tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-128421062024-03-13T02:41:58.194-05:00Writes For ChocolateJust hand over the chocolate and nobody will get hurt.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.comBlogger268125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-58503959785802626752023-09-01T12:22:00.001-05:002023-09-01T12:22:52.130-05:00Botanical Magic<p> <span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was a simple request: talk to the girls.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-a3b8e3f3-7fff-1b6d-71c1-ef91384e909e"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The girls being the plants currently approaching the flowering stage down in the basement grow tent. It seems one of them appeared to be developing pollen sacs, a masculine trait that, if left to continue, could pollinate the rest of the plants, and we don’t want that.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1Jo4LBoyATqh-PAeAP_ZpLsNtXpDIi6DA3Ae0g55zSSi3OR19OwYKycmZanq-y_9j69jGXODXd0T_tQL1Mq0azW7HYHvvHwv3YpUP1p2SODYAcMgHQNzLv80Uo_doRqT-UvTlgBrMobNr7jH3OvzDYD0UqViEqRZcyXCW1k90lLNpV3uzv5rgw/s4160/20230828%2012%20weeks%20purps%20.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1Jo4LBoyATqh-PAeAP_ZpLsNtXpDIi6DA3Ae0g55zSSi3OR19OwYKycmZanq-y_9j69jGXODXd0T_tQL1Mq0azW7HYHvvHwv3YpUP1p2SODYAcMgHQNzLv80Uo_doRqT-UvTlgBrMobNr7jH3OvzDYD0UqViEqRZcyXCW1k90lLNpV3uzv5rgw/s320/20230828%2012%20weeks%20purps%20.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Nope. This tent is a girls club (no offense, guys, but only the females grow the prettiest flowers). So a pep talk was in order. Some spiritual woo woo coaching to get them all in line, and all working together for their highest good.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">So we opened up the tent, and I approached them, gently caressed each stalk, as I reminded them all of their purpose: to maximize their feminine powers to grow the biggest, most beautiful purple buds. Eradicate the masculine from the tent once and for all, as it had no purpose here.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">They listened. The offending pollen sacs disappeared. The buds are HUGE, glittering with trichromes. No plants were harmed in the process.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Was it magic? Were the pollen sacs ever really there in the first place? Curious to learn more?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Welcome to Down the Rabbit Hole. I never know where it’s going to end up, but most days are infinitely fascinating, and full of the sparkly stuff that make living such a joy. Follow me if you can, I’ll leave a red thread for you to find your own way out.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Funny thing, the actual rabbit holes in my backyard are not very deep. Sure, they contain more baby bunnies than I think should fit in there, but bunnies are squishy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The deepest rabbit hole, one I visit frequently these days, is the world of AI in writing and creating. ChatGPT of course (go ahead, say it with a French accent, it comes out as Cat, I farted!), Bard, Dex, Claude (sounds like a romance novel now), Midjourney, which somehow involved arming squirrels for battle, and much more! </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But for now, it’s still summer gardening season! Oh the places we go when there’s gardening on the brain. Sunflowers! Oregano and Basil … Bella donna and cannabis.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Trichromes and terps.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Come join me down the rabbit hole! Magic and shenanigans will ensue; at the very least, there will be a story to tell.</span></p><br /></span>Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-76198824049014759182023-04-24T10:40:00.001-05:002023-04-24T10:40:13.197-05:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHThm4CUSzrMDTRbY-APTPswNNMAEm_ZIqcgTQ46lCbK7pZVbuKVyXW2cV1IbSKD7fTJe_pjP-MzpZtgdW6qxeLY3YL3BG6Edp9WI85_q76k162kKJYoOkMn0J5C8EAk5mniVhayb4r5RUBqbe8FMJawv_UckPoVLNM33FkvBJbns8PHMD3E/s4160/IMG_20230224_182948893.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHThm4CUSzrMDTRbY-APTPswNNMAEm_ZIqcgTQ46lCbK7pZVbuKVyXW2cV1IbSKD7fTJe_pjP-MzpZtgdW6qxeLY3YL3BG6Edp9WI85_q76k162kKJYoOkMn0J5C8EAk5mniVhayb4r5RUBqbe8FMJawv_UckPoVLNM33FkvBJbns8PHMD3E/s320/IMG_20230224_182948893.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> (gratuitous puppy pic)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm still spending a lot of time away from home and pups and children (who are technically grown up but they're still my children, just taller and they drive). Even as the seasons are changing, Spring is here.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Been skimming old journals for nuggets of brilliance amongst the ramblings. Found a few that made me chuckle (How many times do I have to search Vegan to get you to understand I don't eat meat and do not need any recipes for "game"?!!!)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">An old poem (don't judge, just enjoy!)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Standing out on the stoop</div><div style="text-align: left;">Waiting for Milo to poop</div><div style="text-align: left;">the grass is wet</div><div style="text-align: left;">don't hesitate</div><div style="text-align: left;">Just get out there and poop de doop!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Words of wisdom: </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Don't let the weights get dusty.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Done is better than perfect.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The bad always screams louder. Kindness is quiet.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Train the doggies.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And over and over again: Again, I'm the weirdo.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sometimes said in a voice of triumph, more often explaining why I was left out of something, an event, a discussion, a judgement from someone. It's been a life long habit, explaining away other people's reactions as something wrong with me. Or sometime embracing it, as a long term goal: I AM THE WEIRDO.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm going with it. The older I get, the less offensive it is to onlookers and innocent bystanders anyway. More like waving a flag for my people.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So the morning pages, ramblings of a newly single mom of teenagers, has some value still. And of course, my current journals, which stay unread for now, should hold some nuggets I can come back to in a time far into the future. Or maybe in just a couple of years.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Either way, done is better than perfect.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p><h2 style="text-align: center;"><br /></h2>Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-27019919189647931982023-02-22T10:37:00.003-06:002023-02-22T10:37:56.351-06:00Getting my shit together and keeping the sparkle alive.<p> The Thing about ADHD (and I know I have not mentioned that here before, but it's always been here for those of you who know, you know, and those of you who don't, well ...)</p><p>Morning brain dump is necessary. Must get out a bunch of words that may or may not make sense. And lately I've been actually making progress towards putting words in places where they can be found again, and re-worked, and actually used in something. Whether that something gets published, or paid for, or just submitted as an assignment for a class (always taking a class, ALWAYS learning something new), or added to an idea file to be used later. There's still lots of notebooks, pretty ones, and yellow lined legal pads. I try to keep that to three in my laptop bag, and they have 3 separate ... and now the word escapes me. Three separate subjects? No ... one for class, one for web site, one for HABOD stuff (Hartwick Alumni Board of Directors, yes I'm giving back to my school in the one way I can do best, Communications). </p><p>Did I hear laughing? Communications being what I do best? OK, so maybe this jumble brain doesn't always make things clear to the normie world out there, but I can HELP others do it. I'm a facilitator there. And yes, I can actually write. Here is for the brain dump. Not even edited, much.</p><p>How effective I am at keeping things separated is another story. But at least I can find some things. With the assistance of my trusty Post-It notes.</p><p>And I've been traveling between two homes lately, without losing too much between the cracks, so I think I can finally speak on some ways to manage the ADHD brain (at least for this late stage of life, so more on that later).</p><p>Basics: coffee, coffee, and more coffee, as needed. Or other caffeine sources, depending on what is available. It has taken me years to figure out the right amount, but when added to a steady flow of movement (workout, yoga, dancing, pacing, fidgeting), things settle down into a flow. As long as I have control over my schedule, which is why, as everyone has known for most of my life, I am unemployable, not fit to be anyone's worker bee. But I can get shit done when the chips are down, when the deadline looms, when I have the freedom to make my own choices (however odd those choices may look to the uninformed onlooker).</p><p>Getting older, attaining Crone status, finally getting my shit together, and keeping the sparkle alive.</p>Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-50846753847142624722023-02-10T13:23:00.000-06:002023-02-10T13:23:42.176-06:00A Revival<p> I'm back. </p><p>Took time out for a JOB, 0 stars, do not recommend.</p><p>I never actually stopped writing, just stopped writing HERE. As in, since nobody actually reads this, there's no link from my web site (www.pattihermes.com, which is currently under Re-Construction yet again), why do I need to publish anything here?</p><p>Practice, practice, practice. </p><p>And my hand got tired of holding the pen.</p><p>So, here we are, reviving the old, old blog, because there's a history here, and sometimes I like to look back, if only to wonder What The Hell Was I Thinking?</p><p>Coming from my current place on my own pedestal, older, wiser, maybe a little battered and bruised, but I'm sticking with the WISER. Always on the self-improvement path, learning new skills, improving old ones, and just basically trying to be a better person for this world. </p><p>Not perfect, never perfect. Just better, most days.</p><p>And now, back to working on the web site, the full-time freelance writing business, and all things writing, and stuff.</p>Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-37856357654975584062017-01-29T13:27:00.000-06:002017-01-29T13:38:07.057-06:00I will not sit down and be quiet<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="6m7fr" data-offset-key="2j3v9-0-0" style="background-color: #fafafa; border: 0px; color: #111111; font-family: "Libre Baskerville", serif; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Chicago Women's March 1/21/17 photo by PHermes</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="2j3v9-0-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">So taking part in the Women's March in Chicago last week was big for me. I have some strong opinions, but have never actually taken part in a political protest before. In fact, before the 2016 election, (my 9th Presidential) I'd only ever been to one political rally. In 1992, when Bill Clinton came to Boston, my former husband </span><span class="passivevoice" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">was interested</span><span data-offset-key="2j3v9-2-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;"> in going, so I went along.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="8p8sn-0-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">This year was different. No longer married, I had no partner to spur me on, nor to dissuade me. None of my friends invited me to join them. In fact, none of my friends were able to join me when I invited them. </span><span class="hardreadability" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">Not to the Bernie Sanders event, not to support Tammy Duckworth's Senate campaign, and finally, the Women's March</span><span data-offset-key="8p8sn-2-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">. I went alone.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="eo4us-0-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">I'm a writer, not a doer. An introvert who would rather stay home and read than do </span><span class="qualifier" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">just</span><span data-offset-key="eo4us-2-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;"> about anything. This is way outside my comfort zone. But to do nothing makes me even more uncomfortable.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="bo8cq-0-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">So I got off the couch. I joined the crowds of women and not a few men on the early train into Chicago on a Saturday morning. The mood was uplifting. The conductors seemed especially friendly and helpful. They seemed to take a special joy in their work that day, in support of our cause. </span></div>
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<span class="hardreadability" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">Smiles and comraderie abounded in my fellow travellers and I </span><span class="passivevoice" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">was adopted</span><span class="hardreadability" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;"> into a few different groups along the way</span><span data-offset-key="ccehi-3-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">. </span><span class="veryhardreadability" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">The press of the crowds in the city made staying together an exercise in futility, so I let my new friends slip away and turned around to make more new friends</span><span data-offset-key="ccehi-5-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">. The feeling of "we're in this together" was strong. </span><span class="veryhardreadability" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">There were a few angry anti-Trump chants, the occasional profanity-laced sign, but the overwhelming vibe was that of positivity</span><span data-offset-key="ccehi-7-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">. A lot of humor, a lot of solidarity among the ages, from strollers to great-grandmas.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="ccehi-7-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Chicago Women's March 1/21/17 photo by PHermes</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="5ihj7-0-0" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: 0.5s;">We're all in this together. A little incredulous, as seen in the signs of "I can't believe I still have to protest this shit." We've </span><span class="passivevoice" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: 0.5s;">been shocked</span><span data-offset-key="5ihj7-2-0" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: 0.5s;"> out of our complacency. </span><span class="hardreadability" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: 0.5s;">Yes, I am incredulous that a bunch of men still think it's their role in society to control women's choices by legislation</span><span data-offset-key="5ihj7-4-0" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: 0.5s;">. </span><span class="hardreadability" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: 0.5s;">Not sure what to think about the so-called democratic process that put a madman in the White House, but it sure got my attention</span><span data-offset-key="5ihj7-6-0" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; letter-spacing: -0.2px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: 0.5s;">.</span></div>
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<span class="hardreadability" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">And now I've had a week to process the events, amid the daily onslaught of executive orders coming from said madman</span><span data-offset-key="a5nbi-1-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">. And a few days sick in bed to hide away from the news. Nothing's changed, and there's much work to do. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="997of-0-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">If you're comfortable with the madman in the White House, then sit back and enjoy the ride. I'm not, and I most </span><span class="adverb" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">certainly</span><span data-offset-key="997of-2-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;"> will not sit down and shut up, no matter how </span><span class="adverb" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">nicely</span><span data-offset-key="997of-4-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;"> you ask. This is our new reality and we all have to deal with </span><span class="complexword" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;">all of</span><span data-offset-key="997of-6-0" style="background: transparent !important; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; transition: background 0.5s;"> it.</span></div>
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Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-18836379821447927492016-10-26T11:59:00.000-05:002016-10-26T11:59:28.405-05:00Sick DaysIt's rare for me to get sick. Until The Pumpkin started high school this fall, it was rare for anyone in this household to get sick. But after homeschooling his entire life, he joined older brother by jumping right into the pool of viruses that live in a school of nearly 3000 students (plus faculty and staff). He struggles mightily to fight them off, but some are just too much and he ends up taking many trips to the nurse's office, and staying home more often than either of us wants.<br />
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So now it's my turn to join him in his misery. Bleh. 24-48 hours of Bleh deserves some mindless channel surfing. But I don't have cable, just an antenna for free broadcast tv. It's fine when I want to watch a specific show, but pretty limited for channel surfing. I end up flipping from one negative political ad to another. It's not helping my headache.<br />
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"Negative ad" is really just a euphemism for outright lies and blatant distortions of the truth to influence your vote. Just another use of mass media to hack away at what's left of democracy. It's not about electing the best candidate for the job at all. Only taking sides, and promoting one set of ideas over all others, and winning. And shouting down truth-tellers so that voters only hear the stories that will promote the status quo.<br />
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When I think about all the voters who don't get their information anywhere else, it's no wonder our government always seems to be a mess. Who could work with any of these characters portrayed on tv?<br />
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It's no wonder so many people feel depressed this time of year. You feel like your vote doesn't count, like your opinion doesn't count, and your way of life doesn't count, unless you have enough money to donate to the right causes and the right candidates. And all the screaming about the end of the world if the wrong candidate should actually win.<br />
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But every year, every "day-after-election-day", life goes on. Those who did not win their race pick up the pieces and get back to business. The rest of us breathe a sigh of relief as the commercials go back to hawking prescription drugs for what ails us.<br />
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Good thing there's still radio stations that play music.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-12253127016919391992016-10-19T00:06:00.000-05:002016-10-19T00:06:48.297-05:00School sucksThis homework is gonna be the death of me.<br />
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Wait, let's address the elephant in the room. Yes, it's been two years and some months since the last post, a rather pleasant suzy-homemaker post about homemade english muffins. Shortly before the shit hit the fan and the world came crashing down around me. So it took awhile for me to pick up the pieces and put some of them back together in a way that may or may not work. But I'm trying, making it work for what's left, making something new out of the mess that was. So now ...<br />
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back to the goddamned never-ending homework.<br />
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Homeschooling was never this much work. I rarely stayed up past my bedtime for any school-related assignments. If the boys had to stay up late to finish something, well, then they got to sleep in the next day. We Did NOT Lose Sleep for School!!!!<br />
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But now the almighty Algebra regularly keeps me up at night. English essays are worth losing sleep over? Yet another Packet for (this is ridiculous) PE. Yup, even PE assigns homework and tests. Because public school has to suck the life out of every single student, every single hour of every single day.<br />
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Back when my oldest was a freshman, he quietly did his homework until ... he didn't. Just stopped. For three years. Pretty much until he found classes, and teachers, who realized that overwhelming the students with tons of homework doesn't accomplish anything.<br />
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Now, the freshman of the hour regularly falls asleep while in the midst of his piles of homework. I can't help but wonder exactly who thinks this is making him into a better student? And to top it all off, the sleepy one has become quite clumsy and accident prone as well (but nobody thinks it has anything to do with a lack of sleep).<br />
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I'm a firm believer in natural consequences. So what shall they be for the perpetrators of our torture? Too tired to come up with anything good right now. But later, after coffee ...<br />
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<br />Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-12214802697715155532014-03-22T13:01:00.000-05:002014-03-22T13:01:17.340-05:00English muffinsI like to bake bread. Not just plain old white bread, which I have been forced to use my bread machine for this winter because my kitchen has been too cold for anything to rise. But lots of breads, in different shapes and sizes. Yeast is my friend (except when the kitchen is too cold!), and kneading is good for the soul. And I don't shy away from trying something new.<br />
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So yeah, I went there. This recipe has been taunting me as long as I've had this cookbook. It was a gift at my wedding shower, so that tells you how long I've been thinking about this. But who makes their own english muffins? When you have Thomas' sitting on the shelf at the grocery store, so easy.</div>
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The recipe itself is pretty basic. Milk, yeast, salt, sugar, some shortening, and then throw in the flour. It's a sticky dough, so go ahead and throw in some more flour. Then let it rise. Throw in some more flour and let it rise again. Cut out your circles, and yes, let them rise again.</div>
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That's three times, rising. And if you think you've just spent all morning making your english muffins, then wait, there's more ...</div>
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Cook them on the griddle, on the stove top. Since my griddle basically holds four, at 15 minutes per side (my gas stove actually cooked them in 12, but still), a whole batch of these will take not only all morning, but definitely past lunch time.</div>
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These are my first four. Yep, I already ate two, I was hungry.</div>
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After cooking on the grill, then cooling, then gently splitting them with a fork (yes, you really do split them with a fork, it works), and then toasting them in the toaster ... butter melting into the nooks and crannies ... yum, yum ...</div>
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My kids, both of them, just shrugged their shoulders. Nope, nobody wanted to even try one.</div>
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So I still have a dozen or so left. All to myself. Once I finish grilling them all. And since I technically did not shell out any money for these, all the ingredients are always in my pantry, I consider them to be free. Time consuming, but still free. And free is good.</div>
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So that's how I spend a carefree Saturday morning - into-afternoon. Oh, and they taste good, too. I'd say just as good as the store bought ones, but since there's nothing I can't pronounce in the ingredients, they're definitely better. And free, did I say free?</div>
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<br />Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-28187613544862791792014-01-06T14:23:00.001-06:002014-01-06T14:23:16.661-06:00How cold is it?After being snowed in all weekend, now we're "cold- in". All the snow that was blowing around for the last couple of days has turned into giant blocks of ice.<br />
<br />
I had to explain to my boys that they have NEVER IN THEIR LIFETIMES seen it this cold. And hopefully, we will never see this again, because when they grow up I will retire to someplace warmer, and with less snow.<br />
<br />
We used to have a saying around here, "too cold to snow". Because when it gets anywhere near this cold, it usually is too dry for snow to even form, let alone make it to the ground. So the worst of winter in the Midwest is usually pretty dry, and driveable. But nooooooo ... old man winter had to go and give us both. Record-breaking, death-bringing cold on top of a couple of days of blizzard conditions and oh, a bunch of snow to try and shovel out of the way so we can get on with our daily activities.<br />
<br />
No daily activities here.<br />
<br />
I did get my car started. And I did get out to see that sometimes, even the experts at road clearing can be overcome in the face of the deepest depths of cold.<br />
<br />
So back inside I go, thankful that we only have a few days of this, instead of weeks, or months. Thankful I have working heat and hot water, that my pipes haven't frozen (yet!), and that I have the right winter gear if I should need to go back out, for any reason. Thankful we are warm.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-72742278451621438572013-10-04T08:25:00.002-05:002013-10-04T08:25:35.112-05:00This boot was not made for walkin'<br />
It's been a week.<br />
<br />
A week of sitting on my butt. Should be relaxing, don't ya think? I've got my 'puter, my phone (unless someone walks off with it and forgets to bring it back), my tablet, an assortment of books and notebooks (but never a pen where I can reach it!) and the TV remote, some of the time. And even a cup of coffee, most of the time. Sounds like a mother's dream.<br />
<br />
Or a nightmare.<br />
<br />
But really, more like a HUGE inconvenience. I guess I'm not the lazy slob I thought I was. I really do prefer the house to be reasonably neat and clean, and I guess I really do prefer to do it myself, rather than sit around all day asking the almost-teenager to do it. Even though he needs the practice.<br />
<br />
Because I am BORED! I can't believe the crap they put on TV, my selection of books fails to interest me (since I seem to fall asleep after only a few minutes of reading) and one can only spend so much time on Facebook before going absolutely insane. I'm getting close. And where's my pen?!<br />
<br />
So four more weeks of this boot cast. I'm told I'll get used to it, like anyone can get used to walking around with one leg 4 inches shorter than the other. That would be difficult for a normal person, but with my history of falling off a sidewalk curb while wearing athletic shoes, the odds are not in my favor.<br />
<br />
That's what I did, really and truly. Fell. Off the curb. And broke my foot (proof that if you take enough x-rays, the dr will find the teeny tiny fracture that's causing inordinate amounts of pain and swelling and a gorgeous shade of purple). And sprained my wrist/thumb. And bruised my knee (more purple, my favorite color). Forgot to tuck and roll.<br />
<br />
At least I didn't bump my head. This time.<br />
<br />
So, I've got to have a challenge to my day, but this is ridiculous. And I need to exercise. Hobbling around Target does not count.<br />
<br />
Must. Walk. The Dog.<br />
<br />
Time for meds. If it doesn't rain I may just attempt grocery shopping. Maybe I'll get to drive one of those scooters around and terrorize other shoppers.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-51894945421019081152013-08-31T12:58:00.000-05:002013-08-31T12:58:33.159-05:00It all happened so quickly ... <br />
I still love the heat. Nothing better than a hot summer day, I say. So on any hot summer afternoon, you can find me outside, enjoying the weather, maybe playing with my dog.<br />
<br />
And that's what we were doing yesterday ... afternoon, maybe eveningish (that is so a word!). The sky was cloudy, maybe darkening a little. But that was in the east, and the sun was setting in the west, so that made sense, at the time. I wasn't expecting any storms, and if I was I'd be looking southwest, as that is where most of them come from. But not east, definitely not east. Not from the front yard.<br />
<br />
But the sky continued to darken. Then the wind picked up. The neighbor's tree, on my right, nearly bent over, and suddenly the table umbrella, behind me, started to rise and float away. It took a moment for that to register, that my 9-foot umbrella was actually floating up and away from the table stand, before I grabbed it and proceeded to wrestle it to the ground, trying to fold it in as I brought it down, looking for my little toto-ish dog running around (hopefully not floating away!) so as not to bury him under it.<br />
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Yeah, that's what I did. I wrestled a 9-foot umbrella in the wind. Where's the video camera when you need one?<br />
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I paused and looked at the clouds. They fascinate me, how beautiful and mysterious, floating and swirling in the sky. One in particular, off to the east, intrigued me for a moment. Long and sinewy, stretching out of the sky, swirling and coming toward me and OHSHITGETINTHEHOUSE!!!<br />
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For some people, it takes a flash of lightning, a sudden downpour, or even the emergency siren to get them to stop appreciating the beauty of a coming storm and take shelter. A funnel cloud works for me.<br />
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Almost as soon as I got in the house and ran to a front window where I could see from a sheltered distance, the cloud was being swallowed up into the sky. Gone. As fast as it came, it went. No harm done.<br />
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(photo by Brandy Carrelli, <a href="http://compassionatefamily.weebly.com/">http://compassionatefamily.weebly.com/</a> )Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-8984558795449419992013-07-13T21:22:00.000-05:002013-07-13T21:22:23.903-05:00Whoa! Just almost got run down by a runaway hornline! Well that's what they look like when they're headed right for you.<br />
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Anyway, just sitting here on the curb inhaling the aromas of snack time. Parked here in the street, both sides, leaving room only for pedestrians and golf carts, members of various corps all hanging out, greeting each other, and enjoying fourth meal. Pretty soon we'll pack up and head for DeKalb, where we'll meet up with many of the same corps tomorrow night.<br />
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And do it again. Same show, different city, practice, practice, practice until it's better than perfect.<br />
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And tomorrow, after a good night's sleep in my bus seat, I will carve out time to take in a uniform, maybe sew on some patches for a jacket,. And maybe there will be yet another unusual project to do. Because there's nothing like rushing to finish a bunch of pleather sandbags, beacuse it's windy and we need to stabilize our props.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-4637036295447830422013-07-11T20:18:00.002-05:002013-07-11T20:18:51.149-05:00The adventure continuesWe've spent two days in one place, enjoying the hospitality, hot showers and reliable internet connections at UCM. Showtime will be late this evening, and then on to our next destination even later. I better learn to sleep on the bus tonight, because tomorrow is laundry day. And yes, that is as much fun as it sounds.<br />
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We finally had a full day of sewing, only most of our intended refits didn't show up for their fittings last night. Oh yes, another incidence of drum corps time: fittings can and often do take place well after midnight. But somehow I still managed to get up at my normal hour and be ready to work by 7 am. So we had plenty of time to get everyone ready for tonight's show.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-729524124939820272013-07-10T12:05:00.000-05:002013-07-10T12:05:36.820-05:00Tour, day oneFile this under living a little: I am writing this on a bus, traveling from Metamora, IL to Warrenville, MO, in the middle of the night. Ok, so it's not exactly midnight yet, but this is definitely late for me. This is what we call "drum corps time". Sleep when you can, on the bus if possible, as a convoy of buses and trucks transports the entire production toward their next city, which is often in the middle of nowhere.<br />
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There are 155 (give or take) kids in the corps, plus an ever-increasing staff of instructors and volunteers. Just pulling into a rest area for a bathroom break is going to be a major production. So far this has been the easy part. Sometime tomorrow we will arrive at our next housing site, unload our stuff and wander inside to find a space to make a bed and catch some more sleep, if possible. Then we get up and get to work.<br />
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(Yaaawwn) It's been the first of many long days ahead. Time for bed, or some facsimile thereof.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-70970922118532439172013-06-02T08:15:00.000-05:002013-06-02T08:15:34.742-05:00Is this thing still on?This is a test ...of new technology. Can I survive thesummer without my laptop? Can a Tablet replace my 'puter? I can't even see what I'm writing, so editing may be non-existent.<br />
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I'm going on a new adventure this summer, and I'd like to share it here. Internet access will be splotchy, but that's how I've been living the last several months anyway.<br />
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It's not perfect but I think this'll work.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-3630277252140117862012-08-07T09:35:00.000-05:002012-08-07T09:35:43.062-05:00Lies<br />
I know, it's election season in full swing. Things are only going to get worse, and may not get any better once it's all over. That's the price we pay for our democracy.<br />
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You probably know what I'm talking about. The story about the Obama administration suing in court to deny military voting rights, when what they're actually doing is defending everyone's voting rights. All while Republicans are drafting voter suppression laws all across the country. Rather un-patriotic of them, if you ask me.<br />
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All the claims that Obama lies, and Romney lies, they just even themselves out, right? Except who gets fact-checked? And then who believes the facts, once checked? And once a lie gets started, there's no stopping it. Because people just blindly pass it on, full of outrage without even pausing to question the ludicrousness.<br />
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Except I don't. And when I KNOW it's a lie, I find the truth to back me up before I speak up. But I will speak up. I cannot allow my intelligent friends to look bad by passing on the lies "they" want you to believe. (according to FB, an awful lot of you are in that category, but never fear, I still love you all!)<br />
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You're being played, people.<br />
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Doesn't that make you mad?Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-16617111842545847732012-07-07T11:42:00.000-05:002012-07-07T11:42:01.033-05:00Brain melt<br />
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A girl's gotta know her limitations. Mine is 105.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, I am NOT complaining about the heat. I actually LIKE it. I go outside just to sit in it and wrap myself in its warmth. Easy to say when the power is on, and the central air is working just fine, so no one in the family is the least bit uncomfortable. Ok, so the upstairs gets a little warm for sleeping, but not too warm. There's always the living room sofa for anyone who can't take it upstairs. Because downstairs it is actually chilly. Sweatshirt chilly.<br />
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So I like the heat. And a little walk isn't going to hurt anybody, right?<br />
<br />
So I did The Shopping today. The Big Shopping of the week, that I hate to do because even though I spend all week on my lists and coupons, I always forget half of what we need. And I hate to drive around to a bunch of stores, so I shop at the supermarket next door to Target. That about covers everything. Except today I needed a printer cartridge from Office Max ... all the way down the opposite end.<br />
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The temperature on my thermometer, located on my shady front porch, read 105 as I headed out the door.<br />
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Of course I walked. Past Target, which blasted me with cool air from their automatic doors, thanks much. Past TJ Maxx, which also shot me a quick blast, where I paused for just a second before resisting the urge to go inside, and then on past some financial investment firm which did NOT offer a complimentary blast of cool air. Stingy SOB. Famous Footwear was no better, and even longer. By now I was practically hugging the wall to stay in the 12 inches of shade alongside the building. The sun was gunning for me, and the breeze was neither cool nor refreshing. Think 105 degrees of hot air blowing at your face.<br />
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Still I walked on, past Party City and PetCo (where the pets go), until finally I reached my destination. Office Max greeted me with refreshing cool air and I automatically headed for the printer cartridges, where I always start my shopping. I use a lot of printer cartridges. Of course I know where they are.<br />
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I stopped in front of the HP display and stared at the masses of printer cartridges, and my mind went blank. Whatever information I had about what cartridge I needed to buy had melted away, probably back at Party City but we'll never know. I looked around hoping the familiar packages would spark a memory, but I came up blank. I had no idea what kind of printer I had or what color I needed. Or even if I needed one or two colors. Nothing.<br />
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I left empty-handed.<br />
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I returned to Target and Dominicks to finish the shopping, following my lists, unloading my coupons and regaining my confidence. It was just a momentary lapse, I was fine, I could handle this heat. As I entered Dominicks, a dripping employee cheerfully announced that the heat index in the parking lot was actually 120, as she pushed in a line of freshly baked shopping carts. Good to know.<br />
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I returned home, had the boys unload the loot while I confronted the printer that refused to print, pen and paper in hand. I'm no good without a list, even for a simple printer cartridge. And here is where I noticed something very important: I do not now, nor have I ever (in nearly 20 years of printer ownership) owned an HP printer.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-60442952728444090782012-06-05T08:31:00.000-05:002012-06-05T08:31:18.176-05:00I am a WriterDay 1 of Becoming a Great Writer Series ... to declare to all the world that I am indeed a writer.<br />
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It says it right up there in the title of my blog: Writes for Chocolate. Well, I guess I could be more specific, I write for money, too. And hugs. But money is good.<br />
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And I currently have no other occupation that pays in money. Homeschooling Mom, well that is full-time for the next several years still to come. But there's room for Writer. More room every day, in fact.<br />
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So here I am, world. A Writer. A published writer, with a bunch of UFO's (unfinished objects), also known as WIP's (works in progress), in various stages of completion. And still scribbling away. The weirdo at the baseball game with a notebook always open, pen in hand. Yeah, even in church, when I go. And even on days when I actually write nothing down, just let it bounce around in my head. Still writing.<br />
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And teaching the next generation to write. Just write. Whether they choose to become writers is up to them.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-85068332916882710702012-05-14T07:41:00.000-05:002012-05-14T07:41:24.391-05:00Boys at Work<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Best Mothers Day gift ever ... manual labor.</div>
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Under normal circumstances, I do all the gardening chores around here.When it comes to digging holes, I shoulder that burden alone. Until now, that is. Now the boys have not only proven they are big and strong enough to take over the heaviest work, but that they will do it without complaint. At least for now.</div>
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So I finally got my blueberry bushes. Six of them! All in a nice little line, sort of.</div>
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Yes, they are small, but in a couple years we will be overflowing with blueberries!</div>
<br />Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-61648459891001372552012-02-01T09:41:00.001-06:002012-02-01T09:41:40.895-06:00Is it spring yet?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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February 1st, 2012, and there it is: the first sign of Spring. Don't tell me that it's too early! All predictions of a rough winter have gone out the window. It's been in the 50's for the last few days, and everything is soggy and muddy and looking like late March around here. Niiiiiice.<br />
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Of course, the groundhog will make it official tomorrow, but I'm betting on an early spring this year. Or, more like, the shortest winter ever. I can live with that.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-5054445160417841202012-01-31T21:18:00.001-06:002012-01-31T21:18:08.910-06:00Just another day of chaosSometimes, it all just sneaks up on me. How quickly things can snowball completely out of control. A tiny little dot can morph into a raging staph infection, complete with doctors poking needles into my baby's head and nasty stinkin medicine (I still can't get the smell out of the bathroom!), and then all of a sudden, a couple weeks have passed and ...<br />
<br />
Today, all is well. All is quiet, relatively speaking.<br />
<br />
... and that was a couple days ago. Yep, interruptions are my life. Chaos reigns. And as long as I'm allowed to come up for air before completely drowning, then it's all good.<br />
<br />
So January is over. I did not post every day. Probably never will. All crises of the moment have been averted, or otherwise put into a holding pattern. That works for now.<br />
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Onward ... spring is just around the corner, right?Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-19104810591084431352012-01-16T21:26:00.000-06:002012-01-16T21:26:23.013-06:00Addicted to ... healthy living?<br />
I've heard of people being addicted to exercise. I usually picture marathoners, long-distance runners that just can't get their day started without a morning run. Or maybe they can't get to sleep at night without sweating off the stress of the day. Never thought that would be me.<br />
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I eased off my workout schedule, bit by bit. I certainly didn't go cold turkey, and I can't go back to it just like that, either. I kept thinking, if I just took a day off here and there, everything would be fine. The pain would ease just enough for me to try again. Should've known, when I couldn't actually put myself on the sidelines until all was completely well. No, I had to pretty much lose all use of my arm before I gave up completely and sought medical advice.<br />
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Turns out, that old rotator cuff strain that never completely healed ... got worse. Pretty much as bad as it gets without actually needing surgery. Thank God for small miracles.<br />
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At first I was in too much pain to even think about any kind of a work out. But I still kept walking. Every day the weather cooperated, I kept on walking. Three to four miles. Sometimes twice a day. Even when it hurt. But that's not addicted, no, not at all. And the days when the winds were too strong, the freezing rain just too much to be outside and still pretend to be sane, I paced the house. And watched my yoga dvd's. And got crankier and crankier by the day.<br />
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So when the physical therapist gave me exercises to do at home, you can bet I did them. Twice a day. And celebrated every milestone (Look! I can turn on the faucet!) And went back to doing things as normally as possible. And then it snowed.<br />
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That's my job, the shoveling. Except in cases of huge blizzard, I pretty much handle it on my own, at the break of dawn, peacefully shoveling my own little driveway all by myself. We've been blessed by unseasonably warm weather during my recuperation, and I am so thankful for that. But then it snowed. And I had to delegate. But could I help just a little? Should I? (no) I could use the baby shovel? (No) Maybe just to show the boys how it's done? (NO!) But I don't want them out in the street with school buses racing by! Maybe just a little ... shouldn't have done that.<br />
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Back to my exercises. Back to being patient (not!). Back to watching yoga, maybe trying out a little Hip Hop Abs (I have to MODIFY Hip Hop Abs!). Back to being cranky, until I can work out again.<br />
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Because I am addicted to exercise.<br />
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<br />Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-79728780660420577862012-01-14T18:42:00.000-06:002012-01-14T18:42:23.555-06:00Winter ... better late than never (um, maybe not)Yup, that's real snow out there. Had to make the minions shovel it so they would believe me. Real snow. Real winter.<br />
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And yes, that is real homemadefromscratch soup on the stove. And real homemade brownies. And bunches of other homemade items to warm the tummy after working and/or playing out in the real, cold winter.<br />
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I may be out of practice, but I can still do the whole keep-a-cozy-home-for-the-winter thing. So you can all head for Florida now, I've got this covered. We'll be sure and save some winter for ya!Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-40092371547350120772012-01-11T20:37:00.000-06:002012-01-11T20:37:07.102-06:00Anybody else sick of election news already? It's January, and with a Republican debate every couple days now, I am officially done with this shit. That's all it has become, a pile of dinosaur shit. Interesting only to paleontologists, wouldn't even make a decent museum exhibit.<br />
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I've already made up my mind. I will settle for the least repulsive option. And I will cast my ballot. But I will not participate any further, other than rolling my eyes and trying not to vomit, should the subject ever come up in conversation. Even the jokes are stale already, and we've got 10 months to go!<br />
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I miss Michelle Bachman already. :PPattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12842106.post-63274327541623048272012-01-09T20:22:00.000-06:002012-01-09T20:22:23.700-06:00This is a test ...<br />
This is just a test. Another test, to see what I can and cannot do with all the distractions surrounding me. As in surround sound. Rock Band is truly a test of my abilities.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, I like Rock Band. I like anything that gets the boys out of the xbox cave of solitude and conversing and cooperating and otherwise enjoying other people's company (other people include me, their mother, which is such a trial for them). And right here, in my "office" smack in the middle of the living room/dining area right off the kitchen. Can't get much more distracted.<br />
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And since I seem to be spending more time correcting spelling and typos than actually putting words to paper, we'll call this a win. And quit while I'm ahead.Pattihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15844055337207298545noreply@blogger.com0