tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12048114586203031712024-03-13T11:24:26.039-07:00mudstar ceramicsAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-86230967724097249412016-04-19T02:16:00.000-07:002016-04-19T02:16:57.430-07:00Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L3oZTaLvQbo/VxX3RUUzlCI/AAAAAAAACcY/eELAe1BWX5wY1c6rsDSmGmvn2cAVU-45QCK4B/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L3oZTaLvQbo/VxX3RUUzlCI/AAAAAAAACcY/eELAe1BWX5wY1c6rsDSmGmvn2cAVU-45QCK4B/s400/images.jpeg" /></a>Hello Lovelies!!<br />
<br />
No fanfare, no confetti, no sobbing in hankies - just a quick note to let you wonderful folks know that I'll no longer be posting on our friend Blogger here. But don't worry, you can still get your fix of Inspiration in the Everyday!! Just hop on over to <a href="http://www.mudstarceramics.com/">www.mudstarceramics.com</a>. It makes more sense to have everything in once place, doesn't it? Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy.<br />
<br />
Thank you so much for following me here all this time. If I could lemon squeezy each and every one of you, I would.<br />
<br />
xo RaeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-24791489452878343022016-02-14T08:53:00.000-08:002016-02-14T08:53:05.608-08:00Spoon Me.<div style="text-align: center;">
Here's to a day made for spooning. Happy Valentine's Day, lovelies!!<span id="goog_1886026223"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1lTmte4RRuw/VsCw1rwtwzI/AAAAAAAACbs/iqsRVj9lhcI/s1600/IMG_3056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1lTmte4RRuw/VsCw1rwtwzI/AAAAAAAACbs/iqsRVj9lhcI/s640/IMG_3056.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<span id="goog_1886026222"></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-91016357207577856912016-02-02T16:31:00.001-08:002016-02-08T08:01:43.389-08:00Shinrin-yoku or Forest Bathing<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u1Myq3wnzFM/VrFHHV7ERqI/AAAAAAAACbQ/_Mpl-nicemE/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u1Myq3wnzFM/VrFHHV7ERqI/AAAAAAAACbQ/_Mpl-nicemE/s320/images.jpeg" width="320" /></a>Thank you, Mercury, for getting your butt out of retrograde. I've had enough of your shenanigans. Finally recovered from some ailments which had me down for the count. I am giving them the finger and started walking again. Not being able to walk for a few weeks made me realize how important they were to my mental health and my creativity. I didn't realize how jammed up I was until I got in the brisk air, under my beloved trees again. The Japanese call it Shinrin-yoku, or Forest Bathing. Isn't that the most wonderful term? It's the "healing medicine of being in the forest".<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ODcqCzxcGPo/VrFIaqlavPI/AAAAAAAACbc/JVfb7hZIjP0/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ODcqCzxcGPo/VrFIaqlavPI/AAAAAAAACbc/JVfb7hZIjP0/s200/Unknown.jpeg" width="198" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Salem, MA, 1791.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My friends the trees spoke to me this morning and gave me an idea for some new work. It's a modern riff on the needlepoint sampler. It's still percolating, but it has something to do with embroidery, tiny ceramic pieces - something to do with tiny houses and stitched words. Do I know how to embroider? Uh...no. But, as usual, when I don't know how to do something, I just plop into the deep end and figure it out as I go, making a gajillion mistakes and often drawing blood.<br />
<br />
Enemy time and I will have to declare a cease fire.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-68525683853010339862016-01-12T06:17:00.001-08:002016-01-12T13:21:14.141-08:00A January Memo to Self<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VjzcemAoUvU/VpUIpdlMbrI/AAAAAAAACaY/hHT_yAjXTBM/s1600/taller-than-trees-300x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VjzcemAoUvU/VpUIpdlMbrI/AAAAAAAACaY/hHT_yAjXTBM/s400/taller-than-trees-300x300.jpg" /></a>Happiness is a choice. Grumble or smile - it takes the same amount of energy.<br />
<br />
A good night's sleep, a walk in brisk air and lots of water are better than Botox.<br />
<br />
It's okay not to fit in.<br />
<br />
Family is everything.<br />
<br />
Life is too short to have toxic people in our lives.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-56M-9OAh1Lg/VpUJil1X_6I/AAAAAAAACaw/NU5ubOpDfnM/s1600/paul%2Brand_v2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-56M-9OAh1Lg/VpUJil1X_6I/AAAAAAAACaw/NU5ubOpDfnM/s400/paul%2Brand_v2.jpg" width="310" /></a><br />
Love saves the day.<br />
<br />
Music soothes and enervates the soul.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-euI4NqljGos/VpUK81nkYPI/AAAAAAAACa8/n7oGrrblqRQ/s1600/tumblr_m2zh3tGx5w1qbr8r3o1_400.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/-euI4NqljGos/VpUK81nkYPI/AAAAAAAACa8/n7oGrrblqRQ/s200/tumblr_m2zh3tGx5w1qbr8r3o1_400.jpg" width="155" /></a>Making things with one's hands brings joy. It's a fact.<br />
<br />
The smells of hot toast, coffee, popcorn, and bacon always make you hungry.<br />
<br />
Needing quiet is not the same as being anti-social.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-18779650963025114012015-11-23T06:08:00.002-08:002015-11-23T06:08:29.592-08:00THANKS, LOVELIES!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ya_ZhGDogA8/VlMdxnvVSdI/AAAAAAAACZM/KsQlb8okJ08/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ya_ZhGDogA8/VlMdxnvVSdI/AAAAAAAACZM/KsQlb8okJ08/s400/images.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
Thank you to all the wonderful friends, customers, and visitors this weekend at the Crafters' Marketplace. I am a lucky gal for all the support and love. Happy Turkey Day to all and stay tuned for Mudstar's next holiday show - XO!! RaeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-89710594674787911662015-11-19T11:01:00.001-08:002015-11-19T11:05:04.938-08:00Crafters' Marketplace This Weekend!Hello, lovelies!! Been a busy bee, getting ready for the Crafters' Marketplace this weekend. The Bates Scholarship Fund is the worthy beneficiary, with the added benefit of your getting a hop on your holiday shop! If you're in the Princeton area, please stop by. And snag me some of that off-the-chain toffee from the toffee ladies. (That's how good it is. They are just known as the toffee ladies. No proper names - none needed. Fair warning: buy TWO boxes. You can give one away…) xo Rae<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m3ekDYvdXsM/Vk4cV9cxLeI/AAAAAAAACY4/-7riPTp2_dA/s1600/12187908_10153088902166039_706862074789205742_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m3ekDYvdXsM/Vk4cV9cxLeI/AAAAAAAACY4/-7riPTp2_dA/s640/12187908_10153088902166039_706862074789205742_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-18277893785112484482015-10-27T13:01:00.004-07:002015-10-27T14:04:09.180-07:00Strip It Away<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Our days are just a quilt of the random, aren't they? But if you strip away the laundry, the making of dinner, the paying of bills, there are some beautiful things in there.</div>
<br />
1) This snippet about Maurice Sendak and Terry Gross from <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2015/10/25/magazine/terry-gross-and-the-art-of-opening-up.html?_r=0">her interview in the NY Times, this Sunday.</a> It moved me to tears and I've been thinking about it ever since. <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4375rem;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4375rem;">On ‘‘Fresh Air,’’ we listen to Gross grapple with the most complex questions of existence — racial prejudice, faith, family, illness, morality, betrayal, gratitude. In 2011, when</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4375rem;"> </span><a href="http://www.npr.org/2011/12/29/144077273/maurice-sendak-on-life-death-and-childrens-lit" style="color: #326891; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4375rem;">Maurice Sendak</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4375rem;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4375rem;">was 83, Gross called him at his home in Connecticut. What was meant to be a short conversation about his new book, ‘‘Bumble-Ardy,’’ became a meditation on his nearness to death. You feel Sendak looking over into it from his living room.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.4375rem;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--QCOxghcuR8/Vi_O0w1elsI/AAAAAAAACXY/YEv4ZhvTHtk/s1600/IMG_9555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--QCOxghcuR8/Vi_O0w1elsI/AAAAAAAACXY/YEv4ZhvTHtk/s320/IMG_9555.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333;"><i><span style="line-height: 1.4375rem;"><b>Sendak:</b> Oh, God, there are so many beautiful things in this world which I will have to leave when I die, but I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready. You know, I </span><span style="line-height: 23px;">have</span><span style="line-height: 1.4375rem;"> to tell you something.</span></i></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 1.4375rem;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 1.4375rem;"><i><b>Gross:</b> Go ahead.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 1.4375rem;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 1.4375rem;"><i><b>Sendak: </b>You are the only person I have ever dealt with in terms of being interviewed or talking who brings this out in me. There's something very unique and special in you, which I so trust. When I heard that you were going to interview me or that you wanted to, I was really, really pleased. </i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 1.4375rem;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Sendak is scratchy and emotional, and Gross is gentle with him. ‘‘And almost certainly, I’ll go before you go,’’ he tells her. ‘‘So I won’t have to miss you.’’</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
2) Kiln-washing the shelves: heavy, messy and necessary.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ShMMXaBkxA/Vi_meIeZbSI/AAAAAAAACYo/sDFyUKomueY/s1600/IMG_9547.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ShMMXaBkxA/Vi_meIeZbSI/AAAAAAAACYo/sDFyUKomueY/s400/IMG_9547.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Detail of our rotting pergola, which I find strangely beautiful.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
3) A walk in the woods.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VhA69LCj69U/Vi_XzjMnALI/AAAAAAAACYI/EKqJTyu45-k/s1600/IMG_9549.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/-VhA69LCj69U/Vi_XzjMnALI/AAAAAAAACYI/EKqJTyu45-k/s200/IMG_9549.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
4) The good, practical advice from Stewart O'Nan to carry around the last sentence you wrote, so you can ruminate at the water cooler, in the car, on line at Shop Rite.<br />
<br />
5) Finding inspiration up, down and all around.<br />
<br />
6)"The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter wools." -- Henry Beston<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-16256138628683267792015-08-04T12:22:00.006-07:002015-08-06T13:48:33.613-07:00I'm Not One of Those Adorably Messy Artists.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3Bvs3VnIQFE/VcDYn50bDaI/AAAAAAAACS4/KZPuj5lcv0Y/s1600/IMG_8972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3Bvs3VnIQFE/VcDYn50bDaI/AAAAAAAACS4/KZPuj5lcv0Y/s400/IMG_8972.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My office view.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DnZOqlsdohw/VcD0wUW29vI/AAAAAAAACVM/Q6C2qs45Fn8/s1600/IMG_9093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DnZOqlsdohw/VcD0wUW29vI/AAAAAAAACVM/Q6C2qs45Fn8/s400/IMG_9093.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always, a bluebird.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PywTwKBdPt8/VcDbCwKESlI/AAAAAAAACUA/Wlyt-bqWR1E/s1600/IMG_9208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PywTwKBdPt8/VcDbCwKESlI/AAAAAAAACUA/Wlyt-bqWR1E/s320/IMG_9208.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8z3l6VekSCA/VcD1wrOfjcI/AAAAAAAACVc/dZyymyCHrJ4/s1600/IMG_8973%2B12.03.24%2BPM.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/-8z3l6VekSCA/VcD1wrOfjcI/AAAAAAAACVc/dZyymyCHrJ4/s320/IMG_8973%2B12.03.24%2BPM.jpg" width="240" /></a>How can a creative person work neatly? It goes <br />
against principle, doesn't it? I don't know. I'm just not one of those adorably messy artists who pace floorboards dotted with a rainbow of paint blobs, or rustle amid leaning towers of papers, only to pull out the right one. Eureka!<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FkB_jGmYAO0/VcEQskaK8BI/AAAAAAAACWA/lqd3nq6q5-I/s1600/IMG_9090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FkB_jGmYAO0/VcEQskaK8BI/AAAAAAAACWA/lqd3nq6q5-I/s200/IMG_9090.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
<br />
That kind of creative chaos looks delightful and romantic to me, but I can't work that way. I've got folders, lists and bulletin boards. I like a deadline. I like to know where I'm going to be at 2pm. <br />
<br />
Yes. I'm one of <i>those</i>. My theory is that there's so much swirling chaos and so many thoughts competing for attention in my head, that if I had chaos on the outside, too, I might just implode. Or, you know, I need therapy. Whatevs.<br />
<br />
Thought I'd give y'all a glimpse of my shared office space - the one that's OUT OF THE HOUSE. Go ahead, wrap your head around that little nugget. I get so much more done here than at home. There are no piles of laundry here. Neatly-folded piles, that is.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-82658478387829134592015-07-20T08:24:00.003-07:002015-07-20T08:24:52.978-07:00Oscar, My Oscar<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sva__EdhJXE/Va0Ss3E1GMI/AAAAAAAACSQ/7vbkvlK-NpI/s1600/il_570xN.654805867_ee11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sva__EdhJXE/Va0Ss3E1GMI/AAAAAAAACSQ/7vbkvlK-NpI/s640/il_570xN.654805867_ee11.jpg" width="502" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-2404068446635404612015-07-06T11:52:00.000-07:002015-07-06T12:01:02.263-07:00Inspiring LatelyThere's a crackle and hum that wasn't here last month. The skies are heavy with blue. There's a new parklet in front of Small World Coffee, jubilant with the reappearance of the Nola. Summer girls totter in gladiators and tiny dresses in every hue. Kids yell louder, skate faster, spoon up their blend-ins from Thomas Sweets. The University's iron gates stand empty except for tourists and their iPhones.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My bones feel it, too. They're awake now. I serenade them with wacky jazz murmurations from Koop and scribble funny lines like "<i>a gray imposition in a blue composition</i>." I chew chlorophyll gum because I never did that before. That seems right. Here's what else is inspiring lately:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Morning, everyone. <br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XnBVGqbxCMA/VZrDhUONDqI/AAAAAAAACRI/pVju4GAkitE/s1600/51v9AWGi-TL._SY426_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XnBVGqbxCMA/VZrDhUONDqI/AAAAAAAACRI/pVju4GAkitE/s320/51v9AWGi-TL._SY426_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This book: My Cool Shed by Jane Field-Lewis. I want every one of these hideaways. Maybe this is where the good words live?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lz6JRO6KTQ4/VZrFIVL61kI/AAAAAAAACRU/0FVNBr1BxLk/s1600/20140612150408-gels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lz6JRO6KTQ4/VZrFIVL61kI/AAAAAAAACRU/0FVNBr1BxLk/s400/20140612150408-gels.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
This art: End of Days by Brandie Grogan, because her palette, her repetition, her words, show me that there are others out there...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e317fNBS9wc/VZrJaKkcoPI/AAAAAAAACRg/Eg3-J5dGVMk/s1600/Fall-For-DIY-Clay-and-Rope-Pot-tutorial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e317fNBS9wc/VZrJaKkcoPI/AAAAAAAACRg/Eg3-J5dGVMk/s400/Fall-For-DIY-Clay-and-Rope-Pot-tutorial.jpg" width="295" /></a></div>
This <a href="http://fallfordiy.com/blog/2015/07/01/diy-clay-rope-pot/">amazing tutorial</a> on how to make a clay and rope bowl. Guess what I'm trying next? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cw6_wWBcqBE/VZrKjqTAjSI/AAAAAAAACRo/GGvpKNOsTYw/s1600/02e8fa70405ffcf09dfc853709ca42fd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cw6_wWBcqBE/VZrKjqTAjSI/AAAAAAAACRo/GGvpKNOsTYw/s400/02e8fa70405ffcf09dfc853709ca42fd.jpg" width="310" /></a></div>
This dramatic and old-new glaze design by <a href="http://www.klinepottery.com/">Michael Kline at Kline Pottery</a>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hph0SEO2eLQ/VZrLuo7PRUI/AAAAAAAACRw/EO8ZpgoCm3s/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hph0SEO2eLQ/VZrLuo7PRUI/AAAAAAAACRw/EO8ZpgoCm3s/s320/images.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
And to the butterfly that flew with me on my walk yesterday, thank you:<br />
<br />
<i>this butterfly,</i><br />
<i>an impossible black,</i><br />
<i>reminds me of a dark-haired boy </i><br />
<i>who folded up my heart</i><br />
<i>into his paper thin wings</i><br />
<i>and flew away.</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-19420705096785619912015-05-08T11:30:00.003-07:002015-05-08T11:30:32.601-07:00A Rainbow for the Inside of a Cloudy Brain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r5d2-ypR6L4/VUz5N-Cwc-I/AAAAAAAACPA/vpY57GOEyio/s1600/IMG_8374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r5d2-ypR6L4/VUz5N-Cwc-I/AAAAAAAACPA/vpY57GOEyio/s640/IMG_8374.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-skhrTTAZFoo/VUz5NAhxHSI/AAAAAAAACO4/XeQLCfjlzvU/s1600/IMG_8376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-skhrTTAZFoo/VUz5NAhxHSI/AAAAAAAACO4/XeQLCfjlzvU/s320/IMG_8376.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZRhQ6VL-6ik/VUz5UP7R1UI/AAAAAAAACPk/YyxFbWO1s_8/s1600/IMG_8379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZRhQ6VL-6ik/VUz5UP7R1UI/AAAAAAAACPk/YyxFbWO1s_8/s320/IMG_8379.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6cA9vM9zDEE/VUz5R-EXNCI/AAAAAAAACPY/yY7lNb0lJgg/s1600/IMG_8378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6cA9vM9zDEE/VUz5R-EXNCI/AAAAAAAACPY/yY7lNb0lJgg/s200/IMG_8378.JPG" width="200" /></a>One of my clay faves is Adam Welch, Director of Greenwich House Pottery in NYC, so when I heard that some of his work would be in Beyond Function, the ceramics show at the Arts Council of Princeton, I hopped to, swung 'round to Small World Coffee to pick up a Nola, then strolled and sipped and stared at these for a while. I'm pretty sure that the artwork did more to wake me up than the icy caffeine did. Like a rainbow for the inside of my cloudy brain.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-26230231975581615122015-04-26T07:03:00.005-07:002015-04-26T07:03:59.740-07:00Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em>Old Tyme is still a-flying</em>...</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
It's so much more romantic when Robert Herrick says it. Or when John William Waterhouse paints it. Enemy time. There's never enough. The thought of that fuels my fire every day. So much to do. So much to write. Work to do. Parenting to do. Books to read. Places to see. Spring brings it all to the surface again: the green flush of the grass, the gray-green furred buds on the magnolia, the yellow crash of the forsythia at the end of the drive. Another season of creativity is here after the sweet, slow hibernation of winter, and it's out there, waiting, wondering what I will do with it.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j1PqEQQO7w0/VTzwEqkOUnI/AAAAAAAACOc/hla1dDXY750/s1600/300px-Waterhouse-gather_ye_rosebuds-1909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j1PqEQQO7w0/VTzwEqkOUnI/AAAAAAAACOc/hla1dDXY750/s1600/300px-Waterhouse-gather_ye_rosebuds-1909.jpg" height="320" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John William Waterhouse, 1909.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Copywriting is what I'm doing right now, and it's high time for real estate. Seven days a week for the last month, with another month in front of me. I would have thought that there would be no room for creative thought with all the hours I've been putting in to write about archways and gracious floor plans, but something strange has happened. All this "technical" writing has allowed my creative brain to roam freely. It's like when you have eaten a giant meal and the waiter asks if you have room for dessert. <em>Of course,</em> you say,<em> that's a whole separate area</em>…<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
This current gig has taught me the value of the edit, the hook, of using less words to mean more. Because of the additional income, I feel legitimized to have a shared office space, which has the added benefit of allowing me a quiet place away from my musical, sports-filled, boys-filled household. I've learned to be very economical with my time. Does anyone really care if I make an elaborate meal from scratch or will a rotisserie chicken do just fine? I work in the car while waiting for soccer practice to end. It sounds a little frenetic, because it is a little frenetic, but I like being busy, being useful, earning my own money, encouraging energy to beget energy.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
I am also trying to remember to take my walks and my tea, to read my book, to slow down for those morning hugs before the busy day begins. And you know what? I find I savor them all just a bit more because I know these quiet moments are to sustain me and provide me respite before off I go again.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-72897081598521250432015-02-12T12:22:00.000-08:002015-02-12T12:28:43.887-08:00Polka Dot Love<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1JLuX-nkvOI/VN0LEWEVujI/AAAAAAAAB1Y/_AD4jscqMfA/s1600/photo-33.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1JLuX-nkvOI/VN0LEWEVujI/AAAAAAAAB1Y/_AD4jscqMfA/s1600/photo-33.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I63UpJoL4Jk/VN0LDzP9EYI/AAAAAAAAB1U/ZDR8Ce_J1iQ/s1600/photo-34.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I63UpJoL4Jk/VN0LDzP9EYI/AAAAAAAAB1U/ZDR8Ce_J1iQ/s1600/photo-34.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a><br />
I've been busy with some writing work lately, but found a little time to make these little polka dot dishes. I'm think I'm partial to the red glaze. (I always seem to be partial to the red glaze, the brighter the better, right?) but I think the pink is quite sweet, too. <br />
<br />
Happy Valentine's Day, friends! Hope it's spent with those you love.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-61537066219906876092015-01-24T14:18:00.002-08:002015-01-24T14:41:29.779-08:00So Plant Your Own Gardens...<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H26LaJk7yVI/VMQWrSihZwI/AAAAAAAAB0k/tOiJbIR4uOQ/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H26LaJk7yVI/VMQWrSihZwI/AAAAAAAAB0k/tOiJbIR4uOQ/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a>If you're like me, sometimes you focus a lot more time on what you did wrong than what you did right. It's so easy. We all know how easy it is. Second nature sometimes. Berating yourself, maybe even mentally calling yourself names, getting angry at your just being human.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b3rtPdcUt4Q/VMQY75x0DAI/AAAAAAAAB08/lOufXMD3gZo/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b3rtPdcUt4Q/VMQY75x0DAI/AAAAAAAAB08/lOufXMD3gZo/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" height="400" width="257" /></a>But what if we tried to see - <i><b>really see</b></i> - what we did right? What would that look like? I tried to keep a list this week. I'm not saying it was a perfect week. Far from it. But at least there was some positivity to balance out the self-flagellation. And guess what? It made me feel better.<br />
<br />
What if we took it a little further? What if we did the same kind of nice things we do for our family and friends, for <i>ourselves</i>? What would that look like?<br />
<br />
Here's my week:<br />
<br />
1) I chose an apple instead of chips. Twice.<br />
<br />
2) I remembered my coupons for Staples. And mentally congratulated myself. AND saved $7.<br />
<br />
3) For some reason, working at home felt like house-arrest this week, so I called a friend and asked her to go for a walk with me. The whole dynamic of my afternoon changed.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DcQ-TjVk1aM/VMQWrez-vAI/AAAAAAAAB0g/0y_GLs1qGI4/s1600/images-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DcQ-TjVk1aM/VMQWrez-vAI/AAAAAAAAB0g/0y_GLs1qGI4/s1600/images-2.jpeg" height="320" width="241" /></a><br />
4) I pulled on the dreaded spandex and kept my appointment to lift weights. This usually gives me agitata, but I flexed my arm before I left the mirror, and damn it if there wasn't a muscle there.<br />
<br />
5) I fully accepted a hug when I didn't feel particularly hug-worthy.<br />
<br />
6) I patted myself on the back for marrying well.<br />
<br />
7) A little cup of peppermint tea goes a long way.<br />
<br />
8) So does a hot shower.<br />
<br />
9) Or a fire in the fireplace, even if it's just for me.<br />
<br />
What right things did you do this week? How did you take care of yourself? How COULD you take care of yourself? C'mon,<i> think</i>. I bet that list is longer than you thought. Or if not, it could be…just sayin'.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-55470417449216010462015-01-18T08:30:00.002-08:002015-01-18T08:30:20.705-08:00January Morning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZnIMbFw6_lE/VLveQSmOHWI/AAAAAAAAB0M/Tt0ikVHyocA/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZnIMbFw6_lE/VLveQSmOHWI/AAAAAAAAB0M/Tt0ikVHyocA/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" height="263" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
icy rain sings a hard little song against the window</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
cardinal hiding under brambles</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
bitter coffee in the cup</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
my hair still holds last night's sleep</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i find the notebook that holds last year's thoughts</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
so different from my thinking this morning</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i wonder where those old words will go now</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i wonder where the new words will come from</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i wait for the rain to fill the well</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-81270774029284265572015-01-05T13:09:00.000-08:002015-01-05T13:25:42.234-08:00Prayer of a SortToday I am grateful for:<br />
<br />
<div>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AE8ckGvGo7E/VKr9Vuc83pI/AAAAAAAABz8/zVHBiDUQxXA/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AE8ckGvGo7E/VKr9Vuc83pI/AAAAAAAABz8/zVHBiDUQxXA/s1600/images.jpeg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
the cold wind and blue skies and tall pines.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
a healthy body with which to take walks.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
enough food to eat.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
a family who loves me no matter what and whom I love with my whole heart.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
to always be curious about and sometimes delighted by this strange world in which we live.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
to always be hungry to make things of one sort or another.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
a hot cup of tea. Always.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
bad jokes. Q: <i>What's a skunk's favorite sandwich? </i>A: Peanut Butter and Smelly (<i>HeeHee…</i>)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the hope that lists provide. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-69577276307249537072014-12-02T16:53:00.002-08:002014-12-02T16:53:52.415-08:00Coming Up for Air. Making Lists.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VPRloJ0zaWw/VH5dmfK5JGI/AAAAAAAABy4/fIOWE5SpdOE/s1600/l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VPRloJ0zaWw/VH5dmfK5JGI/AAAAAAAABy4/fIOWE5SpdOE/s1600/l.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7CMlEaUFmEw/VH5eE3xLvxI/AAAAAAAABzA/cOAjkToKIwo/s1600/282830991_fa215cbfd1_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7CMlEaUFmEw/VH5eE3xLvxI/AAAAAAAABzA/cOAjkToKIwo/s1600/282830991_fa215cbfd1_z.jpg" height="215" width="320" /></a>So many folks out there can narrate their journey on every portal that social media has to offer. I wish I could. I can't even put my earphones in while on my morning walk anymore; it interrupts my "thoughts". (Insert eye-rolling here.) Where have I been? Working. Claywork. Wordwork. A new gig as a real estate copywriter. Mommy-ing. I find that the quieter I am out here, the louder my work. Anyone else find that? Head down, lost in the process? Working begetting working? Anyone?<br />
<br />
I came up for air over Thanksgiving. Spent my birthday in my favorite place, Martha's Vineyard. I brought my laptop and didn't log in once. I read a book with pages. Ate lemon rosemary shoestring fries at a food truck and dark chocolate at Chilmark Chocolates. Hiked the Moshup Trail in Aquinnah. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XQrg7WFFVGE/VH5eoUF3_8I/AAAAAAAABzI/4quIBYgQX_Y/s1600/intrepidfleetweekconcert075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XQrg7WFFVGE/VH5eoUF3_8I/AAAAAAAABzI/4quIBYgQX_Y/s1600/intrepidfleetweekconcert075.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
Went to bed before 10 every night. Walked and walked. And it was like coming up to the surface after being underwater for too long. You know that feeling? When you've held your breath for so long that it's as if your lungs will explode? And that sweet air at the surface - been waiting there all this time.<br />
<br />
Now there is clean laundry in the drawer and eggs in the fridge. I'm back to my lists. All my boys hate them. Post-its everywhere, spiral notebooks piled on bedside table. But it makes me feel as if I can see all four corners of my "room". Here's a little look in my brain/notebook.<br />
<br />
1) Mommy/Home (truncated for time's sake :)<br />
<br />
submit doctor bill<br />
make appointment for orthodontist<br />
new outdoor table and grill cover<br />
store umbrellas<br />
clean baseboards<br />
bday card for Mom<br />
mail nephew's bday gift<br />
baby gift<br />
return blouse<br />
indoor soccer shoes<br />
organize holiday party<br />
<br />
2) Mudstar Ceramics:<br />
<br />
replace 365 Grolleg<br />
glaze: aqua, opal and sapphire<br />
roll out cheese boards<br />
make angel template<br />
two dozen bluebirds large<br />
3 dozen bluebirds small<br />
poinsettia ornaments<br />
3 dozen tweets<br />
deliver owl<br />
start hydrangea lamp<br />
<br />
3) Copywriting list:<br />
<br />
submit bill (yay!)<br />
find American Architecture book<br />
ideas for agent bios<br />
filing system<br />
<br />
4) Manuscript list:<br />
<br />
check out Booktrope<br />
six word stories<br />
find list of Cape towns<br />
write chapter about faith.<br />
<br />
xo love, raeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-34112632006073719212014-10-06T15:53:00.006-07:002014-10-06T15:54:58.332-07:00Every Problem Is Just Fear.<i>Every problem is just fear. </i> I heard this sentence this morning and it sort of lit up the room. I started doing that mental test you do when you hear something that rings true but rattles you at the same time. "It can't be that simple," you think. You start running scenarios through your head to prove it's not the real deal.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But guess what? I might be making a case of t-shirts. Get ready.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vbX4OvnkVOM/VDMbA5AXGkI/AAAAAAAAByQ/mIjND00lMRE/s1600/cae3272cacc61eb07d81c3e66bc057b3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vbX4OvnkVOM/VDMbA5AXGkI/AAAAAAAAByQ/mIjND00lMRE/s1600/cae3272cacc61eb07d81c3e66bc057b3.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><b>Why can't I finish this book?</b> Because I'm afraid I'm not a good enough writer. Because I'm a perfectionist. (<i>As Elizabeth Gilbert says: "Perfectionism is just fear in really good shoes."</i>) Because I'm afraid of putting myself out there for all the world to see (and judge.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Why can't I lose weight?</b> Because I'm afraid of how hard it will be. Because I'm afraid I'll miss cookies and cheese. (Duh.) Because I'm afraid of attention, which I hate. Because if I'm afraid that, if I'm not this size, which I've been my whole life, then what am I?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>What do I want to be when I grow up? </b>I don't know, and I'm afraid that I don't know. Not knowing at 24 was scary. Not knowing at 44 is terrifying. I'm afraid the thing I want to do isn't big enough. I'm afraid I'm running out of time. I'm afraid of leaving this earth having not made a dent.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You get the picture. See if this isn't true. Think about a problem you have in your life. And then think<br />
about what that problem looks like if the fear surrounding it were removed. I'm gonna guess…</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So how to conquer the fear? Gilbert suggests we don't tell it to go away, because it will never go away. Instead, mother it. Crazy? I don't think so. We mother everything and everyone else. So we acknowledge its presence. We acknowledge it for the wicked little tyrant it is. I envision fear as a cranky toddler. Then we tell it: shhhhh. It's okay. I hear you. You've been so busy today; it's time to rest. <br />
<br />
Here you go: here's your milk; here's your teddy. Let me tuck you in. Close your eyes. I've already checked under the bed for monsters; it's all clear. Quiet now. Sleep as long as you like. Mama has things to do.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-9289334810762567442014-09-17T13:49:00.002-07:002014-09-17T13:49:38.255-07:00For When You Feel Like You're Filling an Ocean with a Teacup.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7-vB_79nohc/VBnzn7MrgvI/AAAAAAAABxw/r1N0ZKTMzFM/s1600/il_570xN.504805443_7b3u.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7-vB_79nohc/VBnzn7MrgvI/AAAAAAAABxw/r1N0ZKTMzFM/s1600/il_570xN.504805443_7b3u.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-89688416977918476422014-09-15T04:18:00.001-07:002014-09-15T04:18:10.751-07:00A Mild Antidote to September's Melee.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
There's an over-scheduling melee that happens in September. It can be not so swell for ideas. I'm trying to let the summer exploration and noticing still lap at the toes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F_fqXQP1I0s/VBNNRhvXVrI/AAAAAAAABwg/UQLEZtF5Z40/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F_fqXQP1I0s/VBNNRhvXVrI/AAAAAAAABwg/UQLEZtF5Z40/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" height="377" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crushing on the band Isbells.<br />
Try the song "Reunite".<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2wmFwnOZgCI/VBNPJK4Wr9I/AAAAAAAABxE/ba2EX-1eHCs/s1600/photo-33.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2wmFwnOZgCI/VBNPJK4Wr9I/AAAAAAAABxE/ba2EX-1eHCs/s1600/photo-33.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Writing things.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3WEv1vECW9U/VBNPOYFfk9I/AAAAAAAABxc/Z1L21FR8ewc/s1600/photo-35.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3WEv1vECW9U/VBNPOYFfk9I/AAAAAAAABxc/Z1L21FR8ewc/s1600/photo-35.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YyxWqejMVz8/VBNPMMCHVBI/AAAAAAAABxQ/NPTCAMmXWIg/s1600/photo-32.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YyxWqejMVz8/VBNPMMCHVBI/AAAAAAAABxQ/NPTCAMmXWIg/s1600/photo-32.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<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="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZiGo2ThMq1U/VBNPOc1BfXI/AAAAAAAABxY/0h_g2dBsge4/s1600/photo-34.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZiGo2ThMq1U/VBNPOc1BfXI/AAAAAAAABxY/0h_g2dBsge4/s1600/photo-34.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making things.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sONZg1t5DJ0/VBNPI3XIMdI/AAAAAAAABxA/FPJ8vT0W5OI/s1600/photo-30.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sONZg1t5DJ0/VBNPI3XIMdI/AAAAAAAABxA/FPJ8vT0W5OI/s1600/photo-30.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cipnm_fj9OU/VBNPG3oLiFI/AAAAAAAABww/sVUwrcGNMjE/s1600/photo-29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cipnm_fj9OU/VBNPG3oLiFI/AAAAAAAABww/sVUwrcGNMjE/s1600/photo-29.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finding broken, perfect things on my walks….</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-20904504974044257382014-08-16T16:24:00.001-07:002014-08-16T16:25:45.494-07:00Why I'm Crushing on SummerDon't faint: this week I might be crushing on summer. I don't know what happened. Up is down. Left is Right...<br />
<br />
Ten Reasons:<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RrfsFNz14Uo/U-_ns5faIqI/AAAAAAAABvw/GZDm3wyI4BA/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RrfsFNz14Uo/U-_ns5faIqI/AAAAAAAABvw/GZDm3wyI4BA/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a><br />
1) Writing on the porch, tucked behind a giant hydrangea bush. There might be an ice cold Angry Orchard cider involved. <br />
<br />
2) Middle of the day hugs from all my boys.<br />
<br />
3) Biking in the dappled shade on the <a href="http://lhtrail.org/">Hopewell Valley Trail</a>.<br />
<br />
4) No rushing to get to school, to tutoring, to soccer practice. No rushing period.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qd-2PElBbK0/U-_lhfftbCI/AAAAAAAABvk/6piPjZFx5xw/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qd-2PElBbK0/U-_lhfftbCI/AAAAAAAABvk/6piPjZFx5xw/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" height="320" width="208" /></a>5) Reading more because it's just so nice outside. That's what dvrs are for. Current obsession is food writing: Blue Plate Special by Kate Christensen, (<a href="http://katechristensen.wordpress.com/">check out her blog here</a>,) a re-read of Blood, Butter and Bones by Gabrielle Hamilton, and bathroom reading of MFK Fisher. (Sorry, MFK, you deserve much better than the potty. I shall move you to the nightstand, posthaste.)<br />
<br />
6) Grilled EVERYTHING.<br />
<br />
7) No helping with fifth grade math that I am too dumb to do.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H-y88o2whNM/U-_lNMB01-I/AAAAAAAABvc/4RNbmyQWRwQ/s1600/201407-w-americas-best-ice-cream-shops-the-bent-spoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H-y88o2whNM/U-_lNMB01-I/AAAAAAAABvc/4RNbmyQWRwQ/s1600/201407-w-americas-best-ice-cream-shops-the-bent-spoon.jpg" height="268" width="320" /></a><br />
8) ICE CREAM. I'm democratic. Ben and Jerry's, the locally-sourced small batch gelatos at <a href="http://www.thebentspoon.net/BENTSPOON/home.html">Bent Spoon</a>, frozen yogurt with rainbow sprinkles. It's all good.<br />
<br />
9) Always being just a few weeks away from my <a href="http://www.vineyardcolors.com/">paradise on earth</a>.<br />
<br />
10) Evening walks because it's still light out, looking for owls.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-40059254667323330852014-07-31T09:39:00.000-07:002014-07-31T13:11:24.845-07:00Don't Feed the Bear.Summer is when everything is at its peak: fruits and vegetables, nights filled with friends and gin and tonics and grilled fish and cool swims, trips whose suitcases come back filled with sand, bright clothes and bicycles, long days punctuated with popsicles. Summer is not the time for hibernation. No. Decidedly not. That would make no sense.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-er5yXBQcSAM/U9pkrz2G_oI/AAAAAAAABvI/NgBhXLA2kzk/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-er5yXBQcSAM/U9pkrz2G_oI/AAAAAAAABvI/NgBhXLA2kzk/s1600/images.jpeg" height="236" width="320" /></a>And yet, I've had a sleeping bear within me these warm months. Nestled in a forest den, deep in the cool earth, trees keening in the wind. A bear with a lot on her subconscious mind, a bear that is doing the sleeping work of dreaming what's next - that strange work that is somehow very easy and very difficult at the same time. And a bear that has chosen sleep over dealing with some things.<br />
<br />
Not so long ago, and for not the first time, WHAM, out of nowhere, someone decided to sling an arrow straight to my heart. I used it as an excuse to hibernate, go dark, and worse, to separate myself from my true people, and<i> avoid doing the work</i>. <br />
<br />
I don't know why the people who are supposed to love you the most are able to sling the deadliest arrows, but sometimes they are. Crack shots. Ouch. And being the walking wounded is not fun. After licking my wounds, feeling sorry for myself, I had a small epiphany: maybe I wasn't shot by this one person? Maybe I had forgotten why I am here, and instead, it was the Universe who poked the bear. Though it really, really hurt, today I woke up grateful for that nasty arrow. And woke up in general. I realized that making excuses because I keep getting hurt by someone who is too scared to do the right thing, means <i>I</i> am acting out of fear, too. Unacceptable. <br />
<br />
This morning finds the bear out of bed, barefoot, in a flowered skirt, hair tangled, listening to towhees ask her to <i>drink her tea, </i>turning her face to the sun, stringing words together. She's realized that Summer is here. She's awake, ready to start again, though she's a little slow to wake up, so might I offer just one piece of advice? Until she's fed and healed, and showed you what's what, please don't feed the bear.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-72269687567604932282014-07-06T12:45:00.001-07:002014-07-06T13:18:53.713-07:00Noise.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qV9gTS80dcA/U7mmnpODmqI/AAAAAAAABuU/ZatmISE_5as/s1600/photo-27.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qV9gTS80dcA/U7mmnpODmqI/AAAAAAAABuU/ZatmISE_5as/s1600/photo-27.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>Noise. Lots of it. The cute squeals of little boys have been replaced by FIFA games cranked up until the room thrums, a new PA system "for the band, honey", weird Minecraft sounds, Foster the People on a loop, and the incessant pinging of my teenager's phone. Guitars, a bass, and a keyboard play non-stop. And have I mentioned the rebounding WHACKS of a soccer ball against the garage door for hours on end? <br />
<br />
The noise is problematic as I have pages due to an editor friend, to see if she'll take me on as a client. In my noisy alcove I write; I re-write, and I can't see that this will ever be finished. Non-writing friends ask how it's going; writing friends know better. <i>Almost</i>, I say. <i>I'm getting there</i>, I say. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R7bL0Sl2aNY/U7mmmdsNfBI/AAAAAAAABuI/06WJtZIiNbc/s1600/photo-24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R7bL0Sl2aNY/U7mmmdsNfBI/AAAAAAAABuI/06WJtZIiNbc/s1600/photo-24.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quiet Austin sky.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--wibKHO8FGw/U7mmmcu3GCI/AAAAAAAABuQ/SYlzCevlf3o/s1600/photo-26.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--wibKHO8FGw/U7mmmcu3GCI/AAAAAAAABuQ/SYlzCevlf3o/s1600/photo-26.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bfEuWdI8HN8/U7mmnwshBGI/AAAAAAAABuY/LTc_BYAaNAU/s1600/photo-28.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bfEuWdI8HN8/U7mmnwshBGI/AAAAAAAABuY/LTc_BYAaNAU/s1600/photo-28.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>So, back from some well-spent time at the Writers' League Conference, I return now to the noise in my head, and it's louder than any soccer game or electric guitar. The experience at the conference was overwhelmingly positive: a lot of publishing, public relations and revision questions were answered. And my pitch session went as well as it could, considering I was a Jell-o mold in teal gladiator sandals. <i>Send me 100 pages and a synopsis</i>, the agent said, handing me her card.<br />
<br />
Here I am, my mind wanting me to cook because it needs to quiet itself. It's like any artwork I have done. I vacillate between it's not so bad, hey - chapters 3 through 7 are good, and let's just set fire to the whole thing.<br />
<br />
Think I'll go make some gazpacho. And jack up the Vitamix to 7 so I can't hear my own thoughts.<br />
<br />
What do you all do when you can't find "the quiet"?<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-57213229568000289432014-06-27T13:57:00.002-07:002014-06-27T14:50:04.901-07:00Yee-Haw, Austin!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zQeQO_8Wlzk/U63XUIkKrMI/AAAAAAAABrE/d22rDC3ffsY/s1600/IMG_4255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zQeQO_8Wlzk/U63XUIkKrMI/AAAAAAAABrE/d22rDC3ffsY/s1600/IMG_4255.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
Walking down SoCo is like walking on the surface of the sun. A weird, colorful, super-hipster sun, but a sun just the same. I'm on my second shower of the day and it's 4pm. Oh. And I just ordered a margarita. Is that wrong? Seems like the thing to do here to balance out the delicious salty/fatty offerings of food trucks parked on every corner: at gas stations, wedged between restaurants, or just hanging out by the side of the road. Thai. BBQ. Pulled Everything.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mv-N1sJf1l4/U63XXYBiOVI/AAAAAAAABro/uu265qKffrc/s1600/IMG_4260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mv-N1sJf1l4/U63XXYBiOVI/AAAAAAAABro/uu265qKffrc/s1600/IMG_4260.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cfeio7dpETA/U63XUXoDlTI/AAAAAAAABrM/FUn1b4agAfg/s1600/IMG_4256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cfeio7dpETA/U63XUXoDlTI/AAAAAAAABrM/FUn1b4agAfg/s1600/IMG_4256.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qZOCm-ZVZMs/U63XfbTubmI/AAAAAAAABtU/LmjGuTXBFHw/s1600/IMG_4275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qZOCm-ZVZMs/U63XfbTubmI/AAAAAAAABtU/LmjGuTXBFHw/s1600/IMG_4275.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>The light's different here. I thought it'd be like the light in California, but it's different altogether. It's hard, unforgiving - the kind of light that angrily blasts off your husband's watch, directly into your eyes, as you drive your car in the late afternoon. Aggressive light. The kind of light that keeps you honest. No shade to hide in here.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VUX3XRxSVEw/U63XVuOUT9I/AAAAAAAABrc/343QlEo43PM/s1600/IMG_4258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ytEX0sQJNDc/U63XZwfJriI/AAAAAAAABsA/fxLwIWZXp74/s1600/IMG_4266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ytEX0sQJNDc/U63XZwfJriI/AAAAAAAABsA/fxLwIWZXp74/s1600/IMG_4266.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a>South of Congress (SoCo) is full of vibrant, independent-minded shops, lampposts plastered with a lasagna of music posters, and food, food, glorious food. I'm not sure I was cool enough to walk down the street, but one green-strawed sip from my Tropic Thunder (lime, grapefruit, orange and ginger) and I didn't care.<br />
<br />
I'm here for the Agents and Editors Conference. Just checked in. Have my spiffy badge with its pale blue "Finalist" ribbon, hanging from a decidedly un-hipsterlike lanyard, but I don't care. I'm wearing it with pride. Folks from home have been so supportive with surprise flowers and notes and texts. I'm a lucky, lucky girl. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-38EnGk5VgAw/U63Xa8CRegI/AAAAAAAABso/ezQPdnP5CWg/s1600/IMG_4267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-38EnGk5VgAw/U63Xa8CRegI/AAAAAAAABso/ezQPdnP5CWg/s1600/IMG_4267.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>I can't wait until tomorrow to listen to all these smart folks talk on topics like "Dynamic Duos: The Author-Agent Relationship" and "Finding Your Creative Tribe". I'm going to soak in every last word, take copious notes, and pray I don't pass out during my consultation with an agent. <br />
<br />
Stay tuned - Hope to give you the low-down on all the info that is gleaned from the non-stop panels/workshops/presentations tomorrow. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3-aYQ2-inw8/U63XbfgEGSI/AAAAAAAABsk/-DHxggCc7Rk/s1600/IMG_4269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3-aYQ2-inw8/U63XbfgEGSI/AAAAAAAABsk/-DHxggCc7Rk/s1600/IMG_4269.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1204811458620303171.post-19652170820654352742014-06-11T07:59:00.000-07:002014-06-11T07:59:16.827-07:00Yes, Miss Maya.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UfJxKg9p_WY/U5hupQcTaWI/AAAAAAAABqY/J8skyYeF22Y/s1600/tumblr_n6bpxcJN7T1tvo30xo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UfJxKg9p_WY/U5hupQcTaWI/AAAAAAAABqY/J8skyYeF22Y/s1600/tumblr_n6bpxcJN7T1tvo30xo1_500.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18320001652031906158noreply@blogger.com0