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src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbSge59PlPCoJr5DzWlxELUWz_lTSNhYeycCdCcjDCV4cqwG3be1n8ZDPyDvW0x23d6uUTU4-bBn0nTh10Vf5-a6UbIjmhPlRCtvY9w8ZhU6lOIXVg9GCg_mg7j7WFRXgLFx3kxi1Xig7/s400/Quote+6-11-12.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">"Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">felt rather than seen."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">~ Leonardo da Vinci ~</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Image by: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/juliejordanscott/4586839767/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank">JulieJordanScott</a></i></span><br /><br />adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-91895325938482707832012-06-09T19:02:00.000-07:002012-06-09T19:03:23.753-07:00taylor swift hot<div><h3>taylor swift hot</h3><img alt="taylor swift hot" src="http://jaipals.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/taylor-swift-hot1.jpg" title="taylor swift hot" height="400" width="350" /></div><br /><div><h3>taylor swift hot</h3><img alt="taylor swift hot" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-621EyHLJtkU/TlDsUCOVG7I/AAAAAAAABcY/MD_RRhO42h4/s400/50.jpg" title="taylor swift hot" height="400" width="350" /></div><br /><div><h3>taylor swift hot</h3><img alt="taylor swift hot" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpE1DrXpcQnS7DstJyau1e7CqVyUXOIc0ZOiOykzWEA_VCg3tuTZbCzvcTXySD94SeNe9hcGCYIyAHprFJeZN4tPGpX4inbDSO5feOuKEEYBxyhv0HO61Z07JvoVwAquNzhGlH8QmUZ5x/s640/Taylor+Swift10.jpg" title="taylor swift hot" height="400" width="350" /></div><br /><div><h3>taylor swift hot</h3><img alt="taylor swift hot" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Su5WpZkQ7tM/TnYiJ7uWAvI/AAAAAAAACE0/9JisM-MYJjQ/s1600/Taylor-Swift-Hot-Wallpapers-6.jpg" title="taylor swift hot" height="400" width="350" /></div><br /><div><h3>taylor swift hot</h3><img alt="taylor swift hot" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jCdlsVaQ3Pw/Ttod3L0hifI/AAAAAAAACwI/I-MUJAJqbeA/s400/Taylor-Swift-Hot-Pictures-3.jpg" title="taylor swift hot" height="400" width="350" /></div><br /><div><h3>taylor swift hot</h3><img alt="taylor swift hot" 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height="400" width="350" /></div><br /><div><h3>taylor swift hot</h3><img alt="taylor swift hot" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_EgqiciWP7cIgwxiqt_Y1WJa81szZwJMC68R0PYOHYOdlgD35F5DLK_zfV7WzX5fKT0rM1ZCHQrGnx75Nz_VXLUGELfkQ1QedTXGA41kPmJi5giHX_-Yrp9BKLKqAh3YOro4dOrwRI2Ra/s640/taylot-swift-1994-15.jpg" title="taylor swift hot" height="400" width="350" /></div><br /><div><h3>taylor swift hot</h3><img alt="taylor swift hot" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N_rTJS4mieI/Ttod4mxI6VI/AAAAAAAACwY/ytXllMgG3-Y/s1600/Taylor-Swift-Hot-Pictures-5.jpg" title="taylor swift hot" height="400" width="350" /></div><br /><div><h3>taylor swift hot</h3><img alt="taylor swift hot" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5DCWLxcvw1V8EKgN-2DSduUtXh5hxrEDVflil_Wo1LSPT_LIC86CvfoLmaJF7wbAClUu-Cm2Z3u2Iwpm16-isY_NRXBMywavzuLEg2VkdoTn-3kW03YwJPN87qhLi8TvX25D5JLu-BzGy/s1600/taylor-swift12.jpg" title="taylor swift hot" height="400" width="350" /></div><br /><div><h3>taylor swift hot</h3><img alt="taylor swift hot" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwFDVOF7De-hXbKo8zjumRQGAhbSi2IR7xTos7YkX09NX0uyuFp8oBCs_SHAravsWh91HJlW0Xn1Yk986TeVK8YmNKyJRz7QA0emFEz5N771UlZyVffP_GOk4f4dZpYlBuJIFntyc3HL0/s400/taylor+swift+hot+pics1.jpg" title="taylor swift hot" height="400" width="350" /></div>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-79590487376145608132012-06-08T13:11:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:37.799-07:00Mother's Day Rant<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCHLJ6pyiEhh2Iga69ZnS4RK5Pc2DmUSovrJM6n7JHIa4EDrr5sxNPda4drGTGiA8w5GehR4gyVobcVNnKQkceeTZJbaIVldFkk0ZkLCWUmaj_uavsouHjXnNaISsWqVVCybdiwrreUsrO/s1600/Mother's+Day+Rant+6-8-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCHLJ6pyiEhh2Iga69ZnS4RK5Pc2DmUSovrJM6n7JHIa4EDrr5sxNPda4drGTGiA8w5GehR4gyVobcVNnKQkceeTZJbaIVldFkk0ZkLCWUmaj_uavsouHjXnNaISsWqVVCybdiwrreUsrO/s400/Mother's+Day+Rant+6-8-12.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Yes, I know it’s closer to Father’s Day than Mother’s Day now, but due to a tight deadline on a writing project, as typically happens, my blogging life suffered. Sorry about that!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve wanted to share my Mother’s Day “rant” since the adventure occurred on that fateful Sunday in May. But I’ve only now had time to write it down.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you’ll know I’ve ranted about <a href="http://hollybowne.blogspot.com/2008/05/mothers-day-protest.html" target="_blank">Mother's Day</a> before. I’m a soccer mom. And because the soccer gurus somehow decreed it the perfect day (& weekend) to run soccer tournaments, I’ve rarely celebrated Mother’s Day with my family or my own mom <b><i>on </i></b>the actual day.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">But this year was different. Miracle of miracles we had no tournaments! So, my sister Taia, daughter Ashleigh and I carted an East Indian feast, purchased from a restaurant near my sister’s home, to the home of my parents <b><i>on </i></b>Mother’s Day. Instead of a quick phone call from the soccer field, I was going to get to spend hours chatting and enjoying a nice dinner with Mom. Or so I thought.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me preface the rest of this story with a little background. Years ago, Ashleigh and I attended an East Indian wedding with my parents. The reception featured a fabulous buffet of East Indian cuisine. Now, Ashleigh has a nut allergy. So, she did as we’d taught her to do: She asked if there were any nuts or nut oils in any of the dishes. We always told her, “Don’t ask just anyone—make sure it’s the chef or someone in charge who really knows.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Well, long story short:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">She did.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">They lied.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">We ended up in the emergency room. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">You may think it’s impossible for a panicked 5-ft.-tall mom to leap over a drugstore counter in a maniacal rage and begin throttling the teenage sales clerk for asking stupid questions instead of rushing the sale on the bottle of Benadryl she was trying to purchase on the way to the emergency room.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">But you’d be wrong.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Needless to say, from that day forward Ashleigh was leery of eating Indian food. A few years passed, and in order to help her overcome her fear, we took her to a local Indian restaurant which served a delicious nut-free dish called Butter Chicken. She liked it! And we rejoiced her fear had been overcome.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Fast forward to Mother’s Day. When placing our order, Taia made certain there was a nice, safe serving of Butter Chicken in there for Ashleigh.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">As we all dug into the sumptuous spread, Ashleigh took a bite of her Butter Chicken. “This is really spicy!” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">“It shouldn’t be,” Taia said.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"> “It’s making my tongue burn,” Ashleigh said.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I waved away her concerns as I swallowed a bite of delicious Lamb Koorma. “Just eat more naan (bread) with it.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">After about 15 minutes, I noticed Ashleigh hadn’t eaten much, so I sampled the Butter Chicken. I took a second bite. I tasted nuts. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Within seconds Taia was on the phone with the restaurant. “Yes, we make that with cashews,” someone told her over the phone.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Okay, time for my rant:<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">For crying out loud! These people are in the FOOD Industry! Why aren’t nuts mentioned in the description of the dish?! My Lamb Koorma description specifically mentioned it contained nuts. Not so with the Butter Chicken! And why isn’t Butter Chicken made the same way everywhere?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Do people think nut allergies are just some excuse people give because they don’t like the taste of nuts? That if they just tried something, maybe they’d like it? We’re talking life and death here, people!</span></i><o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Once again, we ended up racing to the emergency room. Only this time, as a special Mother’s Day bonus, I got to pull off on the side of the road in order to stab my poor, crying 20-year-old baby girl with her dreaded EpiPen®.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Good times.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And don’t even get me started on how we drove to the nearest hospital where Ashleigh’s symptoms were recorded on a napkin and it then took over an hour for the 107-year-old emergency room doctor to make her debut, asking insightful questions such as, “Sooooooo would you like to go home now, sweetie?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">You may think a panicked 5-ft.-tall mom can’t dive over a hospital bed in a maniacal rage and begin throttling a sweet, grandmotherly emergency room doctor for asking a bunch of stupid questions instead of doing her job.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">But you’d be wrong.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh all right. I didn’t do that. But I thought about it. Instead I left the room to avoid doing or saying something I shouldn’t. Taia accompanied me. She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Maybe you should go back in there?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">“Why?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">“This might make a good blog post.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">“Good point.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go call a restaurant about some nuts.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image by: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jaeden/111015656/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank">IainBuchanan</a></span></i></div>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-77599650457846492092012-05-29T07:52:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:37.817-07:00Quote of the WeekNot exactly my usual "Quote of the Week" but spotted this HILARIOUS cartoon on my English-major daughter's Facebook status. It's a cartoon by Jacob Andrews (writer of <a href="http://forlackofabettercomic.com/">forlackofabettercomic.com</a>). originally published in the <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/08/17/the-perks-of-being-an-eng_n_929649.html" target="_blank">August 17, 2011 Huffington Post College</a>. <b><i>LOVE IT!!</i></b><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4piYjgLL2ywVCcZs21DX2TnvnNDVeeiEYnmLLwaHpQHXmKJ5R3EzgeggAdNUt84jjbZAHc8cbem17FYybcp56zbZ7dUABDo8amyUjck_1yiXImfttwb4bdHmsQAbNvIlH5VuY-W4_fhCo/s1600/PERKS-OF-BEING-AN-ENGLISH-MAJOR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4piYjgLL2ywVCcZs21DX2TnvnNDVeeiEYnmLLwaHpQHXmKJ5R3EzgeggAdNUt84jjbZAHc8cbem17FYybcp56zbZ7dUABDo8amyUjck_1yiXImfttwb4bdHmsQAbNvIlH5VuY-W4_fhCo/s400/PERKS-OF-BEING-AN-ENGLISH-MAJOR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-78212187973824106932012-05-21T06:16:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:37.830-07:00Quote of the Week<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPUWnImV6XJLCgn7vMfMa32yeHm_No041V0cFm4bFd3bMjeTuWiB3m5ZRVP3x1tO36I0KzDWk4jp-NaZCLilvkxBRlvvuclxbzJbs_Soc0IwEw7cl7u2s7IU-yIUMEzxjefhq_Rd7Uhyphenhyphen3/s1600/Quote+5-21-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPUWnImV6XJLCgn7vMfMa32yeHm_No041V0cFm4bFd3bMjeTuWiB3m5ZRVP3x1tO36I0KzDWk4jp-NaZCLilvkxBRlvvuclxbzJbs_Soc0IwEw7cl7u2s7IU-yIUMEzxjefhq_Rd7Uhyphenhyphen3/s400/Quote+5-21-12.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">"Tis easy enough to be pleasant</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">When life flows along like a song;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">But the man worthwhile is the one who will smile</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">When everything goes dead wrong."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox ~</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image by: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/xanetia/3983708453/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank">Xanetia</a></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-17067988122719593132012-05-16T14:44:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:37.844-07:00Love A Tree Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4D7GH-s3-dDqHLmP77Kk8aAo-e3P-WoS5grpI0d2IcaEumbV3_7U3qCkHdHxyS1q9d1jKyhvISSGGj1aHo8McvEloBJsuq8rg6LI1fVt3-NCvZrWjqEwgYueFsUvyAPd54yKFoaNdst1/s1600/Love+A+Tree+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4D7GH-s3-dDqHLmP77Kk8aAo-e3P-WoS5grpI0d2IcaEumbV3_7U3qCkHdHxyS1q9d1jKyhvISSGGj1aHo8McvEloBJsuq8rg6LI1fVt3-NCvZrWjqEwgYueFsUvyAPd54yKFoaNdst1/s400/Love+A+Tree+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Image by: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/horiavarlan/5245025192/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank">Horia Varlan</a></i></span></div><br />I'm sad.<br /><br />We said final farewells to some old friends today.<br /><br />Today is <i>Love A Tree Day,</i> according to one of the "Unusual Holidays" calendars I have on my iPhone. And ironically, we awoke to workmen in our neighbor's yard, grinding away the last remnants of two of the most <b><i>BEAUTIFUL </i></b>willow trees ever.<br /><br />I know my husband is not as sorry to see them go as I am, since he was the one who ended up clearing much of their "weeping" debris from our yard year round. But since I work from home, I would often take my laptop out onto the deck on nice days and look up from my writing to see their great wispy branches waving in the breeze, hear the ancient creak as their limbs rubbed together.<br /><br />There isn't a symphony that compares. *Sigh* But they're gone now. I guess they had become a danger. Ready to drop their heavy branches on unsuspecting passersby or small animals. I know it was probably the right thing to do, but it's depressing! It looks so...bald now!<br /><br />Here is my three-picture story commemorating the event. I sort of missed getting a true first shot, but in that first picture, imagine the "naked" tree to the right looking just as full and glorious as the one beside it and you'll see the difference.<br /><br />If you're lucky enough to have some nice, big ol' mature trees in your yard. Go give 'em a hug! And have a happy <i>Love A Tree Day</i>.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqyTzV2CqLQWe8WIpIGqCs-8_tTHQG0eOnHOFK5P89OAKOkEf6SWuvnK8OF2ratNlIB8DZitL3_MurfBqaKAPhOZo40H3mpuGJyCzK-ndmhGCV-xyz3zcDTPI96TjSB8CGFaIL0S_y1z_j/s1600/Love+A+Tree1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqyTzV2CqLQWe8WIpIGqCs-8_tTHQG0eOnHOFK5P89OAKOkEf6SWuvnK8OF2ratNlIB8DZitL3_MurfBqaKAPhOZo40H3mpuGJyCzK-ndmhGCV-xyz3zcDTPI96TjSB8CGFaIL0S_y1z_j/s400/Love+A+Tree1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT9Zxq1EdHqmscRls4Lep0pq8GlSmOJvHApnBKoDFU_o4GujoRG6S0OrC8hfFov-XrPF6wHurH_JojEPwiOAEelQkS5qGFSEHBHBRE5bkoP9MmfPGK_DNBralLjnVRO3TV-tB-CK96vZKE/s1600/Love+A+Tree2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT9Zxq1EdHqmscRls4Lep0pq8GlSmOJvHApnBKoDFU_o4GujoRG6S0OrC8hfFov-XrPF6wHurH_JojEPwiOAEelQkS5qGFSEHBHBRE5bkoP9MmfPGK_DNBralLjnVRO3TV-tB-CK96vZKE/s400/Love+A+Tree2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2hdsgqJ3c2HnfHlqF5MK77pVKUUmuVyVWmxOaFYQrOr_p5SmQhA3hrALWbB3KdiBoRMcEN8tD5hp5WfJ7tmLKhEgB2NLd2UV2stZa2Q1Tn174l3ci2uj6yYHll9K8MgSPBfhtWYzusTC/s1600/Love+A+Tree3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl2hdsgqJ3c2HnfHlqF5MK77pVKUUmuVyVWmxOaFYQrOr_p5SmQhA3hrALWbB3KdiBoRMcEN8tD5hp5WfJ7tmLKhEgB2NLd2UV2stZa2Q1Tn174l3ci2uj6yYHll9K8MgSPBfhtWYzusTC/s400/Love+A+Tree3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-86419616258482847482012-05-14T08:00:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:37.858-07:00Quote of the Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukyflmCG5A2zj9yapGg5d7OqfQesCaOfghKD5c0ASDLFmDOLFOCPv5z-z2-jedV3dZEjsinz88w7Ir15FLgIPG_Zg6_DCpZ6YuDfpK7lKlp7F095JDn_5n-HXsjFDf-ofmQ-87efUbXWR/s1600/Quote+5-14-12-B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukyflmCG5A2zj9yapGg5d7OqfQesCaOfghKD5c0ASDLFmDOLFOCPv5z-z2-jedV3dZEjsinz88w7Ir15FLgIPG_Zg6_DCpZ6YuDfpK7lKlp7F095JDn_5n-HXsjFDf-ofmQ-87efUbXWR/s400/Quote+5-14-12-B.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">"What would you attempt to do if you knew you would not fail?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">~ Robert H. Schuller ~</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Image by: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/geishaboy500/2911049059/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank">Geishaboy500</a></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-7272478578124529362012-05-07T17:01:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:37.874-07:00Quote of the Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3m8BIDoH7GKBSfjxQWPAG6fqBq2tx-i1-Yo4m5n156aP0cl7UlG-dBfldt_4q0ToNTNTJaXWE2z1dUxJ0d5CSRG_TJ7TvQGmDt0uZhyphenhyphen29SrJjYvL5dxXJl-v6ubzVjBf4p2PanC5MWnE0/s1600/Quote+5-7-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3m8BIDoH7GKBSfjxQWPAG6fqBq2tx-i1-Yo4m5n156aP0cl7UlG-dBfldt_4q0ToNTNTJaXWE2z1dUxJ0d5CSRG_TJ7TvQGmDt0uZhyphenhyphen29SrJjYvL5dxXJl-v6ubzVjBf4p2PanC5MWnE0/s400/Quote+5-7-12.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple;">"When I hear somebody sigh that 'Life is hard,' I am always tempted to ask,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple;">'Compared to what?'"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple;">~ Sydney J. Harris ~</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image by: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ruifernandes/4896025102/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank">Ruifernandes</a></span></i><br /><br /><br />adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-17159745931824463072012-05-03T18:47:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:37.889-07:00Goofing Off On Google...I've been super busy this week, and I admit it, I have no post prepared. And my son is not helping! He keeps distracting me from my work by sharing funny things he finds on the Internet. (When he's <i>supposed </i>to be doing his homework!) Anyway, he had me laughing so hard at this.<br /><br />I'm sure most of you are familiar by now with all the Chuck Norris jokes. Well, Josh just had me "Google" Chuck Norris, and this is what came up! HILARIOUS!!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbzlUgdzs2KMGkb5dSFLkUxihG5K89LbWpMU-VnNmjg_25ZyBN6VZ4Ll7PRW418AcZnYpGm5WsNm5Wan-Q4QVOkPjz1iUNJvARj183d2_esncqvlPJOuEjprr0kwxHaPGveJIZtfpIIYv4/s1600/CHUCK+NORRIS.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbzlUgdzs2KMGkb5dSFLkUxihG5K89LbWpMU-VnNmjg_25ZyBN6VZ4Ll7PRW418AcZnYpGm5WsNm5Wan-Q4QVOkPjz1iUNJvARj183d2_esncqvlPJOuEjprr0kwxHaPGveJIZtfpIIYv4/s1600/CHUCK+NORRIS.png" /></a></div><br /><br />adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-75728173894738775292012-04-30T08:00:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:37.991-07:00Quote of the Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJvyGF5aBpkRrOiaDZ7LUmM9QjU8W2JxNKrI4_rTNQiAkYUW1cqpSyCBsSYeQOofYGZLnkTWGeWFu-JcusbPthbcnmw3JlEbAts0h67UZwjH0sNQ53GuSqcOTFdT5yZAIy1mfuERsniRe/s1600/Quote+4-30-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJvyGF5aBpkRrOiaDZ7LUmM9QjU8W2JxNKrI4_rTNQiAkYUW1cqpSyCBsSYeQOofYGZLnkTWGeWFu-JcusbPthbcnmw3JlEbAts0h67UZwjH0sNQ53GuSqcOTFdT5yZAIy1mfuERsniRe/s400/Quote+4-30-12.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">"I learned that you should feel when writing, not like Lord Byron on a mountain top, but like a child stringing beads in kindergarten - happy, absorbed and quietly putting one bead on after another."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">~ Brenda Ueland ~</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: xx-small;"><em>Image by: </em><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_873961128"><em>Clarkston SCAMP</em></a></span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/clarkstonscamp/4823179343/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank"><em></em></a></div>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-32599119944966089852012-04-26T19:01:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:38.006-07:00Kreativ Blogger Award<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1e0fhXOR1qSDwX-2G1hYMzUSNvB2QWErZPU1xeHhWINTFd9KRQ5n-QMom76OJVYEDW2qwcT20sHD-rBZD-a6HVmwsAxuVHilJGJOCT6Gu4bh03L9WdWlQ8qoVSd5XKAfawva4OG6bHwy/s1600/kreativblogger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1e0fhXOR1qSDwX-2G1hYMzUSNvB2QWErZPU1xeHhWINTFd9KRQ5n-QMom76OJVYEDW2qwcT20sHD-rBZD-a6HVmwsAxuVHilJGJOCT6Gu4bh03L9WdWlQ8qoVSd5XKAfawva4OG6bHwy/s320/kreativblogger.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Now you will all know the truth about how unbalanced I am. Wait, that doesn’t sound right. Awww, never mind. I guess it does.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Annnnnyway…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">One of my favorite author friends, <a href="http://heidiwillis.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Heidi Willis</a>, presented me with the Kreativ Blogger Award back in (cough) <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>February</i></span>. And I’m only just now getting around to officially thanking her for it and following the directions that go along with accepting it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m supposed to write ten things about myself and then pass the award on to a few bloggers I enjoy. So, here goes!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Ten Random Things…</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><br /></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>1.</b> All my spices are alphabetized.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>2.</b> I tend to “speak” in movie quotes. A lot. (I do it often enough that my kids and hubby can usually complete the next line of dialogue when I start it. I know, that’s bad, right?)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>3.</b> I laugh really hard at my own jokes. Even if nobody else does.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>4.</b> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I ALWAYS read the manual.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>5.</b> I’m a slow reader and try to make up for it by reading 2-3 books at the same time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>6.</b> The minute I finish a book I really like, I immediately do an Internet search for every interview with the author I can find.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>7. </b> I’ve tricked my son into watching a variety of musicals as well as the first three Twilight episodes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>8.</b> I never got to perform in a play in high school, but got the lead in the first college play I tried out for.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>9.</b> Um…I started running out of ideas here, so I just asked my daughter to give me a random fact about myself and she said, “You hold one-sided conversations with the dog.” Yeah. It’s true, I do. I say something. Then I make him say something. Then I respond. And so on. It’s sad really.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>10.</b> Okay, this last one is going to make me sound really mean, but I purposely park next to cars that are poorly parked (like on huge angles over the line and stuff.) I park right in the center of my space which typically makes it difficult for the bad parker to get back into their car. I feel like I’m performing a public service when I do this, though. I’m helping that driver become aware of the need to park more considerately in the future.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Now, let me send you on to some blogs I enjoy--beside’s <a href="http://heidiwillis.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Heidi's</a>, of course!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://teresarobeson.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Teresa Robeson…telling tales</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Teresa is über talented and funny. A writer, homeschooling mom and unlike me, she grows stuff her family can actually eat!</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.kristinemeldrumdenholm.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Writing Stories of Life</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Freelance journalist and author Kristine Meldrum Denholm shares interesting posts and encouragement for writers.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://annettepiperjewellery.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Under the Loupe</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Annette Piper is a talented jewelry artist who blogs about her awesome creations and her life on a cattle farm in rural Australia.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://boomersandsaints.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Boomers, Scribblers and Saints</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Nancy blogs about her faith and life in the Midwest.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.unscriptedlife.com/" target="_blank">Unscripted Life</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Ivy is a talented singer and writer. She blogs about her family, faith and living life to the fullest.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-46540761232745009382012-04-23T08:00:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:38.104-07:00Quote of the Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFNH9jEVQOUqcjzbd0hfRFPBIJBKOfZzbw_BaKE_dZ3LABC9hZ89L6xcd2d7_bJ0waFQ3ZD5SKXuo3dHLec2kf_7K60yZS3IVGYLCLAPKfmgpniy_lyefc6cqHjdDtPCr_lSS6oUL71KL/s1600/Quote+4-23-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFNH9jEVQOUqcjzbd0hfRFPBIJBKOfZzbw_BaKE_dZ3LABC9hZ89L6xcd2d7_bJ0waFQ3ZD5SKXuo3dHLec2kf_7K60yZS3IVGYLCLAPKfmgpniy_lyefc6cqHjdDtPCr_lSS6oUL71KL/s400/Quote+4-23-12.jpg" width="316px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">"I think your whole life shows in your face and you should be proud of that."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"></span></div><span style="color: purple;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">~ Lauren Bacall ~</span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image by:</span></em><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/fbester/886526017/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank"><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Ftbester</span></em></a>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-22404124558474507372012-04-20T08:42:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:38.203-07:00Sup Dawg<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZ9wnmLkOKD7Ad1MUshE8WGPn-uSsfpvdIimRH9M8290n37v1_6UpIeNY-ORwS60rOdEgj36HhKWtQNsKaR8KhzWooLwgUeHzN4SAUPQGgSADWrECnLFAgrjfMMOcN-0s0zFJ7D8mdlmh/s1600/Teen+SlangA+4-20-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237px" qda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZ9wnmLkOKD7Ad1MUshE8WGPn-uSsfpvdIimRH9M8290n37v1_6UpIeNY-ORwS60rOdEgj36HhKWtQNsKaR8KhzWooLwgUeHzN4SAUPQGgSADWrECnLFAgrjfMMOcN-0s0zFJ7D8mdlmh/s400/Teen+SlangA+4-20-12.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Soooo…I was chatting with my boy the other day. And I was telling him how I’d met a woman whose kids were in their older teens and twenties, we were comparing war parenting stories when she’d joked, “My kids live for those moments when I use words wrong.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Josh frowned at me, so I explained, “she meant slang.”</div><br /><em>Aaahhh.</em> His furrowed brow cleared. <br /><br />“You know, I wouldn’t mind learning the meaning of some of the different slang terms you and your friends use?” I said, plopping down onto the couch beside him as he skillfully battled bad guys on his X-Box.<br /><br />I caught him in a generous mood because instead of rolling his eyes as I might have expected, he was happy to expand my knowledge in this area. Now some of you younger, hipper moms may know all this stuff, but I didn’t--at least not all of it. So figured I’d share the info for the unenlightened, like me. <br /><br />Just for the record, Josh assured me that “cool” is still cool, and “awesome” is still awesome. But as far as some of the newer stuff... <em>(For simplicity, I’ve put the slang term in bold within a sentence.)</em><br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“Gotta <strong>bounce</strong>!”</span></em><br />Josh assured me we’re <strong><em>not </em></strong>talking about jiggling body parts here! It just means “I must depart from your presence now.”<br /><br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“Let’s <strong>chill</strong> at Josh’s.” </span></em><br />“It means ‘hang out.’” Josh told me.<br />“Even if I have the heat on?”<br />“Even then.”<br /><br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“Edward and Bella are <strong>going out</strong>.”</span></em><br />Varies with age. But for you parents of middle-schoolers, no worries. If your son or daughter is “going out” with someone, they’re not actually going anywhere. It just means they passed one of those notes--er, text messages along the lines of: “I like you, do you like me, circle YES or NO.” <br /><br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“I’m planning to <strong>hook up</strong> with so-and-so later today.” </span></em><br />If you <em>EVER</em> say this in front of your teens, be prepared for them to start ROFL (rolling on the floor laughing). When I say “hook up,” I mean “connect with.” When teens say it, they mean, um… “<em><strong>really </strong></em>connect with,” if you know what I mean.<br /><br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“He looks so <strong>hot</strong>!” </span></em><br />A friend of mine innocently said this about a hard-working repair man last summer, and yes, her kids were ROFL! She’d just informed everyone, her hubby included, that the guy was really, <strong><em>REALLY</em></strong> good looking.<br /><br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“Ha! She totally <strong>owned</strong> you!”</span></em><br />This is not a throwback to indentured servitude or anything. Just means she totally dominated you in a game or something.<br /><br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“Hey, <strong>Shoddy</strong>.”</span></em><br />Apparently, even some twenty-somethings can be out of the loop. My 20-year-old daughter was working at a soup kitchen. One of the gentleman diners asked her a question. Once he’d gotten his answer, he said, “Thanks shoddy, you can go.”<br /><br />When she shared the story with one of her fellow workers, he cracked up. “He called you ‘shoddy’?”<br />“Yeah, why? Doesn’t it just mean ‘shorty’?” (My daughter’s only a couple of inches taller than me, which isn’t saying much!)<br />“Uh, no,” her friend replied. “It means, ‘hot girl’!”<br />“Oh.”<br /><br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“<strong>Shotty</strong> front!” (Not to be confused with “shoddy”above.) </span></em><br />Shotty is derived from “shotgun.” The person who calls it first gets dibs on the front passenger seat in a car.<br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“Dude, that’s <strong>sick</strong>!” </span></em><br />You’re thinking gross or disgusting, right? Actually, it means the opposite. It’s so awesome, it’s…sick!<br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“Oh <strong>Snap</strong>!” </span></em><br />Pretty much like “Oh darn!” A polite way to say you’ve made a mistake.<br /><br /><span style="color: purple;"><em>“<strong>Sweet</strong>!”</em></span><br />While I automatically think of chocolate here. Josh explained it’s just another synonym for “cool.”<br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“His new car’s lookin’ <strong>tight</strong>.”</span></em><br />“Um…that all the bolts are screwed on and everything is holding together well?” I ventured.<br />“No, mom.” Josh laughed. “It means cool, excellent, awesome.”<br /><br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“He’s such a <strong>tool</strong>.”</span></em><br />“He’s handy with a wrench or hammer?” Wrong again. It means that guy is a flirt, a total player.<br /><br /><em><span style="color: purple;">“Don’t be a chicken, we’ll do the Bungee Jump together! <strong>YOLO</strong>!” </span></em><br />Not to be confused with that delicious milk chocolate and caramel candy, ROLO, YOLO means “You Only Live Once!” So go for it!<br /><br /><strong>Final Notes:</strong> Apparently, there’s an unspoken rule that “grown-ups” aren’t supposed to use this slang. But whatevah! Why waste all this newfound knowledge? YOLO!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em>Image by: </em></span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rodrigofavera/2425308300/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em>Rodrigo Favera</em></span></a>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-6891671531167972622012-04-16T08:00:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:38.216-07:00Quote of the Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuozZmxpoffZsQtxFPcqwtHXez8lw_OKQBqyrQS3NTaDxQlqD7RDwV_WMOEadUVmvcdNvTuFvqo8dQrEc8bzsH-N7HBW1c3qlSJ45Pq9gFkL5NAWftm3W173Ijy7SSwz2HTBPdFcvGcjJO/s1600/Quote+4-16-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuozZmxpoffZsQtxFPcqwtHXez8lw_OKQBqyrQS3NTaDxQlqD7RDwV_WMOEadUVmvcdNvTuFvqo8dQrEc8bzsH-N7HBW1c3qlSJ45Pq9gFkL5NAWftm3W173Ijy7SSwz2HTBPdFcvGcjJO/s400/Quote+4-16-12.jpg" width="267px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">"A terrace nine stories high</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Rises from a handful of earth;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">A journey of a thousand miles</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">Starts from beneath one’s feet."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">~ Lao Tzu ~</span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><div style="text-align: left;"><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image by: </span></em><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/22240293@N05/4040446285/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank"><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Francisco Dietz</span></em></a></div>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-49222425128655011602012-04-12T08:00:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:38.315-07:00Selective AttentionI’m currently deep in research for an article I’m working on and in my research I came across this fascinating video. At least I found it fascinating! I challenge you all to give it a try--it’s super short, only a little over a minute-- then post a comment to let me know how you did!<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/vJG698U2Mvo" width="420"></iframe>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-57436456997363376412012-04-09T08:00:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:38.417-07:00Quote of the Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyOd4GhzpZi2f7jdgtf0bKeoX9MfBx-0NG1rN3nJlYV_CVP-Iig_tHLHnC-FShvNHTJETabGYuxDW3SN0h3e56SkcfnEpDxfbRRYuefwpdXJ4Z-R8Zr6mt4KegzxbQ83Tqf0rhvcQ12EyU/s1600/Quote+4-9-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="335px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyOd4GhzpZi2f7jdgtf0bKeoX9MfBx-0NG1rN3nJlYV_CVP-Iig_tHLHnC-FShvNHTJETabGYuxDW3SN0h3e56SkcfnEpDxfbRRYuefwpdXJ4Z-R8Zr6mt4KegzxbQ83Tqf0rhvcQ12EyU/s400/Quote+4-9-12.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">"We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"></span></div><span style="color: purple;"></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">~ C.S. Lewis ~</span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image by: </span></em><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/artbystevejohnson/4699756531/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank"><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Steve A. Johnson</span></em></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"></span>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-41184240657997574932012-04-05T08:00:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:38.432-07:00Spring Break<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sn2Fo2zP1Zcm3n448UNrfwJ1-PZtAlXc6WEqCYvTSz_inNk7qT1OBpTBAbgoctaph6sVreOmXvk-_1h_HB4jRyZta5VtUE5u2w5-6NoUmDwRPfibaaGRI_u3RXWfKlUVuRurKrmssZMu/s1600/bora-bora-french-polynesia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sn2Fo2zP1Zcm3n448UNrfwJ1-PZtAlXc6WEqCYvTSz_inNk7qT1OBpTBAbgoctaph6sVreOmXvk-_1h_HB4jRyZta5VtUE5u2w5-6NoUmDwRPfibaaGRI_u3RXWfKlUVuRurKrmssZMu/s400/bora-bora-french-polynesia.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div>My blogging schedule always seems to revolve around my children’s school schedule. And we are officially on Spring Break. Woo hoo! Here we are in Bora Bora, French Polynesia. I just slipped out of my hammock for a sec to grab myself a cool refreshing drink from the outdoor café and…<br /><br />Okay, okay, I’m <strong><em>just </em></strong>kidding. I swiped this awesome photograph from a <a href="http://castaways-resort.net/" target="_blank">website</a> I know nothing about but stumbled across because of its beautiful tropical images. You know when you’re stressed out and people tell you to go to your “Happy Place”? Well, right now this is mine! On previous spring and summer breaks, I’ve taken you gallivanting with us to Rome, Paris, Hawaii and more on this blog. But this year we are enjoying a simple “stay-cation.” I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><em><strong>Happy Easter, everyone!</strong></em></span></div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://castaways-resort.net/" target="_blank"><strong><em><span style="color: purple; font-size: xx-small;">Image Credit</span></em></strong></a></div>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-1628280610162808582012-04-01T08:00:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:38.529-07:00Quote of the Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivREy5HeBvvYr8vqLinLHNPQSDmTq1Rq4ESloXfrkxZKg6Y8xeVoGz04Oh6xgzVUuHMh6O56RPvpsoEapcmxM2jVowwDPLEYFYkc866q2j0yLABGO_aquX6Y7AfFA5_LO3nr8F9NsGWa_B/s1600/Quote+4-1-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="400px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivREy5HeBvvYr8vqLinLHNPQSDmTq1Rq4ESloXfrkxZKg6Y8xeVoGz04Oh6xgzVUuHMh6O56RPvpsoEapcmxM2jVowwDPLEYFYkc866q2j0yLABGO_aquX6Y7AfFA5_LO3nr8F9NsGWa_B/s400/Quote+4-1-12.jpg" width="303px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">"The trouble with quotes on the Internet is that you can never know if they are genuine."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">~ Abraham Lincoln ~</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image by: </span></em><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Abraham_Lincoln_head_on_shoulders_photo_portrait.jpg" target="_blank"><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Alexander Gardner</span></em></a>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1462044847046342139.post-13863076865370918582012-03-30T13:05:00.000-07:002012-06-12T00:47:38.629-07:00Author Interview: Taylor Stevens<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQnTALHFtQCIUiEKTuPeEvjpO1OL_J4DTmBonhN7dPiFIBb2XmcYsGs5-GIcHMewC3S9EzcDGQ_gum-XKpdaut9ZGznJ0lGGCHQX_yKj-XbYZJvRZbQ8Oz4CzBrgS5X9zlndcCdRLLsVZx/s1600/Taylor+Stevens-THE+INNOCENT+3-23-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dea="true" height="400px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQnTALHFtQCIUiEKTuPeEvjpO1OL_J4DTmBonhN7dPiFIBb2XmcYsGs5-GIcHMewC3S9EzcDGQ_gum-XKpdaut9ZGznJ0lGGCHQX_yKj-XbYZJvRZbQ8Oz4CzBrgS5X9zlndcCdRLLsVZx/s400/Taylor+Stevens-THE+INNOCENT+3-23-12.jpg" width="265px" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">©</span> Alyssa Skyes</span></div><br /><em>Last week I posted my <a href="http://hollybowne.blogspot.com/2012/03/book-review-innocent.html" target="_blank">review</a> of</em> <em>THE INNOCENT, the second novel by New York Times best selling author Taylor Stevens. And this week, as promised, here is my interview with this most intriguing author.</em><br /><br /><span style="color: purple;">HB: In my first interview with you, you mentioned initially writing THE INFORMATIONIST as a way to bring the exotic worlds of Equatorial Guinea and Cameroon to life for readers. What was your impetus for writing THE INNOCENT?</span><br /><br />TS: It was pretty much the same impetus, just a different exotic world. I am so often asked if I’d be willing to talk a little about my life growing up in the Children of God, but it was such a bizarre and often-changing environment that it’s impossible to accurately summarize in even a couple of paragraphs or even one article. So basically, in THE INNOCENT, my intent was to do what I did in THE INFORMATIONIST, which was to take the readers hand and say, come let me show you a world you’ll hopefully never experience, and I will try to do it in a way that is also thrilling and entertaining.<br /><br /><span style="color: purple;">HB: I know you were able to rely somewhat on memory and personal experience while writing THE INNOCENT. But when research is required, how do you handle it?</span><br /><br />TS: Much of what I write involves foreign locations and although I can get a general idea of what I’m working with by utilizing the Internet, mostly what I get is anxiety while I wonder how much I’m getting wrong. My solution so far has been to visit the places in question and to interview and talk to people who are experts in subjects with which I’m unfamiliar, but considering the ideas that I have for Munroe number four, I may soon have to cross my fingers and settle for the anxiety.<br /><br /><span style="color: purple;">HB: It’s totally awesome the way Munroe kicks butt! How do you go about crafting those page-turning action scenes? Are you trained in martial arts or fighting techniques?</span><br /><br />TS: One day I’d like to learn Krav Maga (which is the closest to the way Munroe fights) but I’m still very much a scaredy-cat in real life. Many readers do comment on the vividness and intensity of the action sequences, but I think the credit is theirs, not mine. I try to avoid over-explaining every single move that each character makes, instead focusing on what they are thinking/ feeling while the action is occurring, and I believe this allows the readers’ own imagination to fill in the blanks and create the intensity and visual sharpness.<br /><br /><span style="color: purple;">HB: How big a factor do you feel social media has played in your success?</span><br /><br />TS: I spend a lot of time on Facebook and a little bit on Twitter, but I do it for the purpose of interacting with my readers and fans, not necessarily to promote my books. I’ve never really put a lot of effort into social media for the purpose of promotion as that feels so much like screaming into the wind. I do think that social media has played a role, but more as a byproduct of how people communicate in this day and age—one person to the next in a word-of-mouth sort of way. I’m very grateful that my readers have felt this series is worth talking about!<br /><br /><span style="color: purple;">HB: I understand you're in the process of editing your third Vanessa Michael Munroe novel, THE DOLL. Can you give us any hints as to what it’s about?</span><br /><br />TS: In THE DOLL, Vanessa Michael Munroe is thrust into a world of human trafficking and sexual slavery, forced to deliver a missing Hollywood starlet to a client in order to protect the ones she loves. If she succeeds, she'll guarantee the young girl's demise, and if she fails, seal the fate of others. Win or lose, Munroe will pay her dues in the only currency she values: innocent life, and so must choose who lives, who dies, or find a way to outthink and outsmart a man who holds all the cards.<br /><br /><span style="color: purple;">HB: Is there a question which no interviewer ever asks that you wish they did?</span><br /><br />TS: Only once have I ever been asked by an interviewer how much of what’s already in print about me is accurate. I wish people would ask that more because I have rarely read an article or interview about me or my work that is 100% factual. I have been lied to, and about, and deliberately misquoted, but most of the time the errors aren’t malicious—just mistakes and/or misunderstandings on the part of the interviewer. But the thing is, when people read stuff in print they assume that a quote is something I really said, in context, word for word. Half the time, it’s not.<br /><br /><br /><em>Thanks so very much, Taylor! (Uh…hopefully, I didn’t get any quotes wrong, but please let me know if I did!)</em>adminhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16966206458921684095noreply@blogger.com