sn6WIBpwhyphenhyphenrjS5g/s320/IMG_0652.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting our wiggles out and our hugs in. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawkWbYEqicJ2mW3gS-YmK26prZG8qyB1IEbE-RPQvLIVizh1gIS58UjGGqY2NsJ9JuN4IP9_ciHZcXc_ZcgCm7_0oWam7TLGwQ58s0ZciDq009EQcrQEtxLIv2Z2VSB-Cb26IaRNmhQ/s1600/IMG_0663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawkWbYEqicJ2mW3gS-YmK26prZG8qyB1IEbE-RPQvLIVizh1gIS58UjGGqY2NsJ9JuN4IP9_ciHZcXc_ZcgCm7_0oWam7TLGwQ58s0ZciDq009EQcrQEtxLIv2Z2VSB-Cb26IaRNmhQ/s320/IMG_0663.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mini harvest at my parents' house</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25uaulA3o-95OMseUQjPAyHgij52Ebp3ZeVDdFFSdwK9s8O1btWNufz0ps_WQzqUqecPZgelqdcgBPz27ZuH4iITD6Q7pzGXIWq0qllR3P5-hL7ENGZaLbvW8fLTjZJiBV4Uxhecpsw/s1600/IMG_0733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25uaulA3o-95OMseUQjPAyHgij52Ebp3ZeVDdFFSdwK9s8O1btWNufz0ps_WQzqUqecPZgelqdcgBPz27ZuH4iITD6Q7pzGXIWq0qllR3P5-hL7ENGZaLbvW8fLTjZJiBV4Uxhecpsw/s320/IMG_0733.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=TMyozFBELXoC&pg=PA18&lpg=PA18&dq=old+friends+we+are+very+old+friends+judith+viorst&source=bl&ots=VyLdQ6TTg8&sig=66cG90zUhgaftLG7Oyfr6wJJiag&hl=en&sa=X&ei=9DGKVdG8OoGEsAXbwZqYCQ&sqi=2&ved=0CB4Q6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=old%20friends%20we%20are%20very%20old%20friends%20judith%20viorst&f=false" target="_blank">Old friends. We are very old friends.</a> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvSr8RconaDq5V9GeS1eOk2XQdw384B90hsSCNFjPNA2_h5_U8lOEHazPu9vCi3QRYGL6MFkP_frgq6qUVTA8i7pT_3-8zLFhMSpxaizD8HaQh2mi35Kz0yCEppxyA7mZzQtBJZJBaFQ/s1600/IMG_0814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvSr8RconaDq5V9GeS1eOk2XQdw384B90hsSCNFjPNA2_h5_U8lOEHazPu9vCi3QRYGL6MFkP_frgq6qUVTA8i7pT_3-8zLFhMSpxaizD8HaQh2mi35Kz0yCEppxyA7mZzQtBJZJBaFQ/s320/IMG_0814.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my dad and me circa 1996</td></tr>
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<br />Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-70369367709699953302015-06-11T20:32:00.004-05:002015-06-11T20:32:44.486-05:00Time TravelI have been reading about Time Travel in this week's <i>New Yorker</i>. (Look at that - I've capitalized time travel. That's funny, isn't it?) Creative perspectives on the notion of time travel, I should say. In many of the pieces I'm reading, the authors contemplate going back in time to retrieve or capture something that has since been lost. Isn't that always the essence of going back in time? Something was lost and you can get it back fully - maybe even enjoy it more this time. (And maybe that's what's empowering about the possibility of going forward in time - that you would experience the future but would return to your now and relive it with new eyes, retrieve it.)<br />
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So I began imagining what I'd like to go back in time to retrieve or relive or repair. Did I imagine reliving those ecstatic milliseconds when I first laid eyes on each of my babies? Or did I want to retrieve a few extra moments of summer when I was a kid when there was nothing to worry about except mosquitos and sun burns? Did I want to go back and correct my major gaffes from college? Or prevent some painful mistake that can't be unmade, some words that can't be unsaid or some bell that can't be un-rung?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-y5WT3pjVNxOyU7r_igVPxZP6ZoWuwAjfA-ZM66ak6nAy7gp3lWL9uzLbOwR078JDYcAUwTAP6eK4XnOtXdprYrCBWsu3hj7aAslQxl3YLIog9BSEtODlm5z1MJS4RsQkekYTiATqbw/s1600/Time-Machine-300x300.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-y5WT3pjVNxOyU7r_igVPxZP6ZoWuwAjfA-ZM66ak6nAy7gp3lWL9uzLbOwR078JDYcAUwTAP6eK4XnOtXdprYrCBWsu3hj7aAslQxl3YLIog9BSEtODlm5z1MJS4RsQkekYTiATqbw/s200/Time-Machine-300x300.png" width="200" /></a>No. None of the above. Strangely, I imagined going back to the early part of 2012 (yes just 3 years ago) in order to retrieve the pictures of <a href="http://everythingbeginswithane.blogspot.com/2010/05/sailing-in-sea-of-cortez.html" target="_blank">my Baja California sailing trip</a> before they were mysteriously deleted from my iPhoto. I had 176 pictures from the spring of 2010 when I was pregnant with Julia and we made this once-in-a-lifetime journey; I came home from that trip more pregnant than when I'd left and \ I spent the rest of the year gestating, giving birth, and caring for an infant, therefore I never did much with my pictures except put them on Flickr. Last summer, I went to look for them again and discovered they were gone (they were deleted from Flickr, too). They were digitally wiped completely off the face of the earth never to be seen again. Even - ironically - Apple's Time Machine could not retrieve what was lost.<br />
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Using my time travel to get some pictures is - obviously - a failure of imagination (which has become a chronic problem for me, I'm learning). Perhaps someone less fixated on loss than me might have had their priorities in line enough to imagine going back to the <i>actual sailing trip itself</i>. Now there's an idea.<br />
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Time travel would allow me to relive the smallest details of that once-in-a-lifetime trip ... like that moment when I stood on the front of the boat and did yoga in the dim light of the clear night. Or to that moment when Sergio finished slicing a mango in its peel and splayed it out so the square straight edges of each piece jutted out into the bright sun. Or the day we went for a swim off the side of the boat or the day we all hunkered down in our berths because the waves made us nauseous. Or that day we took the tiny boat to land to eat at a restaurant and got soaked in the process. Or that moment when we found the barbed or serrated, double-edged tooth of some sea creature and Sergio held it up so I could take a picture while he invited us all to imagine how painful it would be to get this tooth stuck in our arm (thanks, Sergio). Or to that moment when we came back to land and I took the longest, most luxurious shower of my life after having taken nothing but a few 60-second showers here and there over the course of 5 days.<br />
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But lest we think I'm totally short sighted in asking the time traveling genie to get me back my pictures (mixing metaphors - sorry), let's consider this. Consider that by using my time travel to retrieve pictures of my trip, I was - in essence - asking the genie for more wishes. Because what do I do when I look at pictures? I go back. Whether it's the picture of my kids from last night when they were being memorably cute or a picture of me as a child doing something I don't even remember doing, it's always going back. It's always a retrieval process of some sort.<br />
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After wishing to have my Baja California pictures back, I began to treat that sailing trip as a forever lost thing. But I decided to change my stripes when I realized that some of my most favorite moments from that trip were never even photographed - doing yoga in the moonlight for example - and I remembered, as my wise mother would say, that it's not a forever lost thing; it's a forever gained thing.<br />
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Indeed so many of the things I most want to remember in life are not only not photographed, they are unphotographable. Like the smell of my grandmother's roses. Or like sneaking up to the crib late at night in the dark and quietly reaching in to put my outstretched finger into my baby's loosely furled fist and feeling the soft warm palm of her hand while she squeezes her fingers around my finger and stays deeply asleep.<br />
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There are no pictures of that. But it is mine. And I time travel to it all the time.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-70708416968267675502015-06-05T11:29:00.001-05:002015-06-05T11:29:15.111-05:00Red DayYesterday after school I asked Julia if she had a good day. She said she had a "red day." I asked what that meant and if that's good or bad? (I was thinking she was channeling Holly Golightly and the "mean reds.") She explained that a red day is a bad day.<br />
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So I asked what color she would use to describe a good day (green) and if this is something they do in school (no). I thought it was a Montessori thing; I'm still not sure on that. She wasn't very clear. But I went on to ask her about what other colors mean and here is the full roster according to Julia ...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CarcftFRDa1P9sLbAP57T7OwdBOlJtxqIPOZnS82JIB0AKQaH3vZqQj8Wi1AaraZGe6pc8Cvp4iIeup_aLbQ7IlAUzYkfKwgWMmDRZhQvpO08yY77Y2vk22J3JzSjzMzIkpUbAvguw/s1600/IMG_0311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CarcftFRDa1P9sLbAP57T7OwdBOlJtxqIPOZnS82JIB0AKQaH3vZqQj8Wi1AaraZGe6pc8Cvp4iIeup_aLbQ7IlAUzYkfKwgWMmDRZhQvpO08yY77Y2vk22J3JzSjzMzIkpUbAvguw/s200/IMG_0311.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">thinking about the rainbow</td></tr>
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red - bad day<br />
yellow - slow day<br />
green - great day<br />
blue - dancing day<br />
orange - fast day<br />
purple - not listening day<br />
pink - listening day<br />
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This week was difficult. For me and <a href="http://www.bizjournals.com/kansascity/news/2015/06/03/hallmark-involuntary-layoffs.html" target="_blank">many others at Hallmark</a> under the dark cloud of layoffs. As we each waited to hear our fate, we all had some yellow days. Once we got our news, it felt like our days were orange. Some people had red days and some had green. And for 165 people who are embarking on something new, the next few days and months will probably cycle through any and all of those colors - the full rainbow. It's hard to say goodbye to coworkers and it feels strange to feel the company shift so much again for those of us that remain employed. One thing is for sure: Hallmarkers are empathetic people. It's what makes us good at our jobs. The outpouring of support that I have witnessed this week is nice to see. I think there have been some good pink days.<br />
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Last night we had so much rain and a very loud thunderstorm, too. As if we need more rain. (I'm quite sure that the clouds are having some purple days and are ignoring our requests to lay off with the water works already.) The rain is making for some really, really red days for our farmers. Many will suffer great loss.<br />
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I would like to think about hope instead. The rainbow after the rain. There are no promises. But at least the sun is shining today. Maybe soon we'll have a blue day.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3926441624412593612.post-53064401759150602912015-05-31T23:13:00.001-05:002015-05-31T23:13:36.524-05:00Mema's Birthday (observed)Today would have been my grandmother's 94th birthday. She passed away in February. She is always in my heart and on my mind. <a href="http://www.mercer-adams.com/memsol.cgi?user_id=1515979" target="_blank">She was 100% amazing.</a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSAiFuAoEj7ZHc_H8Ar2XAFFRUPZz3k7s3QDiSU6No3KrGf-ek-soY9orcfQTzxmB9-qCe-GkEAL2wwiOIQAYkYA6pcdddf2pQt3-oE9WWT0duV2UG3LXNjPng02REDkXzRf_mm6EjQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-05-31+at+9.50.48+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSAiFuAoEj7ZHc_H8Ar2XAFFRUPZz3k7s3QDiSU6No3KrGf-ek-soY9orcfQTzxmB9-qCe-GkEAL2wwiOIQAYkYA6pcdddf2pQt3-oE9WWT0duV2UG3LXNjPng02REDkXzRf_mm6EjQ/s400/Screen+Shot+2015-05-31+at+9.50.48+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I continue to remember #arliememagandy on <a href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/arliememagandy/" target="_blank">Instagram</a></td></tr>
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All day long the girls and I have been singing "Put me in your pocket" - which we do pretty often anyway. You can Google it and listen to a few other folks sing it. But if you want a real treat click <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxTV-P5ii_I" target="_blank">here</a> to listen to Mema herself singing this to my aunt Joy last year on the cusp of Joy's relocation to Colorado. How I love to hear Mema's voice. I'm so glad Joy captured it.<br />
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Tonight when the girls took a walk with Sergio they sang the song again and he texted me the following dialogue...<br />
Julia: Do you want to sing it again?<br />
Clara: No.<br />
Julia: But it'll make Mema so happy in heaven!<span class="text_exposed_show"><br />Clara: Ok.</span><br />
And on top of all that sweetness, Julia also suggested that we sing Happy Birthday to Mema and we did. That felt really nice. I never expected my toddlers to help me grieve. I had assumed it'd be the other way around.<br />
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About 10 days before Mema passed away, we decided to go down to Oklahoma for a last visit, not knowing how much longer she'd have. When Sergio and I were debating when to go, he suggested that we go quickly urging "every moment is precious." He meant every remaining moment and he was right. But the truth is, every moment was already precious. I am beyond fortunate to have had Mema in my life.<br />
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I will forever be grateful that Sergio's spontaneous "let's just go to Oklahoma this weekend" suggestion overruled my penchant for scheduling things way in advance. We visited that last weekend in January; I spent an entire day simply being with Mema. I sat with her. I held her hand. I listened to her sing - so many hymns and all of them about Heaven. Every moment was precious.<br />
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On that Sunday we had to leave and that was the hard part. When we said good bye we knew it was Goodbye with a capital G. And even though we all knew that it was her time to go (even Mema knew it), it didn't mean my heart wasn't breaking. I stood on the threshold of that room, reluctant to put one foot in front of the other, to step out of that sacred space. What do you say when you know it's your last goodbye? We had had one final tea party that morning - the girls sharing their little cheerios with Mema. And when Mema starting saying "I'll meet you in the morning," which is a reference to Heaven, Julia piped up, "Mema! We won't be here in the morning! We're going home!" And we all let out a tearful chuckle.<br />
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That night when we got home we discovered we'd left the heat off in our house and the temperature in the house was 49 degrees. By bedtime it had only risen to 50. When I put the girls to sleep I told them that as they're falling asleep they should think about how much Mema loves them. Julia said, "I know how much Mema loves me. A lot a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot." Then I snuggled Julia and she felt cold so I asked if she wanted another blanket. She said, "maybe I want my quilt [which Mema made for her] because my quilt has Mema's powers in it. And if I sleep with it it will put Mema's powers into me and then I'll think, 'Oh yeah, that's what it was like at Ho<span class="text_exposed_show">ney and Papa's! I remember Mema!'" Yet again, my small child shows me the way. </span><br />
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Mema really was an example to us all and a treasure. And she did have powers you know - Mema the superhero, as Tyler put it. Given how frail Mema was there at the end, that notion is funny. But I think we all know it was truer than true. Her super power was love. No matter how frail she was at the end, she had a powerful pull on all of us.<br />
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That room where Mema died - it was the "sunroom" at my parents' house - was bathed in light and love and that was the image I carried with me back home as I waited for another 5 days before I got the news that she'd passed away peacefully early in the morning on February 6.<br />
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Last night I had some friends over, one of whom was celebrating her birthday, also on May 31. She requested a chocolate cake - so I made her a chocolate cake but I also made a big double batch of Berry Dumplings in honor of Mema's birthday. Now it occurs to me that that'll be a great way to celebrate Mema for years to come. She always did love celebrating and remembering with food.<br />
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A few days before Mema died my mom texted us all to say that Mema had woken from a dream and asked my mom if she wanted to eat pie with her. (Mema is generous with her pie even in her dreams.) We all texted back and forth imagining which pie she must have been enjoying in her dreams. Mama Taylor's chocolate pie, perhaps? Or Mema's pecan pie? Or her famous pumpkin streusel?<br />
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Wouldn't it be nice to sit down with Mema for pie just one more time?Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07676891557563961507noreply@blogger.com6