tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36766346015385266442024-03-05T02:14:50.042-07:00From the Shores of Introspect and RetrospectConsistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative ~Oscar WildeWanderlust Scarletthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00551514192060606454noreply@blogger.comBlogger287125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3676634601538526644.post-64368010414791723442012-08-20T10:54:00.002-06:002012-08-20T10:54:37.985-06:00Fair WaysCongratulations to Augusta National Golf Club who have just inducted their two first female members <em>ever</em>; Condoleezza Rice and Darla Moore. <br />
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Your liberal progressive stance on equality is just shy of a century coming forward from your backswing and this shot brings your bogey down to par. <br />
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Welcome to the Fairway. Keep up the good work.<br />
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<em><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">We are the music-makers, <br nodeindex="1" />And we are the dreamers of dreams, <br nodeindex="2" />Wandering by lone sea-breakers, <br nodeindex="3" />And sitting by desolate streams. <br nodeindex="4" />World-losers and world-forsakers, <br nodeindex="5" />Upon whom the pale moon gleams; <br nodeindex="6" />Yet we are the movers and shakers, <br nodeindex="7" />Of the world forever, it seems. </span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47T6DfewWobslkv3vIXEXYyQSOFcqswF_-sx06V96ZDy_pWSuvpQwZelzvxDdTEaa6OJ0UMW7mIXOrI97BgkmvGVmmbTs5Opwg6sH9d_dwycdXGZl4EyO1RSCuH9oVRZrZnAVJQfes_Q/s1600/lone+sea+breaker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fba="true" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47T6DfewWobslkv3vIXEXYyQSOFcqswF_-sx06V96ZDy_pWSuvpQwZelzvxDdTEaa6OJ0UMW7mIXOrI97BgkmvGVmmbTs5Opwg6sH9d_dwycdXGZl4EyO1RSCuH9oVRZrZnAVJQfes_Q/s320/lone+sea+breaker.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em> <em><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">With wonderful deathless ditties <br nodeindex="10" />We build up the world's great cities, <br nodeindex="11" />And out of a fabulous story <br nodeindex="12" />We fashion an empire's glory: <br nodeindex="13" />One man with a dream, at pleasure, <br nodeindex="14" />Shall go forth and conquer a crown; <br nodeindex="15" />And three with a new song's measure <br nodeindex="16" />Can trample an empire down. <br nodeindex="17" /><br nodeindex="18" />We, in the ages lying <br nodeindex="19" />In the buried past of the earth, <br nodeindex="20" />Built Nineveh with our sighing, <br nodeindex="21" />And Babel itself with our mirth; <br nodeindex="22" />And o'erthrew them with prophesying <br nodeindex="23" />To the old of the new world's worth; <br nodeindex="24" />For each age is a dream that is dying, <br nodeindex="25" />Or one that is coming to birth. </span></em></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;">Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy</span></div>
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I'd walked into the Guggenheim Museum, late afternoon. There is a small fountain in the generic, contemporary shape of a fish, and as I am always wont to do, I stopped there to toss in pennies and make a wish for myself and two people who were not with me in person, but are always with me in spirit. <br />
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As I was standing there, taking my time and giving careful consideration and thought to my purpose, I could feel that I was being watched, and after tossing in the last penny, I looked to my side and there were three lovely young girls of Asian origin; I'd venture an educated guess at Korean, who were watching me very intently. I knew they were trying to ascertain the scene before them, staring in fascination while trying not to be invasive.<br />
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I smiled widely at them to let them know they were welcome to communicate, if they wanted to. <br />
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One of them stepped forward bravely as the other two watched with wide eyes and shy smiles. She pointed toward the fountain and asked in her soft, broken English, </div>
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"What is it?". I knew she meant, 'What are you doing? What is the purpose of this custom?'</div>
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I explained, "I'm making a wish. I throw in the penny and make a wish that I would like to see come true." The young ladies stared silently and I knew the word 'wish' did not register with them. There was another way to explain. </div>
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"It is a hope, a prayer. To hope for something; a job, health, love, luck, anything you want. A prayer for these things." At this explanation of 'prayer', all the light bulbs above their heads flashed on and they became delighted that they understood it finally... a simple and universal concept... a sacrifice for a prayer or hope... pennies for wishes. </div>
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They got it. They were very happy. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq37tB7QWXcXtmun2znJ-nfSf1swaLF4UEisy7t_pHM28ddlNPBWb6UCX3FQLfuGWTDKfwrc_asJkSEnm2XPRHLLszRLYJqXx03tvX8VKrU-_lF1ts7hIdlS44_Y55qH0zvBQ33YuxBx8/s1600/prayer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq37tB7QWXcXtmun2znJ-nfSf1swaLF4UEisy7t_pHM28ddlNPBWb6UCX3FQLfuGWTDKfwrc_asJkSEnm2XPRHLLszRLYJqXx03tvX8VKrU-_lF1ts7hIdlS44_Y55qH0zvBQ33YuxBx8/s1600/prayer.jpg" /></a>I reached into my pocket and pulled out two dimes and a nickel and handed them each a coin and gestured to the fountain. They went through a quick array of emotion; surprise, honor and humbleness, thankfulness, and then it gave way to serious contemplative prayer. Amidst bowing lowly, smiling and thanking me, they lined up shoulder to shoulder, all three folded their hands; coins in palm, prayed earnestly and one by one opened their eyes and tossed their coins into the fountain. </div>
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I watched with absolute pleasure. It brings me such happiness to create bonds with people, to teach and learn, to share joys and break down barriers and this was a very special one. The language challenge was gone. The opportunity to share with each other created a memorable experience for all, and it was serenely sweet to watch them all partake in this simple, heartfelt custom that they knew in a different way. <br />
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They turned to me, bowing, grinning, giddy with delight and I offered to use their camera to take a photo of them in front of the fountain, but they all three said no, they wanted a photo of me with them and I complied. We got an image of the four of us together, and I had them make one with my camera, and then they all hugged me tightly and went on their way. <br />
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What a truly wonderful blessing to be able to trade a few coins for this priceless memory. It was the best part of the trip. <br />
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<em>~A. A. Milne </em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZcOCSuLnNHHGfElURuPMKxmqRW_G4J-5SSit8252fOjjd1vfdiU_x6AcjOKDO1P3MsUjegI2WpjQhAgrT24Lk4ffvTmV6NI47-58WpT5TaCXdTbfPK8wW_dLu9eQh3vwcuhE5muGWOU/s1600/bandon+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" lda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZcOCSuLnNHHGfElURuPMKxmqRW_G4J-5SSit8252fOjjd1vfdiU_x6AcjOKDO1P3MsUjegI2WpjQhAgrT24Lk4ffvTmV6NI47-58WpT5TaCXdTbfPK8wW_dLu9eQh3vwcuhE5muGWOU/s320/bandon+beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Counting the days to the New Year, to new footsteps on new sand, new oceans of peace and the wide open possibilities of the future. <br />
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Happy New Year to you, with our heartfelt wishes for the best of your years to come.<br />
<br />
Scarlett and Viaggiatore<script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1Rnmt9GJvZqz_ONnWbcla0xrhcGoF1DRaLugwcDe0OSC3t8RL9Ft2EhEAI9GMUUxFXlrT9Bgih6x977ISswlDUyRngHZhU0cmMaKWzB281KKraj_asGVjAUNF1bw9pqX_BGXCrfVGhM/s1600/LetterForSanta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1Rnmt9GJvZqz_ONnWbcla0xrhcGoF1DRaLugwcDe0OSC3t8RL9Ft2EhEAI9GMUUxFXlrT9Bgih6x977ISswlDUyRngHZhU0cmMaKWzB281KKraj_asGVjAUNF1bw9pqX_BGXCrfVGhM/s320/LetterForSanta.jpg" width="217" /></a> <span style="color: #660000;"><em><strong>Dear Santa, <br /><br />In an effort to be more ecologically mindful this year, could you please trade out the coal for a renewable energy source; preferably sunshine. <br /><br />Thank you! </strong></em></span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;"><em><strong>Merry Christmas!<br />Love, Scarlett</strong></em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJ56qUzDJdlsruqQOyde7xkVhUvm7bCB3ZNBJSRBsizz2t9ITobWOrYwu8RMMndvPabl2z8o5wkpqdYkr_VK__bVrHabctKUhNjEM6OZZeNJPOu83iGMxXCvGa5i6PtB-UdW0MOqJyCc/s1600/santa+reading+letter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJ56qUzDJdlsruqQOyde7xkVhUvm7bCB3ZNBJSRBsizz2t9ITobWOrYwu8RMMndvPabl2z8o5wkpqdYkr_VK__bVrHabctKUhNjEM6OZZeNJPOu83iGMxXCvGa5i6PtB-UdW0MOqJyCc/s1600/santa+reading+letter.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px;"><span style="color: #660000;"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink<br />Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; <br />Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink <br />And rise and sink and rise and sink again; <br />Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath, <br />Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; <br />Yet many a man is making friends with death <br />Even as I speak, for lack of love alone. <br />It well may be that in a difficult hour, <br />Pinned down by pain and moaning for release, <br />Or nagged by want past resolution's power, <br />I might be driven to sell your love for peace, <br />Or trade the memory of this night for food. <br />It well may be. I do not think I would. </span></em><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">-Edna St. Vincent Millay</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglFNdExrW401El0XL11egVdlx8qBUT72zPs5X_N1IgHfjSZwSPz2KrZpALMI8R0sqrD8NVUN4oP-n8rb1RbyIZPb46dHqSl5Tj2nLhGg4voCxw7geoYFr9nlq07pCm9Y7HKz45czeBtIU/s1600/The+Letter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglFNdExrW401El0XL11egVdlx8qBUT72zPs5X_N1IgHfjSZwSPz2KrZpALMI8R0sqrD8NVUN4oP-n8rb1RbyIZPb46dHqSl5Tj2nLhGg4voCxw7geoYFr9nlq07pCm9Y7HKz45czeBtIU/s320/The+Letter.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #660000;">Do you think if I read this continually that I might believe it someday?</span></span><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<a href="http://www.cnn.com/2011/10/31/world/meast/unesco-palestinian-membership/index.html" target="_blank">Palestine bid UNESCO for full membership, UNESCO said yes and the U.S. cut funding to UNESCO</a>.<br />
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These are headlines that CNN was publishing today. How well do you know this region of the world or any of the impact of these newsworthy events on our lives? <br />
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<a href="http://www.rethinkingschools.org/just_fun/games/mapgame.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="261" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieDF-Gm5YhOqi75032CMie-JYR4vz-Y2MKQXcnoBsC4p9Nla7dM7eScfLQThYJkgIWTv0Jp6dS7aeF9tTKRKA7mah9KLyhOIWG0JJfn3G1ypgKaa6o_EfM6XU4eFAljk4Ic0OWPUZVCGo/s400/North+Africa+and+Middle+East+map.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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If you are up for a <em>really</em> good challenge, try to name the countries in this geography game:<br />
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<a href="http://www.rethinkingschools.org/just_fun/games/mapgame.html" target="_blank"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Map the Middle East</span></strong></a><br />
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Viaggiatore and I have used it several times to learn and remember the geography in this area of the world.<br />
I only wish they had map games like this for the whole world as well as one for the better known astronomical bodies of our universe. Wouldn't that be a fun learning tool! <br />
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Good luck with it!<script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaqHAz4_vF2kT_55gZhnOB2KHYcOtkeTvhNBBkepKurJHR0Jcwow4VnHbEGJa2rW0eLgMbAqGZu0HilhoCExOgLLAyMLMg2OjMNLvboOyCl7ntxFjWxJRsYS24nuQYRRXgkiBZSBIxEq8/s1600/bwseashell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaqHAz4_vF2kT_55gZhnOB2KHYcOtkeTvhNBBkepKurJHR0Jcwow4VnHbEGJa2rW0eLgMbAqGZu0HilhoCExOgLLAyMLMg2OjMNLvboOyCl7ntxFjWxJRsYS24nuQYRRXgkiBZSBIxEq8/s200/bwseashell.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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I was visiting my dear <a href="http://freedomisacupcake.blogspot.com/">Cupcake Man</a> and discovered that this friend had reached right down onto one of the soft quiet beaches shoring the deep oceans of my heart and discovered a lovely sea shell that he plucked up, put in his pocket and took back to his own shore. </div>
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He proudly displayed it by way of publishing it and there I discovered it, recognizing it right away but never having seen it before. That familiar shell brought forth a sea spray of salt water from my heart to my eyes and the waves inside me swelled with a powerful current. </div>
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Here is the treasure he has taken from the dark and placed prominently in the light... <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgikPvRaFpzyQte55EqSAca10UXMcISqA7sACGEb4ATnI094Z3pbBIDLkoocoXChl5S1FGFGMaGJiSxoq20fSuAP1DH44wGIY6vPpEk_0Crdxt2o5oBL4fajanrDJIpgSlYiwEkzPbjTT8/s1600/seashellwater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgikPvRaFpzyQte55EqSAca10UXMcISqA7sACGEb4ATnI094Z3pbBIDLkoocoXChl5S1FGFGMaGJiSxoq20fSuAP1DH44wGIY6vPpEk_0Crdxt2o5oBL4fajanrDJIpgSlYiwEkzPbjTT8/s400/seashellwater.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<em>"Overboard I fell, overlong we dwelled. I was lifted up in the arms of that strong one, lifted up into his cape, too tired to thank the man, I spent a month harvesting his grapes. When he let me play with his children, when he let me sit at his table, I gained a position, small bit of dignity in the household a go to child when a salesperson dropped in from town. "Please sir sit down and let me pour you green tea." Please sir, I would think to myself, can you tell me what happens in town? I was thirteen and heard of the glass fountains in the main square, covered with lights in spring evenings." ~ Cupcake Man</em></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYX2JWUS-Q3o73ec2XIyxjG95mvZxQGNNm4PE_JYOAvBqgTBl9_hNpdnQfUrbpHdpjY9CiOLp-9DtR1bcWC0DElTUr8tO2TLnimQAQ5Jqj3blipMmGIq7ShHaTAnmGFQfpoXkx_tVoDqk/s1600/seashells.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYX2JWUS-Q3o73ec2XIyxjG95mvZxQGNNm4PE_JYOAvBqgTBl9_hNpdnQfUrbpHdpjY9CiOLp-9DtR1bcWC0DElTUr8tO2TLnimQAQ5Jqj3blipMmGIq7ShHaTAnmGFQfpoXkx_tVoDqk/s320/seashells.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It is his creation and it is my truth. </div>
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Isn't it surreal when we find ourselves in each other by mere whim or chance? Perhaps it isn't chance at all, perhaps it is not serendipity perhaps it is because we are all made of the same elements of everything in the universe and sometimes those elements rediscover grains of themselves when circumstance brings them near one another again & again. </div>
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Thank you, Cupcake Man, how very sweet this is. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJz8Dn_9SblWCUyVd7P1MduKsgU3gdFvLEauu5KVKu5kI_s_mvEWH6vmdmbvyazS7wNYHyByjKuq67Fx3_qha1nQ3reCIzMZusuhQqMFijywX5uW1IDWXXZSY0Fph3QAqEe9Wdd8TAto/s1600/pinkseashell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJz8Dn_9SblWCUyVd7P1MduKsgU3gdFvLEauu5KVKu5kI_s_mvEWH6vmdmbvyazS7wNYHyByjKuq67Fx3_qha1nQ3reCIzMZusuhQqMFijywX5uW1IDWXXZSY0Fph3QAqEe9Wdd8TAto/s320/pinkseashell.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCljiweUPOMMQfMF92avBwzLrBFHu1MG4y4ofew8Nzq0CPZCf-FDfEekUaanFQL_DK7HHUSgCS0Qb01_1VaXWcaYwH5sxqyZg372YCcSCoYqbug_7D_w1CkjJjDxQ0mdvXKAoxANnQTE/s1600/seattle-public-market-center.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCljiweUPOMMQfMF92avBwzLrBFHu1MG4y4ofew8Nzq0CPZCf-FDfEekUaanFQL_DK7HHUSgCS0Qb01_1VaXWcaYwH5sxqyZg372YCcSCoYqbug_7D_w1CkjJjDxQ0mdvXKAoxANnQTE/s320/seattle-public-market-center.jpg" width="215" /></a>Dear Daydream, <br />
<br />
They are hiring for a photographer and photo editor at a baby and mom business called <a href="http://www.zulily.com/">Zulily</a> - which I just <em>love</em>, based in Seattle. So, today I quit my job and hopped on a plane and flew to Seattle. Zulily hired me on the spot at twice the salary I was making before. I found a wonderful little apartment facing the bay, just a block from Pikes public market where I can go every day to buy an armload of fresh flowers, Starbucks coffee from the original Starbucks while seeing the street musicians outside and enjoy lunch at that little Irish pub that's tucked in the alley or that cozy seafood restaurant hidden in the market that looks over the water. I can visit all the fun shops in the area and zip around on the train, go to practice for Wyld Stallyns, play outdoor chess and stand atop the highest needle in the world.<br />
My new coworkers are amazing people who inspire me and are incredible to be around. My photography has never been better and things are simple and good. Having the ocean at my doorstep and the mountains right behind me in my back pocket does wonders for my soul... <br />
<br />
....love, the Serendipitous Daydreamer<br />
<br />
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<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">In memorium for those who have lost the battle. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_XWnlxUX-DZWECaB4exstb-6CJX5f9dMezUNKVzDGEsmkaHuGI2b1P5I2JLMcSSueBOqcsquOQz-GH-qX4BK0WqTVhfpNtdtGzbYQ-EZoWKAK_Ep8_NRgxiqMcXmQQXtkdfBjcQJEeHw/s1600/DiamondSparkleBreastCancerRibbon.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_XWnlxUX-DZWECaB4exstb-6CJX5f9dMezUNKVzDGEsmkaHuGI2b1P5I2JLMcSSueBOqcsquOQz-GH-qX4BK0WqTVhfpNtdtGzbYQ-EZoWKAK_Ep8_NRgxiqMcXmQQXtkdfBjcQJEeHw/s400/DiamondSparkleBreastCancerRibbon.gif" width="260" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwxpgrLmn9fTs8EmNTCCrb-c1L8k8SQFt5ggYaM6j2YaY3F5DZ5Bd-9zzPd8DiJtWKAzhfgi0EZJklSAbKeaGczw3eUXe3Y3W_jyAwEHGpf4uXak_jvArA5LKiEsaqoQ5Xow5u87MTTzk/s1600/sphus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwxpgrLmn9fTs8EmNTCCrb-c1L8k8SQFt5ggYaM6j2YaY3F5DZ5Bd-9zzPd8DiJtWKAzhfgi0EZJklSAbKeaGczw3eUXe3Y3W_jyAwEHGpf4uXak_jvArA5LKiEsaqoQ5Xow5u87MTTzk/s1600/sphus.jpg" /></a>To say that I have a busy, chaotic life is a monumental understatement. For a long time I've lived under the misconception that if there is a free moment, it should be filled with something that needs to be done. There is always something that needs to be done. Sisyphean tasks... always more to do... never done... </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I am solely responsible for the life I make for myself; when did I ordain that I emulate Sisyphus? The things that spill over the edges of my time are not great steps to completing a magnum opus, they are like sea shells... lovely on the outside, hollow on the inside, save for the echo of something greater that isn't there. Each duty a puzzle piece that builds the image of my life, filling moments with an immutable story that can never be unwritten, undone or remade. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">There is no resource as precious and priceless as time. Not in the whole universe. </div><br />
I procrastinate... and I've said that one of these days I shall stop procrastinating. I always carry my planner with me and I pencil in chaos until even a glance at the month I've made is overwhelming. Busy does not equal productive. Work smarter not harder. <br />
<br />
Scheduling balance into life is a gamble at best... I allow so many things to come up and change the direction of the ever flowing river of time I navigate. Balance is imperative for stability, growth, strength and peace.<br />
<br />
Peace isn't something to be scheduled into a day after the gym and before work. We carry it within us, in every moment, in every place. <br />
<br />
I decided to downsize. I decided to make a change to live simply. Less clutter everywhere in my life, my home, my work, my schedule; everywhere in every aspect. I began to eliminate at every juncture.<br />
Then one of my friends moved and gave me half of the contents of her house. I have <em>a lot</em> of stuff. You want stuff? I got stuff. What I will not use now will be donated to those who need it far more than I. The Sisyphean task of elimination has begun again; only this time, that boulder will be resting at the top of the hill and I will walk off the mountain. Here's <a href="http://zenhabits.net/scarce/#more-8603">a great piece on what I mean by downsizing</a> and amen to Zen.<br />
<br />
There is a way to find peace and organization and simplicity and focus by creating it in our lives. Our hectic, noisy, chaotic, non-stop, stress filled, busy, runaway train lives. <br />
<br />
I'll let you in on a little secret... shhh... listen... <br />
~you really are in charge of everything in your life~. <br />
<br />
If you don't like it, change it. <br />
<br />
There are roughly 4 billion bits of information being processed by our brains every single second. That is a <em>LOT</em> of information. It does not help that we have so much more coming into us constantly (i.e. the endless stimulants to our senses that are an inherent foundation of our culture such as tv/radio/media/ads/phones/computers/entertainment/<br />
noise/lights/all the amenities of our lives that are supposed to make our existence easier but somehow just fill up more space and time and leave us with a deficit of enrichment).<br />
<br />
<em>Consider: </em><br />
<br />
<strong>Environment </strong>~ start with environment. A seed cannot grow in poor soil. If your environment isn't conducive to nurturing healthy growth, then repot yourself. Old soil doesn't have the nutrients we need to grow stronger, either, but instead leads our experience to stagnancy and inhibition.<br />
<br />
<strong>Circumstance ~ </strong>we have basic needs to meet and the labor we trade for providing for those needs does require some of our time, but not all of it. Two things that matter here are; first, is the labor we are trading worthy of the recompense we receive? Are you happy in your work? Is it fulfilling? Will you look back at the days you've spent toiling and believe that each one was worth what you accomplished at the end? Second... all of the time that isn't given to supporting your lifestyle is yours to make what you will of it... what do you make a priority of in that time? What is it given to? Are those things something worth giving your time to? If you do not have enough time for the things you want, then change your life to make those things happen. Each second of our lives burns away so quickly, until they are gone. Make them count. Make them all count. <br />
They don't all have to be big moments, but they should all count. Let go of the ones that clutter your precious time, the things that would continue on without you, the Sisyphean tasks that will subtly devour your life if you let them.<br />
<br />
<strong>Opportunity</strong> ~ It has been said that the harder one works, the luckier one gets. I said above that it's a better use of time to work smarter not harder, but sometimes working smart is hard work, too. The more you go after, the more opportunity will favor you; this I know to be true in my own life. Many times people have asked me how it is that so many wonderful experiences have found their way into my life... the answer is easy. I go after them. I ask for and work for the opportunities in my life, and the rewards are that I am able to experience living outside the box. I take risks and chances. I dream big. I don't give up unless I know for certain that my endeavor isn't truly within my realistic grasp. There is always a way... like water that runs against a rock until it finds a way through, opportunity will come if it is sought. It is a rare visitor if one sits idly by and waits for it to come of its own accord.<br />
<br />
<br />
In short... your life is what you make it. Make it truly good.<script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZnd-h42eEAOJQpIcpNtAyU_IFvK-7U9sJGAqlFpVb3R7ONaYqqEUBjrKCI4yxZKywSQ6BxAOCNWF4QQySJcXuwfnx8sPlnGZi3-UWEuXS3wPmdzeZNI20kcO8uvrNaHXs19wxcdKNzI/s1600/midnight+in+paris+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZnd-h42eEAOJQpIcpNtAyU_IFvK-7U9sJGAqlFpVb3R7ONaYqqEUBjrKCI4yxZKywSQ6BxAOCNWF4QQySJcXuwfnx8sPlnGZi3-UWEuXS3wPmdzeZNI20kcO8uvrNaHXs19wxcdKNzI/s320/midnight+in+paris+3.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a>Enter Gil (Owen Wilson) who discovers at the stroke of midnight each night, that his dream of living in what he believes is the "Golden Age" of Paris in 1920, can be a reality. He climbs into a vintage car that stops for him on the Rue du Montagne Ste Genevieve and whisks him off to a party where Cole Porter is playing piano for all the guests, including his wife Linda, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Scott's wife, Zelda. Scott takes him to meet Ernest Hemingway who takes him to meet Gertrude Stein and we see cameos of Alice B. Toklas and Josephine Baker. Stein is, of course, hanging out with Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse. More visits to this beautiful golden era find Gil in the company of T.S. Elliot, Salvador Dali and Luis Buñuel. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGUKSEvl2VFd67tCJA6W55eoze0FackcN2_sWK3IpeoMj4rKwhNlx-UEz15oiE7D7c6-YWAMFIwy0G3niySZ1X4ulOGnPoPZs9fvxHi6FdsXRywh_QsKIMbkBTPjXLZE1Vl2sXFrALhHo/s1600/midnight+in+paris+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGUKSEvl2VFd67tCJA6W55eoze0FackcN2_sWK3IpeoMj4rKwhNlx-UEz15oiE7D7c6-YWAMFIwy0G3niySZ1X4ulOGnPoPZs9fvxHi6FdsXRywh_QsKIMbkBTPjXLZE1Vl2sXFrALhHo/s320/midnight+in+paris+2.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a>Gil meets a lovely lady in the 20's who dreams of being in Paris before the turn of the century when Maxim's was all the rage and her dream comes true for her, just as Gil found himself in the 20's of Paris, Gil and his lady friend Adriana find themselves back in time in her ideal golden age where they meet Toulouse, Gauguin and Degas. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The question then becomes... are all those golden eras that we believe came before us really golden or were they just as common as our own era today is? I have said that I would love to have lived during the height of Egyptian and Greek and Roman glories, the Renaissance, and in the 20's, and in the 40's and that I was born too late for the old soul that I am, but perhaps I did live in those times and that's why they are precious to me, or perhaps the romantic in me loves the idea of being in a time and place that saw the birth of the things I love so much now. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHb-3ga-Il-fye-4v22R9fX8ItMB_KyBl5F4Nf_Hl9wSrQb-bW-PiVqGn3QRaPW2nS0hdX4-JjfecVhzQCLIxU4UF00lJQQPccRVtxYobnUGX01CsKqTbNxYgXTL51-HkK5rE_jhyphenhyphenCW9o/s1600/midnight+in+paris+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHb-3ga-Il-fye-4v22R9fX8ItMB_KyBl5F4Nf_Hl9wSrQb-bW-PiVqGn3QRaPW2nS0hdX4-JjfecVhzQCLIxU4UF00lJQQPccRVtxYobnUGX01CsKqTbNxYgXTL51-HkK5rE_jhyphenhyphenCW9o/s320/midnight+in+paris+6.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It's a wonderful query, and it is an abundant banquet of a film that is delicious in every single aspect; in writing, music, history, literature, art, humor, politics, </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">romance, surrealism, nostalgia, idealism, and love... </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">and most of all, it is the very quintessential heart of one of the most special, wonderful cities in the world, the city of lights; Paris. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxf2v3WbkpU_Ohuc_GsmgT_kiYBTjPjA9ACdWsCVCUIrYR4CHRM-gZ-tccOvX83Q1Yxzzls0ZljMqzI-1nqwdC1Zv-T8-7YDO3QZPtV3gU6z_ico1jP4j797vDezHTIcQFgUaZoprRXhM/s1600/midnight+in+paris+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxf2v3WbkpU_Ohuc_GsmgT_kiYBTjPjA9ACdWsCVCUIrYR4CHRM-gZ-tccOvX83Q1Yxzzls0ZljMqzI-1nqwdC1Zv-T8-7YDO3QZPtV3gU6z_ico1jP4j797vDezHTIcQFgUaZoprRXhM/s200/midnight+in+paris+5.jpg" t$="true" width="200" /></a>There is a day trip to the Palace of Versailles and some wonderful views of the grounds and the Hall of Mirrors there. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBjrOZaWzhgLpBAYR0-sK06kNs9DFsevkCHqOM8Ahqs3CUMq3gSGCN4qqBChfPPL7HVrQooeeXq-9-CGAQelPJXeyjibI3jREiXFeRDIXLarUhZrFrvjjMeQhzzvxjWanqvD4pJQ3o4o/s1600/midnight+in+paris+7.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBjrOZaWzhgLpBAYR0-sK06kNs9DFsevkCHqOM8Ahqs3CUMq3gSGCN4qqBChfPPL7HVrQooeeXq-9-CGAQelPJXeyjibI3jREiXFeRDIXLarUhZrFrvjjMeQhzzvxjWanqvD4pJQ3o4o/s320/midnight+in+paris+7.bmp" t$="true" width="308" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">One of the sweetest moments in the film is found in a poetic comment Gil makes to Adriana on the </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Rue du Chevalier de la Barre stairway in Montmartre, just underneath Sacre Coeur, when he tells her that Paris must be the most beautiful city in the universe. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">There is also a quick cameo moment when he walks out of Shakespeare and Company; an English bookstore across the Seine from Notre Dame, a bookstore which is owned by Walt Whitman's grandson. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMy_R23jv-CzzKfebuKKjfvdeoaqNMfkEHyAepBYV33sjah7GiyoiAPVjRF9NtMPu_8LERpM9Iswzispygz0QaeKRryOBPhud8mFa5LEhqHxknQeH5CnVFLnAZl5dFRZ78FwVUOyiEMdk/s1600/jewel+of+Paris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMy_R23jv-CzzKfebuKKjfvdeoaqNMfkEHyAepBYV33sjah7GiyoiAPVjRF9NtMPu_8LERpM9Iswzispygz0QaeKRryOBPhud8mFa5LEhqHxknQeH5CnVFLnAZl5dFRZ78FwVUOyiEMdk/s320/jewel+of+Paris.jpg" t$="true" width="213" /></a></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This is Allen's crown jewel, I believe, and I can't wait to dance to the <a href="http://www.allobo.com/en/soundtrack-midnight-in-paris-2352.html">luscious, rich soundtrack</a>, and find myself in this wonderful story and dream, again and again.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<br />
I called our customers and left a message for them to come by the office and I asked the gentleman to bring the wallet by for us to hold. He said it would take a while to get to the office as he was in a different part of town and, being homeless, he'd have to take the bus to get to us but he'd arrive before we close.<br />
<br />
Morality knows no echelon of societal class; but when one who does not have much holds fast to their ideals, it speaks volumes of their character and though this man may have no home, it is certain that he has a wealth of values.<script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJq9TPvjArUAa-YMfF27QFDL0sHkh5Kv0ECZ_FGSBeMvaBE8frPmfqbLWcPxOV1d0YwfMZZuR-4nvf5It_yVQc4OUQVkPX77iPWpOFoCvP7GAn1a210-nVhsVrlK-Pgqfb5YK5jDbt9Qg/s1600/love%2526money.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJq9TPvjArUAa-YMfF27QFDL0sHkh5Kv0ECZ_FGSBeMvaBE8frPmfqbLWcPxOV1d0YwfMZZuR-4nvf5It_yVQc4OUQVkPX77iPWpOFoCvP7GAn1a210-nVhsVrlK-Pgqfb5YK5jDbt9Qg/s1600/love%2526money.jpg" /></a></div><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Who should pay on a date? Without getting into too many specifics or politics on variations in the subject (i.e. same sex dating/short term and long term relationships/level of physical involvement in the relationship etc) because those things do play into this, but I'm only referring to the 'skim across the top of the subject' that was brought up this morning on the radio... </span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">who should pay on a date? </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of course I had an immediate albeit well thought out opinion. </span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am independent and strong and able to care for myself and others in many ways. Yay me. That does not mean that if a man were to try to woo me that I should not allow that pursuit with grace and enjoy being treated like the valuable lady that I am (the dj referenced a Goddess concept which I delighted in). </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Allowing the man in pursuit to express his affections by treating does not detract from my independence at all; on the contrary, it reinforces the ideal that I am open minded enough to allow someone else the pleasure of offering a kind gesture. If I insist that we go dutch every time or that I pay every other time, that does disesteem the man who is interested in me by denying him the opportunity to show it in this way, if he chooses to. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I also agree that it’s good for the lady to treat on occasion as a means of reciprocating the affection and gesture he offers her.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On the flip side of this coin and the other side of the truth in the middle is this (because truth is always in the middle); while it is very nice to be treated by a beau, it is absolutely and inherently wrong to allow a man to try to buy the ladies affections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a difference between the two and if the lady is unsure of that boundary then she should not be in the relationship. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Men have tried to buy my affections in inordinately extravagant ways and I flat out refuse to allow it at every instance; integrity must always be at the heart of the action, but I definitely support the custom of the man treating the woman as long as it does not compromise either of them. It is romantic, it is thoughtful and it is slightly in a chivalrous vein.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What do you think about it? </span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<br />
Viaggiatore is 4 years old today! Happy Birthday my beautiful muse! We've traveled so far; over the world, through days and weeks and years, made many friends and discoveries and had countless wonderful experiences. <br />
<br />
I'd never trade a moment of it! I am so looking forward to all of our days to come; each one special and precious. <br />
<br />
Happy Birthday Viaggiatore! <br />
<br />
<em><a href="http://wanderlustscarlett.blogspot.com/2007/06/viaggiatore-lion-of-lyons-tail.html">From Viaggiatore~ The Lion of Lyon Tail,</a></em> "...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Viaggiatore</span> was once a single thought... just one idea. Long ago, a good Samaritan selflessly saved the life of another human, with no thought for his own safety. The Lord was so pleased at this act of love, that he offered the Samaritan a wish... anything he wanted. The Samaritan said he wished only to continue to do good, everywhere he went, without ever knowing it. The Lord granted this wish, and then decided that it was such a good idea, it ought to be everywhere, for everyone. <br />
He created <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Viaggiatore</span> as a thought... it is him, in those moments of kindness when we do not know the good we do for others, he is a passing idea... a traveling thought that steps gently within us, and then moves on. As <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Viaggiatore</span> passed throughout the world touching others, he walked away with remnants of each step touching him, and these remnants created a tangible body for him. The beauty of a world in unity incarnate in the skin of a lion. (Viaggiatore said) ".....I am made of the places that I have passed through, like any of us, it is the good and the bad that make me who I am and I cannot discard those things in my life that weren't good, any more than you can. It gives me character anyway, don't you think?" <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvkQV31eUXM0s3pZ2wq03tf4yIuk79F99KCH2rmwhlRbK_6qd-46ObDUdBlR5f15xESFLArwQSJ6cbVoa3pRxRLS5cxoEv7TXjkR4t6GS5oIWHvIuYVSyIbQSQXK4ngPK3TvkSxh5tVw/s1600/Viaggiatore+head+shot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvkQV31eUXM0s3pZ2wq03tf4yIuk79F99KCH2rmwhlRbK_6qd-46ObDUdBlR5f15xESFLArwQSJ6cbVoa3pRxRLS5cxoEv7TXjkR4t6GS5oIWHvIuYVSyIbQSQXK4ngPK3TvkSxh5tVw/s320/Viaggiatore+head+shot.jpg" t8="true" width="274px" /></a></div><br />
*If you haven't yet met Viaggiatore (and you should, he's fascinating!) you can find out all about him here:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://wanderlustscarlett.blogspot.com/2007/06/viaggiatore-lion-of-lyons-tail.html">Viaggiatore~ The Lion of Lyon Tail</a><br />
<a href="http://wanderlustscarlett.blogspot.com/2007/06/viaggiatore-lion-hide-and-jungle-flight.html">Viaggiatore~ Lion hide & Jungle Flight</a><br />
<a href="http://wanderlustscarlett.blogspot.com/2007/06/iii-viaggiatore-sahara-sand-and.html">Viaggiatore~ Sahara Sand & the Mediterranean Sea</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
A man of at least 150 years in age leaned his old weathered face out the window. <br />
"YOU WANT SOME COFFEE?" he yelled across the two foot distance to me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHLry3ZgCrcCMem87izLSLp5otbN3o8TK-e1Ij_FcIvo4bmnbcwChyEiapcHorjpT1TZUNBwlz0S-QZ_R7y2CxNbW8_P-p0uzjFg93qDwr0hN_C6huRFes5Vn4gBvk15pFpzlhPIchFdM/s1600/old+man+in+window+one.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHLry3ZgCrcCMem87izLSLp5otbN3o8TK-e1Ij_FcIvo4bmnbcwChyEiapcHorjpT1TZUNBwlz0S-QZ_R7y2CxNbW8_P-p0uzjFg93qDwr0hN_C6huRFes5Vn4gBvk15pFpzlhPIchFdM/s320/old+man+in+window+one.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>My biting satirical tongue was barred momentarily by my teeth which flashed a million dollar grin and I swallowed the smarty pants retort that rushed to spring from my lips before I ingested it... "No, Sir, I just pulled up to this drive up coffee shed to see if you could wash the windshield of my car and check the oil." But I didn't say it. <br />
<br />
"Yes, please, Sir!" I offered up to him as his window towered over my drivers side door. Examining the menu, I thought I'd reserve my usual barista lingo coffee request and keep it simple for this elderly gentleman of the small country town persuasion. I was surprised to find a coffee shed there at all, let alone one which sold several beverage options in Italian (espresso, cappuccino...); it was encouraging, but I thought simple would be best.<br />
<br />
"Could I please get a mochaccino, decaf?" I asked. <br />
<br />
"A WHAT?!?!" he yelled at me, the deep lines on his old face transforming into bewilderment. <br />
<br />
I realized, too late, that I had overestimated the culture curve bridging the short distance between us. I could simplify this again and put it into steps for him, in an effort to be helpful. <br />
<br />
"Could you please make a cappuccino?"<br />
<br />
"YEAH."<br />
<br />
"Do you have some sort of chocolate syrup that you could put into it, please?" ...voila, mochaccino. <br />
<br />
"OH... YOU DON'T WANT A CAPPUCCINO. THERE'S NOTHING IN IT!" he hollered at me. <br />
<br />
I was at a complete loss. <br />
<br />
"I'm sorry?"<br />
<br />
"YOU OUGHTTA GET A LATTE. DON'T YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A CAPPUCCINO AND A LATTE?"<br />
<br />
I was dumbstruck. I was trying my very best to fathom how this elderly gentleman could possibly be serious. I smiled in confusion and politeness and he took no notice; he just plowed right on. <br />
<br />
"A CAPPUCCINO IS ALL FOAM. YOU DON'T WANT THAT. THERE'S ONLY HALF A CUP OF COFFEE. GET A LATTE, THEN YOU HAVE A WHOLE CUP OF COFFEE."<br />
<br />
I stared at him incredulously. My two friends who were sitting in the car with me were in hysterics laughing at the situation. I could only think that I didn't want to confound the old man any further, for that would invariably lead to more amazement on my part, and I'd had enough by this point. <br />
<br />
"That's fine, Sir, please use decaf and please put some chocolate in it."<br />
<br />
He left to start the coffee and I turned and stared at my friends who were still in fits of laughter. <br />
<br />
"HEY!" He yelled to me and I turned and looked up at him leaning out to me again.<br />
<br />
"I DIDN'T MEAN TO BE A SMART ASS, I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU KNEW THE DIFFERENCE!" he yelled. He handed me a large cup, I paid him and we drove off. <br />
<br />
I tasted it; it was the worst cup of joe I have ever had the misfortune to lift to my lips. I looked at my friends and said, "I'm so sorry that I didn't go to Starbucks." They continued to laugh at the whole debacle.<br />
<br />
Since this encounter, I have made a new cardinal rule in the Holy Book of Scarlett's Cardinal Rules... 'If they don't know what it is, don't ask them to make it, and<i> never</i> buy coffee from an old man in a coffee shed in a small town.<i> Ever</i>.'<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUgMLy_YQjGplZQkZyD4yY-twVT_iA6BNFREyPXehF89ABAmbWlPLp1oxL1Ajyjy8s0gGr6WKpjGs5BkhPI-rpAt_48iFyHZ4BVxf-msldGuQjk64AGAyTtc3QYFRLx20HI3KU6x3cgo/s1600/coffee+monkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUgMLy_YQjGplZQkZyD4yY-twVT_iA6BNFREyPXehF89ABAmbWlPLp1oxL1Ajyjy8s0gGr6WKpjGs5BkhPI-rpAt_48iFyHZ4BVxf-msldGuQjk64AGAyTtc3QYFRLx20HI3KU6x3cgo/s400/coffee+monkey.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><br />
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<em>~ Wanderlust Scarlett</em><script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript">
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<br />
A minute can be a long time. <br />
<br />
60 seconds.<br />
<br />
Watch a clock tick for 60 seconds and see how long it is. <br />
<br />
I believe that in the experience of all of those people aboard that flight, that it was very likely the longest three and half minutes and simultaneously the shortest three and a half minutes of their lives. They had to have known... falling at 10,000 feet per minute. What were they thinking? What did they do? <br />
Our truest colors show through in the most difficult times. <br />
<br />
What would you think or do in that circumstance? If you were on that plane... if you <em>knew</em> that your life was about to end and there was nothing you could do to stop it. If you knew the lives of others around you were ending... what would you do? Three and a half minutes. <br />
<br />
I believe, if there were a loved one sitting next to me, that I would hold them tightly and tell them how much I loved them. If I were seated by a stranger, I would hold their hand, if they wanted it. I would think prayers and thoughts of love to all those who mean the world to me. I would probably watch, as I would very likely be seated by the window, in hopes that somehow it would work out. Disbelief. <br />
<br />
The truth is that we are all in that position, constantly, though undoubtedly not as tragically. The minutes of our lives are unknown, and they tick away incessantly. There may be mere moments left to us, 3 minutes or 3 billion minutes. Does it make it any less valuable if you have more of it? No. Are you making every minute count? Do your loved ones know how much they mean to you? <br />
<br />
Would you leave it unsaid or undone? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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If nothing else, it is a good laugh, and laughter is the best medicine. Thank you, CDC, for looking out for the well being of all, in many ways.<br />
<br />
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