tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71266918102193867052024-03-13T13:45:20.140-07:00Just Shoot It.CNZ Design Studio<br>
Something different.bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-24809385232426531432013-03-26T19:35:00.001-07:002013-03-27T04:23:17.783-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYhM2IpuCrY3dCDxoImcYzRBPFimusQ0RBvu_jtJb0chTbw539O4xecgHtnzgQO-6Dg0IyV2vcCbbuIvsF9SQSyXxYD51I-pQvKb3pmqR1b0OMkKtSa0Ep_w6tDpN8CeC66WEE6H8A4t4/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYhM2IpuCrY3dCDxoImcYzRBPFimusQ0RBvu_jtJb0chTbw539O4xecgHtnzgQO-6Dg0IyV2vcCbbuIvsF9SQSyXxYD51I-pQvKb3pmqR1b0OMkKtSa0Ep_w6tDpN8CeC66WEE6H8A4t4/s320/020.JPG" /></a> Something jogged my memory tonight. When my daughter and I visited Findlay Market one Saturday morning about a year prior to my losing my house I remember saying "I love the energy down here; I want to be part of this..." Fast forward one and half years...I am part of it. I saw a picture that made me sit up and think. I have my daughter to thank for saving my sorry ass. I was focusing on what I was losing and not what I was gaining. She found the number of the apartment that I now inhabit and insisted that I call it (from her UPS truck on Xmas break)..I finally did and established a pretty cool relationship with my apartment owner (landlord). Dream fulfilled.
Tonight, at my local wine bar, I met up with some of my friends. One of the regulars is an elderly gentleman, who has suffered from a stroke. I don't really know him - but I know OF him - as I know his recent story and his current needs status. He comes to socialize - we all need this. He's still quite sharp and keeps up with conversation - his current problem is output - he's hard to understand - but the fact that I've listened to his feedback gives me complete confidence he knows what he is talking about. He also struggles physically. Tonight, I was relieved when my friend J showed up - he trusts her and knows that she will take him home. He lives near me. And I've made it clear I would take him home too. maybe he doesn't trust me yet. I think he does. We'll just need to get there. J came in, he decided he needed to go home...after a full day's work she and my other friend got him home. When they returned...I told them..I was proud to be their friend and honored to know them. These are the people you want in your corner. They matter and they care. Remember this story when you read about hatred. There is also a great amount of good out there. We just need to focus on it.bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-5609962162722435862012-12-31T19:04:00.000-08:002012-12-31T19:04:02.397-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITtem8ayazTX-qwkifg-uFd7LQB0TAicpwoefzJ7Rp5xlO8cP3BoTWv4VNQDXL2vCpvrXXuXpZzA9J9FxiZvQG6SdT_YfO_GKHCCi6tT4xpBvc6vGlRCuF91WvVC3wJYff_sYdA0lh-Y/s1600/mother%2527s+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="213" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITtem8ayazTX-qwkifg-uFd7LQB0TAicpwoefzJ7Rp5xlO8cP3BoTWv4VNQDXL2vCpvrXXuXpZzA9J9FxiZvQG6SdT_YfO_GKHCCi6tT4xpBvc6vGlRCuF91WvVC3wJYff_sYdA0lh-Y/s320/mother%2527s+day.jpg" /></a></div>
So where did I go wrong? My mom planned the perfect wedding, we were young and had the world ahead of us. It lasted 18 months. And at 22 I was a divorcee.
And pretty much asset-less. I walked. I took nothing with me, except some unwanted wedding gifts (my daughter from a subsequent marriage now owns the uber-expensive china living in Athens, OH attending college - go figure - I secretly hope her friends decide to have a "frisbee" contest with the Mikasa). No kids, no mess. It seemed to be the right thing to do. "Here, you take it all...I just want out."
In some weird twist of fate, I ended up in a conversation recently with the ex I had not even thought of in 30 years. Bad idea. He was still angry. After 30 years. Which is ok, as long as you have the facts straight. But he did not. Even close. The weird conversation turned ugly as he proceeded to accuse me of infidelity that never existed. Not that I care about the infidelity part. After 30 years, why do I feel the need to defend my decisions? On a different note, I apologize to said "Tim Zwork" living somewhere in Florida who was blamed for my indiscretions and whom I have zero knowledge of. Really? The Ex went through the last 30 years with the belief that I left him for someone that doesn't even exist to me. wow.
So what do we take from this? I now realize my actions created great emotional stress and suffering for someone else. When I left I was not clear on this. Probably because I was the one who wanted out - other's suffering is more easily dismissed. And...more importantly, we assume people change and grow when we haven't been a part of their day to day life. Do not ever assume this. Or you will end up in weird phone call hell and crying on your kitchen floor because you never saw it coming.
But in the end, allowing someone to vent their pain at your expense as long as it didn't cost more than a few minutes off your data plan...ok. Yeah, my feelings were hurt but maybe he gained that closure he thinks he needs. And my feelings always reel back with a vengeance. No one keeps me down long. And Hall & Oates songs will now be my secret reminder of my past relationship with said Ex. He didn't appreciate my remembrance on a mature level. Fuck him.
bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-14543975518472564442012-12-17T19:29:00.000-08:002012-12-17T19:39:50.494-08:00When "time out" doesn't fly....The Newtown massacre. A devastation. A mess of citizens across the country calling for everything. More gun control. More guns. Arm the teachers. Arm the 6 year olds. Ban the guns. Less guns. Let's kill deer with BB guns. It's a mess. Then there's the mental health call. I shared an article from <a href="http://http://anarchistsoccermom.blogspot.com/2012/12/thinking-unthinkable.html">Liza's take</a> Slate wrote an article in response. That article really unhinged me. Written from the perspective of a person who doesn't understand what daily life with a mentally ill person in your life consists of. She completely undermined Ms. Long's parenting skills and also managed to perpetuate the stigma of mental illness by accusing the mother of stigmatizing her son by calling out his mental illness in a public forum (she did not use his real name). Ms. Long is trying to bring awareness to a much needed forum.
I spent a few years of my life helping to raise a child who was brain damaged and struggled with aggression issues. Before my daughter was born (this child was 13 years older than her)he was a part of my life. He attended Junior High while living with me...his teachers and I decided after one unfortunate incident that his male teachers should refrain from neckties. I also was very lucky to live in a community that made it a point to afford him with resource education. After my daughter was born I initiated some rules while he lived in my home; I told his mother he was welcome as long as he did not pose a threat to my daughter.
At 16 this imploded. He tried to hurt my daughter. He was booked on the next flight back to his mother. I was lucky. I had somewhere to send him when he proved to be a threat to my other children. Most families don't have this option. Liza Long was left with "we have an emergency plan if your brother threatens to kill you" for her children. Lock yourself in the car. What. the. fuck.
Slate, shame on you for perpetuating the "let's hide the mentally ill person and not talk about their needs" because....well, yeah, we don't get it. Better moms, tougher parenting will fix it? No. They need help. And acceptance. And resources.bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-66743839320292592072012-07-20T19:12:00.001-07:002012-07-20T19:12:21.475-07:00The pain we want to forget....Today...a very good friend posted about a photographer who lost his wife to metastatic breast cancer. That's how I lost my mom almost 30 years ago. Yes, I was only 22. And motherless.<br />
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Here's the website: <a href="http://mywifesfightwithbreastcancer.com/" target="_blank">The Battle We Didn't Choose</a><br />
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I found the link because Wendy Blyth was pissed off. A Cancer support facility had an Art Gallery and was prepared to present his show. But then decided to cancel; because it was too painful for some of their patrons.<br />
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I will tell you, I clicked over to his website and photos when I saw Wendy's post. I was at work. And crying. Every thing was flooding back into my brain. Watching someone physically die from cancer is nothing I would ever wish even on my worst enemy. It's devastating. And guess what? I didn't die or feel the pain...I just watched...helplessly. It's a pain that you never recover from.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyOxhPKgtSrS3Sgx1nxqUWGBjq8iaFXZtOrr4GoPrTYfeAvbR2dILNSllMn1LuMr3QaruOzH3wdHU4qKGBvfh3V_a5nk9WCbbKBAc_RSr7ylA5DbE-RZJtbtSzAiEzVsLeKx5Y-DqKgM/s1600/Wendy+&+Mark+Blyth's+wedding+051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyOxhPKgtSrS3Sgx1nxqUWGBjq8iaFXZtOrr4GoPrTYfeAvbR2dILNSllMn1LuMr3QaruOzH3wdHU4qKGBvfh3V_a5nk9WCbbKBAc_RSr7ylA5DbE-RZJtbtSzAiEzVsLeKx5Y-DqKgM/s320/Wendy+&+Mark+Blyth's+wedding+051.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
My reason for this post is this: Nothing creates positive marketing like negative viral internet attention. I would have never seen this website or their struggle in life without <a href="http://alittlec.net/" target="_blank">Wendy's site</a> . I think the Gallery is dick for not honoring their contract. But Angelo will be more widespread and popular for this setback. This I know.<br />
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In honor of Carole Ann Nelson (my mother)<br />
<br />bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-71872469141262514442012-05-24T14:00:00.001-07:002012-05-24T17:43:35.992-07:00Reason #a bazillion why I love her so much...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i>Last night's conversation:</i></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQrx8zo1UponemGKPVWhHYKLh6NFZUXh1tMUuM8SHfPn7WUQmf9sTTgBNdz3lVb1zy0bDUFt0s0sMAdyBBrHG_-UjVhgAhCZafnHolDBmu0e36058WQ0vg6d3QGRnne27FCAvvsycVnM/s1600/movingday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQrx8zo1UponemGKPVWhHYKLh6NFZUXh1tMUuM8SHfPn7WUQmf9sTTgBNdz3lVb1zy0bDUFt0s0sMAdyBBrHG_-UjVhgAhCZafnHolDBmu0e36058WQ0vg6d3QGRnne27FCAvvsycVnM/s320/movingday.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo: Jann Bond</td></tr>
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Me: I can't find your passport.<br />
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Cee: mmmkay. Remember when we moved? I handed it to you as we were taking apart my desk and said "keep this in a safe spot" (said without malice or judgement).<br />
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Me: no, I was in a state of shock that day.....<br />
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Cee: *sigh* I know, I kinda had to takeover.<br />
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Me: let me think; it's in a leather thingy, right?<br />
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Cee: yes, it's red leather.<br />
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Me: ok, I'm gonna try and remember where I would have considered "safe place" that day.<br />
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Cee: mom, this is important...I'm going to Spain in 3 weeks.<br />
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Me: I know. Let me think. I'll call you back.<br />
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<b><i>NEXT CALL:</i></b><br />
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Me: Tell your mother how amazing she is.<br />
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Cee: OMG, you found it???? I was freaking out. You should see my room; we were tearing it apart thinking I might still have it. Where was it?<br />
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Me: you know that black leather zipper book where I keep your SS card? (Franklin Planner). In there.<br />
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I don't know what possessed me to look in that Planner. But score one for the low-tech approach to storing important data :)<br />
<br />bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-773631723933915782012-04-11T18:20:00.004-07:002012-04-11T18:20:36.718-07:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfqpNk64GA-W-eXKPZaLABv_SnOV2a4p7KkxEnPtI95LZaF4AQ6oJnNwRrAz0-Bp6re4Qyz9tZvFRq2GXOVbR4SzRaO0SQ15PxeFPFQ1H9CodqKh4Q5WJpH1T_2-A4mZM7uoaKtRlqtg/s1600/watermarked+happy+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfqpNk64GA-W-eXKPZaLABv_SnOV2a4p7KkxEnPtI95LZaF4AQ6oJnNwRrAz0-Bp6re4Qyz9tZvFRq2GXOVbR4SzRaO0SQ15PxeFPFQ1H9CodqKh4Q5WJpH1T_2-A4mZM7uoaKtRlqtg/s320/watermarked+happy+dog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Be Happy.</td></tr>
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<br />bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-21085858863069664952012-03-27T18:14:00.000-07:002012-03-28T13:40:15.149-07:00That Girl...I grew up in the late 60's, early 70's watching "That Girl"with Marlo Thomas. She epitomized every thing I wanted to be. Independent, beautiful, adventurous and sought after. She comes with a few quirks I am afflicted with as well - but we will leave those to your guessing.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zoh1LGADKI8&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zoh1LGADKI8&feature=related</a>
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It's funny how one stream of media can define you, later, in my teen years, I totally connected with Mary Tyler Moore on her show. Somehow, I always knew I wanted to live in an urban neighborhood and on my own. Not with the absence of a functional relationship (Ann Marie always had Donald and Daddy to be there in a pinch). I would like a Donald. He was cool and handsome. Her Dad was a bit over-bearing - but perfect for the time-culture. My Dad isn't too involved, but he's a generous guy, I'm glad he's not trying to tell me how to live my life at 51. But, here I am, downtown, more like "in the 'hood" and without "Donald"...this works for me momentarily, but I really would like to fall in love some day. I never have to worry about my Daddy walking into my apartment to find my "boyfriend" walking around in his boxers (very risque for TV land in the late 60's) . But I do wish he would get to meet Mr. Right.<br />
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<br />bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-46547689266649501842012-01-28T17:41:00.000-08:002012-01-29T06:17:36.258-08:00Work Ethic 101<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHsizK036_BADo90E_zYnTWrQxH7vR96k2_LoWacQ3xvi0pys9hPmyNsRyG1e5Ge5-lIshfn20-QS3UnRKrbuTnl91CZJhhqsMOvfjBpOivgloo98rU1eng2vdn_hr4Z1RjJfl1Zmdwo/s1600/ceeanna+sanam+swingin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHsizK036_BADo90E_zYnTWrQxH7vR96k2_LoWacQ3xvi0pys9hPmyNsRyG1e5Ge5-lIshfn20-QS3UnRKrbuTnl91CZJhhqsMOvfjBpOivgloo98rU1eng2vdn_hr4Z1RjJfl1Zmdwo/s320/ceeanna+sanam+swingin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Extracurricular sports. When your child is involved, so are you. To an extent you never imagined possible. My daughter played club/ HS soccer, club/HS swimming, HS track, club Lacrosse, played Violin in district Orchestra and participated in Art Club. Year 2009 added an American Foreign Exchange Student , my incredible girl, Inken who played soccer, diving and lacrosse. All of which I showed up to participate in. And actively supported with my checkbook . <br />
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And I am not complaining. Some of the most important moments of my life happened on the field/at the game. Winning goal against Madeira 2009...my daughter(assist). Alternate for State Swim team (she ended up having to swim because 3 members of the team got suspended). She received the Archie Griffin Sportsmanship Award and also the Warrior Award (most leadership oriented player) her 2009-2010 season. The Most Improved award for Inken who learned something like 17 dives to compete in the High School District meet (she had not been a Diver before).<br />
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All this time and energy and expense. Is she a collegiate athlete now? NO. Do I care? Maybe a little. But very little. She loves college and she actually has 2 jobs and likes "working". Imagine that, a young woman who says, "l would rather work enough hours to pay back my loans than take a partial scholarship, which probably wouldn't cover my time to run on the track team". She still may decide to run track at some point - I know she misses the team effort - and if so - I will probably make the 3 hour trip to watch. I'm so tired of listening to politicians bitch about over-spoiled college students who don't want to work and slide through on loans. But the message any parent should take from this...extracurricular matters. Encourage it. Pay for it. Do it.<br />
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<br />bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-82473006006273998652012-01-22T08:08:00.000-08:002012-01-22T08:08:13.646-08:00One of those Swimming Moments<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ81G4_i2wXQYAtpd-s11WmAqIUR5HWas4gwoXzPZ6PhP-mXsMGceSd_-s4z__fLkIWxeLXSLFhDfhqzK-ls0d2YFIsJpAUG-HdFYyTuIxrvcx79YBk_hPnBdXFT9Qvba5m_9Bh1QcO-8/s1600/3279893932_e7f451bfb9_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ81G4_i2wXQYAtpd-s11WmAqIUR5HWas4gwoXzPZ6PhP-mXsMGceSd_-s4z__fLkIWxeLXSLFhDfhqzK-ls0d2YFIsJpAUG-HdFYyTuIxrvcx79YBk_hPnBdXFT9Qvba5m_9Bh1QcO-8/s320/3279893932_e7f451bfb9_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Driving somewhere with my daughter in Winter 2010, a song comes on the CD player and she starts giggling. She explains, "mom, I forgot to tell you about this, it was one of those true swimming moments". She swam for Mariemont High all 4 years and started her swimming career at 6 with our municipal pool in the Village. The song on the player was "Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus. She went on to explain. At their Toledo Invitational meet she reminds me how the first seeded swimmer in the final heat gets to pick out a song to walk out on deck to. It's the last race of the day - Boys 400 Freestyle Relay. She says 4 young men saunter out onto the deck to "Party in the USA", then she says, "the most amazing moment happened...everyone in the natatorium stood up and started doing the "Miley dance" - hands up, swaying their hips...", she kinda sing-songed. We were both laughing so hard. When I caught my breath, I said, "you know that only happens with swimmers, no football player would ever be caught dead "swaying their hips". She said, "I know, it was awesome, swimmers are so cool."<br />
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The photo above is a capture of the first time she broke a minute for her 100-Free - she was the swimmer in Lane 2. Watching your child attain their goals is precious time spent. Few things are so gratifying. The date on this picture is February 14, 2009. That's how a swim-mom spends her Valentine's day...at the meet.bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-57451790710091362782012-01-17T08:07:00.000-08:002012-01-17T08:07:28.258-08:00It's Just Stuff and Things<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfq7Auc5Pmp6yBzt8T0TitG1js7ABmQOE9nk0-bI15jZ-hKeesSxTm2Fi3k0lZCLQwY4PVzQLU5BirXCq0V7hGLqQkwc7ERns3XHFhycBQ3G3BAIZ6pH9rwpqyx2GfrleoPL63Y0leUlg/s1600/passerby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfq7Auc5Pmp6yBzt8T0TitG1js7ABmQOE9nk0-bI15jZ-hKeesSxTm2Fi3k0lZCLQwY4PVzQLU5BirXCq0V7hGLqQkwc7ERns3XHFhycBQ3G3BAIZ6pH9rwpqyx2GfrleoPL63Y0leUlg/s320/passerby.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">passante</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwgQlJto4SfyCsNY2lWYNfTvF2ao4lLBbPY0T9usNfEPRkjZSWtyyEpcWraB_nQhFTxd7iPklr9fM6x89egZQiYt6TypHc8YbBqVyUvrH9Husr6fnmr95GE6EFShzu8U2TG67SuE8npk/s1600/my+heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwgQlJto4SfyCsNY2lWYNfTvF2ao4lLBbPY0T9usNfEPRkjZSWtyyEpcWraB_nQhFTxd7iPklr9fM6x89egZQiYt6TypHc8YbBqVyUvrH9Husr6fnmr95GE6EFShzu8U2TG67SuE8npk/s320/my+heart.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">only hearts</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM6KP8mfqTWrVXGlhpyTfFERCXrlluanQMN2VUWitqjOWxcB51-Y23GhF3LcgQq1D4_ggvPUA6jgz2cXFPyEzFc-0zSlmURaP7zWicEnTShiRqXrkR25ooxdm1SUKUOtPr5G3gtzT4-1Q/s1600/church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM6KP8mfqTWrVXGlhpyTfFERCXrlluanQMN2VUWitqjOWxcB51-Y23GhF3LcgQq1D4_ggvPUA6jgz2cXFPyEzFc-0zSlmURaP7zWicEnTShiRqXrkR25ooxdm1SUKUOtPr5G3gtzT4-1Q/s320/church.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">church</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAr-9x2RqgDx0vP71iDfsKeaqO-sM3u-xzpRQkybhoI771dxAtFV6Be8loumS9gIKK9_j9JVbD5FGmZPjLzMrUIRyGy5KsJxdUDqrXhKBUYqCkc99nFcYCrzKbYb3jQsnIz6swyNBneIA/s1600/backoff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAr-9x2RqgDx0vP71iDfsKeaqO-sM3u-xzpRQkybhoI771dxAtFV6Be8loumS9gIKK9_j9JVbD5FGmZPjLzMrUIRyGy5KsJxdUDqrXhKBUYqCkc99nFcYCrzKbYb3jQsnIz6swyNBneIA/s320/backoff.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">it's green...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkHMBFQ9z6kTJS_TFuhe5hrcsHKzv0qR0XzwMhtF8ZB-Pf3-2MIHW8opAcNYQc9VZAKJYNMvIyV0hyIF8oMP-Pf86PHtkOSv8DpDJ40LQw24G9J5qcmpb89oGj3aWp8QaEkS4KnhZ5RI/s1600/redtogreen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkHMBFQ9z6kTJS_TFuhe5hrcsHKzv0qR0XzwMhtF8ZB-Pf3-2MIHW8opAcNYQc9VZAKJYNMvIyV0hyIF8oMP-Pf86PHtkOSv8DpDJ40LQw24G9J5qcmpb89oGj3aWp8QaEkS4KnhZ5RI/s320/redtogreen.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">changeling</td></tr>
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<br />bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-59382693113578377912012-01-15T06:53:00.000-08:002012-01-15T06:53:12.284-08:00I am Danger Girl; where's my damn cape?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyEoOY5FNON5tPUQqToClvqEHxatJdbYxjEXFSusVIP0gT7S78OG-Kit8xg6xy3cv2L5VqsfGwAPsT4Jft11Yygx7Ddu1UXN-NK_fESjFEd9IXpKX19nkUuqVNh85G5MiQV5tlv6yWu1c/s1600/bw6stiches.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyEoOY5FNON5tPUQqToClvqEHxatJdbYxjEXFSusVIP0gT7S78OG-Kit8xg6xy3cv2L5VqsfGwAPsT4Jft11Yygx7Ddu1UXN-NK_fESjFEd9IXpKX19nkUuqVNh85G5MiQV5tlv6yWu1c/s320/bw6stiches.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I had another little mishap with glass, my old nemesis, last night. It wasn't very pretty and this time I decided to drive to the ER (I didn't last time; ended up taking massive antibiotics only to find out I was allergic to Penicillin which really messed my system up, it took months for me to feel healthy again). 6 stitches, a very sore ass and bruised ego. Fun.<br />
<br />
Am I accident prone? I remember my dad having lots of these "mishaps" as I was growing up. I'm a lot like him. I think it comes from not paying attention to our own good sense and trying to do too much at one time. Last night, I showed some of my photography at Arnold's downtown. I drove home, stopped to get a bottle of wine (no, it wasn't the wine bottle this time), got out of my car and attempted to carry the wine, all 9 of my glass framed photos and my 25-lb camera bag into the house. Common sense was dictating in my brain "take TWO trips" but did I listen? Nah. My front stoop is small, probably around 4 feet wide by 3 feet deep - with 3 steps. I have a heavy old wooden screen door which sticks. Pull on the door, lose my grip, step backwards - to nothing there - with a 25 lb bag on my back. Physics apply here. I go down backwards with a whole lot of glass following me. To the camera bag's credit - I didn't lose one lens or damage my camera (it's an Emera bag) and it broke my fall a bit. But one of the glass frames broke and ended up lodging in my outer wrist. It's been almost a year since my last encounter with "laceration" and when I looked into the cut, made an instant decision to listen to the inner voice screaming "Emergency Room". See? I can be taught. I'm just stubborn about it.<br />
<br />
So the packing will go slower today. With a wee bit more deliberation in my thought process. Glass is sharp, flesh wounds bleed, bones can break. I need to be more careful with me.bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-11508857577176885012012-01-14T09:42:00.000-08:002012-01-14T09:42:07.877-08:00Just some awesome.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-5956315137801665502012-01-10T21:14:00.000-08:002012-01-11T06:08:02.951-08:00There's one advantage to being 102. There's no peer pressure. ~ Dennis Wolfberg<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-4Cm-kxAgqbmv8Yb0jc8ivRPhw7Vmw4bcwyIyzJph-hmaeZSvN8u_w_NqiEEGPa-ACXreigTXK3exjbJnzyNcL6WNPh20cwbHAa5THM2pi6jlLcP8K0CjaMybbSEETA463MzxbtK1ks/s1600/new+apartment+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-4Cm-kxAgqbmv8Yb0jc8ivRPhw7Vmw4bcwyIyzJph-hmaeZSvN8u_w_NqiEEGPa-ACXreigTXK3exjbJnzyNcL6WNPh20cwbHAa5THM2pi6jlLcP8K0CjaMybbSEETA463MzxbtK1ks/s320/new+apartment+001.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
I like old. Functioning, for sure. But old. I guess that should translate to people as well. But the population of humans that send me over the edge are usually those over the age of 75.. especially if they aren't functioning properly. This probably makes me sound mean. I'm pretty sure this animosity comes from fear. I really don't want to be them. But I guess it's just a matter of time.<br />
<br />
My new/old oven is original to the house. My landlord told me they tried to move it to their part of the house - but they couldn't get it through any of the doorways. It's destined to be in my apartment. Like me. Matches made in heaven. I like those.bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-84021587603937894002012-01-06T21:10:00.000-08:002012-01-07T07:16:33.612-08:00"It's a good day when no one is shooting at you"This piece of perspective was given to me by someone I used to know: "It's a good day when no one is shooting at you." He said he was a Marine, so I felt it was a relative statement. I don't know if he really was, a whole lot of things about him turned out to be lies, but these words stuck with me. And I have used them more times than I care to remember in the past 5 years.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtDn032GNWRpXAcNNHL325F6VppbiOqx9Mbt-MikP_a67Bfn1s63G3TzMHUE50iGRjbC6tL0vdiwGfVTwzpRCi5Z3M3r3bYZbwSBQ_5TH_VD9nQpKOQp60xeqdxUpHfQrOX9UkjGpH_N0/s1600/day62+030cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtDn032GNWRpXAcNNHL325F6VppbiOqx9Mbt-MikP_a67Bfn1s63G3TzMHUE50iGRjbC6tL0vdiwGfVTwzpRCi5Z3M3r3bYZbwSBQ_5TH_VD9nQpKOQp60xeqdxUpHfQrOX9UkjGpH_N0/s320/day62+030cropped.jpg" width="320" /></a>Perspective is all relative. When I told someone that my move is taking place in February, she looked at me kinda horror-stricken and gasped "oh my god, what if it SNOWS?" Really? That's the worst possible scenario that comes to mind for her? Wow. She puts into perspective for me that saying about "we aren't given more than we can handle". But then, I did move from California to Pagosa Springs, CO in February of 1993 during the biggest snowstorm the San Juan mountains had seen in a couple of years. I'm pretty sure I drove into town as more than 20 inches of snow fell; as did my mover. I had a 1-year old and a 13-year old disabled child to care for by myself. I remember there being so much snow packed up in front of the front door that we had to enter through the garage, open the front door from the inside and dig out to clear a path for the movers. So, I've "been there; done that". I'm certain that snow isn't really an issue for me. I also remember that was the first time Ceeanna ever saw snow and she squealed with joy playing in it. She still loves it. I can count this as a good memory.<br />
<br />
I recently ran across a blog that linked back to <a href="http://www.geekfill.com/2011/06/29/first-world-problems/" target="_blank">this First World Problems collection</a> . I laughed so hard I cried the first time I saw it. My favorite on that list is "My laptop is low on battery, but the charger is over there..." How many times a day do we say these things in our head (or some of us out loud so we can truly prove what whiners we are)? <br />
<br />
In my <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0879870/" target="_blank">favorite movie</a> the character, Richard from Texas says to Liz from New York (or as he called her; Groceries) <b style="font-style: italic;">"Groceries, you need to learn how to select your thoughts, just the way you select what clothes you're gonna wear everyday." </b>I'm going to add that we can learn to choose our perspective as well. You can see the world through a dark, grimy window or the beveled glass one that produces shards of beautiful refracted light. It's a choice.bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-72131953872340008772012-01-04T17:42:00.000-08:002012-01-04T17:42:07.728-08:00Thank you notes.Thank you notes. Write them. Make your children write them. I know, it's no fun being a nag. For years, I have made my daughter sit down and take the time to write a simple note to people that have given her gifts, helped her, employed her, etc. Up until a year ago, I always had to remind, prod, cajole - "please, send (insert person here) a thank you note - they were so generous with you, it's kind to let them know you appreciated it." Even though some of the Christmas thank you notes went out in April, they still went out! This year has been a nuclear fall-out in my house for the holidays. Moving boxes everywhere, pictures off the walls, her stuff home from school, her packing up stuff to get rid of for my move. House a'la refugee camp Zulla. That's us. <br />
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She wrote her thank you notes without a reminder from me. They sat on the kitchen table - un-addressed - until she left for school on Monday. "Mommy? Will you mail these for me, I never got to it..." Of course I would. I took them to the office and started to address envelopes for them. I read the one she wrote to my Dad - who has helped her pay for college and went in on an iPad with me for her Christmas gift. Along with the thank you for the iPad, was this:<br />
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<b><i>"you should come up to Athens with my mom some weekend and see the campus of OU so you can see the school you are helping me to get through, you would like it."</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b><br />
My eyes filled with tears. I didn't tell her to write that. She gets it. All those years of nagging about the thank you notes paid off. She has mastered the art of gratitude. It's a tough one; but so worth learning. I know that her life will be full of joy. When you give...you receive back so much more than you ever dreamed. An amazing circle.bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-55454815071291075422012-01-02T20:57:00.000-08:002012-01-03T19:28:14.672-08:00Raise Your Hopeful VoiceI've mentioned my obsession for Eat Pray Love before. At one point in the film, Ketut, the elderly (or not so) Balinese Fortuneteller tells Liz she should "smile" through her meditation. I have failed miserably at any form of meditation, prayer or mind-travel. Always. The scene in the movie where Liz tries to meditate and all she can do is think about decorating her new meditation room doesn't even come close to how lousy I am at focusing my thoughts. Years ago, when I was responsible for every toilet in our company (around 50; I was the Property Manager) someone arranged a "mini-vacation" brown bag lunch at our home office. I thought that sounded nice. So I packed my lunch, arranged to fix toilets in the morning and showed up for the "mini-vacation". Wow. What a mess that became. As the "mini-vacation guru" described my beachfront destination I quickly descended into desolate, inconsolable depression. And began sobbing uncontrollably. In front of my entire HR department. It was pathetic. I had to run out (never ate my lunch) and sat outside for at least 45 minutes to calm down. When I returned to my office, the mini-vacation lady (read: evil negative thought provoking lady) was waiting for me. I actually made eye contact. She started: "Are you ok?"..."um, yeah." "This happens every time"..."Really?".. "Yes, really. There is always someone in the room that is running so hard they never let anything catch up with them...when they finally slow down enough for that to happen, it washes over them like a wave and they are swallowed up by it."<br />
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I was laying in bed tonight with my headphones on and listening to music and I realized I had a smile on my face. Maybe we just need to find our proper form of "mini-vacation" to escape to. Maybe mine is music.<br />
<br />
"Words fall through me and always fool me and I can't react. And games that never amount to more than they're meant will play themselves out.<br />
<br />
Take this sinking boat and point it home; we've still got time. <br />
Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice;<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JNti4ENRsnU/TwKJ1zpJWQI/AAAAAAAAANE/18ePwx9T2VQ/s1600/blog+post+2012+006bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="196" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JNti4ENRsnU/TwKJ1zpJWQI/AAAAAAAAANE/18ePwx9T2VQ/s200/blog+post+2012+006bw.jpg" width="200" /></a>you make it now. Falling slowly." ~ Glen Hansardbethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-61369123277250534742012-01-01T06:48:00.001-08:002012-01-01T07:53:47.209-08:00Seems Simple.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-63830543094921218042011-12-30T07:32:00.000-08:002011-12-30T09:30:11.233-08:00"We Choose...therefore we are."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4EMxjv9SR18/Tv3EPy62oGI/AAAAAAAAAM4/MTf2tc2rAkc/s1600/francob%2526w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4EMxjv9SR18/Tv3EPy62oGI/AAAAAAAAAM4/MTf2tc2rAkc/s200/francob%2526w.jpg" width="158" /></a></div>
We watched <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1542344/" target="_blank">127 Hours</a> last night. Spoiler alert: I'm going to write about his "desperate measures to extricate himself". If you haven't seen the movie and want to be surprised by the end, you should stop reading now. Most of us heard of the young man Aron Ralston (played in the movie by James Franco) who became trapped in a canyon in Moab, Utah when a boulder pinned his hand and he ultimately came to the decision after 5 days to cut off his arm to save his life.<br />
One thing I can tell you about this movie, even though I knew the end, I sat on the end of my chair and barely breathed for the entire film. My daughter and I watched it together, and after I said for the sixth time, "you should always tell someone where you are going; never just take off like that"...she said "mom, I get it". At one point, she said "I wonder why he cut his arm off so high up; it was only his hand that was pinned?" When it finally got to the scene where he makes the decision to take off his arm the realization hits that he needs to break the arm first and then cut through - as he didn't have a tool sharp enough to cut through flesh; let alone bone. Just before he started to use his arm as a fulcrum to break itself; I said "that's why it's up higher - it broke at the weakest point". So, could I do the same, confronted with that decision? I think so. Not because I am brave. More for fear. Fear of what I would leave behind. My daughter, my dogs, my life. Fear of the pain I would cause for my daughter by not having enough courage to endure what is essentially a relatively few minutes of excruciating pain in exchange for a chance at life. My own mother decided to give up on her chemotherapy and died of cancer. I am still angry at that choice. Hers to make. But the hole she left behind in my heart will never heal. Can I for certain say she would have survived had she continued the chemo? No. But without it, her chances for survival diminished greatly. In my mind, she gave up and chose death (no more pain) over pain. But, she didn't have the benefit of knowing what the aftermath would be. I do. So it would make my choice to live easier to make, if I had to.<br />
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What about those choices we make everyday that aren't life or death (in our minds)? How about the cigarettes we continue to smoke, drinking too much, drugs, eating more than we need, not exercising enough or spending money we don't have? All of these choices can lead to ruin and/or death over time. Most people don't make the choice to quit smoking, until faced with a diagnosis of cancer - by then - too late. Same for liver failure, diabetes, heart disease, and relationship/financial disaster. It's just easier to continue our behavior when it takes longer than the very condensed decision Aron Ralston had to make to survive.<br />
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Choices shape us. In the movie, Aron has 5 days to reflect on who he is and how his selfish choices have impacted those around him. He never took time to return calls to family & friends. He didn't share his life with those around him - thought that he alone was in control of it all and above needing help from anyone. I can relate to this. Party Of One. The most gripping part of the movie for me is when he makes it out of the caverns, sees people in the distance before him and starts yelling for help. His cries are muted and music is playing so it's hard to make out what he's yelling - but you can read his lips and the final plea "I need help" leaves it's impact on me. Would Aron have learned to reach out and trust had he not experienced his life/death experience? Maybe. Maybe not. I don't want to have to be faced with that decision. So, I'm going to try harder everyday, little by little, to make better choices.<br />
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(Photo Credit: I took a photo of the DVD case; it's a film still from the movie; I'll just credit Cloud Eight Films)bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-13170504501379780852011-12-29T12:30:00.000-08:002011-12-29T12:30:25.501-08:00"Oh the Places You'll Go"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My amazing daughter bought me this bracelet for Christmas. I know we all think our children are amazing. But, Ceeanna and I have a pretty incredible bond built by years of having to be there for each other. It has been just the two of us since she turned 4 years old. We had our moments - as all mothers/daughters do - but they never lasted more than a few minutes; an hour tops. We both love Dr. Seuss and she thought this bracelet was perfect to remind me of all the new adventures I have coming up this year. She's the one who actually found my apartment. We were driving around the Brewery District downtown and she saw the sign on the fence and wrote down the number, then texted me the next day at least 3 times to ask if I had called it. I finally did and everything fell into place from there. She's so much more proactive than me; I'm trying harder to be more like her. On her visits home we will be having breakfasts of <a href="http://www.dojogelato.com/" target="_blank">Dojo Gelato</a> (peanut butter/sriracha is my fave; she likes the caramel/sea salt) or <a href="http://authenticwaffle.com/locations/findlay-market/" target="_blank">Taste of Belgium</a> for freshly made Belgian Waffles.<br />
<br />
"And when things start to happen,<br />
don't worry. Don't stew.<br />
Just go right along.<br />
You'll start happening too.<br />
<br />
OH!<br />
THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!"bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-90825056829180593532011-12-28T09:29:00.000-08:002011-12-28T09:31:59.279-08:00"Stuck" in Cincinnati<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Dr8xx-i3U6k/TvtKhx4WRDI/AAAAAAAAAMg/DUzB8o5yVBg/s1600/304165_284489251580302_142269259135636_1081973_534442541_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Dr8xx-i3U6k/TvtKhx4WRDI/AAAAAAAAAMg/DUzB8o5yVBg/s320/304165_284489251580302_142269259135636_1081973_534442541_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>A friend of mine posted <a href="http://www.theatlanticcities.com/neighborhoods/2011/12/stuck-or-content/770/#.TvtEtcxFt2M.facebook" target="_blank">this excellent article</a> on Facebook today (thanks, Kim!). Among other things, it reminded me of all the awesome that is Cincinnati. Being winter, I find that I kind of get down on our city, not being a big fan of cold weather. The impending move to downtown has rejuvenated my spirit - so I will list here what I'm looking forward to most in my new/old Over the Rhine home:<br />
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1. Walking to <a href="http://www.findlaymarket.org/" target="_blank">Findlay Market</a> on the weekends and doing my shopping there.<br />
2. Dojo Gelato for breakfast on Saturday mornings.<br />
3. New photography projects in OTR.<br />
4. No more yardwork.<br />
5. Using the the Main Branch of <a href="http://www.cincinnatilibrary.org/" target="_blank">the Public Library</a>; Cincinnati's public library system is amazing.<br />
6. Hanging on the doggy patio of <a href="http://www.neons-unplugged.com/" target="_blank">Neon's</a> in the summer; I'm not sure how Evildog will behave but I'm gonna give it a try. dumBella will not be trying.<br />
7. Making new friends and meeting up with friends that already live downtown.<br />
8. My new (old) kitchen stove - it's original to the 1860 house I'm moving into. It's so cool.<br />
9. The architecture. Did you know that OTR has the largest collection of Italianate architecture in the US?<br />
10. Did I mention NO yardwork?bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-70375757328547613052011-12-27T14:07:00.000-08:002011-12-27T14:10:43.313-08:00Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation...I'm going to admit that I have watched <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0879870/quotes">Eat Pray Love</a> at least 12 times. And will probably watch it many more. The book has been read as well. Which is even better than the movie. I can so relate to Liz Gilbert in the story. My life is at a crossroads and 2012 will bring many changes. I would love nothing more than to pack all my shit into a 12x12 box and move to Italy...but the reality is that I'm a mom and the breadwinner (as little as my bread is) and taking off for a year isn't in the stars. Or my budget. I've lived in the same house and neighborhood for the past 16 years and put the second floor on our little home. My daughter and I picked every tile, paint color, fixture and hardwood plank up there. And now we are losing it all. I gave it everything I had (and a lot I didn't); but it will now go back to the bank. So, I'm moving downtown to fulfill a lifelong dream of living in a city. My new digs will be a 650 sf second floor apartment. I've decided to blog about the upcoming move and changes in my life. I'm not much of a writer; but I think it will keep me from spinning out of control and stay focused on what's truly important. I have a roof over my head (and my dogs' & my kid's heads), I'm healthy and employed. My house holds so many precious memories, but is now an albatross around my neck and a source of financial ruin. The quote from Eat Pray Love about "Ruin being a gift; ruin is the road to transformation" holds special meaning for me now.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b07XxK6FuSQ/TvpBAcJD6jI/AAAAAAAAAMU/e3bFyUsIXns/s1600/395816_332484846780742_142269259135636_1243816_714394513_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b07XxK6FuSQ/TvpBAcJD6jI/AAAAAAAAAMU/e3bFyUsIXns/s320/395816_332484846780742_142269259135636_1243816_714394513_n.jpg" width="221" /></a></div>My daughter got me this book for Christmas. I'm just going to go on faith and agree with her.bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-65005407992139768962011-05-13T16:02:00.000-07:002011-05-13T16:02:03.730-07:00Jitters<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/AVvXsEh-VmgAM5yLbM-oVIHba6zN174WB61xvvYsBMNzztHaTO9edCBEujf3AXILY8jtRs9fynp9bsDkwLDKc0PdvwlryS9sLiTphVi-kKaciBdD9gnF4MnmkJ1p2pVV7a3SaCAWV4-sxdFbmFM/s1600/Heather+%2526+Steve+183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-VmgAM5yLbM-oVIHba6zN174WB61xvvYsBMNzztHaTO9edCBEujf3AXILY8jtRs9fynp9bsDkwLDKc0PdvwlryS9sLiTphVi-kKaciBdD9gnF4MnmkJ1p2pVV7a3SaCAWV4-sxdFbmFM/s320/Heather+%2526+Steve+183.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Last weekend I had the opportunity to shoot my first wedding. Jennifer Prine & Andrea McClain of <a href="http://www.luvbugphoto.com/">Luv Bug Photo</a> (and the bride & groom) were kind enough to let me tag along on their photo shoot so I could get an idea of what to expect as a photographer. I was nervous - what I call the "jitters". Steve & Heather Gabbard decided on a "First Glance" style wedding - where photos are taken beforehand and the Bride & Groom see each other prior to the ceremony. We took pics of the groomsmen/groom first. I took several shots of Steve with the "jitters". Then the bride and her bridesmaids came out and my first few shots of Heather are full of "jitters" too. I didn't feel alone anymore. And I realized their "jitters" go a little deeper than mine as a photog there to help record this very important occasion. No more baby steps, this was the BIG step forward. But as soon as they saw each other and hugged under the gazebo, the "jitters" melted away. They took comfort in each others love, as they will for the rest of their lives as husband and wife. Congratulations, Heather & Steve Gabbard! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9NZeCkr_EiKZmiEw45_YCAv0JdbnMh3ThKdxPNyo9FNGxZ_XGwW_pMYHfgADFZx28amtuGX-zm0LjzS_sGY7ZEat14g0r0OYog3FzU3X3DWsXuhORgF23soQ7EQPCV85l9GArh7vpzrA/s1600/firstglance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9NZeCkr_EiKZmiEw45_YCAv0JdbnMh3ThKdxPNyo9FNGxZ_XGwW_pMYHfgADFZx28amtuGX-zm0LjzS_sGY7ZEat14g0r0OYog3FzU3X3DWsXuhORgF23soQ7EQPCV85l9GArh7vpzrA/s200/firstglance.jpg" width="153" /></a></div>bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-9745311144958354632011-01-26T12:05:00.000-08:002011-01-26T12:05:09.686-08:00My Two Cents<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Z3k5AbzHsANVr_1YtPDzC7wcccQUOBfnTcoqYUwR5lzXqCUkDLUNNQA0x2-rOMdKgWqX9uIuNI7hAmVYQ5Qk7kWOOBAdMU16t1HGbLEXLcCQJw-XD9QSjh_-E2kE9oLtw9ovL4dBYYA/s1600/5388859827_78f5c68533_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Z3k5AbzHsANVr_1YtPDzC7wcccQUOBfnTcoqYUwR5lzXqCUkDLUNNQA0x2-rOMdKgWqX9uIuNI7hAmVYQ5Qk7kWOOBAdMU16t1HGbLEXLcCQJw-XD9QSjh_-E2kE9oLtw9ovL4dBYYA/s320/5388859827_78f5c68533_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I recently read a photography blog (wish I could remember which one) that talked about the importance of clients purchasing their pictures in some sort of printed form from the photographer. There were lots of good points in the blog, but the comments made by other photographers gave me much more insight and info than the actual blogpost. Her point was, by "giving" the client the digital images on a disk and not requiring a printed purchase the Photographer was falling down on their job. It's a huge debate in the photography world...part with your digital images (the negatives) or don't. The comments provided me with some much needed info; which was that photography pricing and product is ALL over the board. I don't think I saw two comments/Photographers in at least 50 that priced or produced the same. Some people just charge for the photography session and produce a Hi-Res disk with images, some require printed sales, some do both, some charge more for Hi-Res, etc. ad nauseum. My head was spinning!<br />
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But, last night I came to a conclusion. As a Photographer, I should provide a number of proofs (that I select based on my skills as an artist) and put together a printed product. It will be part of my package from this day forward. I was of the crowd that did the shoot, PP'd a given number of images and loaded them up to a disk in Hi-Res. I don't want the hassle of picking out albums, photos, mugs, blankets, whatever the client wanted to see their photos in/on. I still believe that the bulk of that decision should be left to the client - there are far too many options for me to limit their choice. But, the vast majority of people that receive a disk, do only two things - load some of the images up to Facebook (which resizes the photo to crap) and then put the disk in a drawer. Oh, and a third thing....never get around to putting together an album.<br />
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See, last night I came across my mom & dad's wedding album. It's one of those beautiful white leather bound books with brass corners on each heavily matted page, protected by thick vinyl on the outside and each page encased in cello. The front is embossed in gold with script that says "Our Wedding Day". The first two pages are heavy stock paper with places to fill in the date, names, place of the wedding, guests, etc. Guess what? NONE of it was filled out. My mom didn't even take the time to fill in a few blanks. She died 25 years ago, my dad remarried and entrusted me with his & mom's Wedding Album. It's a rare glimpse back to who she was as a young woman. Back then, the photographer provided the couple with proofs and they picked which few would forever more be the memory of that wonderful day. And I get to open the album from time to time and remember what a fun, beautiful woman she was.<br />
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What's that worth? I can't even begin to put a price on it.<br />
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It made me think that everyone should at least have a few prints from their photoshoot. If my mom didn't even take the time to fill in a few blanks, how in the world could I expect someone to filter through over 300 digital images and put together a 20 page album? It's too overwhelming for most people. As a photographer and artist I have the skill, creativity and knowledge of what will look best in print. I have not photographed any weddings...yet. It's still a little out of my comfort zone. But I do family & senior portraits, pet shoots. I always pick out the shots I think work best (with input from the client) and post process them. I don't give the client a disk with 300+ images on it. Quality over quantity.<br />
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I haven't decided on how I will produce the printed product yet. It may just be a simple 10 page mini-photo proof book with 4x6 prints. But there will be something to look at other than the CD. With my logo on it. And my business card in it.bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-82995416442041091582011-01-03T05:27:00.000-08:002011-01-03T05:27:57.692-08:002011 - My next 365 project<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoyWPeYEO24SGJ02PN6_ceO15azWtqd-n8pU0XnYwKx474XTWt85vlnCjcOtE8HnIgWO4rus5c3qGUVJTQhHD3AQRIIkooMFiAWNFdSHUvLr4JCgfOQ5IBr5Xm63-P7s1zbGPVubwcutY/s1600/new+years+084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoyWPeYEO24SGJ02PN6_ceO15azWtqd-n8pU0XnYwKx474XTWt85vlnCjcOtE8HnIgWO4rus5c3qGUVJTQhHD3AQRIIkooMFiAWNFdSHUvLr4JCgfOQ5IBr5Xm63-P7s1zbGPVubwcutY/s320/new+years+084.jpg" width="206" /></a></div>2010 was probably a good year to skip. Some good things happened to be sure; but overall not my best vintage. So here's to 2011. The year to re-define me.<br />
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Observing several college students hanging out at the pipeline in Richmond on New Year's Day, I was reminded of my own daughter off at OU for her first year. So much new stuff to do, explore, learn.<br />
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I guess I'm kind of in the same spot. Just older. And wiser. But maybe I can learn a few new things too.bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7126691810219386705.post-57064490678480540452010-12-11T08:07:00.000-08:002010-12-11T08:07:03.656-08:00The Tribe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWz87goOFBiMgujljtgMdnDSnTK1XAowtezGTrVL4mpQyvJlEtPesPu7hh5giq53ZMzMZoCiraR2H4UGO5H_MNIJ0_wnVfV-bjP0JgNNsKXj3nieqATnmGAlDvftDnySMdo0qSqSFDTYc/s1600/the+tribe+048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWz87goOFBiMgujljtgMdnDSnTK1XAowtezGTrVL4mpQyvJlEtPesPu7hh5giq53ZMzMZoCiraR2H4UGO5H_MNIJ0_wnVfV-bjP0JgNNsKXj3nieqATnmGAlDvftDnySMdo0qSqSFDTYc/s320/the+tribe+048.jpg" style="background-color: white;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>My friend Jen's family. We went to Cincinnati's <a href="http://www.cincinnatiparks.com/krohn-conservatory/index.shtml">Krohn Conservatory</a> to take some pics for her to use for Christmas cards. At lunch afterwards, at Allyn's Cafe (best dang Quesadillas) she was trying to figure out how to word the card. Jen's last name is Harten, her 3 daughter's are Finucane, her grandson is Masur and her oldest daughter, Addy's bf is Eubanks. I jokingly said, "Just say Merry Christmas from The Tribe". Then I said, "it doesn't really matter, as long as you have love." Which she does. Merry Christmas, Jen!bethechange21http://www.blogger.com/profile/04487540909801991228noreply@blogger.com0