tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152107542024-03-07T12:21:12.146-08:00wordsandwichUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger201125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-36251809938676796682010-09-26T08:43:00.000-07:002010-09-26T08:43:34.478-07:00Guaranteed to Inspire: My Life ListSomewhere in my internet wanderings, I recently came across a bubbly little number who goes by <a href="http://goddessguidebook.com/">Goddess Leonie</a>. Because I obviously want to jam my inbox to the limit, I signed up for her newsletter.<br />
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Full disclosure here: I love SARK, Louise Hay, Julia Cameron and any number of other creative, uplifting women whose enthusiasm can sometimes border on the saccharine. My new friend Goddess Leonie falls swiftly into this category. If she tends to lean toward the excessive, it's in the form of excessive joy and color, and probably we could all use a little more of that.<br />
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Anyway, I finally got around to reading the latest e-letter, and this one was about lifetime goals. She inspired me (see? that's the point) to write a list of my own. Also, I like how she marked items as <b>done </b>and I plan to do that, too. <br />
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If you don't care about my list, I understand. But go check out Leonie. She's pretty awesome.<br />
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1. Go to Alaska<br />
2. Go to Hawaii<br />
3. Go to the Jaguar reserve in Belize<br />
4. Go on an art museum tour in Berlin<br />
5. Finish Jordan's quilt<br />
6. Have a solo fiber art show at the EDG building<br />
7. Finish my first novel<br />
8. Publish a short story<br />
9. Publish my first novel<br />
10. Get my LMP<br />
11. Teach BodyTalk modules 1&2<br />
12. Make my living through my healing practice and my creative work<br />
13. Learn Spanish<br />
14. Do a half triathlon<br />
15. Hike from Snoqualmie to Stevens on the PCT<br />
16. Take the family to Yellowstone<br />
17. Learn to make some of my own clothes<br />
18. Learn encaustic<br />
19. Do the second Collage Camp: West Coast version<br />
20. Have a Massachusetts family reunion<br />
21. Go to New Zealand<br />
22. Fly first class<br />
23. Go to the next BodyTalk conference<br />
24. Buy a house<br />
25. Walk the John Wayne trail from Ellensburg to Thorp<br />
26. Get my MFA in creative writing (maybe)<br />
27. Learn how to make a decent website<br />
28. Learn how to make Vietnamese noodle soup<br />
29. Go on a one-month road trip<br />
30. Go on one round-the-world plane trip<br />
31. See Bali<br />
32. See Tokyo<br />
33. Take the Trans-Siberian railroad<br />
34. Write a book about conscious prosperity<br />
35. Write an e-book about personal transformation<br />
36. Get new carpet in our apartment<br />
37. Build a chicken coop and install three laying hens<br />
38. Learn to ride a horse by having my own horse<br />
39. Meet Teesha Moore<br />
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I reserve the right to add much more to my list. Meanwhile, if you've made it this far, write your own list! Add a link in the comments and I'll totally check it out.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-48258949892031724672010-09-19T09:39:00.001-07:002010-09-19T09:39:58.859-07:00This Important MessageAre you living a big, thrilling, transformed life? Do you wake up every morning giddy with anticipation?<br />
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If you answered NO, please stay tuned for this important message.<br />
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You are a magnificent being on a magical planet, and everything is perfect right now. You are whole, and well, and blessed beyond measure, right now. All day long gifts are shining into your life and in the night your guides visit and tell you stories. You asked to be here, and when you entered you brought a court of assistants along, just to help you live your extraordinary life, and to find a parking space. <br />
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This life is a high-impact experience and so you may have temporarily lost your connection to consciousness. It's okay; just take a deep breath and wake up again. The highest Source is waiting for you like an old friend sitting on your front porch. Just open the door.<br />
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Humankind is evolving, and you, my friend, are on the ride. Transformation is the act of leaving your luggage behind. Sometimes it takes a prayer to the God of your understanding to be willing to leave the luggage; so pray. You don't need the luggage. It's full of resentment, distrust and fear. You will be so much lighter without it that you will discover inner peace. <br />
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And don't be fooled into thinking peace is dull or monotonous. Inner peace is the fertile soil that allows for huge creativity, expansion and delight. Fear just makes a ruckus, stirs things up and is unruly. It makes lot of drama but nothing is accomplished.<br />
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So remember, right now is an incredible time to be alive. All over the globe, human beings are recognizing their spiritual Source and making some amazing changes happen because of it. You're one of these people. No matter what kind of noise is blaring in your outer life, know that you are on a sacred journey. Your task is to wake up, connect with God, and allow the Light to shine through you. It'll be easy because you left your protective coat in your luggage.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-5573018261475506912010-03-25T14:10:00.000-07:002010-03-25T14:11:09.279-07:00Find me on Facebook<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekFBqn7pybPjye-nph3ghdyUzJM9AQcTII8r9pz830Z74vzbSGwrnon5u9KKOIwDcvihYiektyHF9LiaJZ_UwtxrBXbNKhoiTutzDoCn-IRt4ZJtNiY2TRqk3U7zfalPRLr0QdA/s1600/camping+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekFBqn7pybPjye-nph3ghdyUzJM9AQcTII8r9pz830Z74vzbSGwrnon5u9KKOIwDcvihYiektyHF9LiaJZ_UwtxrBXbNKhoiTutzDoCn-IRt4ZJtNiY2TRqk3U7zfalPRLr0QdA/s320/camping+029.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Let's face it; I'm a Facebooker.<br />
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Yes, there was lots of initial resistance but now that I'm in the swing of things, Facebook is my first home for new photo albums, witty commentary, links, events, and just about any other potentially interesting tidbit.<br />
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I'll probably post here from time to time but I'm terribly unreliable about it. If you love me, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/robin.mayberry?ref=profile">find me there</a>. And you love me. I know you do.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-17923573780608807822009-12-23T08:36:00.000-08:002009-12-23T09:25:52.426-08:00At last, a simple ChristmasFor years I've been flirting with simplicity. It appeals to me the way a green salad with viniagrette dressing appeals to me after a week of fast food and sugar cookies. The restraint itself is a relief.<br /><br />The one thing I've never been able to pull off, though, is anything close to a simple Christmas. I've written blog posts and essays that vigorously espoused doing less and buying less and refusing to guilty about it, and yet I have always failed. At the last minute, year after year, I have swept through Fred Meyer in a panic, loading up my cart with $10-and-under useless gifts, a hapless victim of social pressure.<br /><br />This year is different, and I can't even take all the credit. This year no one seems to be playing. In previous years, I started off strong until the Christmas cards starting sailing in and the adorable gifts from my outer circle of friends started piling up. The drive to reciprocate overcame all sense. This year, however, I have received one Christmas card and two gifts from outside of my family. It's wonderful. I think I'm going to make a proclamation every year: send nothing! Save yourself!<br /><br />Of course, we totally overdid it with the kids; we haven't managed to rein that one in yet. But the fact remains that it is December 23rd and my things-to-do list is: make a chocolate cream pie for Christmas dinner. That's it. No wrapping, no sending, no cleaning, no panicking. I'm working on a bead necklace for fun.<br /><br />This has been the Christmas season without cards, endless wrapping, over-spending or guilt. An unexpected consequence? Actual peace. Actual joy.<br /><br />And I wish the same to you and yours.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-4881676856894983532009-11-05T15:59:00.000-08:002009-11-05T16:05:05.673-08:00Halloween (poem by Jordan, age 7)<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Hosts</span><br /><br />Hosts are ghosts<br />and lightning strokes<br />to brighten your eyes<br />to get the shys<br />and when something flies it's scary<br />and if something's hairy it will get bairy<br />it can't be a fairy and<br /><br />if an ant will be red<br />then put him to bed<br />and if you were never fed<br />then you'll be dead and<br />I was holding a head and<br />when he the monster was folding skin<br />I was about to screech<br />when I heard a creek<br />and spiders creep<br /><br />I was about to peep<br />when I heard a leap<br />and found a dead bird but<br />he was a turd and when I was in this house<br />I found my old blouse<br />I want my spouse<br />I want to be brave<br />I wish I were saved<br />now I am saved<br />I see my spouse.<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-31371107598764397492009-11-05T15:55:00.001-08:002009-11-05T15:59:02.487-08:00Mayberry Halloween (pix)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8HtR-FH3Wzc0fno9ck8XNWmhy21gRilgJnMOGpqWhMyMaFACIoa7Pe7KQd_8tONBoBEzSm5EaQJxa6MnPvF_mYJsEKGeSFycmzyStMiTyhPFQmxBClAmi6RU7mhTngJu_aao1ww/s1600-h/PA310029.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8HtR-FH3Wzc0fno9ck8XNWmhy21gRilgJnMOGpqWhMyMaFACIoa7Pe7KQd_8tONBoBEzSm5EaQJxa6MnPvF_mYJsEKGeSFycmzyStMiTyhPFQmxBClAmi6RU7mhTngJu_aao1ww/s320/PA310029.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400773278851216498" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymHsKQk2tMRcDZVmtgPibhpqmHjsZJMjjYimWTVZ_qXfalgOZzRGdHghhHMQdG-xQt1Yzt8WxTNF9o_bCebAFUHZ1oBglTBAQTE2RZfVbP5_2kikYgOh2Ubuy-SLwif94AtT4aA/s1600-h/PA310012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymHsKQk2tMRcDZVmtgPibhpqmHjsZJMjjYimWTVZ_qXfalgOZzRGdHghhHMQdG-xQt1Yzt8WxTNF9o_bCebAFUHZ1oBglTBAQTE2RZfVbP5_2kikYgOh2Ubuy-SLwif94AtT4aA/s320/PA310012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400773155172246098" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWTdQ2w8_7eXWTmtzsRip3r4SHt-jc5wBuo2IMO8IZd4XxmMk5-tjz-i2ZTBLDUynNqcDz_DId939paUrPABFAyRjRjxdp7b6VDGt7B3apfq8soS1u0Tr1_XMyRBQwFH0ye_OT_w/s1600-h/PA310020.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWTdQ2w8_7eXWTmtzsRip3r4SHt-jc5wBuo2IMO8IZd4XxmMk5-tjz-i2ZTBLDUynNqcDz_DId939paUrPABFAyRjRjxdp7b6VDGt7B3apfq8soS1u0Tr1_XMyRBQwFH0ye_OT_w/s320/PA310020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400773044695376066" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIj42RxBI1j7jH-lSeIFiWpbFMvyohPNsIIDBmbIHJyUIAwDqFOsCFTVnqsIhm1jRHJuPKdlD84i209U7bQDeRzhZujpd6l-ECQ4u-9SY-4ax2Y9K7QB9ignn17rtLc4D_6StCZg/s1600-h/PA310017.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIj42RxBI1j7jH-lSeIFiWpbFMvyohPNsIIDBmbIHJyUIAwDqFOsCFTVnqsIhm1jRHJuPKdlD84i209U7bQDeRzhZujpd6l-ECQ4u-9SY-4ax2Y9K7QB9ignn17rtLc4D_6StCZg/s320/PA310017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400772930831171170" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5aA4RC4WcoM4DdFVWYhssZLlbC_B84b1v5HoRMNIp83N50j2UqIhVhWsnh17bCe3re5VA6GNRSv3OHiTwRr1KVXZBVETsNLpvFW1s8yttJIiPnc7_GSlRsfnfjJ9QGH2V89seA/s1600-h/PA300008.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5aA4RC4WcoM4DdFVWYhssZLlbC_B84b1v5HoRMNIp83N50j2UqIhVhWsnh17bCe3re5VA6GNRSv3OHiTwRr1KVXZBVETsNLpvFW1s8yttJIiPnc7_GSlRsfnfjJ9QGH2V89seA/s320/PA300008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400772786479677522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cT9b0xQWRfFdhD2LFiqpJsREBO2-Ig1YCp7X6uYik3n1FCESKYAiqSfXNIVjftJNdCn04wgAoO1_kB1FGWENocxmVcB6deGxs7S-LbWqjEdxtGsd_8xEflZzp592nLAqZ8gIMw/s1600-h/PA300011.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cT9b0xQWRfFdhD2LFiqpJsREBO2-Ig1YCp7X6uYik3n1FCESKYAiqSfXNIVjftJNdCn04wgAoO1_kB1FGWENocxmVcB6deGxs7S-LbWqjEdxtGsd_8xEflZzp592nLAqZ8gIMw/s320/PA300011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400772681815030786" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-79243534143783225622009-10-03T10:24:00.000-07:002009-10-03T10:48:44.890-07:00Why I Will Not Be Getting the Flu ShotGo ahead, gasp: but I will not, repeat <em>not </em>be getting the flu shot. Nor the H1N1 shot. Nor whatever next shot comes down the pike to stave off a viral illness that I or any member of my family may or may not happen to get.<br /><br />In fact, I find it hard to believe that I might be the only one just a little bit stunned at the sudden urgency behind this whole flu-shot thing. Yes, I know about swine flu. In fact, I'm told that the other day 31 kids in my children's elementary school were absent with what may be swine flu. I hear it's running around the local college campus. Yet I still maintain that running off to get an injection of thimerosol loaded with a virus is probably not going to do one single thing for my health.<br /><br />It troubles me that these flu shots are being made available for pregnant women, when there is mounting evidence that mercury-based thimerosol correlates with autism in children. As a mother of an autistic child, I really wouldn't dick with that. It troubles me that we're rushing to stick millions of people with a fresh-off-the-shelves vaccine that hasn't been around long enough to know potential long-term effects. It troubles me that we're vaccinating for a virus, when every eight-grader knows that viruses <em>mutate. </em>It troubles me that many of the people who get a flu shot seem to come down with the flu. And it troubles me that there is a growing community consensus that to refuse vaccination is irresponsible.<br /><br />I'd like to suggest that there is another way to fight the flu: your <em>immune system</em>. Our family plan? Pro-active amounts of rest, fresh air, vitamins and fluids. I will be using the BodyTalk Access technique set liberally to keep our bodies balanced and our immune systems strong. And if any of us gets sick, then we'll ride it out. Like people do.<br /><br />So if you too are refusing the flu shot, know you're not alone. There's at least one other renegade out there, taking on the virus straight-up. Vitamin C, anyone?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-71154818784429382882009-10-01T14:32:00.000-07:002009-10-01T14:51:14.757-07:00Facebook: Neither a Face nor a BookLast night I decided to peruse my somewhat humble Facebook friends list and take stock of my collection. Like most Facebook users, from what I can tell, my friends list is an oddball collection of <em>actual</em> friends--that is, people I see or talk to regularly to share a laugh; old friends who have long since fallen off the map; bona fide acquaintances; and actual strangers I wouldn't know if I hit them with my car.<br /><br />How is this friendship, again? I did a little stalking on a few of my "friends". One is engaged. I only know this because of a wall comment that said "heard you're engaged!" and a status of Engaged in the sidebar. Another actually got married, here in town, and I never heard a peep. An old friend has two kids, I learned yesterday (in fairness, he just joined Facebook, not that I would have been invited to a baby shower in any case). My "friends" have moved, changed names, changed jobs and been through many life experiences, but I only know about any of it because of wall posts and profile pictures.<br /><br />So Facebook is not a face. Because when you see a friend's face, you know what's happening with her--in the moment and in general. You care. You ask. You make her a handmade card and put it under her windshield wiper. You don't just hit an icon of a thumbs-up to say congratulations on the new job; you actually congratulate her.<br /><br />Nor is Facebook a book. Books are, by their very nature, in-depth investigations of a subject. In a book, you really get to know what the author has spent so much time thinking about and sharing with you. Facebook is a medley collection of tidbits that make no distinction between major affairs of life ("been away from the computer dad just had a stroke") and trifles ("Joe Blow has completed 17 quizzes today. Take this quiz!").<br /><br />And I won't even <em>mention</em> the travesty of punctuation and grammar.<br /><br />I admit it's neat to hear from old friends. Facebook has allowed me to reconnect with a few people and share some nifty emails. Also, I like being able to share what's going on locally as far as events, art openings and so on. I don't think Facebook is <em>evil</em> or anything; I just think that it's a poor substitute for real friendship. It really doesn't matter how many little pictures you have on your list. It matters if you have honest people you can talk to about matters of common interest. Really.<br /><br />Now who wants to friend me on Facebook?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-87593405921436559312009-08-17T08:32:00.000-07:002009-08-17T08:43:18.779-07:0048 Continental States<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitlZg3wBAUsReSkMiIgfv4TVCBP-EOBFkCdQh2CFxzta_WtkGWh0g3C49sAWEyvQi4AmVoQA_3ObZvayFrk1vhV25iuEowS43z5LksM9InLRDXgns7mouHeRanez6nEmgr6fZx1w/s1600-h/P8130062.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370957724363825378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitlZg3wBAUsReSkMiIgfv4TVCBP-EOBFkCdQh2CFxzta_WtkGWh0g3C49sAWEyvQi4AmVoQA_3ObZvayFrk1vhV25iuEowS43z5LksM9InLRDXgns7mouHeRanez6nEmgr6fZx1w/s200/P8130062.JPG" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZt8kmc4-oozsdj8iqyhkAMl-QTV1Cqa5Q8qjNZIpTst2CpKGEOYLV99fZDZkwW3o1n5DiWB350aVYVmk2hINXuQZW173ihBtlkZlb5eI_rIg_LUX1n7I80mp35qARjhhcykVAkA/s1600-h/P8120040.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370957567963724098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZt8kmc4-oozsdj8iqyhkAMl-QTV1Cqa5Q8qjNZIpTst2CpKGEOYLV99fZDZkwW3o1n5DiWB350aVYVmk2hINXuQZW173ihBtlkZlb5eI_rIg_LUX1n7I80mp35qARjhhcykVAkA/s200/P8120040.JPG" /></a><br /><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQAD_ty_Pc64xofPGZKY9C86ACo-_CltANEZpNLhovKQt6bCxlPf8dtdPbgpc75QW-r4og0EFy-qiHMkqGzsi9gnWpzUfn7zLP1C647f6GrLOmt076Yi7KseW_GkimMhWpYijxg/s1600-h/P8120028.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370957374102113378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQAD_ty_Pc64xofPGZKY9C86ACo-_CltANEZpNLhovKQt6bCxlPf8dtdPbgpc75QW-r4og0EFy-qiHMkqGzsi9gnWpzUfn7zLP1C647f6GrLOmt076Yi7KseW_GkimMhWpYijxg/s200/P8120028.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRKh9ymthY3huzfAsn2E9fTfH-59aq4PEQ10SE4vtm7NusqCIPUqJeCRltk1sQAViOWQwTzckRkPiaSa32K992yabuBOLcCnALP63Hs2AgMIBJAeSLIibU-EP6cz9jMkRzEx1uQ/s1600-h/P8120026.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370957227028901394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRKh9ymthY3huzfAsn2E9fTfH-59aq4PEQ10SE4vtm7NusqCIPUqJeCRltk1sQAViOWQwTzckRkPiaSa32K992yabuBOLcCnALP63Hs2AgMIBJAeSLIibU-EP6cz9jMkRzEx1uQ/s200/P8120026.JPG" /></a><br /><div><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV2Ju0yYQl2PD-UyBFVSS_sqOPJK3q-vxcApArzkEn_qcHBeLPhg-ukjJNY7UHscYttIrhzo399WfKyxrlaryE_XOPlZgyv5VPhMAbog-Lxa-Mw4Aq7zFrG9jIca41t3TMhWlgHw/s1600-h/P8110019.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370957056236055634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV2Ju0yYQl2PD-UyBFVSS_sqOPJK3q-vxcApArzkEn_qcHBeLPhg-ukjJNY7UHscYttIrhzo399WfKyxrlaryE_XOPlZgyv5VPhMAbog-Lxa-Mw4Aq7zFrG9jIca41t3TMhWlgHw/s200/P8110019.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>This past week, while road-tripping with <a href="http://buddinggardener.com/">Sarah</a>, I finally managed to complete one of the longer-term projects of my life. By swinging through the northwest corner of Nebraska (pleasantly hilly, I'm happy to report) I can now say I have been to every state in the continental U.S. </div><br /><div>As you can see by the pictures, there's a reason I keep going out on road trips. This country kicks ass. Even in Nebraska. I just can't get over the fact that in this particular day and age, I can just hop into a car and cruise all over this incredible landscape. If you haven't gotten in your car recently and gone beyond the grocery store, then I recommend you do. There are wonders and miracles around every freakin bend. Seriously. Make sure you take your camera. </div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-61165554882428907482009-08-04T15:22:00.000-07:002009-08-04T15:49:36.820-07:00The 80/20 RuleI have been reading Tim Ferriss' high-intensity book <a href="http://fourhourworkweek.com/"><em>The Four-Hour Workweek</em></a> and one tidbit that has stuck with me is his exploration of the 80/20 rule.<br /><br />This rule states that in any given situation, 20 percent pulls more weight than the other 80. In an average work day you'll be productive 20 percent of the time, and screw around the rest of it. Most of the benefits of an exercise program will come from 20 percent of your effort. And around the house, you can bet that 20 percent of your stuff is actually important, and the rest of it is dross.<br /><br />This has me thinking. <a href="http://thebuddinggardener.com/">Sarah</a> has been working on the 100 Things Project--trying to winnow her total possessions down to 100 items. Yeah, right. At rough count, I'd say I personally own one <em>thousand</em> items, especially counting the CDs and the books, and I'm not in a hurry to divest myself of any of them. But are they important items, or are they draining me of my life energy?<br /><br />Then there's my work day, which is, to be generous, about as organized as an dyslexic file clerk on crack. I don't even have a work day. I have a schedule that I have to keep in pencil and which gets erased and re-worked until the pages wear thin. Talk about misused energy. If I count scheduling, phone calls, obsessive email-checking and financial fretting as work hours, then the 80/20 rule is holding strong. <em>How </em>much of my life am I frittering away again?<br /><br />When I hold up this same rule to my spare time (waaaaay too much TV), my internet habits (do I <em>really</em> need to check Swap-Bot every day?), and my dietary choices (cheeseburger and fries vs. garden salad), I begin to see a theme.<br /><br />It may be time to cut the fat, as Tim says. And not just the cheeseburgers, either.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-57095803405860723722009-08-04T06:36:00.000-07:002009-08-04T06:39:18.572-07:00Come to my art opening on Friday!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-qkbo9nvFhXmLkBDyRN7aW2NPID3vzc6cvEpEkDrNZMZfMauAizbBY4LTlVDXIonWei4NUernClcUhMgAh5Q6Kg-U9pySoIO8tSSLvGlVlEtEQKOE2aGFeq95dv0JDw8o2zEzA/s1600-h/P7180095.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366102574077806642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-qkbo9nvFhXmLkBDyRN7aW2NPID3vzc6cvEpEkDrNZMZfMauAizbBY4LTlVDXIonWei4NUernClcUhMgAh5Q6Kg-U9pySoIO8tSSLvGlVlEtEQKOE2aGFeq95dv0JDw8o2zEzA/s320/P7180095.JPG" /></a><br />Yes, folks, I amaze even myself. This Friday I'll be at my opening for my first art show at Skystone on 3rd & Water. Snacks, music, fabulous art! Hope you can come!<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-42525269177571480812009-08-02T09:33:00.001-07:002009-08-02T09:42:18.400-07:00A little bit of Mayberry excitementWell, we've been suspecting for some time that our little family was moving toward being bona fide eccentric, and our suspicions have been confirmed. We are auditioning to be on the ABC show, <em>Wife Swap.</em><br /><br />If you haven't seen it--then first of all, you must. It's our favorite show (along with <em>Monk </em>and <em>The Office). </em>For two weeks, the wives of two different families swap places and go and live with another--radically different--family. It's always entertaining, but beyond that, it's a window into the world of other families, which I find completely irresistible.<br /><br />Countless times we have looked at each other and confirmed that we should be on this show. So imagine our surprise when we got an email from the casting office saying they were looking for families who have a cleaning business. We hopped right on that express train and we've been moving at high speeds ever since.<br /><br />We're still in the auditioning process, so we're not sure yet. But already it's been an eye-opener. Just interviewing our family members and taping our home interior has allowed me to look at our family through someone else's eyes. And you know what? We have a pretty awesome family.<br /><br />Remind me of that the next time the dog throws up on the rug.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-86505724498545026652009-07-30T07:43:00.000-07:002009-07-30T07:47:46.063-07:00Maya's Birthday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGzrkiX7_7KQxeEPfuXbh7B2cUddyUKPa0F7pFI7Z52wmmPhhaodrb3QAVNlY66XNXTIv9Bp171n7KCoLChqToSgS2-xm8Jr-5Obu41quhG13VTgf1Cb8xj9uCf4DTMQqrwUoTg/s1600-h/P7190133.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364264613274250002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGzrkiX7_7KQxeEPfuXbh7B2cUddyUKPa0F7pFI7Z52wmmPhhaodrb3QAVNlY66XNXTIv9Bp171n7KCoLChqToSgS2-xm8Jr-5Obu41quhG13VTgf1Cb8xj9uCf4DTMQqrwUoTg/s320/P7190133.JPG" /></a><br /><div align="center">Decorating cupcakes</div><div align="center"><br /> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKyvS8FcARCaVF0koLiEvlQBod5wWHvn_iDl0NAwBg53pqIFcDHGuwpNFTzeE86VR3GJ-3S092kTM4kaY9uvLTwJcM8V7tpBSyRgWD0XbBpTu-3hTQKYF5ul0iEF3pG2V2iI5ag/s1600-h/P7190104.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364264385646941138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKyvS8FcARCaVF0koLiEvlQBod5wWHvn_iDl0NAwBg53pqIFcDHGuwpNFTzeE86VR3GJ-3S092kTM4kaY9uvLTwJcM8V7tpBSyRgWD0XbBpTu-3hTQKYF5ul0iEF3pG2V2iI5ag/s320/P7190104.JPG" /></a> Groove time by Scotty<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8P32mPROElKQWI1SjJar6_iIx9ZJB-7H2mrz61CYLtIh6jqGJ5CCjX4EfDgmSV-jxy50fS_B_VG9ZrX2bkqhynJMNqsDKQOoOgDdWFkhfvj-WM9bwrTHZliDRMFcvaIkABjibgw/s1600-h/P7190109.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364264204507473426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8P32mPROElKQWI1SjJar6_iIx9ZJB-7H2mrz61CYLtIh6jqGJ5CCjX4EfDgmSV-jxy50fS_B_VG9ZrX2bkqhynJMNqsDKQOoOgDdWFkhfvj-WM9bwrTHZliDRMFcvaIkABjibgw/s320/P7190109.JPG" /></a> Pet rock painting extravaganza<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqagt_fwRN6e4KHob1om7V4aiL5uHXodbieF4CbKMawSJZgASogebrSqlISD-B0dAJRKhOD-L3mwFAdQwO31_hKkuE68kL8GVItfpNCkgVYeQN2l9XBEnmai5d05CDKGWaVTTGEg/s1600-h/P7190106.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364264020082438242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqagt_fwRN6e4KHob1om7V4aiL5uHXodbieF4CbKMawSJZgASogebrSqlISD-B0dAJRKhOD-L3mwFAdQwO31_hKkuE68kL8GVItfpNCkgVYeQN2l9XBEnmai5d05CDKGWaVTTGEg/s320/P7190106.JPG" /></a><br />Maya is 6 years old. Unbelievable.<br /><br /><br /><div></div></div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-79882740709629001102009-05-31T21:49:00.000-07:002009-05-31T21:54:17.412-07:00Energy of Empowerment Workshop: Some Major Bang for the Buck<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_lJcII8gvBiVKqaYezwvW4Ee6uxR7CDT7E2OYyRilwIKMWMH8_ov-cTQdi31RlfXlRxwQTxqlynTc820tdSkpHRkw3Z48GATZNvSVTA2Tbnr81hgAs_zk1_fwvymcHyIi0mlEjw/s1600-h/e+of+e+flyer.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342217580607840450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_lJcII8gvBiVKqaYezwvW4Ee6uxR7CDT7E2OYyRilwIKMWMH8_ov-cTQdi31RlfXlRxwQTxqlynTc820tdSkpHRkw3Z48GATZNvSVTA2Tbnr81hgAs_zk1_fwvymcHyIi0mlEjw/s400/e+of+e+flyer.gif" /></a><br /><div>We're designing this little honey to add value and power to the life of every person who attends.<br />We're limiting attendance to 20 people, so call or email me to get your spot!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-52704846593696953122009-05-30T13:52:00.001-07:002009-05-30T14:09:59.494-07:00I never finished telling you about JordanBecause I didn't want to think about it.<br /><br />Yes, he has Asperger's. Or, rather, he has "symptoms which indicate a diagnosis of Asperger's"...because God forbid anyone call a spade a spade.<br /><br />What this means, in a nutshell, is that he has a social disability. The social cues that come naturally to most people are muddled and hazy for him. The dexterity it takes to undertake engagements like making a new friend, deciding which line to choose in a busy store, or small-talk with a cashier is very difficult for him. It's all like a second language to him. He can learn it, piece by piece, but it's slow and awkward and frankly, too much trouble for some people to even bother with him.<br /><br />I guess I never thought about the fluid way most of us can size each other up and respond in a matter of milliseconds. Body language, facial expressions and tone can speak volumes in a heartbeat. This very morning I shared a glance with another mother, also standing in line for the balloon man at the Farmer's Market, about a bratty little kid who was busy announcing that the Tooth Fairy was a ruse. "What can you do?" said my half-glance. "His mother should stuff him in a closet," said hers. Full communication, over before anyone else (hopefully) noticed. This kind of thing is out of Jordan's reach.<br /><br />So there's that. But I'll tell you the truth here: I'm glad the cards are on the table. Over the years he has done and said enough odd-ball things for the adults who are close to him to know something was a little bit different. And now that we can look at the thing--now that it's been named--we've all pretty much said, so what?<br /><br />Sure, we've taken some steps to give him an edge. He's in a fantastic social skills group in school. I'm very grateful to Lincoln Elementary that they have been pro-active about what he'll need throughout his grade-school years. The teachers are wonderful. And at home we're working on things like explaining ourselves clearly and using feeling words, getting him together with lots of friends, and working with him to help him be as graceful and well-rounded as possible.<br /><br />But again--so what if he has Asperger's? He's who he is. We really don't even want to talk about it much. In a way it's like finding out your kid has some bad cavities, or needs glasses. Get him what he needs, guide him toward health, and let him go.<br /><br />I guess Bill Gates also has "symptoms of Asperger's". As did Albert Einstein. And Benjamin Franklin. Getting the picture? Sure, Jordan's a little bit different. But so is Scott and so am I. We went through some shit, but we made it. And we hope Jordan will make it even farther.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-74293689121403419782009-05-19T09:01:00.001-07:002009-05-19T09:10:21.198-07:00Social Media MeltdownIn the beginning was the letter. And the letter was good.<br /><br />On the second day the Lord spake, and the Internet was born.<br /><br />On the third day the Lord created email.<br /><br />On the fourth day the website, the ad banner and eBay came to be. And the Lord smiled.<br /><br />On the fifth day He created blogs.<br /><br />On the sixth day the earth was peopled with Facebook, MySpace, Ning, Base Camp, Squidoo and Twitter. Profiles were filled out; groups were formed; events created; pictures uploaded; quizzes calculated; witty comments compiled; witty comments responded to; mobile text checked; mobile text responded to with smiley-face icon; friends added; acquaintances added; total strangers added; spam managed and passwords protected.<br /><br />On the seventh day the Lord wanted so badly to rest. But He could not. Because he had to go post about it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-26271373629199379232009-04-24T11:42:00.000-07:002009-04-24T11:52:46.240-07:00WARNING: Do not read if you already have too many distractions.Today my friendly mailman brought me an issue of K-Zine, courtesy of the April mini-zine swap on <a href="http://swap-bot.com/">Swap-Bot</a>. Good ol Katie was kind enough to review the website <a href="http://stumbleupon.com/">Stumbleupon.com</a>, and I thought I'd breeze on over there and check it out. Yeah. An <em>hour</em> later I reluctantly dragged myself away, but only to spread the word! <br /></br><br />With Stumbleupon, you choose what kind of websites interest you, then hone it down by liking it or not liking it (if you don't like it, the pop up text box says "not for me", which I find gracious). Immediately I was Stumbling on all kinds of interesting art, writing, political and environmental sites. Plus some wacky stuff too. Sure, some of the pages were boring (they were "not for me"), but I kept Stumbling on to lots of super-cool, totally engaging sites that I would never even have thought to look for using Google. Like the snowflake-generator site. Or the writing-prompt site that gives you a word and one minute to write using the word. Or the craft blog that has a tutorial on how to make flower prints--assuming you have time now that you'll be spending your days Stumbling. <br /></br><br />In her mini-zine Katie writes, "Thanks a lot Blake. Now I get nothing done at work."<br /></br><br />You'll thank me too.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-28371813528144266842009-04-24T06:59:00.000-07:002009-04-24T07:07:39.099-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgR8TrxCnQu8k6RT3iPSj1072JhMGdIPZ1DDBB6kB8gjyTiggS-Qx2MrLGAkQN8ignM4c1u4MFmp-m9Wsgf2GHwun8Kj8ShYY-0PO-Id3Fr6trCg01CtsABSfNvfkKNGWHgzK0iQ/s1600-h/half+flyer.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328259048394872146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgR8TrxCnQu8k6RT3iPSj1072JhMGdIPZ1DDBB6kB8gjyTiggS-Qx2MrLGAkQN8ignM4c1u4MFmp-m9Wsgf2GHwun8Kj8ShYY-0PO-Id3Fr6trCg01CtsABSfNvfkKNGWHgzK0iQ/s320/half+flyer.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQUhhw9nWZvuQGfD8eYLaRuYamw4YbaMtJ7wFnV51E7PIegge-CTUNkMykuTd0u-FoY9dAIHGePcAu-6evvzL4ExRPYrj39Uc-37HzZ7DVVOBpdI46Ftwwp83ZaGwlvfRCDt_zVA/s1600-h/half+flyer.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div>Yo my good friends! Come on by and visit my new site, <a href="http://bodytalk-ellensburg.com/">Bodytalk-Ellensburg.com</a>. Be amazed! Be delighted! Be stunned by the power of energy medicine! Or, you know, just come by for the fun of it. </div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-71951581502429436602009-04-14T12:34:00.000-07:002009-04-14T12:50:36.178-07:00Why You Need a BagguLet me say right out front here that I am not a green freak. It's not that I don't love the earth; I'm frigging crazy about the earth. What I hate is fads, and it seems to be that "being green" is the most in-your-face, out-of-control fad around these days. Whew. Got that out of the way.<br /><br />Still, I wasn't feeling right about plastic bags. They're stupid. You need eight of them to carry home ten bucks' worth of groceries because the handles stretch out and cut your fingers off otherwise. Then you wad them up and either save them in yet another swelling plastic bag for future recycling, or get really lazy and throw them out. Either way they seem to end up in ditches, along roadways, choking innocent geese, or flapping from tree branches, like the really obnoxious Super One bag that has adorned the 100-year-old maple tree across the street all winter.<br /><br />Then there's the bizarre cashier custom of bagging every single thing you purchase while you're still fishing out your change--even things like a can of soup or already-bagged items like potatoes. And God forbid you deny this bagging opportunity (see <a href="http://christinetexiera.com/wordpress/?p=443">Christine's rant</a>). You have really gotten in the way of a cashier's good day if you don't let her bag up your soup.<br /><br />Well, I'm here to piss off cashiers everywhere when I tell you, eager readers, to go right out and get yourself a <a href="http://baggubag.com/">Baggu</a>. Christine hooked me up with a nice bright orange one when I visited her in February, and I love this thing. To begin with, it crushes down to the size of a tangerine, which even I with my overstuffed purse can find room for. Then when you fill it, it comfortably holds what would take two or three plastic bags, and the handles are comfortable and do not collapse down to the width of floss. It's washable. It weighs about an ounce. Because it's similar to the plastic bag design, you can even try to convince doubtful cashiers that it's just as easy to fill. They can hang the bag on the steel bag hooks and go to town.<br /><br />Admittedly, I've gotten my share of dirty looks from cashiers who don't believe it's just as easy to fill my Baggu. But they can just get over it. Every time I fill my lovely orange bag instead of plastic, I feel good about myself and the planet. (Yes, I'm that easy.) And every time I listen to that plastic bag across the street snap in the wind, I just want to fondle my Baggu. There's hope. Even for a non-greeny like me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-81639681959557321912009-04-12T20:09:00.001-07:002009-04-12T20:15:11.505-07:00Easter Sunday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyV9C1YeyVhC9hGNVUFC63g2hakHQSJHs5QI9cSBPjAMa6xiqhRHKupk81ajoL9hBeaiNNqSMVRINu0626b8SGtI4m9_RxKISbbW5r3zYl4w246haQtMe6O5kEJK8BXhq4zLqopg/s1600-h/P4120031.JPG"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHC4Oe4rf1CaHuLO6446TPMpPJkS6pqNP1nEE8cb06jCxfa0UOf-CFgESMXazW9lgT1hkD4qma0-PwrE7wRsWBZpLQ8U81N0QUTsOyTprHfbJsUdD-ej9TEqBgCWtjmt3X3I1uHg/s1600-h/P4120029.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 174px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324008495690104946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHC4Oe4rf1CaHuLO6446TPMpPJkS6pqNP1nEE8cb06jCxfa0UOf-CFgESMXazW9lgT1hkD4qma0-PwrE7wRsWBZpLQ8U81N0QUTsOyTprHfbJsUdD-ej9TEqBgCWtjmt3X3I1uHg/s200/P4120029.JPG" /></a> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPVU5tTIkLxv3jZ7H4mJWb1c6Zv-nD4Bak7tRE9aAiW_YDIwfjYrOvMi1yawAU3MbeYJIg02ElvXRdmmvZ-DR8oFv1ZDzBEgY7Bey8DKx-eS-cUh2m9zvKRYWGex4sKfmBXjwrA/s1600-h/P4120028.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324008381627006546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPVU5tTIkLxv3jZ7H4mJWb1c6Zv-nD4Bak7tRE9aAiW_YDIwfjYrOvMi1yawAU3MbeYJIg02ElvXRdmmvZ-DR8oFv1ZDzBEgY7Bey8DKx-eS-cUh2m9zvKRYWGex4sKfmBXjwrA/s200/P4120028.JPG" /></a><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVFSliHij534MEytFO9NSaw8p-GbRyS0Z4nwtgwprTF7B-6Is5wsjNWsvk5FbtpkYSVEyg-hIt1gHa-HUX5geqgGJyP_7nFL1nEXHDdzHAbPMjs9G41QQWUoLU2o4iDsSTUptYg/s1600-h/P4120023.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324008224396131314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVFSliHij534MEytFO9NSaw8p-GbRyS0Z4nwtgwprTF7B-6Is5wsjNWsvk5FbtpkYSVEyg-hIt1gHa-HUX5geqgGJyP_7nFL1nEXHDdzHAbPMjs9G41QQWUoLU2o4iDsSTUptYg/s200/P4120023.JPG" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-gOHj73GHRuZ_QiR1Dn8IaCWt7S2i3w4h8NloOJEiZKkp3efEBJG3eZ8EQ4bl1rNJLpEPKsCJbNYcTmZ-6BN7Ela_neOAcdau-FO-FtplbKvvdh6MXcggkn3q03GLpniueRcrfw/s1600-h/P4120020.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324007995857780642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-gOHj73GHRuZ_QiR1Dn8IaCWt7S2i3w4h8NloOJEiZKkp3efEBJG3eZ8EQ4bl1rNJLpEPKsCJbNYcTmZ-6BN7Ela_neOAcdau-FO-FtplbKvvdh6MXcggkn3q03GLpniueRcrfw/s200/P4120020.JPG" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfqEfBhyyQraJsyrfVIyEYKbP8TGD_s4CiCtiBdoFClNcyHBAyaz70bc3pQ5M6JFBYvVdKK8RVHvFmlT5qcwDLzy1QuLmiNMWgJbiXy9b72gdXMsqyTZT84OS8RMt0176SdyM4Ng/s1600-h/P4120021.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324008117127835378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfqEfBhyyQraJsyrfVIyEYKbP8TGD_s4CiCtiBdoFClNcyHBAyaz70bc3pQ5M6JFBYvVdKK8RVHvFmlT5qcwDLzy1QuLmiNMWgJbiXy9b72gdXMsqyTZT84OS8RMt0176SdyM4Ng/s200/P4120021.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-26019411614199982022009-04-06T09:08:00.000-07:002009-04-06T09:10:46.065-07:00Maya's First Dance Performance<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ql_SNO4KGxU2TQMmcum0UWYDn8Sr2FcHacZlUe_vprFqsLM0WY7nzWuDAZrkK869XygsNt3Fat_ZFmDmA8lkzr4YC3b_IbOfEz2FaQEDgS_oI_O6-wTmZb6gwbtI8pNd_C79Ag/s1600-h/P3180010.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321611514241750466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ql_SNO4KGxU2TQMmcum0UWYDn8Sr2FcHacZlUe_vprFqsLM0WY7nzWuDAZrkK869XygsNt3Fat_ZFmDmA8lkzr4YC3b_IbOfEz2FaQEDgS_oI_O6-wTmZb6gwbtI8pNd_C79Ag/s320/P3180010.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-B3Am_2klMnZBeVuBi4-Naya1b5XbtWSOQrHyukuy2FyVa_ft208t5wqa5iDVDaJTuBPuNDRBPR7tvmmGZC4nctfNOCD_QiXYLJf7WzhfFET6VuAJXfzAmNhWnancqRrPFTs-w/s1600-h/P3180011.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321611365469535426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-B3Am_2klMnZBeVuBi4-Naya1b5XbtWSOQrHyukuy2FyVa_ft208t5wqa5iDVDaJTuBPuNDRBPR7tvmmGZC4nctfNOCD_QiXYLJf7WzhfFET6VuAJXfzAmNhWnancqRrPFTs-w/s320/P3180011.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_WJukXktYPNx7Mlvjr1U7Fe9pRQ26WX336Fb2IH52lbeMZAcXbN12UzSMyv0Cy9JJ3yxSGocjRj_6WmkOF1WKXC6ukAA8wdI_1sb6-95DQ8WPMvOEsyQC2JBRISv35vg8ThfLzw/s1600-h/P3180012.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321611221124768178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_WJukXktYPNx7Mlvjr1U7Fe9pRQ26WX336Fb2IH52lbeMZAcXbN12UzSMyv0Cy9JJ3yxSGocjRj_6WmkOF1WKXC6ukAA8wdI_1sb6-95DQ8WPMvOEsyQC2JBRISv35vg8ThfLzw/s320/P3180012.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-5479014806364927342009-03-09T07:47:00.000-07:002009-03-09T08:13:36.411-07:00Why You Must See Religulous<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnxqlbE2zyeo2IhAnioWGcXHIggS2WzmHWS3EstIOgwc_90846F1SvjwJ3Aoo19LXAtX0aI7EafzMekwEkEMUohF2cNTNGx2MRMaKO39hvTVrGrTxGANq1rpEJJbPQz7uHL8Ndg/s1600-h/religulous.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311205841189473154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 110px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnxqlbE2zyeo2IhAnioWGcXHIggS2WzmHWS3EstIOgwc_90846F1SvjwJ3Aoo19LXAtX0aI7EafzMekwEkEMUohF2cNTNGx2MRMaKO39hvTVrGrTxGANq1rpEJJbPQz7uHL8Ndg/s200/religulous.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>If you expect a fair and balanced look at religion, you should not see <em>Religulous</em>. If you want to protect your careful shell of beliefs, look away. If, however, you've got the balls to take a square look at the role of religion in culture and politics, then put your dogma aside for 101 minutes and travel with Bill Maher down the Halls of Arbritrary Rules in the Name of God. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>In this documentary, which he has created as an attempt to understand why people cling so stubbornly to religion, he visits with emissaries from the four world religions of Christianity, Judaism, Islam and Mormonism. (See: Bill getting tossed off the grounds of the Mormon Temple and forcibly removed from the Vatican.) In the process, he interviews both laymen and high rollers from each of the religious groups, and peppers the interviews with movie clips that are so hilarious you forget he's absolutely skewering these folks (see: Jesus as the awkward teen). </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Here's the thrust of his message: religion is a closed box. Blindly living by the dictates of long-dead prophets discourages us from thinking creatively and using all our resources to connect with one another. Worse, as we all know, religion remains not a vehicle for peace, but war. We are literally blowing one another up for not reading the right book. It becomes justification for the wicked and an excuse for the lazy. And really, if you're going to swallow most religions whole, you'd better have a pretty deep throat. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I'll admit that even I found myself squirming--and I surrendered religion long ago. He ran up against my own set of Arbitrary Rules by not clarifying that there's a difference between religion and spirituality, and by outright denying there's a God of any kind. But even as I stiffened, I could see that this was <em>my </em>box he was messing with now. Mine! And if you don't like it I'll take an AK-47 to your ass!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He concludes with the very salient point that the one place religion absolutely does not belong is in politics (where it is rife). It is a prism that distorts otherwise clear thinking. This is a mirror we can look into a little more easily now that we <em>don't</em> have an apocalyptic fundamentalist as President, but still, it's best to stay focused. Religion by its very nature is crazy. Some folks like it and they can keep it...to themselves. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-74871000795960530962009-02-24T08:03:00.001-08:002009-02-24T08:04:48.083-08:00I guess it's a good thing I joined Weight Watchers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpf0ynTVN3H4Sb5m0b00nqdK3sGpwCfhYLtENgj8SBZwkz_ak0WOw269piPo3xAAeAVXSnnh5KkBKbMs4JdioXcw0IF15WbSqu9azpQHQjsKquqLin0_IGJUwqswuy1f53h0gHhw/s1600-h/mom018.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306395426676016754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpf0ynTVN3H4Sb5m0b00nqdK3sGpwCfhYLtENgj8SBZwkz_ak0WOw269piPo3xAAeAVXSnnh5KkBKbMs4JdioXcw0IF15WbSqu9azpQHQjsKquqLin0_IGJUwqswuy1f53h0gHhw/s320/mom018.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">By Jordan, on a nice little love note. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-88380300816670882702009-02-11T10:48:00.000-08:002009-02-11T10:51:48.424-08:00Suzanne & I are teaching a FREE Energy Medicine Class on February 19th...Be there!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZiuoYxgzSbXS-IbfWw3Lw6fW9wPdM2o3V0L_QaFxvBk_i42pSnkPxnPgsuajtKkclWM0M-YwJ_uC3q_uDRav3cLFQ4FghHFpp5h0016VyoksYbpQgmjOOgplgVGRp2rDycioPw/s1600-h/class+flyer.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301614418278331298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZiuoYxgzSbXS-IbfWw3Lw6fW9wPdM2o3V0L_QaFxvBk_i42pSnkPxnPgsuajtKkclWM0M-YwJ_uC3q_uDRav3cLFQ4FghHFpp5h0016VyoksYbpQgmjOOgplgVGRp2rDycioPw/s400/class+flyer.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHXoJkDJnTuZyLAZ9lmm5tYLidfsqhUbtTu5nY5OnpzlxV_PPbkcavmmkl1Sr7EmVD_MtSYTjd95fdZ2YiufovQ0dKWJTJGtWQT4OFWfuypwXxpLBDchKWj04KgecnT8R67YXng/s1600-h/class+flyer.gif"></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15210754.post-837136385904917702009-01-07T11:38:00.000-08:002009-01-08T08:25:08.580-08:00What's the deal with that kid?This Monday, when I went in to do my weekly classroom volunteering, Jordan's teacher pulled me aside before the kids came in from recess. She asked if Jordan had mentioned the Polar Express Dining Car Day. He had not mentioned the Polar Express Dining Car Day, but since he refuses to talk about school, this is not surprising. Turns out that just before the Christmas break, our dear first grade teacher had arranged a special afternoon of pretending the class was on a dining car, complete with fancy waiter--herself. To be extra fancy she used an accent.<br /><br />And here's where the trouble started. Jordan does <em>not</em> like accents. He likes things to be as they usually are, and since Mrs H does not have an accent, that was <em>wrong</em>. In the midst of the celebrations, he turned himself to the wall, started his rhythmic rocking, and said, "Stop talking like that. Stop talking like that. Stop talking like that." Over and over and over.<br /><br />Now, I had warned our friend Mrs H that Jordan was sometimes a little, well, <em>off.</em> I suppose it's a plus that it took until December before she saw what I was talking about (I told her a few times, only to be given the patient, patronizing smile pediatricians save for overweening mothers). But still. Here we are. The cat is out of the bag.<br /><br />She wanted to know whether I considered that Jordan may have Aspergers Syndrome.<br /><br />Considered it? Oh, I've considered it. I've considered it every time he gets stuck in one of his myriad ruts and can only fight his way out by having a first-class, full-blown tantrum. I've considered it when he screams at the top of his lungs when anyone sings "Happy Birthday"; when he burns his tongue on anything too spicy and has to fling himself on the floor and wail; when he balks at the idea of doing anything outside of his usual routine; when he spends hours thumping against the seat back in the car; or when he drops his toy on the car floor at a point when we can't stop and screams"I want my Scooby Doo van! I want my Scooby Doo Vaaaaaaaaaaaan!" for approximately forty-five minutes.<br /><br />But the part that really worries me is his difficulty with social situations. For instance: last summer a few kids came by while their parents were looking at a rental next door. They were attracted to our monstrous playset in the back yard. "Hey," said the kids. "Hey," said Maya, who was four. Jordan completely ignored them until they ignored him too, and then suddenly he launched at them and said, "We have a lawn mower!" This behavior is just plain weird. That was obvious by the looks on these kids' faces.<br /><br />Recently we learned that at recess, he goes out, stands by the flagpole and waits until the bell rings to go back inside. Either that, or wanders the perimeter of the grounds.<br /><br />Still, it's all subtle enough that he could be characterized as an "odd child". I was an "odd child", and so was Scott, so it's a pretty easy leap to make--until he does something so unusual that it catches the attention of the school. And believe me, with 25 kids to a classroom, it is not easy to catch attention.<br /><br />When his teacher brought up the Polar Express incident I felt the usual onrush of panic, guilt, and despair. It's a cocktail of emotion that makes my blood feel like it's been suddenly replaced by mercury. Over the course of Jordan's lifetime, it has been suggested many times that perhaps there is actually something wrong with him, but on Monday I decided it was time to take the tiger by the tail.<br /><br />He has been seeing a school counselor to do "social group". I contacted her. She confirmed that he does display symptoms of Aspergers.<br /><p>I then got in touch with the college to get him scheduled for an assessment in their clinic. The doctor in charge said their students were looking for experience; I assured him that Jordan would be an experience, all right.</p><p>I went online and skimmed enough to conclude that Jordan does, in fact, behave like a kid who has Aspergers. For those who don't know, Aspergers is like Autism Lite. In some cases, like Jordan's, it can be so Lite that you might not even notice it--for a while. But sooner or later the odd social behavior, mannerisms, focused interest on a few topics and use of highly adult language will catch someone's eye. Like his teacher's, for example. </p><p>So we're going to get him assessed. There was some discussion about the wisdom of this--we don't want to pigeonhole him, etc etc. But the fact is in today's society if you want to get any help you <em>have</em> to have a label, preferably one with a code that can be written on forms in triplicate. </p><p>Will he get a label? Will we get some help? Will he be able to deliberately learn skills that most of us are born knowing? Will we be able to sing "Happy Birthday" in the future without putting him in a soundproof room? Only time will tell. </p><p> </p><p><br /> </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4