tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50286735094240349472024-03-17T05:43:49.692-07:00Gwen MossLeslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.comBlogger538125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-37276281601973815422020-12-14T09:11:00.006-08:002020-12-14T10:37:54.711-08:00Reflections about my real life Covid experience (and what I didn't realize)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbpo3n23a-laoZVnRZgw1v4XUJrKXoARikKrnKec7a_xEP4-_sVnTNAZUNlyAQwxAt-wJzIO8JuQFhugb-cAzptXLpyb5LokHjVkCuJ7FyrgR7SNsau7O6sbx23ud2_-94F89qKJeHeMof/s786/utah.JPG" style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="786" data-original-width="774" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbpo3n23a-laoZVnRZgw1v4XUJrKXoARikKrnKec7a_xEP4-_sVnTNAZUNlyAQwxAt-wJzIO8JuQFhugb-cAzptXLpyb5LokHjVkCuJ7FyrgR7SNsau7O6sbx23ud2_-94F89qKJeHeMof/w630-h640/utah.JPG" width="630" /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">*our 2019 Christmas trip to Utah for our bank's annual festivities. Another cancelled event.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">On the first Tuesday in December, I was in the car talking
to a close friend in a moment of panic, wondering what we should
do about my Dad’s sudden decline in his battle with COVID-19. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">From my moving car
on Beach Boulevard, the distant view of the ocean was already dark, and Michael
was due home from his six-hour drive from Sacramento at any moment, when my brother
Mike called to report that my Dad’s breathing had taken a turn for the worse.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Turns out that both my parents—despite their hyper-vigilance
with mask-wearing and social distancing—had gotten Covid during Thanksgiving week. By the time Jim drove up to Sacramento with a U-Haul to move Michael back to Huntington Beach to begin his new job, my brother, who
met them at Michael’s apartment to help load his heavier belongings, already
had Covid too, but didn’t know it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The following day, after their brief U-Haul meeting, Jim and
Michael got a call from Uncle Mike telling them he had tested positive for Covid,
so they both promptly went and got tested themselves.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Welcome to life during a global pandemic. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Thankfully, both Michael and Jim tested negative.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But several days into his own Covid experience- my Dad—age
79, with a pacemaker and with a compromised respiratory system—was in a
precarious condition and we found ourselves experiencing the frightening
reality of this highly contagious virus. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Even after consulting with his physician, the answers left
us struggling. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I remember Michael sitting at the kitchen table after his
long drive, looking tired and unshaven, his car still loaded with boxes from
his relocation, offering to turn right around and help us drive the 394 miles
back to Sacramento, if Papa was admitted to the hospital. Jim had just walked
in from work and I was on the kitchen stool, all of us fresh off a conference
call with my brother. Under the bright lights of our kitchen, and six hours away
from my siblings, we were facing a dilemma that every family affected by Covid
could face.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">At what tipping point do we take my Dad to the hospital,
where he gets the benefit of professional care but faces complete isolation
from all family, and risks constant exposure in a hospital setting already
overwhelmed with the current spike in Covid-patients? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Do we—Jim, Michael and I--make the six- hour drive knowing
we wouldn't be able to see my Dad or any of my Covid-positive family? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Talking earlier with Tracy had helped me process the
situation and get my emotions back in check.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And like a lot of other family members across the country
right now, we took a vote, put the emphasis on my Dad’s gut reaction (he did
<i>not </i>want to go to the hospital)--and we decided to keep him home where he was watched
and cared for primarily by my Covid-positive brother and mother. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I guess we were the fortunate ones. My brother who was already
positive for Covid—opted to spend nights at my parent’s home where he could monitor Dad's medication and oximeter readings. My mother, who tested positive too, was
sleeping a lot. But it was my brother who had my Dad—with his vulnerable lungs--get up and
move around regularly, and kept him from sleeping on his back too long. Meanwhile Jim and I were reading the latest trends for Covid treatment, and sharing the info in quick
calls. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">But we all learned the hard truth</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">when my Dad was most vulnerable and here it is: there is no clear medical protocol for anyone <b>at home</b> with Covid. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">There is no hovering
physician who will swoop in and admit a Covid patient at the <i>mere hint of worsening
symptoms </i>and blast their weakening bodies with Remdesivir or dexamethasone in
those scary <i>early </i>days--- when my Dad described his breathing as a 1 or 2 on a
scale of ten. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">No, my Dad's struggle to breath was a crisis moment that could easily have turned worse,
requiring an urgent drive to the hospital. Because until then, you're basically on your own.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Although if you do get admitted to a hospital at this point---you should
be informed that your chances of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>getting
the same experimental Regeneron’s monoclonal antibody cocktail drug that was given to
President Trump, Housing Secretary Ben Carson, Former New Jersey governor Chris
Christie and Trump’s attorney Rudy Giuliani during his recent stay---are slim to
none.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">That’s because the drug Regeneron is still not readily available
to ordinary citizens yet. These are the kind of facts you don’t learn until
someone you love gets Covid.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In a recent interview
on WABC, Rudy Giuliani is quoted explaining it this way, “If it wasn’t me, I
wouldn’t have been put in a hospital frankly. Sometimes when you’re a celebrity,
they’re worried if something happens to you, so they’re going to examine it
more carefully, and do everything right.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KArZVbYCJ_C6CJFddAtQyovEdVZFos-SiKA3OVZ3aJiNPxAJLM6U6kRS9OKYVQ5AHOxlPkvw3mOcqPhMmWSXBIT3WQeYjfWaE_RnuafII2KxLF7X-ztwjmNiR6KIZoH9AYcunjZ0vDMI/s2048/whitetreefinal.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KArZVbYCJ_C6CJFddAtQyovEdVZFos-SiKA3OVZ3aJiNPxAJLM6U6kRS9OKYVQ5AHOxlPkvw3mOcqPhMmWSXBIT3WQeYjfWaE_RnuafII2KxLF7X-ztwjmNiR6KIZoH9AYcunjZ0vDMI/w424-h640/whitetreefinal.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Fortunately at the time of this writing, our non-celebrity family is beginning
to slowly exhale. And it looks like my Dad will survive this virus—although not
before teaching us firsthand-- of the scary unpredictability about this
condition. In this next week he’ll see his doctor to rule out the possibility of
pneumonia.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In the meantime, my neighbor got out of her car on Thursday after an exhausting day at the hospital, still dressed in her hospital garb and appeared on the verge of tears. She described the ambulances now forced to wait
outside with potential patients because of the spike in Covid cases. And she sounded stressed and upset about the continual protests in our local Orange County. Before
she went inside her home she warned, if you need to go to the hospital, don’t go
to ours. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Some time later on social media, another neighbor only a few houses down
who keeps a Trump sign up in her yard, posted photos of her beautifully decorated
Hanukkah party, filled with sweet children and their mothers smiling in their special
Christmas dresses, with not a mask in sight. And with a message underneath that
said: “Fuck Newsom.” A reference to California's governor.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sigh. Welcome to life
during a global pandemic.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SoAO500yYIrdjGjP4Rm-q4jjxMEvkGOFLl0OGpvZeHx1Kadlu8VD1RNKaT8JXFwEZIigUY5Ee4ffmHq6AYOr4syoVb74UeTscMPnAdT2Bz_irclgo8DLB81Ss596Lw4MiWm1m-pRKXTT/s1773/bar.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1773" data-original-width="1059" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SoAO500yYIrdjGjP4Rm-q4jjxMEvkGOFLl0OGpvZeHx1Kadlu8VD1RNKaT8JXFwEZIigUY5Ee4ffmHq6AYOr4syoVb74UeTscMPnAdT2Bz_irclgo8DLB81Ss596Lw4MiWm1m-pRKXTT/w382-h640/bar.jpg" width="382" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">last year at Hotel Monaco</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Tell me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: large;">What have you been learning </span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">about yourself </span></i><span style="font-size: large;">as you live through these unprecedented
months of a global pandemic? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The interesting thing about writing blog posts is that you
can look back and see what you didn’t know.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2020/04/being-witness-to-your-life.html">In April I wrote </a>about my belief that COVID-19 might <b><i>unify </i></b>us
as a country because we would all be experiencing the same vulnerability and fears
and sadness, as we moved through our individual situations.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I even asked:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Can you think of another time when we will be able to look
into the eyes of strangers and recognize our Selves?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Things I didn't realize</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Was I naïve? I don’t know. But 'unify' is about as far away from the truth as you can get.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">At the time, I don’t think any of us imagined the eventual
impact Covid would have on our daily lives, the way mask-wearing would become
politicized and contribute to the spread of Covid. The repeated closure of businesses.
And the perilous impact on whole industries of workers who are losing their jobs and paychecks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And here’s a big one. I didn’t fully understand the extent
to which it’s now possible in the year 2020, to live inside an information
bubble where certain facts and relevant information never penetrates, and where conspiracy theories and hoaxes are lurking
everywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I didn’t realize how much easier it is---when something difficult happens in your life—to look out at the world for someone or something to blame
for what you’re having to endure. Because god knows, there will always be someone
we can shift our blame to, in order to avoid the deeper feelings inside
us. The real feelings of being afraid. And sad. And the uncomfortable truth that no one ever wants to hear: maybe there is no quick and easy fix-it for our distressing predicament. Maybe
we might have to just sit with our feelings...<i>and feel them.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And finally, I never realized how easy it is when you’re
walking around feeling outraged, to find other big groups of angry people to unite
with online--and how fast fear can spread like wildfire, remaining mostly invisible
to the very people who are inside its powerful grip.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx2k0exAGXAwL_6z6INpPWygZcp7RtUdrl0q-sV-vMS3_nZ9NLSUyZobZEekpRU77kXzEXjjp7BGTC4OZoWVAgkv2oua_V5SSqtZg0ljlAMkJFqUnGZ3FVm5Je2aZxIKLEUHhjzqVYTITW/s2048/DSC_0503.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="2048" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx2k0exAGXAwL_6z6INpPWygZcp7RtUdrl0q-sV-vMS3_nZ9NLSUyZobZEekpRU77kXzEXjjp7BGTC4OZoWVAgkv2oua_V5SSqtZg0ljlAMkJFqUnGZ3FVm5Je2aZxIKLEUHhjzqVYTITW/w640-h424/DSC_0503.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"> Apparently I don’t know very much.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">It <i>is </i>possible that the altered state I've been living in following our traumatic loss of Patrick, has made me more accepting of this wet cloud of
uncertainty that’s settled over us in 2020. And that the staggering pain from losing a child has opened me up to the suffering of other people in a way that's dulled my ability to care about loud protests over our individual “rights,” especially when the trade-off might mean the death of the most vulnerable people.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe my perspective has changed in ways I don't even know.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But once you’ve lost the most important person in your life in a
split-second, there is nothing worse. And when the possibility of losing my Dad became a close reality, I realized I was already nested inside that incredulous universe where bad things happen suddenly to good people--and no amount of rebelling and blaming others and carrying signs of protest will be able to expunge one horror-stricken second from my life. And yet, I will never be a 'victim' because I will choose love over anger every time.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I think that’s
it, in a nutshell.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But I have my moments like anyone else. When I’m worn and
tired of this post-Covid scale of measuring risks with social distancing,
when I'll simply throw up my hands and say, what the fuck.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I remember one moment recently. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I had pulled over and parked my car so I could reach the man
who stands at Warner and Magnolia with a sign every day. His name is Mike
and he told me he got laid off from his job months ago and lives out of his van and I told him about Patrick as I handed him the kindness card with money. Suddenly.
Before I could react, this sweet, homeless man yanked down the blue bandana that
was covering his toothless smile, told me how sorry he was and reached across
the sidewalk and hugged me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Before I knew what happened it was over. I could feel the people sitting in traffic next to the sidewalk watching us, and I didn’t react. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I just smiled and finished
our conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Afterwards, in one of those exasperated, head-shaking
moments, I remember doing a quick mental review of my risk, and thinking, ‘Jesus
Christ-if-I-get-Covid-from-that-situation, so be it.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I mean. How much of our humanity are we supposed to give-up
to be safe? </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Right?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes all we can do is take a deep breath and let go.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLc_XG6q82ZsJ6ae1bx0125GLA79Qg8GIyD-0Ew6KnY2CN4-Yg1AC1kNoZA5GGan83x_kUDvZYrdsk-X0rU44u3EuTs3dLsVJzUTxnbILIIk21GMx1kzJU6a-eSFQBnnVip4X_T0HSoo6E/s2048/IMG_9023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLc_XG6q82ZsJ6ae1bx0125GLA79Qg8GIyD-0Ew6KnY2CN4-Yg1AC1kNoZA5GGan83x_kUDvZYrdsk-X0rU44u3EuTs3dLsVJzUTxnbILIIk21GMx1kzJU6a-eSFQBnnVip4X_T0HSoo6E/w480-h640/IMG_9023.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">photo taken on our walk Sunday</span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> Sending love and light your way,</span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /></div>Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-31811330909297274492020-12-08T12:22:00.001-08:002020-12-08T12:43:46.011-08:00Finding your Super Power in my Christmas living room<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHy3V8t0G_2OHLcY1f8LmBdomgh33LTIAGU3NsHQcCh6yxVKwtToxDvLuWtv9HIR0LSCHURmzRt9UU8pR1tvT2uo7PaILAwc0GuOv5xc39fPXsL8IyAhmKYetIqVwsE4bnQu550Xl18ys/s2048/DSC_0320.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1409" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHy3V8t0G_2OHLcY1f8LmBdomgh33LTIAGU3NsHQcCh6yxVKwtToxDvLuWtv9HIR0LSCHURmzRt9UU8pR1tvT2uo7PaILAwc0GuOv5xc39fPXsL8IyAhmKYetIqVwsE4bnQu550Xl18ys/w440-h640/DSC_0320.jpg" width="440" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hello dear friends.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">How are you all holding up as this strange, turbulent year of Covid winds down? </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thank you for stopping by my living room today. I'm so happy with how I feel when I walk into our little cramped entrance. This year I decided to take my cue from real life and with everything feeling so different, I went off my typical grid and did whatever felt right at the moment. Like a lot of you, I have to find something to inspire me visually, and I fell in love with the words on this candle I found at a Home Goods store, and that's where I got my blue and green color theme. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">There's been a lot happening in my personal life lately, and I'll share more later. But I do feel acutely aware of all the losses--little and big--that we've all been experiencing as a collective people. And I want to acknowledge those of you who are struggling with illness or worried about a family member that's sick, I know personally how that feels. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Even though my home doesn't reflect it, it's been a very stressful period. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Please know you're not alone. That's so important to say right now. Especially during this time of the year when it's so easy to look around at all these beautiful homes in blogland, where everyone can seem so 'happy' and 'merry.' And the worst thing that you can do, is compare yourself and feel bad. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Please don't do that.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's the lens that I'm choosing to view life through right now:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yes.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's been a year of heartache for too many people and it hurts my heart thinking about all the loss happening in the world. And yet --when I walk outside at night I can't help but be stunned at all the Christmas lights on my street and in my neighborhood this year. Why do all the lights suddenly look so much more brilliant this year? Are you stopping to stare too? </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's almost as if those of us who don't have to divert their energies to the urgent worries of un-paid bills and hunger and sickness-- are coming out in droves to say, "it's going to be Ok friends, we're almost through this." </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I truly see the flood of Christmas lights as a beautiful metaphor for humanity. And no, this doesn't diminish the problems we face as a country filled with so much division and anger.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">But our super power is that we get to choose where we place our focus, friends. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">And at this moment let's choose to look around and be amazed by all the human energy being expended in creating a warm Christmas inside our homes and lugging out tangled strands of Christmas lights and standing on ladders and sweating in the cold air as you hook up the final lights. Not even realizing that this is your little contribution to spreading light out into our weary world.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I pray you hear my twinkling Christmas lights speaking directly to you my friends. Because they are saying, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I see you. And you are a luminous light, even if you don't feel that way right now. Please share my light if you need it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Because we're all in this together. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5YHf6hwNqY6i1GxfkeR42QxhqY1IvKKyO0NsW0FXKL_SXp4Zh7rL7Q8mkKwtTeoX-OCQiJlIz8wS1vR2qEzILUumbCvxxe6ba9VGWZ8DeKiUl4VjOy1kNd2CbnWHl_AH-wzjHJL0NDJO/s2048/sidexmastreepm.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5YHf6hwNqY6i1GxfkeR42QxhqY1IvKKyO0NsW0FXKL_SXp4Zh7rL7Q8mkKwtTeoX-OCQiJlIz8wS1vR2qEzILUumbCvxxe6ba9VGWZ8DeKiUl4VjOy1kNd2CbnWHl_AH-wzjHJL0NDJO/w424-h640/sidexmastreepm.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheE_Yb66pv0dScGD33hcYlz-iq1-SNeto4yx_UWjws8jRzVrki8JBvCrbVcyJYmIkEMUvmumZ9iuBmHvgtk3t3yX6pEa-RMNy7vEIpZLs_OPQiGl2uKIlhXarPkDfv01WZ0fD9324poMci/s2048/xmasbulbspm.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1473" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFY5rQbyPQGC83ZknGHQv2s9ZeM6Itlt0AqYUjnWft33qsedZOtIqTWpBZnNDknfAbf1JJug3BTrHZ-bSkWQPI4opt7ZDiqZhzcD43cFFJZbHvpQyQV6Fk7bGHEenrzcO0xQ2bdezoHNe_/w460-h640/angels.jpg" width="460" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4O9ZdRhm2usyTy-49MzCpGyJB3EY-s6oCPK76GjfC_loZxFTDbOtrJJzUN5sgNZj1KKqAuUJncEjZtxtyXI7yH8aC-DnQNV9B6cnQjW89fbclLbqSlSxlC9MM4q88Y8ahiocYXE2VMrE/s2048/XMASBOOKS.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4O9ZdRhm2usyTy-49MzCpGyJB3EY-s6oCPK76GjfC_loZxFTDbOtrJJzUN5sgNZj1KKqAuUJncEjZtxtyXI7yH8aC-DnQNV9B6cnQjW89fbclLbqSlSxlC9MM4q88Y8ahiocYXE2VMrE/w424-h640/XMASBOOKS.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;">Sending love and light,</div></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Leslie</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>sharing this post with friends;</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.commonground-do.com/2020/12/happy-holidays-at-all-about-home-69.html">Common Ground</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-30801428615856827622020-11-25T14:20:00.002-08:002020-11-26T09:41:51.257-08:00How to take care of your Self during difficult times (hello Covid Thanksgiving)<br /><div><br /></div><div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWRoh8N6YD57DMGTEEP-UsV4twoQI2JGkp4v-4E09plB4eR60KMSnOCfUzWMfQt9FTPKULS8hwVPeE3xKE3ZYzy71qocTaQMzT1NETvnpoRVxmzEuHDh5sk3HPpWXF3ot6hrqK7aWDlsUP/s2048/gratitudepumpkinuse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWRoh8N6YD57DMGTEEP-UsV4twoQI2JGkp4v-4E09plB4eR60KMSnOCfUzWMfQt9FTPKULS8hwVPeE3xKE3ZYzy71qocTaQMzT1NETvnpoRVxmzEuHDh5sk3HPpWXF3ot6hrqK7aWDlsUP/w424-h640/gratitudepumpkinuse.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsP_pe-76mcQgVD_MXB7R44-cHXBtISgaXYvqZz5WRO-17lcpmcBvoTyliDUKY65Ix2_GQEMCDSzMrJ1Y0mzgKDhsYsf5GrDkJbMIHfpFv8GNd3W_c4g6a6Ak3a3vXsefjF3wMAvl7Ux2O/s2048/whiteroses67+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1376" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsP_pe-76mcQgVD_MXB7R44-cHXBtISgaXYvqZz5WRO-17lcpmcBvoTyliDUKY65Ix2_GQEMCDSzMrJ1Y0mzgKDhsYsf5GrDkJbMIHfpFv8GNd3W_c4g6a6Ak3a3vXsefjF3wMAvl7Ux2O/w430-h640/whiteroses67+%25282%2529.jpg" width="430" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">Today I decided to post a few shots of past Thanksgiving
tablescapes in all their luscious fall beauty, but not for the reason you
think.</span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Yes, I do like to share my ideas in case you might need some
inspiration for your own tables. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinL2dgNCKbnSlsQf43kF5SX6sZymGrZQ4ChRz6Z46stD380hRn54zYLtq9cRh_kS19DVmttsMKK86ExwbRkTg5_564Qf8g_kPmd3qmzuojSiptIPigXbnNRbxuTL3NYIBteAGTfF7XS6fs/s2048/whiteroses21+%25282%2529use.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1418" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinL2dgNCKbnSlsQf43kF5SX6sZymGrZQ4ChRz6Z46stD380hRn54zYLtq9cRh_kS19DVmttsMKK86ExwbRkTg5_564Qf8g_kPmd3qmzuojSiptIPigXbnNRbxuTL3NYIBteAGTfF7XS6fs/w444-h640/whiteroses21+%25282%2529use.jpg" width="444" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHuIwjhiVEv2ao4X971eAdAipyeE3tq0X8hZDLcSCwuFzfrVFqdBTyLgBe22ejKY1lLWZOeYjVBBRLUb0DipSKHxtkQDxmlJK0nxtk1GoNN39cGxGXpAlJYfXz6vsyZtLEwV99G-VEMh-g/s2048/velvet+ribbon+%25281%2529use.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1491" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHuIwjhiVEv2ao4X971eAdAipyeE3tq0X8hZDLcSCwuFzfrVFqdBTyLgBe22ejKY1lLWZOeYjVBBRLUb0DipSKHxtkQDxmlJK0nxtk1GoNN39cGxGXpAlJYfXz6vsyZtLEwV99G-VEMh-g/w466-h640/velvet+ribbon+%25281%2529use.jpg" width="466" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But I also wanted to use these photos as a lesson about
perfect-looking images and how they can camouflage really tough days. I’ve
always thought the best thing about these wonderfully staged images is that
they can inspire our creative energies, and the worst thing about them is they
can set us up for disillusionment when we’re back in the real world with all its
variegated imperfections. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Here’s the truth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I haven’t given any thought yet to my Thanksgiving table and
here it is, the day before. That doesn’t mean much unless you know me. And
while some of my delayed reaction might be lumped under the heading of ‘another
bizarre COVID-19-related experience.’ That’s not completely truthful.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, I had a really hard day. Just so hard. If you’re trudging
through the holidays after a recent loss of a loved one you know what this means.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I haven’t had one of these days in a while. It began with an
insidious headache, mild but lingering in my soft temples all day, that was my
first sign. And of course, somewhere in my head I heard the voice of Cheryl, my
colleague from-my-old-therapist-days of the past telling me, “Leslie, did you know that
Gestalt therapists believe a headache is really pent-up tears?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Yeah, Cheryl thanks for sharing this, and by-the-way do you know that
thirty years later-- every time I have a nagging headache I cannot get this bit
of body-mind wisdom out of my head? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Because yes, for me, ‘the headache thing’ is generally true.
Yesterday was a day when I couldn’t shake the low-grade headache that was
accompanied by a sorrow, so dense and heavy in the center of my chest that it
hurt. That’s where I feel my heartache in my body, and in the beginning this
chest pain was so bad my doctor sent me to the sweetest cardiologist, who did inform
me that yes, you can actually die of heartbreak and there’s a name for that
which I choose not to remember. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">My heart, it hurts so much. It hurts.. oh God. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In the beginning I would say this out loud to Jim the way a sick
child does, because I have to name what’s happening to me as a way of getting
through it. I’ve learned that now. And so when the headache came yesterday
morning with my coffee, I was also aware of a slow, wave of pain and longing
for my boy, beginning to roll over me. What is <i>that </i>word that describes missing someone so intensely
that it physical hurts? I don’t know it yet in alphabetical letters, but when I <i><b>feel it-</b></i>--these bodily sensations and emotions take me to the edge of tears
all day. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I'd describe it as a state of being held together by wispy threads of fragility that
feel almost otherworldly. Maybe this is what Father Greg meant when he told me that
God is always holding you in the palm of his hand, even when you can’t feel
this.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I don’t know.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But at the end of the day –after going to two stores to find
a turkey small enough --I walked into the house with my Whole Foods turkey, promptly
took two ibuprofen, called Jim to tell him I was going to take a nap, something
I <i>never</i> do. And I flopped on my bed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I don’t know how long I lay awake before my uneasy sleep,
but I watched the light from my upstairs window move through shades of musky gray. At some
point it was dark and instead of jumping up and cleaning the morning dishes and
throwing a quick dinner together, I stayed on top my fluffy comforter and watched videos of Patrick on my IPhone, smiling and even laughing at his silliness. Remembering how
funny he was and loving his voice<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Jim came home and I cried some more and we made a salad and
salmon together, watched some more of Queen’s Gambit, and afterwards we walked
Stella under a cold blue sky. And because the hurt in my chest still felt red
and raw, I became that patient who has gingerly left her hospital bed, and
is shuffling her feet down the cold linoleum hallway in order to regain her
strength.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby steps. One at a
time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Yes, it had been a tough day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In addition to learning how to move through the holidays
without Patrick—Jim and I decided to follow CDC recommendations against travel,
so we’re staying cozy and safe at home, which means a stunning reversal of traditional
Thanksgivings past, and for the first time in our lives we won’t be home with extended
family and friends. Nope, it will be just us three bodies and one beautiful spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And yes, while we can acknowledge our personal choice in the
matter, if you’re like me, it’s been a long, tiring road of looking on the
bright side of this COVID-19 period. And it’s ok to recognize that there’s been
a substantial amount of letting-go experiences that so many of us are having to
accept right now. What that means is, that we’re all carrying around a lot of
small, stinging losses and grief. And it’s ok to sit with that. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">On this day it didn’t help that my mother called me and
threw one of her fits, another one of her dramas. That’s another
tangible loss during the holidays that’s important to acknowledge. The very
real experience of loss that comes in the form of people that cannot show up
for us when we need them. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">During regular life when we’re feeling strong and intact,
dealing with these family members is easier than during a year like this one. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Just saying. Stay aware or your expectations, it’s
ultimately the thing that protects us.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM8UdrMC548GaWVjiCvriqoAe3GXFbEFJKpBGQHvn8XRfSpS7_mFgjls1O00pZo70h4AO5YhizTG1APyZ0lPCVFYuZK5nWyO3UYlckGFzfEJERcsw28zh-8Wfs0Dkl_Vfbdw-Ipq4yzI1b/s2048/street+use.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2040" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM8UdrMC548GaWVjiCvriqoAe3GXFbEFJKpBGQHvn8XRfSpS7_mFgjls1O00pZo70h4AO5YhizTG1APyZ0lPCVFYuZK5nWyO3UYlckGFzfEJERcsw28zh-8Wfs0Dkl_Vfbdw-Ipq4yzI1b/w638-h640/street+use.JPG" width="638" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">After my hard day I woke up to brilliant sunshine pouring through the clouds and even though
it didn’t stay around long, it showed up like a beaming smile of redemption. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Today. Hooray! I had no trace of a headache. I got my grocery
shopping done by 8:30 am, where I had fun in the flower section picking out pale
pink roses and shiny orange mandarins for my table. Michael called and said, “Love
you Mom.” And I couldn’t help but want to write this post for anyone out there who might be coming into these holidays with a tiredness or feeling glum or
nursing some disappointment and maybe you don’t even know why.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Here’s my advice. Be gentle with yourself. Stay aware. Drink
lots of water for physical and symbolic cleansing. Take intentional ‘breathing’
breaks. Listen to your body and notice where your body stores tension or
sadness. And when all else fails, take a damn nap even if it means leaving the kitchen a mess or postponing a trip to the grocery store. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Last night when I was crying on the kitchen stool, I told
Jim, “I’ll feel better in the morning. This is just a hard day.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And do you know what?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did feel better.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Because You and I are going to be just fine. No matter what
life brings us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And your Thanksgiving this year—no matter how small and
different and odd it might seem as a result—will be beautifully imperfect.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Remember, we're all in this together my friends.</span></p><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Sending all my love to you,</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></div>Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-55626754003621239522020-11-16T16:57:00.001-08:002020-11-16T17:13:25.123-08:00 A special care package for You: 8 goodies <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GY2deqpwjrsh9KoDvnmsqGJRa2eIFVvAvhEP2HOXVViNUW8CCbASR_zGPzf0bHu0faL7dABkNDM-AtXdOkIrFqZu_thtVPLiimHeRnXM8lA3pMGmGeKJBTm2KPre0wF8gjsbQPf3mr3X/s2048/usegreenpillow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GY2deqpwjrsh9KoDvnmsqGJRa2eIFVvAvhEP2HOXVViNUW8CCbASR_zGPzf0bHu0faL7dABkNDM-AtXdOkIrFqZu_thtVPLiimHeRnXM8lA3pMGmGeKJBTm2KPre0wF8gjsbQPf3mr3X/w425-h640/usegreenpillow.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;">Alright.</span><div><span style="font-size: large;">Here's my question.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">How do I make a personal care package for each and every one of you who are reading these words?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Because it's really been gnawing at me. Especially after I posted <a href="https://www.instagram.com/gwenmossblog/">my last IG picture </a>and felt such a flood of kindness coming my way. It's been so hard to find words that capture my gratitude, but more than you know, your empathy and comments over these months have felt like a strong hand reaching out to me and pulling me back on my feet. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">And I keep wanting to give you something in return, the way I could if we were neighbors, you know, like a care package filled with little goodies that might make you smile. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">If we lived closer...</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>#1</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghjNH34PbWNW-NcwJUGSWvquuaswTBqtbdQlHNuGdd51J0ieRIWc007J42EyuLpVZCK9ApWNcvR6JUtnSy9cHiTZv9SpVYZMCX0p6b_KpsESQQe1Z_wmRBX49IN3db-86STPizooalYOUv/s2048/pumpkin1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="2048" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghjNH34PbWNW-NcwJUGSWvquuaswTBqtbdQlHNuGdd51J0ieRIWc007J42EyuLpVZCK9ApWNcvR6JUtnSy9cHiTZv9SpVYZMCX0p6b_KpsESQQe1Z_wmRBX49IN3db-86STPizooalYOUv/w640-h424/pumpkin1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I would probably make something for you. Maybe using a candle and a pumpkin and a few sprigs of baby's breath</span></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-QKGFeXzsOTfQDgiypUZPRZtRYMq0jwAgNVU3Oe8ATcKMHYSyD-OCfOSDKdI4FSWat-I2g5J9X25WxQBQhybY1GIq6XcxORF_kiNE53hZnGHE0WBNWW0RoKVtv08IrcCvfGKgzjN6VU9/s2048/pumpkin4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="2048" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-QKGFeXzsOTfQDgiypUZPRZtRYMq0jwAgNVU3Oe8ATcKMHYSyD-OCfOSDKdI4FSWat-I2g5J9X25WxQBQhybY1GIq6XcxORF_kiNE53hZnGHE0WBNWW0RoKVtv08IrcCvfGKgzjN6VU9/w640-h424/pumpkin4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqas4-FdMZfDB4P928SNIA26UKl6BlhXoaJp33YXkOT0pNofEQRqCwDIaFvXyBdyzHEAbeVaN2X8EHWOPd6Yvjn6dceuWoqmcTjWb0TC35Il7QRfpWUvB8KYeMLJ4AnWQX-eWjl3kdXVQY/s2048/pumpkin5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqas4-FdMZfDB4P928SNIA26UKl6BlhXoaJp33YXkOT0pNofEQRqCwDIaFvXyBdyzHEAbeVaN2X8EHWOPd6Yvjn6dceuWoqmcTjWb0TC35Il7QRfpWUvB8KYeMLJ4AnWQX-eWjl3kdXVQY/w424-h640/pumpkin5.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilKRKO6JehkeqjugUUsatPOsRNca0EZHx2lWk165uJ5U0RBER6GvySEC7gg-ia922QaQiWasr616IVBC9KDHidj57sRjSef4-pVCYJLgK70jQvXW91p0KBRJDSvYjgmjFwsRZ2W0bnrMdn/s1760/DSC_0274.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1756" data-original-width="1760" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilKRKO6JehkeqjugUUsatPOsRNca0EZHx2lWk165uJ5U0RBER6GvySEC7gg-ia922QaQiWasr616IVBC9KDHidj57sRjSef4-pVCYJLgK70jQvXW91p0KBRJDSvYjgmjFwsRZ2W0bnrMdn/w640-h638/DSC_0274.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Or maybe I would take you a copy of this book, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Ordinary-Grace-William-Kent-Krueger/dp/1451645856">Ordinary Grace, </a>the latest fiction I've read. I don't read much fiction and so when I do I like to choose my authors carefully. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">#2</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6i3dNZIMWTKW2UEetcRso4UNnVYUM21XRCLVEe0shoNG4cGU84Oe2vuYSGzV09PPdTbRS_3TZZc88_tgoCZq21Yk6_U0LEi0BU5AClSJYZSqHQiGZm-p0VovbU8VyiZAgn7GdvMji4Vl/s2048/books2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6i3dNZIMWTKW2UEetcRso4UNnVYUM21XRCLVEe0shoNG4cGU84Oe2vuYSGzV09PPdTbRS_3TZZc88_tgoCZq21Yk6_U0LEi0BU5AClSJYZSqHQiGZm-p0VovbU8VyiZAgn7GdvMji4Vl/w424-h640/books2.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This book transported me into another world which is all we can ask from a good author. It's not a beach read, so be warned. No, this story touched that place inside me where I keep my tears and my giddiness for a deep, layered story. And if you read it, you'll have to let me know who you think the 'hero' of this story is, because I'm telling you, there's a powerful scene inside a church that brought me to my knees, in sheer admiration for this character's steely faith.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rn2Q9E59FHY8nM5Pd2Ns9F-WEAL9fk7sKoEBd1z00KpJbqXWiztprhy-Te-QYnjoD70D7Z68cFi7G6finm7Lg0DiQBSEad9-XX1JxyfhBYhcKe3K5LgUP6aT73TIpnQ3nbUOREZBXZhK/s2048/stella.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1889" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rn2Q9E59FHY8nM5Pd2Ns9F-WEAL9fk7sKoEBd1z00KpJbqXWiztprhy-Te-QYnjoD70D7Z68cFi7G6finm7Lg0DiQBSEad9-XX1JxyfhBYhcKe3K5LgUP6aT73TIpnQ3nbUOREZBXZhK/w590-h640/stella.JPG" width="590" /></a></div><br /><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Lately I've been busy collecting what I call--- small moments of awe. Those mental snapshots during my day that have lifted me up, even for a few breaths. It's a habit you can cultivate--this stopping and noticing beautiful moments in real time-- and although it started for me as a survival tool, it's now become an intentional act that's helping me move through my grief. Especially on hard days.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">And I'd like to include a few of these goodies too.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>#3</b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">One interview I recently found utterly delightful was with a young poet by the name of <a href="https://www.resources.soundstrue.com/podcast/jacqueline-suskin-every-day-is-a-poem/">Jacqueline Suskin; Everyday is a Poem </a>on Sounds True podcast. You have to listen to it. Jacqueline has been a poet since childhood and eventually got her degree in poetry but it wasn't until she found an old typewriter at the Rose Bowl Flea market that her entire life changed. Her creativity is almost mystical. She literally writes a poem on-the-street for anyone who asks her, and she does this by entering into a creative trance with this typewriter. It's really a fascinating process of "being in the flow." </span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh05NkTzMc1Gh2RgUh9MkZHBZV303eE9rdKlFwax3inXdW4AQsUo2U06KHsSrGyVm9pHdfJh7b0y5pRYBCCGaKkecPh9X5nYnYwFHm51K51sX59Aw-vMx7HL1oxV5I76qN6F8o4-iX9Nhm/s1242/suskin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="1242" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh05NkTzMc1Gh2RgUh9MkZHBZV303eE9rdKlFwax3inXdW4AQsUo2U06KHsSrGyVm9pHdfJh7b0y5pRYBCCGaKkecPh9X5nYnYwFHm51K51sX59Aw-vMx7HL1oxV5I76qN6F8o4-iX9Nhm/w400-h390/suskin.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">But there was one kernel of wisdom that Jacqueline mentioned that really stayed with me, and as I was listening to her, I instantly wanted to share this with my readers. It was on the topic of gratitude and she rightfully mentioned how saturated and yes, over-used the word gratitude is in our culture these days. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Do you feel that too?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Because I totally get it. Especially if you're struggling emotionally and in a dark place, gratitude can be a word that can make you wince. But Jacqueline has this wonderful habit of making "I Like" lists, and it's<i> a different path </i>but it still gets you there... to that expansive inhale of gratefulness.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">She's made these lists for years and I immediately loved this idea because you can practice it in your head. At any time. You just have to become fully present in the moment, look around and notice what you like! It's that easy. It can be the way the light is coming through the window. Or the smell of your hot chai tea that you just poured. Or the black and white Aztec pattern painted on the back of the wooden chair at the coffee shop you're sitting in (one of mine).</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Walking around generating these "I like..." statements in your day are the essence of real-life gratefulness only using different language, and I've been noticing the impact when I'm doing this. But honestly, this entire <a href="https://resources.soundstrue.com/podcast/">Sounds True podcast</a> is worth listening to for these kind of positive insights. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b> #4</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ok. Now here's a little DIY replenishment.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqEHoyky6LSQIYQsqDuuj3bmjcaNRds22dZ6vy6xGS2kKVP7OzmIHcEPrf2SfrlqdFeA6ELlXByaEccstn8WeTDvoueM03G3Ar6Ey1xiVpFnVH_z9crHX9726KA6eqS-1-QUwe7A1a8qN/s2048/before.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqEHoyky6LSQIYQsqDuuj3bmjcaNRds22dZ6vy6xGS2kKVP7OzmIHcEPrf2SfrlqdFeA6ELlXByaEccstn8WeTDvoueM03G3Ar6Ey1xiVpFnVH_z9crHX9726KA6eqS-1-QUwe7A1a8qN/w480-h640/before.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">BEFORE </span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This is my latest project, in my office.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">But I honestly debated on showing you this because it's so different. I mean.<i> I </i>like it, but I don't know if it's something other people would like.....because I haven't really seen one of these.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">It's a bulletin board-memory board. Nothing unique that way. But I made it using some leftover fence pieces I was originally going to use on the ceiling of my master bathroom. Jim wanted all the boards out of the garage so I had to think of some way to use them quick, because he was literally loading stuff up for a dump run.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevNAtzjrMolKG1vOHNi8AT-yUrnkSAT_KQlqGdsVlj-kQphGvL3LFD7QZpaZtfDskfrWM-rZXkOJ7TMDG3h-UpZYS5U3tkORkr0CIsNf07jO9RNygbEPW2ltB19nBm38JUjnM1o8BvP0P/s2016/IMG_8528.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevNAtzjrMolKG1vOHNi8AT-yUrnkSAT_KQlqGdsVlj-kQphGvL3LFD7QZpaZtfDskfrWM-rZXkOJ7TMDG3h-UpZYS5U3tkORkr0CIsNf07jO9RNygbEPW2ltB19nBm38JUjnM1o8BvP0P/w480-h640/IMG_8528.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">(The area behind the planks got painted black)</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Honestly friends. I had NO idea how it was going to look. But you know me. What-the-heck-it's-just-a-wall, right? So I measured and decided the bigger the better so I could pile on my photos and memorabilia. This is where I meditate so I really want to be surrounded by all the things I love. </span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyGpzNz6kzd3QgNaWReaI_3XzvdvJtvXN9BIJ0ygCvylFjIOeYhIf4Mg774ygQujfmw-EComvXHFC4MYki4fUXbdrMlWqOhGfZADJrQOBID2FCBQnx6hCPK76Z1UAX_fikZrZKCxXlTO3b/s2048/moulding.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyGpzNz6kzd3QgNaWReaI_3XzvdvJtvXN9BIJ0ygCvylFjIOeYhIf4Mg774ygQujfmw-EComvXHFC4MYki4fUXbdrMlWqOhGfZADJrQOBID2FCBQnx6hCPK76Z1UAX_fikZrZKCxXlTO3b/w300-h400/moulding.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">After staring at this big black blob on my wall, I decided I needed a frame around it--and because of the size--I knew I would need to make one so I went to Home Depot and found some molding. The ornate pieces were made of a plastic composite, but I also used-one inch wood trim pieces, to make it look chunkier. </span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAiGOugDYKmNprq7vc8aUVs-u8cRv3gdokNHUwwYYhbAcjgad5AGyox25B_iGGjNyNgkIViXklbyOCToMivR_XC6eXprfxGqRER8LYd54lEkB4zhkCBKviw3B0qAkOH6Utb-L7c8OgWrfw/s2016/IMG_8534.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAiGOugDYKmNprq7vc8aUVs-u8cRv3gdokNHUwwYYhbAcjgad5AGyox25B_iGGjNyNgkIViXklbyOCToMivR_XC6eXprfxGqRER8LYd54lEkB4zhkCBKviw3B0qAkOH6Utb-L7c8OgWrfw/s320/IMG_8534.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><span style="font-size: large;">Next, I decided that all that rustic wood should have an 'old world frame' around it so I purchased some gold and dark brown spray paint and <b>at this point, I took a picture because I had <i>no </i>idea what I was doing.</b> The gold coming out-of-the can had this harsh yellow look and I ended up buying four little bottles of craft paint in different shades to get the darker, rich gold I wanted. </span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrda7ltuAWKYC5omagQKGm3mqDAJXFXYdw2h1UfwLGZCdvJDy0VSOaZ2oK7MvBeAhgV9AwoTa9qcLqGWfNspv2_GfOZ9CfX6ISBvtJtAcVqL1TJFKlpDqcxQyfsetWoAO_DCZ4DwRnH3J/s2048/IMG_8632.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrda7ltuAWKYC5omagQKGm3mqDAJXFXYdw2h1UfwLGZCdvJDy0VSOaZ2oK7MvBeAhgV9AwoTa9qcLqGWfNspv2_GfOZ9CfX6ISBvtJtAcVqL1TJFKlpDqcxQyfsetWoAO_DCZ4DwRnH3J/s320/IMG_8632.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><span style="font-size: large;">I know this sounds like a nightmare not having the right paint color, but this is when I'm in my version of a creative trance and I loved it. I wish I could make you some of this gilt color, because I just fell in love with this shade. </span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0oc85jcilKOta3_HgzunLHuoJp5rBIjuF1ZDRHKW2C92kBpD9hA7vBAHieyaGCOSG9vBfj0-NpFlPwgbsk0mc3vSeU7qK6F26UqZV52ywW4NTPeSlpXH08xXHeRfdaUNeLywbOwKy0Aei/s1762/gilt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1762" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0oc85jcilKOta3_HgzunLHuoJp5rBIjuF1ZDRHKW2C92kBpD9hA7vBAHieyaGCOSG9vBfj0-NpFlPwgbsk0mc3vSeU7qK6F26UqZV52ywW4NTPeSlpXH08xXHeRfdaUNeLywbOwKy0Aei/s320/gilt.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">step one out of maybe six steps hahaha</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXBfDUxfZN9Q9A5u7MmPR9vjv9-8wCHXhm87T5riFKxdrCh263AuCAuJAUqPzdxy23GLk70NfeE2kZfTQCJhcQpFUGJZO3VY-3-37DFM0Iqn42t9Es9wrQ1HM-IoI1iZmdwNRuRAEMCZf/s2016/IMG_8584.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXBfDUxfZN9Q9A5u7MmPR9vjv9-8wCHXhm87T5riFKxdrCh263AuCAuJAUqPzdxy23GLk70NfeE2kZfTQCJhcQpFUGJZO3VY-3-37DFM0Iqn42t9Es9wrQ1HM-IoI1iZmdwNRuRAEMCZf/w480-h640/IMG_8584.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another gulp moment when the first plank went into the still-unfinished frame. See the corners? </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Honestly, I still wasn't feeling it. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjerwt19V6Eaj41rF6rcv0d969EpKIiT6ezWVhHU1h11gVTVAnu9fuO_VfKNE3NpRqrNTi141I_pv-JgvpI7sM_wPMMKtiVz11fLJolv-CPNQ5T9PV_UHfPFJEkYhI2UkZLaWKPr_rqA7vp/s2048/final.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjerwt19V6Eaj41rF6rcv0d969EpKIiT6ezWVhHU1h11gVTVAnu9fuO_VfKNE3NpRqrNTi141I_pv-JgvpI7sM_wPMMKtiVz11fLJolv-CPNQ5T9PV_UHfPFJEkYhI2UkZLaWKPr_rqA7vp/w480-h640/final.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">AFTER</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">But now I love it. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">And I promise to share some photos of the whole office when I finish reorganizing and purging some picture frames I no longer need.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">#5</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_In1etWNjtAo_ZY_duFwXk06KOrhJdjl3_adKETiWcIuc4xrn5O5D1XXEyh1paqpuKdyot9-eeUtBfuFZe9cx9VO6EAnFjAPxTY9OJpRNDIGzlqLEt0erNsmiaBijvyawQ-cCJqd5VLl/s1242/ruth.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1242" height="620" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_In1etWNjtAo_ZY_duFwXk06KOrhJdjl3_adKETiWcIuc4xrn5O5D1XXEyh1paqpuKdyot9-eeUtBfuFZe9cx9VO6EAnFjAPxTY9OJpRNDIGzlqLEt0erNsmiaBijvyawQ-cCJqd5VLl/w640-h620/ruth.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">A few weeks back I got an email from <a href="http://www.ruthielindsey.com/about">Ruthie Lindsey</a> about a free weekly webinar she's calling the Soul Currency Camp starting on Nov. 9th and I signed up. I liked some of the guests she mentioned. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">and she describes the conversations this way: </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">"We will have conversations around what non-dualistic thinking is and how we can integrate it into our daily lives. We will also have practices to come back home to our bodies through breath work, meditation, non-linear dance, journaling exercises, etc. and we will have beautiful, expansive conversations on what it looks like practically to heal ourselves so that we can bring healing to the collective.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">In case you're interested:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScCQe3kHIxBta5yYCtosvZfYPAwgM2cp6KNX1p-Vr14fhQv_Q/viewform">Soul Currency Camp Registration Link</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">#6</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Here's a non-fiction writing course I'm taking this month</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>you can click <a href="https://esmewang.com/offerings/writing-personal-nonfiction-about-what-hurts/">HERE </a>to learn more</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>#7</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOwZqnHpqho6Sthotww7yD6Lt-sJxMTu6QpIMqqO10H_fBAwr85qtl25DLWppgN7Ii1I7KIfS9lSwXqHi0j757GmNztvSgNWfCTXD6FOWNVQKpl9ZOaiPJgvuokrJWtzOruBcMFcUXB41/s1242/be+kind.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1239" data-original-width="1242" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOwZqnHpqho6Sthotww7yD6Lt-sJxMTu6QpIMqqO10H_fBAwr85qtl25DLWppgN7Ii1I7KIfS9lSwXqHi0j757GmNztvSgNWfCTXD6FOWNVQKpl9ZOaiPJgvuokrJWtzOruBcMFcUXB41/w640-h638/be+kind.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>This is my latest Etsy purchase that made me happy.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's from <a href="https://www.etsy.com/market/wallbuddy">Wall Buddy</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG5dCP_XKfOy_kQd-Ndy2EN0SM1KYn74Ihj9P9irR0GAX3Mwn9f3iUfIViDfKNPN3y3aq03gr0AsHF-QmkRcnP8TQblul5LW8ckFb1_X5ocy0lTEcvPReK0KhOicTL0a5LMKOfL5sAYcUd/s2048/be+kind+2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG5dCP_XKfOy_kQd-Ndy2EN0SM1KYn74Ihj9P9irR0GAX3Mwn9f3iUfIViDfKNPN3y3aq03gr0AsHF-QmkRcnP8TQblul5LW8ckFb1_X5ocy0lTEcvPReK0KhOicTL0a5LMKOfL5sAYcUd/w480-h640/be+kind+2.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>Kinda different. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">But I decided on a large-scale typography for our renovated master bath. I just liked the vibes.</span><br /><b style="font-size: xx-large;"><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>#8</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">And here's a little goody that's closer to my heart.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">If you've been with me for awhile you know that last Thanksgiving we had a Live Like Patrick team that participated in Sacramento's annual Run to Feed the Hungry held on Thanksgiving Day. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tWG5eAkMrWUZ_wb1zvN7TTkW1quLncA7ipvfFBIIfgIqGH49hwplNfAqokBuJRvl3STu00Zq4AdzJVhSmu6INx3XufxzTUt01LF6jZSyRszTLN9F2Uql9rDMNlK-DVzFaiSpOZaO3B8N/s2048/A29BC535-AD70-410B-9908-39BDC7ABD984-84DE331D-7FE3-4B7F-97CA-AF9ED307B4C8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1487" data-original-width="2048" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tWG5eAkMrWUZ_wb1zvN7TTkW1quLncA7ipvfFBIIfgIqGH49hwplNfAqokBuJRvl3STu00Zq4AdzJVhSmu6INx3XufxzTUt01LF6jZSyRszTLN9F2Uql9rDMNlK-DVzFaiSpOZaO3B8N/w640-h464/A29BC535-AD70-410B-9908-39BDC7ABD984-84DE331D-7FE3-4B7F-97CA-AF9ED307B4C8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">(Our Christmas card last year)</span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">The event is a pretty big deal in Sacramento and we actually got on TV because our team was one of the bigger ones. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8tGt5aj1KTMJM_B0JyjIeI4HMCcd4SZ77uI6DYJu2BWwmS2hX0XQlMn9Ca3xgdYacPMvbTryoT_YG_T0WeCowKvrvKvecSq2HY4SQFYU2RS6ZF80xr7Z4voqPLCjqF0SmX7a7lDXDM7_j/s1505/IMG_8694.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1505" data-original-width="1242" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8tGt5aj1KTMJM_B0JyjIeI4HMCcd4SZ77uI6DYJu2BWwmS2hX0XQlMn9Ca3xgdYacPMvbTryoT_YG_T0WeCowKvrvKvecSq2HY4SQFYU2RS6ZF80xr7Z4voqPLCjqF0SmX7a7lDXDM7_j/w330-h400/IMG_8694.jpg" width="330" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">That's me looking like a red, dwarf-sized polar bear on TV. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Apparently I have no ego when it comes to cold weather. </span></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVp4QO3gv8jgXBdT0FCjkTrhI3JzadBBPClKNKAsZKLLkDZozND2yOa23tcjlv-vYBJLNjNMO3QOPEADpl-N5e0BnItUk_wGjmCIBh5DRBoW1wckvyJJDZnUmCPKaalBUiyuectYUuDzME/s1280/IMG_8692+%25281%2529boys.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="996" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVp4QO3gv8jgXBdT0FCjkTrhI3JzadBBPClKNKAsZKLLkDZozND2yOa23tcjlv-vYBJLNjNMO3QOPEADpl-N5e0BnItUk_wGjmCIBh5DRBoW1wckvyJJDZnUmCPKaalBUiyuectYUuDzME/w311-h400/IMG_8692+%25281%2529boys.jpg" width="311" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm sure Patrick would've been embarrassed as heck but we were so touched by the response. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Well. This year with Covid, the food bank needs help more than ever. But because the race is now a 'virtual' event the organization has been worried about participation and emailed me to ask if we could still get a team together. And for some reason, it's been emotionally hard for me to get this going. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Understandably, a lot of the enthusiasm for a 'virtual' event has dropped. </span><span>I know Patrick's friends are planning to get-together in person. And that warms my heart too.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAG4fMp-MrZB1Ua1g2aL3Z75a9PPtmhdR3ekIkHIETXvDK4qB1kRzAaqFqp1iJyeVCtHAV14V82lWl6NXxKh5hwHTrp4SD6efwswiPDvrBpWmdU98vCyGGACHt3KxEy9ULaJk4zkcWDgW/s2048/BE465C30-F939-42B0-8778-E1F046566D06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAG4fMp-MrZB1Ua1g2aL3Z75a9PPtmhdR3ekIkHIETXvDK4qB1kRzAaqFqp1iJyeVCtHAV14V82lWl6NXxKh5hwHTrp4SD6efwswiPDvrBpWmdU98vCyGGACHt3KxEy9ULaJk4zkcWDgW/w480-h640/BE465C30-F939-42B0-8778-E1F046566D06.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">But if you'd like to join us in honoring Patrick in this way, you can join the Live Like Patrick team and get a nice team shirt to wear on your walks. Since there's no actual event, it's really a $35 donation to a good cause. Although there's an additional $7 fee for mailing the shirt. You can find out more info at the: </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.runtofeedthehungry.com/">Run To Feed The Hungry website</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">You would register for a team by following these directions</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigdt5AWSvCLE94xVEsqCRRJB8F-M5Gz1_4heWu31U1Ul7o1F04IMEX-uZ-dArOY7GfuOnrv3OjX8GhbWvuHc_lfQI4EM8mauVmGsgdN-6cEFL56jXkj7dd2lsT-ZEq3vDerpvmC-S6gBqM/s1228/IMG_8691.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1096" data-original-width="1228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigdt5AWSvCLE94xVEsqCRRJB8F-M5Gz1_4heWu31U1Ul7o1F04IMEX-uZ-dArOY7GfuOnrv3OjX8GhbWvuHc_lfQI4EM8mauVmGsgdN-6cEFL56jXkj7dd2lsT-ZEq3vDerpvmC-S6gBqM/s320/IMG_8691.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Before I go I wanted to share this photo of Heather from <a href="https://www.curatedtravel.net/blog">Curated Travel blog </a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Last year Heather was one of many dear friends from the blogworld who asked for the Random Act of Kindness Card in Patrick's honor, and shared their kindness with the world. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">This heartwarming story was posted on her <a href="https://www.instagram.com/stylemindchic/?hl=en">@stylemindchic</a> instagram account.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTElOxopaUhvxOqAFk6JiVa9ugO6Yk9FFdxcxhRPtt4cuUQZ2Xr_VGqbTpeSFeKxGVtkgm7_Xbn4WCmxSi4Nh0_BEoywVc4Y6UosgUPVEjNCCRiNVu-4-DZfch99NLQqdd6_8LDowcE259/s1529/heather+kindness+card+%25281%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1529" data-original-width="1242" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTElOxopaUhvxOqAFk6JiVa9ugO6Yk9FFdxcxhRPtt4cuUQZ2Xr_VGqbTpeSFeKxGVtkgm7_Xbn4WCmxSi4Nh0_BEoywVc4Y6UosgUPVEjNCCRiNVu-4-DZfch99NLQqdd6_8LDowcE259/w325-h400/heather+kindness+card+%25281%2529.JPG" width="325" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_R1yu3n84fA0OIRcuq_0IsE0qVhFC7nSMYXihpInUit5tHxBi9Dd9vcC6g56GzBgEKAaWl-sVL1LrTPctwbkoW6sLVg2YGdRm9lsA9fsO2M5c_CP6L605NRJ5p1m9RrqSh5rR-dY289z0/s1416/8F0ACED5-1646-40E9-B023-6E10A77C2EBB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1416" data-original-width="1197" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_R1yu3n84fA0OIRcuq_0IsE0qVhFC7nSMYXihpInUit5tHxBi9Dd9vcC6g56GzBgEKAaWl-sVL1LrTPctwbkoW6sLVg2YGdRm9lsA9fsO2M5c_CP6L605NRJ5p1m9RrqSh5rR-dY289z0/w339-h400/8F0ACED5-1646-40E9-B023-6E10A77C2EBB.jpg" width="339" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Pretty amazing, right?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Well dear friends, today I hope there's something in this post that inspired you or lifted your spirits. These have been such exhausting and stressful days with the election in the background, and this pandemic still in the forefront of our lives. Pace yourself my dears. Watch carefully where you place your attention because that's where your energy goes.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> When you're feeling worried or stressed, stop and ask yourself: </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">What narrative was running through my mind at <i>that </i>moment? And be alert to those thoughts that move you toward stress or sadness.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is how we get through those hard days. When we choose to be fully present, we can make kinder choices for ourselves.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoy-pQyp0RU-PK4Flx4rsh6nTEyOo2e2Of8OpztQFrYoQyDHhVdVIzyVFyH1BBez_OljvavDH1NgNz-zuNZK_r-NUNHH6W_GmTy5pAifxyQFkZTODuWgxYmH2raWfUZW2QSvzLvUCmOVCi/s2048/DSC_0282.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="2048" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoy-pQyp0RU-PK4Flx4rsh6nTEyOo2e2Of8OpztQFrYoQyDHhVdVIzyVFyH1BBez_OljvavDH1NgNz-zuNZK_r-NUNHH6W_GmTy5pAifxyQFkZTODuWgxYmH2raWfUZW2QSvzLvUCmOVCi/w640-h424/DSC_0282.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarkHbLjy9hM3yVO9Fa-3LzISRlUPEuvtLDKCY8wXCcQRJcudRtnyJyh6IPFftMGF8_zBtGga67zGsDbMZUXE35lOWZaOS4JtpumPeYdihVQZRiT4eVImT4QkOS5GXRuXV7ZUQwgLoM2eD/s2048/DSC_0283.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarkHbLjy9hM3yVO9Fa-3LzISRlUPEuvtLDKCY8wXCcQRJcudRtnyJyh6IPFftMGF8_zBtGga67zGsDbMZUXE35lOWZaOS4JtpumPeYdihVQZRiT4eVImT4QkOS5GXRuXV7ZUQwgLoM2eD/w424-h640/DSC_0283.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinAl8ggZ80sWtBKpOJQTeFuVdFd99la4nhNdYxS0epbApsR98GTlNiicMSrzGkyISpuKBcVY7TLQfjAL67tWBUZzKD8qVHGJoo0QUCajhFhahR-hoBmqKC1Jr-3uQO1OOWGKtQO1ZM3Xzg/s2048/DSC_0285.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinAl8ggZ80sWtBKpOJQTeFuVdFd99la4nhNdYxS0epbApsR98GTlNiicMSrzGkyISpuKBcVY7TLQfjAL67tWBUZzKD8qVHGJoo0QUCajhFhahR-hoBmqKC1Jr-3uQO1OOWGKtQO1ZM3Xzg/w424-h640/DSC_0285.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBG0mYKGHGwdeVcWukDq8BvPNF4QU5xuP_1VULElpk-edaHA61XG9OhDD6esxMpzqHHYGX8ib4ZXKqZL2zVIyaejHKif87O11hNVPc2vVQbA-2jaJq3V9yhAWrz4fiiTrFrRPhuMZmmgmZ/s2048/DSC_0286.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBG0mYKGHGwdeVcWukDq8BvPNF4QU5xuP_1VULElpk-edaHA61XG9OhDD6esxMpzqHHYGX8ib4ZXKqZL2zVIyaejHKif87O11hNVPc2vVQbA-2jaJq3V9yhAWrz4fiiTrFrRPhuMZmmgmZ/w424-h640/DSC_0286.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Thank you Heidi and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/dagirldt/?hl=en">@dagirldt </a>for my beautiful flowers)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKLRYzHSz6W8E-53eDKlzPmkUw4yR1t7EWFUiBfC50VPK8nmWjzk-uhuHv37S2CLYC1urBmuTtFH-A_2JqPTykTGQMYug5ugI-wbLFp5WuRku7RK4GasPrLfTApjllJ_w1s_lSCByFvq8/s2048/deskshot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1513" data-original-width="2048" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKLRYzHSz6W8E-53eDKlzPmkUw4yR1t7EWFUiBfC50VPK8nmWjzk-uhuHv37S2CLYC1urBmuTtFH-A_2JqPTykTGQMYug5ugI-wbLFp5WuRku7RK4GasPrLfTApjllJ_w1s_lSCByFvq8/w640-h472/deskshot.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">And yes everyone, I'm still blogging here for now and I'll keep you posted when changes are coming. Let me know if you have problems with these links, this blogger site is still wacky with issues.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sending you love,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">xo</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">sharing this post with friends:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.astrollthrulife.net/2020/11/567th-inspire-me-tuesday.html"><span style="font-size: large;">Inspire me Tuesday</span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.commonground-do.com/2020/11/all-about-home-66.html"><span style="font-size: large;">All About Home</span></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-12614022420661438022020-10-20T16:17:00.000-07:002020-10-20T16:17:42.604-07:00My blogging decision<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uX9zohye9EnCJU0ovPzWzCOndDcHnaflM3yh0blnKNkCRdFjmrgIHSz6mwCB6SvqkSEG9Dy64kQ3NG1ur3J4gJgFf18mH55traAiT62z7iEcEykw7i7epU3-dVVRguocYrHWKWMTBw71/s2048/coffeetable.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1412" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uX9zohye9EnCJU0ovPzWzCOndDcHnaflM3yh0blnKNkCRdFjmrgIHSz6mwCB6SvqkSEG9Dy64kQ3NG1ur3J4gJgFf18mH55traAiT62z7iEcEykw7i7epU3-dVVRguocYrHWKWMTBw71/w442-h640/coffeetable.jpg" width="442" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hello friends.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">How is your October going?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don't usually say much about the topic of blogging here, but for some months now I've been having to face the question of what is going to happen to my Gwen Moss blog. And I thought I would share this with you. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I hate to bore you with my blogging problems but I've been having issues on the Blogger platform for a long time now. Lots of little things with font sizes and photos, but the latest technical glitch that really bothers me is that I can no longer respond to my comments or if I can, it's very sporadic. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I can't tell you how bad I feel when I read my comments and write my response and then when I go hit publish it doesn't show up. From my IPhone or laptop.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another more serious problem has to do with the fact that for some bizarre reason, I can no longer publish my posts on Facebook because FB won't accept my blog URL address, gwenmossblog.blogspot.com. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrUlt-LO1rzOES-pfD9VcQJueK7VSTxUXjFtuomn8ZrwG9DATQWExPXv8NSTzm4DLn3eG6Mmeln8yprt-gj_rgMo1OHQWC4Z5KJFBKs4nbQVX_QzptvG75nSbqD4BmqKMNmJnp5DRyEaiC/s2048/sideviewrosaryuse.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrUlt-LO1rzOES-pfD9VcQJueK7VSTxUXjFtuomn8ZrwG9DATQWExPXv8NSTzm4DLn3eG6Mmeln8yprt-gj_rgMo1OHQWC4Z5KJFBKs4nbQVX_QzptvG75nSbqD4BmqKMNmJnp5DRyEaiC/w424-h640/sideviewrosaryuse.jpg" width="424" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Crazy, right? But wait. Here's where it gets comical. Do you know what happens when I try to publish my blog on Facebook? </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I get a message telling me that my content doesn't comply with community standards. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">Yes, friends. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Somehow all those angry, crazed conspiracy theorists spreading lies and promoting violence have a voice on FB but Gwen Moss? She's too radical. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCL97ldOHCzHNMJfIWTG83yl6oqRQ-UvHTXMGFXI8SjaXDrdl_oSiSWYCZTC-KDR0CIidau1v05DU3OlU72cZblz0W-TqVInh0Fe1SMGSVTFTGxRoEZAcXQNmWXtDDkcEgpur1-8fdG7T/s2048/shelvefinal.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCL97ldOHCzHNMJfIWTG83yl6oqRQ-UvHTXMGFXI8SjaXDrdl_oSiSWYCZTC-KDR0CIidau1v05DU3OlU72cZblz0W-TqVInh0Fe1SMGSVTFTGxRoEZAcXQNmWXtDDkcEgpur1-8fdG7T/w424-h640/shelvefinal.jpg" width="424" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Anyway. Please know I'm chuckling as I write this. I haven't lost my sense of humor, thank goodness. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">But if you're wondering. That's why you don't see my latest posts on Facebook anymore. And honestly, I don't know how people get to my blog anymore because Instagram blocks my blog address too, which prevents me from putting my latest blog post in my IG profile.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NdOCX-4PXkfSsXFrsBt7OtNjrZBMMAfUdo5cbWZCrPCQBiXIGXAulj04sRSjLEIbqOQNj9lofOrVpAiDi-kbhw2nQoaqdQjZBRHEWfl0ijUtjG0qQxXefSTGgUCmAnG3qcLixGMLYLLG/s2048/634D9E23-F99C-4DE8-9103-2D3776326366-3F4607FE-6FBD-493A-83F2-86CB512D908A+%25281%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1949" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NdOCX-4PXkfSsXFrsBt7OtNjrZBMMAfUdo5cbWZCrPCQBiXIGXAulj04sRSjLEIbqOQNj9lofOrVpAiDi-kbhw2nQoaqdQjZBRHEWfl0ijUtjG0qQxXefSTGgUCmAnG3qcLixGMLYLLG/w610-h640/634D9E23-F99C-4DE8-9103-2D3776326366-3F4607FE-6FBD-493A-83F2-86CB512D908A+%25281%2529.JPG" width="610" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1B4Xrm0xcAC4Zz_0ey4qIW7zNXTKoyoLq1ipkn8LlBqCNHFvUOOGFDiTR1M2FCy3gFtvSHK6qtCMiUVgs8aLVM_FhuAMR-6n_rzg-pc-gCGhwqQCFEFouEbBnCGH8ZH1qb-ZjB2EIR8y0/s2048/fallblessingsfinal2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="2048" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1B4Xrm0xcAC4Zz_0ey4qIW7zNXTKoyoLq1ipkn8LlBqCNHFvUOOGFDiTR1M2FCy3gFtvSHK6qtCMiUVgs8aLVM_FhuAMR-6n_rzg-pc-gCGhwqQCFEFouEbBnCGH8ZH1qb-ZjB2EIR8y0/w640-h424/fallblessingsfinal2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQsR2AR21ASliGkZNRBKi3gyiIFfqTRk93v5-67loJCCOR82wngHgcny_QSlKc7WswDcBPry2PAw8VIlKGWVjKEnK-M2TsatdyC0vwEFRoiqgsIZp1ZoWXlguClWiStu_Phfv0rRzMCA3/s2048/caramelcornfinal.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQsR2AR21ASliGkZNRBKi3gyiIFfqTRk93v5-67loJCCOR82wngHgcny_QSlKc7WswDcBPry2PAw8VIlKGWVjKEnK-M2TsatdyC0vwEFRoiqgsIZp1ZoWXlguClWiStu_Phfv0rRzMCA3/w424-h640/caramelcornfinal.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHlnAniqpfiG-gDIMXGyzmUfGKOhmXsZhHKLotg7hKPoPsq10RWK8ggB_R8qTWS5V_UzASEsWCS2agSbfyI4A-jfTGvrIh_aQNf0XP2FzQCmQ7-ZN7SUHxtL2QHebIucWH1Vmpk6qU7qx/s2048/hatuse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1397" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHlnAniqpfiG-gDIMXGyzmUfGKOhmXsZhHKLotg7hKPoPsq10RWK8ggB_R8qTWS5V_UzASEsWCS2agSbfyI4A-jfTGvrIh_aQNf0XP2FzQCmQ7-ZN7SUHxtL2QHebIucWH1Vmpk6qU7qx/w436-h640/hatuse.jpg" width="436" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">In case you're wondering what my options are, there really is no solution when it involves getting a response from Facebook. I've tried. And I've gotten similar feedback: don't hold your breath.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">And so I've had to ask myself, what happens when you keep running into closed doors?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">At this point, it's looking like I'm going to have to retire my blog name and address. I've been blogging here for more than ten years and to say that I'm overwhelmed with love and gratitude for all you, is an understatement. I can't imagine this ending. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Whatever I do I will keep you posted and in the meantime please know that your comments left on my blog are vital part of Gwen Moss. The wisdom of your comments enlighten and lift up --not only me--but every reader who visits here. If you ever need to get a direct response to something you've shared, you can always email me at: mizgmoss@yahoo.com</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2g-FkqtP5u0vuF6o1Hhq1jS8otUj1zGmracckrcOq1ytdskNbe_pSyHUgq_1njCcg5vIh3UgXu_En-cS1iTBBZpk2wLRMOd6TJarHHncSB2gaBEDkaK-03JhdoCLMNE4KW1BAtaBIcnca/s2048/figuse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2g-FkqtP5u0vuF6o1Hhq1jS8otUj1zGmracckrcOq1ytdskNbe_pSyHUgq_1njCcg5vIh3UgXu_En-cS1iTBBZpk2wLRMOd6TJarHHncSB2gaBEDkaK-03JhdoCLMNE4KW1BAtaBIcnca/w424-h640/figuse.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sending love and abundant blessings,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></div>Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-5315599852009379132020-10-08T06:35:00.003-07:002020-10-08T08:49:04.309-07:00Rustic Fall Tablescape<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWNO6X8VGKrag04O1kGaU8aNHGNweN7P2pSIrd29KAG3YZtHw8dMec6Cs7Y0hJSt9CUsYgMcyx3RYjfAIJ1KLGmYSuBjt-GsyC-4AGC1Vq3_hXGxUnSmkaAxdWoiNtp-4p68CwrBfVOCX6/s2048/vasefall+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWNO6X8VGKrag04O1kGaU8aNHGNweN7P2pSIrd29KAG3YZtHw8dMec6Cs7Y0hJSt9CUsYgMcyx3RYjfAIJ1KLGmYSuBjt-GsyC-4AGC1Vq3_hXGxUnSmkaAxdWoiNtp-4p68CwrBfVOCX6/w424-h640/vasefall+%25281%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Hello there friends.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Today I'm joining <a href="https://cindyhattersleydesign.com/blog/">Cindy </a>and <a href="https://classiccasualhome.com/">Mary Ann</a> along with some talented blogger friends to give you some ideas for your next fall-inspired table.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I'm so happy to be included because I really enjoy playing around with flowers and putting together a pretty table. And you know me. I'm a big believer that if I can do something, <b><i>you can too</i></b>, so today I thought I would share some basic ideas behind my fall table.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvmAoEhnTThjdhdsSS0iIwizHXwWFGz-lwdPIH22bxRwmOk7To26EmsJmBqsnjcm-qRmcSwzgtwbTb21YQljL-PovEwjV_yYlI7SXreFSitozECjNCcZxa2NenMOIptuLklNEFUnX4savj/s2048/DSC_0216.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1381" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvmAoEhnTThjdhdsSS0iIwizHXwWFGz-lwdPIH22bxRwmOk7To26EmsJmBqsnjcm-qRmcSwzgtwbTb21YQljL-PovEwjV_yYlI7SXreFSitozECjNCcZxa2NenMOIptuLklNEFUnX4savj/w432-h640/DSC_0216.jpg" width="432" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Charm of Rustic</b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">For this project I decided to use my actual work table--the one I use for my table saw with all it's old paint stains and nicks. I even decided to skip placemats to show off all that rough wood grain.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ptEGx0nf_Sl4U3JMsrxXiW0GVcmI_L1Gb1yorlSwaGLbuwF5gIc2ABMbA4rrXqEGrioAAXv6KPDRKL65SpUxDgaFSR_MgfNitqUNq_6gGbBow7HivGN990d9Syea4xZyj4qAgelsSfXJ/s2048/leaf+closeup+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ptEGx0nf_Sl4U3JMsrxXiW0GVcmI_L1Gb1yorlSwaGLbuwF5gIc2ABMbA4rrXqEGrioAAXv6KPDRKL65SpUxDgaFSR_MgfNitqUNq_6gGbBow7HivGN990d9Syea4xZyj4qAgelsSfXJ/w424-h640/leaf+closeup+%25281%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">For me, using a rugged aged table as a backdrop for the earthy colors of fall is a way to create a friendly, laid-back vibe. And that's how I want my guests to feel when they come to my home, completely comfortable and at ease. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-6xtCjm_LV0fd8xcTm82_McENSyEzMl8laJDk5siPTa3qk-tkVOGI0GHL_A1zHM0PTVHXWQkSaLrMIFRPYDZFBSjub7CWEn7KI8vYm2BovG0t0BcL3Dkp7TzhFH_z6UMp-APdHLxgKER/s2048/IMG_5215+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-6xtCjm_LV0fd8xcTm82_McENSyEzMl8laJDk5siPTa3qk-tkVOGI0GHL_A1zHM0PTVHXWQkSaLrMIFRPYDZFBSjub7CWEn7KI8vYm2BovG0t0BcL3Dkp7TzhFH_z6UMp-APdHLxgKER/s320/IMG_5215+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">fireplace in-progress</span></div></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">My decision to set my table outside was also inspired by our new outdoor fireplace that my Dad helped us build on his last visit. And I promise to do an entire blog post on this fireplace, but today you'll get to see it (mostly )in the background.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAkfj91bZApMF3ZF7tGilHnwKz7HwHaNELl5T2pBFSns-aG5ufaAlgpSGevZdXLKG8zlb7GKOfzKcDalJLPwUYylK56FFebDb-c-_s9SRRDkSvHjLsBK7u_DYxZJXN2zg1qjwy3U2odFDy/s2048/DSC_1135.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1361" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAkfj91bZApMF3ZF7tGilHnwKz7HwHaNELl5T2pBFSns-aG5ufaAlgpSGevZdXLKG8zlb7GKOfzKcDalJLPwUYylK56FFebDb-c-_s9SRRDkSvHjLsBK7u_DYxZJXN2zg1qjwy3U2odFDy/w640-h426/DSC_1135.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Creating a fall table: 4 simple ideas</b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>1. Find your inspiration</b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This is the first thing that I did when I got an email from Cindy inviting me to put together a fall table for this project. Before I rushed out and selected any flowers. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Before I pulled out any dishes or stemware---before I did anything.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I had to get my creative juices flowing and that comes from being inspired.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn0-NOCTxGAsKmoNvEbgXDkywfs765iK-fh1_X00eJ5E6TO_57Qm2M1n2n46d4ux5dzheANjL2XtIPu1iGZTWcy8huB0TgX-Ldur50pidEonuMY5qMK__sbGd-elO_Cujti-zNRAHNaFsJ/s2048/orangepink3+%25282%2529use.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="2048" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn0-NOCTxGAsKmoNvEbgXDkywfs765iK-fh1_X00eJ5E6TO_57Qm2M1n2n46d4ux5dzheANjL2XtIPu1iGZTWcy8huB0TgX-Ldur50pidEonuMY5qMK__sbGd-elO_Cujti-zNRAHNaFsJ/w640-h424/orangepink3+%25282%2529use.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><div><span style="font-size: large;">When it comes to finding your inspiration for your table--it can be a smallest thing. A set of napkins you found on sale. A piece of fruit. A collection of leaves you gathered on a walk. Or in my case, my location.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBk5sGcmx1Ek9iD8iZmxXrWvS6qvSCBAcu81fRz_ExwBfqK0cwzDZ2PHtsReSAtYCz3SGkXMHhbdAWdHHNzdy97TiJjTLhNVCuMHXZLZgcVnp_X02MwJxWbZPtcje2_RjQ_iJTE2DWaNU/s2048/fireplacefall.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1520" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBk5sGcmx1Ek9iD8iZmxXrWvS6qvSCBAcu81fRz_ExwBfqK0cwzDZ2PHtsReSAtYCz3SGkXMHhbdAWdHHNzdy97TiJjTLhNVCuMHXZLZgcVnp_X02MwJxWbZPtcje2_RjQ_iJTE2DWaNU/w476-h640/fireplacefall.JPG" width="476" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Since my backyard is filled with hot pink bougainvillea and since I already had a burnt-orange linen runner, I decided to go bold with high contrast colors of orange and pink for the color scheme. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQewA2sm2HLbfAEQroupBTQdtsWsSfE-huBjGn0ESWuB_F_HM1PLWImeXvjrd5K8bOiuGEj_oi8M48wvrLP51DxDWeAJ-ylF_1EXKllqjF3HIjO07YjsZFFbHZ4Ds_tIES1GBbFXnSvlNN/s2048/colorsoftable+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1466" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQewA2sm2HLbfAEQroupBTQdtsWsSfE-huBjGn0ESWuB_F_HM1PLWImeXvjrd5K8bOiuGEj_oi8M48wvrLP51DxDWeAJ-ylF_1EXKllqjF3HIjO07YjsZFFbHZ4Ds_tIES1GBbFXnSvlNN/w458-h640/colorsoftable+%25281%2529.jpg" width="458" /></a></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Nothing muted or sedate about these colors.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigscv_AWwSQiJxHlhBO5eUOeClGM0wrqXRz6IkpYRefu4LpjnlM-Ls21C9NoAlHzc87cK9fhSJkGk7BRNsTdDrwkGiPX6npG2r45_cmehGOIPny-LQ9ht1bkn6l1vLX5qS6m3-xIM5aoed/s2048/allum+%25281%2529.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigscv_AWwSQiJxHlhBO5eUOeClGM0wrqXRz6IkpYRefu4LpjnlM-Ls21C9NoAlHzc87cK9fhSJkGk7BRNsTdDrwkGiPX6npG2r45_cmehGOIPny-LQ9ht1bkn6l1vLX5qS6m3-xIM5aoed/w424-h640/allum+%25281%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Starting with an inspiration piece will provide your color scheme and from there----you can set a casual or elegant tone by the pieces--dishware and accessories-- you choose for your table.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>2. Use what you have.</b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZQV62jZG1DOM6MBKogu42neef1pCg8dEkuzuAXWSCxCTyd3c7dZRPqHI1_3yo1wRuTEjivzoOAt6c-1DFlBFJplD4Ayv-mx5xUKpRx-4cW5XLYtp42AqbMHFpSi6_Tq2dWtw4PiF8fg1/s2048/DSC_1058.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZQV62jZG1DOM6MBKogu42neef1pCg8dEkuzuAXWSCxCTyd3c7dZRPqHI1_3yo1wRuTEjivzoOAt6c-1DFlBFJplD4Ayv-mx5xUKpRx-4cW5XLYtp42AqbMHFpSi6_Tq2dWtw4PiF8fg1/w424-h640/DSC_1058.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This is for all of you who don't have seasonal dinnerware or expensive stemware. It's great if you're a collector and you have classic china patterns etched with berries or autumn colored stoneware. But it's ok if you don't. When setting a fall table there's so much charm that comes with the simple beauty of plain white dinner plates and then accessorizing with nature.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC8TAb7oqafSil2s0iLceitW4OatifA9G6sukdM8VvkD822LCX55AtYHG4grUQR4pdCJkHUpnCUSk09C2DeUYLZZ3LAe_dweHuAnWy5fJTceIC8OHT9VLs4pQrPyHSore43DZBi2LO1rSn/s2048/usesideview.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1477" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC8TAb7oqafSil2s0iLceitW4OatifA9G6sukdM8VvkD822LCX55AtYHG4grUQR4pdCJkHUpnCUSk09C2DeUYLZZ3LAe_dweHuAnWy5fJTceIC8OHT9VLs4pQrPyHSore43DZBi2LO1rSn/w462-h640/usesideview.jpg" width="462" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span>I clipped olive leaves from my tree for the center of my table and added a few bittersweet branches with berries that I tucked around the flowers. </span><span>I also happen to be someone who washes and saves my lemon curd jars (so yummy with Greek yogurt) that are perfect for votive candles and flowers, and help add layers to your table.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYsCJEV81zY2dadnBHz7maEZtQCttoHdk8W-H91L88vV6ORP_dvkRR4gV9XraxGguWnN40i987q3090hiSdl8BcF5hQlhDL_Ogx7DvstxMwmypHNVmOa4ztiMwcB5DLFA-iGIG-2YB_5do/s2048/DSC_0138maybe.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="2048" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYsCJEV81zY2dadnBHz7maEZtQCttoHdk8W-H91L88vV6ORP_dvkRR4gV9XraxGguWnN40i987q3090hiSdl8BcF5hQlhDL_Ogx7DvstxMwmypHNVmOa4ztiMwcB5DLFA-iGIG-2YB_5do/w640-h424/DSC_0138maybe.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfrQh9UQ_iOGjowKeXsld4ypGoFgM9Sg1nCExPla2BX-M0WxDZi9mL2HO4phFXcPcysaj740WsfCmR5KgYV9cn4Grhu8HR22TtHjEF_CBRBDxB4yeTFRQoFMHJYcbbN18Ahelxsy1Nknd1/s2048/DSC_1089.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfrQh9UQ_iOGjowKeXsld4ypGoFgM9Sg1nCExPla2BX-M0WxDZi9mL2HO4phFXcPcysaj740WsfCmR5KgYV9cn4Grhu8HR22TtHjEF_CBRBDxB4yeTFRQoFMHJYcbbN18Ahelxsy1Nknd1/w424-h640/DSC_1089.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">For this table instead of taper candles which tend to obstruct the view in real life, I tied jute string around pillar candles.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>3. Shop the vegetable section of your grocery </b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbT-QRQOlQdrjGtn_uv8Ns4L6rUbF-Kn78A81oCgfEX4g7mACsMHmmsGIaiop27KJW9Gei6VaQ_wNG3mfJNBS7mpNxUE8egDaOFtxHbcgdntK2QXDuC0nytoj2vzCyx_dOAitQCz5n_5ne/s2048/DSC_1057+%25281%2529.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbT-QRQOlQdrjGtn_uv8Ns4L6rUbF-Kn78A81oCgfEX4g7mACsMHmmsGIaiop27KJW9Gei6VaQ_wNG3mfJNBS7mpNxUE8egDaOFtxHbcgdntK2QXDuC0nytoj2vzCyx_dOAitQCz5n_5ne/w424-h640/DSC_1057+%25281%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Golden-hued pears. Shiny red pomegranates. Garnet-colored figs or pink pumpkins. Whether you use them in your centerpiece or in lieu of a place card or just for colored texture between your votive candles, don't forget the rich colors that can inspire you from the produce section of your local market.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTw-PHoFbUqreI81KBxVysT3V8-qkxVwqWGoG-uknTabry8EGjlpKIcavwhnU6LO9RnNtEtUGl5iGOszt_GkGlcm3Bmk2ikmJNmaq6h6cJUqFnKlK_NPiRAsvIi8ttkHiqMKCdsWuj5ky/s2048/DSC_1111+%25281%2529.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1802" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTw-PHoFbUqreI81KBxVysT3V8-qkxVwqWGoG-uknTabry8EGjlpKIcavwhnU6LO9RnNtEtUGl5iGOszt_GkGlcm3Bmk2ikmJNmaq6h6cJUqFnKlK_NPiRAsvIi8ttkHiqMKCdsWuj5ky/w564-h640/DSC_1111+%25281%2529.jpg" width="564" /></a></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>4. Simple is good</b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> I've been purging a lot of stuff lately and that includes all my colored stemware. These blue stem wine glasses are my only colored glassware now and to be honest, I tend to prefer stem-less wine glasses anyway. I just like the ease of them. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I mostly use white dinner plates when entertaining too. I do have Christmas and Thanksgiving dishes packed away but as you can imagine, holidays are hard to think about now. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipzzud0ieS59NQSKTVRn0DK_FG-9t2IaeS8AbYgk7VpEVuj-gH67Se1lvOdZM1vv0pJmNVRTO-Gugebe4Dsn1f4ksTlt81M3bOrX1Ro2VJRM05ZQuWry49lOx4M3pPAR-k35cRAzz89eI0/s2048/colorsunset1+%25281%2529.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipzzud0ieS59NQSKTVRn0DK_FG-9t2IaeS8AbYgk7VpEVuj-gH67Se1lvOdZM1vv0pJmNVRTO-Gugebe4Dsn1f4ksTlt81M3bOrX1Ro2VJRM05ZQuWry49lOx4M3pPAR-k35cRAzz89eI0/w424-h640/colorsunset1+%25281%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRJS5bYfaK_TJeohgTOAq51ZDcwewrzIGA8293UTQz82glzMvXo8L8lEQirEFXjJXg9APQfnIIqJ9TbafKcL97mZWGHPDAT20tcWrWpbZVS1iWNKkc1Ze1MLqVo9SGhbLUa_5fUeFnSw5/s2048/water+%25281%2529+%25281%2529.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRJS5bYfaK_TJeohgTOAq51ZDcwewrzIGA8293UTQz82glzMvXo8L8lEQirEFXjJXg9APQfnIIqJ9TbafKcL97mZWGHPDAT20tcWrWpbZVS1iWNKkc1Ze1MLqVo9SGhbLUa_5fUeFnSw5/w424-h640/water+%25281%2529+%25281%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">For this table I used my navy blue salad plates along with these blue stem glasses to balance all the warm colors. I always prefer to use crystal goblets for water with slices of fruit. I think I got the plates at HomeGoods. The gold matte silverware is from Target and I love how the matte finish looks on the table. Stuff I had already.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8S8efrJZbKdagHJ9RCWs5nf0ABAIPaKfTi40d7B2jE-gxzt0q6oNxSch3MbByxxZTrKn_JrU8GjLTdgAjM3MD8YhLqVottwmbh4A9RCgAfNB2lHBd4s3Vl9tNpuMM5AyyhvYo6_UcZEE/s2048/DSC_1100.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1606" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8S8efrJZbKdagHJ9RCWs5nf0ABAIPaKfTi40d7B2jE-gxzt0q6oNxSch3MbByxxZTrKn_JrU8GjLTdgAjM3MD8YhLqVottwmbh4A9RCgAfNB2lHBd4s3Vl9tNpuMM5AyyhvYo6_UcZEE/w502-h640/DSC_1100.jpg" width="502" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Because I recently got rid of my old outdoor chairs, I'm using my leather dining room chairs outside. I also brought out this bench from the hallway and topped it with </span><span>a miniature faux animal rug.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYn2Q7jlEHMwCMTeH_ezRsIRv2nmlIrLJY6igchCxI3s7NwynBw6vaKmjH6dJxfJT5wU16OkmPacjeZAlbj7Pk5NM6gJiad0JcD-wm1WlZryIRgx7frWddmVdTIPyA4fhOM-fj8BNJdhtK/s2048/DSC_1130.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYn2Q7jlEHMwCMTeH_ezRsIRv2nmlIrLJY6igchCxI3s7NwynBw6vaKmjH6dJxfJT5wU16OkmPacjeZAlbj7Pk5NM6gJiad0JcD-wm1WlZryIRgx7frWddmVdTIPyA4fhOM-fj8BNJdhtK/w424-h640/DSC_1130.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbiyCyfebS4mURn-G5roaITZjZtCrdhXSpqWX9xJAkZNHdzSZxwspq-8VtGzh7FEN_HYEvEr5TZu64Hou3XAjx03WkLTmnPadG22oeWE2zO6cV-ju5smm1_humQcCzvH6F8x2RF9UcVJ4/s2048/DSC_0108usevines.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1966" data-original-width="2048" height="614" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbiyCyfebS4mURn-G5roaITZjZtCrdhXSpqWX9xJAkZNHdzSZxwspq-8VtGzh7FEN_HYEvEr5TZu64Hou3XAjx03WkLTmnPadG22oeWE2zO6cV-ju5smm1_humQcCzvH6F8x2RF9UcVJ4/w640-h614/DSC_0108usevines.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNWyK_zi0GEsIB1qkK7NKyJTKmLArWG6ziBXKDo5KZJYAmMSJ4EzzUarP_qWifUwDViTA3LNNFHqoaRL7C_3gxcii74IkHEvhIAfkcF_uBURfcp5OBrZxtMT09akq2lMTwEiCaGthXiwyA/s2048/greatfallshot+%25281%2529.jpg" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1390" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNWyK_zi0GEsIB1qkK7NKyJTKmLArWG6ziBXKDo5KZJYAmMSJ4EzzUarP_qWifUwDViTA3LNNFHqoaRL7C_3gxcii74IkHEvhIAfkcF_uBURfcp5OBrZxtMT09akq2lMTwEiCaGthXiwyA/w434-h640/greatfallshot+%25281%2529.jpg" width="434" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Well friends, I sure hope I gave you a few ideas you can use. And now you have to check out the gorgeous tablescapes from my talented friends. I know I'm excited to see what they've been up to.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ut-lBd9K6MkKsTsyJg54Gogg_nV2PmrCuHzQf7RtjxGrB9_U65AiPpGoNXaAOu6kgAkW2JMuISzPqIb7D6jlQ6YDAzAQyjskQzBFpqJebItP_9_t6-tkOn7Kl6hyPM2NE6rj1tL4eWqa/s1500/seven+festive+fall+tablescapes+you+can+copy_edited.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ut-lBd9K6MkKsTsyJg54Gogg_nV2PmrCuHzQf7RtjxGrB9_U65AiPpGoNXaAOu6kgAkW2JMuISzPqIb7D6jlQ6YDAzAQyjskQzBFpqJebItP_9_t6-tkOn7Kl6hyPM2NE6rj1tL4eWqa/w266-h400/seven+festive+fall+tablescapes+you+can+copy_edited.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #196ad4; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://cindyhattersleydesign.com/how-to-create-a-collected-fall-tablescape/" rel="nofollow" style="color: #196ad4;" target="_blank">Cindy Hattersley Design</a></span></div></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #196ad4; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://classiccasualhome.com/wine-country-inspired-harvest-table/" rel="nofollow" style="color: #196ad4;" target="_blank">Classic Casual Home</a></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #338fe9; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://mostlovelythings.com/shallot-jam-recipe/" rel="nofollow" style="color: #338fe9;" target="_blank">Most Lovely Things</a></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #196ad4; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.housepitalitydesigns.com/2020/10/08/woodland-fall-tablescape/#more-14512" rel="nofollow" style="color: #196ad4;" target="_blank">Housepitality Designs</a></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #196ad4; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.mysoulfulhome.com/my-soulful-home/fabulous-fall-table-inspiration" rel="nofollow" style="color: #196ad4;" target="_blank">My Soulful Home</a></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://northerncalstyle.com/2020/10/fall-tablescape-inspiration.html" rel="nofollow" style="color: #196ad4;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;">Northern California Style</span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thank you so much for stopping by,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">xoxo</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-10731973761697066982020-09-21T16:31:00.001-07:002020-09-21T19:05:26.218-07:00Random home photos and the question that heals<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx6cDTuE8XC2BtRd3pm4IKzn-uJuoHx6qc6OsKP9JzFL2yRLSJPMjnrDq0JzeADs3xLmJLClae-KipLm7kayM3-JcF0HbtqtBxZg6KuKnzfBHB-dSQa2Z3jekQjTQ1fwPbqPxPp5VO1Kn4/s2048/potflowers+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx6cDTuE8XC2BtRd3pm4IKzn-uJuoHx6qc6OsKP9JzFL2yRLSJPMjnrDq0JzeADs3xLmJLClae-KipLm7kayM3-JcF0HbtqtBxZg6KuKnzfBHB-dSQa2Z3jekQjTQ1fwPbqPxPp5VO1Kn4/w424-h640/potflowers+%25281%2529.jpg" width="424" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">The other day I got a chance to hear a beautiful conversation.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was in a group being led by a yoga teacher- therapist named Wendy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">And a woman who had lost her husband of 43 years was talking about how she didn't know how to live without him. I've known him for almost my whole life, she said, and I don't know who I am now. I feel so lost without him. I keep wanting him next to me. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why? Why can't I let go, I know he's gone... but I just can't accept it. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Listening to this woman from behind my Zoom screen was strangely more powerful than seeing her face. Who was this tiny voice out in the world, opening up and sharing her most tender feelings? I could feel the rawness of her words and my heart instantly softened.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">The yoga therapist was so gentle and kind--she had lost her own baby boy years ago--and at the right moment in this conversation, she reassured this grief-stricken woman that everything she said was so normal. This is simply our humanness, she reminded her, reacting to our heartbreaking loss. Of course we want them back--of course we want their physical bodies right next to us again. Of course your heartache feels unbearable at times.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">She talked about the "dance" we all do when we're struggling to get out of a dark time in our lives. It's always three steps forward and a couple steps back. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">And I don't know why. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe because I had just limped past the heaviness of Patrick's September 15th angel-versary date, but I found this dance of healing to be a beautiful analogy. And so true. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">(Today, where are you? If you're a few steps back don't be discouraged. I'll wait for you)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then Wendy offered the sort of words that were tinged with her own familiarity with suffering and healing. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">She said, "I know it's hard. I can feel the enormity of your hurt when I lean into your loss."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><h4 style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">".....when <i>I lean into </i>your loss."</span></h4><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMz9zAQB08PR-bdVKBJaIw4-Wk6nE-lscVHyNYohHpZml7zl0ywp6IoPl8BTNfzw_0H4A71JG6U8TOD5MvLswSFCumY6AG77yrs93NULRBEqiMOS3F5uwLG4a3ioA1k7ksYJxLZ3htCu47/s2048/potofflowerspmuse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMz9zAQB08PR-bdVKBJaIw4-Wk6nE-lscVHyNYohHpZml7zl0ywp6IoPl8BTNfzw_0H4A71JG6U8TOD5MvLswSFCumY6AG77yrs93NULRBEqiMOS3F5uwLG4a3ioA1k7ksYJxLZ3htCu47/w424-h640/potofflowerspmuse.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Can we all just stop and think about that comment for a second?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">My first thought was, how brave. Wendy wasn't simply listening to this woman's grief like some interested observer, but she was willing to open her heart up to the intensity of this woman's emotions. And even allow herself to <i>feel the impact </i>of this woman's sorrow.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">As a former therapist I know this can be tricky, especially for women who are sensitive care-taker types. This example happened to be in a class on grief with a trained teacher, but what happens in real life when someone is emotionally distraught, how do you react?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe the idea of leaning-in toward somebody's intense grief is totally uncomfortable. That's ok too. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUgZvLp_AxcTHNBtW4WvM9w-Qg-BKjGA1cKjO00tHZ-pqvTM4wR5_ebMXCSj-YrnF6UJEVLREUvvX0OLdUlHk98E-_SJW5C4mHRYqocb7AK42V-Zp5E3AormqKANCkwpHvPqTW7XMfEBz/s2048/DSC_0955+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUgZvLp_AxcTHNBtW4WvM9w-Qg-BKjGA1cKjO00tHZ-pqvTM4wR5_ebMXCSj-YrnF6UJEVLREUvvX0OLdUlHk98E-_SJW5C4mHRYqocb7AK42V-Zp5E3AormqKANCkwpHvPqTW7XMfEBz/w424-h640/DSC_0955+%25282%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">On thing I did find interesting. After each person had a chance to speak from her heart and have Wendy respond, she then lead the group (who only listens) in what she calls a "falling-out" breath. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I hadn't heard of this before.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This <b>falling out breath</b> is simply a deep inhale and long exhale that's intended to be a physical release of the other person's emotional energy. So our bodies aren't unconsciously taking on all that emotion. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">And it's also a way that Wendy is teaching healthy boundaries, showing you that in the face of intense feelings you can listen and be fully present and compassionate without walking away feeling the other person's turbulent feelings inside your "tense" shoulders.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe you might try this after an intense conversation.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjygxWNhU8rNs0qErB0Bc4fMndPE7d6zJqH4tuvflMhh0c8SEoNk49dF0MH6qLv4xtUcVOXqxcJSFz_pVKu19GiIa-nFDMx7ZPkO9b_QtBSUNmjLxVsReltmdOHvYbhDk5hqz8NmNbpUFV/s2048/DSC_0965+%25281%2529+%25282%2529pm.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1438" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjygxWNhU8rNs0qErB0Bc4fMndPE7d6zJqH4tuvflMhh0c8SEoNk49dF0MH6qLv4xtUcVOXqxcJSFz_pVKu19GiIa-nFDMx7ZPkO9b_QtBSUNmjLxVsReltmdOHvYbhDk5hqz8NmNbpUFV/w450-h640/DSC_0965+%25281%2529+%25282%2529pm.jpg" width="450" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">By the way, I used to love the month of September. </span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-size: large;">Everything about it. The changing colors of the leaves, the scent of wetness in the cool mornings, the giddy energy that came with a new school year. And of course, to me September was the official beginning of all the holidays and traditions that I so adored.</span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">How bizarre that September 15th should be the day.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Although I've stopped asking "Why?"<br /></span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Or worse yet, "Why me?"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Because--believe me dear friends--these are the questions that will keep you chained inside a pit of grief. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWEEZY__Y2yWxAw0hVKHzW2z_P_2lykNK5f0FjWHvDjE0LWBtD8r9VAg31VO9ACeFAyA7OLQqcHZbzZ6l3cesb6LVk6H3sttEXn66vsdalfDhS3IEGYGsrPRhTBCKO1_AqAaX7G-aKBMj2/s2048/DSC_0980+%25281%2529+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1356" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWEEZY__Y2yWxAw0hVKHzW2z_P_2lykNK5f0FjWHvDjE0LWBtD8r9VAg31VO9ACeFAyA7OLQqcHZbzZ6l3cesb6LVk6H3sttEXn66vsdalfDhS3IEGYGsrPRhTBCKO1_AqAaX7G-aKBMj2/w424-h640/DSC_0980+%25281%2529+%25281%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">These days I've discovered the One Question that invites awareness and healing is, What am I supposed to be learning from <i>this?</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioi4SlJ9uOaTDTgzXZWDNRyFmb0nLQRy-80cZ6V4qG4l3aXbGthchmXLKXET8HDcJHCX992BFn2TICZtiXUArxud-Bp_79brwEtzEK36xWVid7G20GYnwR_ZhbYUXmA5aI9dRhj89tGg5d/s2048/vignettelady+%25281%2529pm.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1748" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioi4SlJ9uOaTDTgzXZWDNRyFmb0nLQRy-80cZ6V4qG4l3aXbGthchmXLKXET8HDcJHCX992BFn2TICZtiXUArxud-Bp_79brwEtzEK36xWVid7G20GYnwR_ZhbYUXmA5aI9dRhj89tGg5d/w546-h640/vignettelady+%25281%2529pm.jpg" width="546" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7TsTDd5V84Y0FP9jSHY4xgyIWhhe6soYkFwq7QoaZipXXi0naqVHaqr2imZcH68H2qdzyBO6l_Zoq_Op2G7qlhoTl-UMUEZ-DynxbL_IDasAei2YeanRl9Oxbqgcr80QbC_zuuFBLCao/w424-h640/entryflowers.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUeJRuTTIHqeLuls5-A4TLltaZ3zpOQgk0qdooHvUnYz3EtpUoZMz-roJH79V4-zQKitLBC48lkmhHiYI6nKUXUB4lsmPQRSpBeslgp-iwqRQ7Oa7FMojm-XL4nfBY5KSKoZ7DqWo5M6dQ/s2048/DSC_0848use.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1379" data-original-width="2048" height="431" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUeJRuTTIHqeLuls5-A4TLltaZ3zpOQgk0qdooHvUnYz3EtpUoZMz-roJH79V4-zQKitLBC48lkmhHiYI6nKUXUB4lsmPQRSpBeslgp-iwqRQ7Oa7FMojm-XL4nfBY5KSKoZ7DqWo5M6dQ/w640-h431/DSC_0848use.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9Xu82dIMuSs3Q4H0Yc5vikDDcP0Q53BCCf5SwAU_T2dWhF3nqpr8JaNXzMfEVKjyu5U4yanPiP-FfSNIB5EV_XRuzTo5sQdwTFyKB2MFBd_GbUfWOspEcE4k4GP1w7_LDMP12x24TZ1W/s2048/usehats.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9Xu82dIMuSs3Q4H0Yc5vikDDcP0Q53BCCf5SwAU_T2dWhF3nqpr8JaNXzMfEVKjyu5U4yanPiP-FfSNIB5EV_XRuzTo5sQdwTFyKB2MFBd_GbUfWOspEcE4k4GP1w7_LDMP12x24TZ1W/w424-h640/usehats.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2eK_XThCJK2jjq4htl0v573V8nW-JSc51QSjBfVhPH33gev4z1fg90U55rZ_zx-ooDeJaexJA9J47x3Y0Gczf6kRerZvIwQyMdo3pL6hggfnuVcnDMifbYQro2KOsvGx4gr-z3ISe2IvO/s2048/fall+door+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2eK_XThCJK2jjq4htl0v573V8nW-JSc51QSjBfVhPH33gev4z1fg90U55rZ_zx-ooDeJaexJA9J47x3Y0Gczf6kRerZvIwQyMdo3pL6hggfnuVcnDMifbYQro2KOsvGx4gr-z3ISe2IvO/w424-h640/fall+door+%25281%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div></div></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiszAg6YGpAZP66q0aiDdvPw8d0sxlYd_L7UXGaiQx9Mw7qnmKVgnO5eyuvl3BNRr2FuhqkpEXFZlbOGbW2doqjlxraSpRRVT69tKk27tsQ8vgPEi7HunN4sO0kIpjqpYn2KSqG8s-pABcA/s2048/DSC_0977+%25282%2529copy+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1383" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiszAg6YGpAZP66q0aiDdvPw8d0sxlYd_L7UXGaiQx9Mw7qnmKVgnO5eyuvl3BNRr2FuhqkpEXFZlbOGbW2doqjlxraSpRRVT69tKk27tsQ8vgPEi7HunN4sO0kIpjqpYn2KSqG8s-pABcA/w432-h640/DSC_0977+%25282%2529copy+%25281%2529.jpg" width="432" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">What have you been learning lately?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I would love to hear.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Abundant blessings,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">sharing this post with friends: </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.commonground-do.com/2020/09/all-about-home-58.html">All About Home</a></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.astrollthrulife.net/2020/09/559th-inspire-me-tuesday.html">Inspire Me Tuesday</a></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div></div></div>Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-56778023131193276852020-08-27T12:32:00.004-07:002020-08-28T21:09:55.500-07:00the face you see in the mirror<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQztKLOOplFT5RK2_2BCB1sR_pEPIpLGor5f0IDw7LT7btXxwku_QORIxVLSpymt3SNqv-C_WzPWfp6Kf2RT9XBPJmUQ0l9Ryn8YAJjQKP5XaGjdWnegQkb50k-F6OgelK8UCiTLJBu8q/s2048/ravi-roshan-fKddmPKvv9U-unsplash.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQztKLOOplFT5RK2_2BCB1sR_pEPIpLGor5f0IDw7LT7btXxwku_QORIxVLSpymt3SNqv-C_WzPWfp6Kf2RT9XBPJmUQ0l9Ryn8YAJjQKP5XaGjdWnegQkb50k-F6OgelK8UCiTLJBu8q/w625-h418/ravi-roshan-fKddmPKvv9U-unsplash.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;"><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">In the beginning it felt like I was groping in the dark.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Nights were the worst. I had to take half a blue pill from the over-the-counter-bottle on my nightstand to make sure I was deep in sleep, before the clock crept into the vicinity of Patrick’s car crash. Breaking the blue pill in two was my nightly ritual. It was my protection, in case I happened to wake up anytime near the hour of the accident--- and my mind would become hostage to a relentless cycle of horror-gazing, as I played out the final details of my son’s life, all the while being brutalized by my imagined scenes of the accident.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I consider it the mental version of hell, and depending on my sleepiness, I could be suspended there for hours.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I didn’t get much relief in the mornings either.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">In those months I would wake with the pressing weight of an elephant on my chest, struggling to breathe while those first anguished thoughts of the morning, which were always about Patrick, rolled over me like a Mack truck. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Turns out, when you’re lying in bed staring at the ceiling, and your heart is being pulverized from within, the worst part isn’t even the pain. It’s the realization that there is absolutely no where you can go for relief. Nowhere to escape this new and horrifying reality that cannot be changed.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Did I mumble prayers? Did I drag myself into therapy sessions? Did my survival brain help me with numbness? Yes, yes and yes.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">But this was a free-fall into a no-man’s land that I had never encountered before, because I had never felt so deeply traumatized.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I think that’s why I kept writing, too exhausted to open my laptop, I would simply jot down fragments of thoughts into my iPhone at all hours, day or night. If I felt lost and shivering inside a black forest these harried notes to myself were the tiny bread crumbs I left behind, in the hopes that someday I would find my way out of this unbelievable nightmare.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of course, back then I had never heard of Gabor Mate, the international expert on trauma, who eventually helped me put words to my experience, albeit after the fact.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: large;">Trauma is not what happens to you.</span></li><li><span style="font-size: large;">Trauma is what happens <i>inside you </i>as a result of what happens to you. </span></li><li><span style="font-size: large;">Trauma results in a disconnection of the Self.</span></li></ul></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">It’s only now can I look back at those post-traumatic months and recognize the ways that this disconnect with my physical body showed up in my life. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">One evening Jim, Michael and I met an old family friend, with his wife and daughters at a loud, crowded pizza joint, and I remember how excited the wife was about the results of her recent plastic surgery. We sat together and talked. And although I had never noticed them before, I complimented her new eyelids.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I smiled and sipped my diet coke and I told her how great she looked because she did. Trim waist, a boob job from years ago, that still looked natural. Cute outfit. She was as sweet as ever but suddenly I remembered I had no mascara on (I’d stopped wearing it because of my crying) and oh yeah, I honestly could give a shit about what I was wearing. As the evening wore on—amid the laughter and conversation at the table, I began to feel miles away from this kind, pretty wife, who seemed to be living a life I used to have.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I felt sure she noticed this new hollowed-out version of me and later that night in the parking lot saying our goodbyes, I remember it distinctly. <i>That</i> moment I first began to suspect that I was becoming unrecognizable to others. Yes, I mean physically and I know that sounds weird, but now I understand ---it emerged out of this strange disconnect I was feeling with my body. I guess I thought if I didn’t recognize myself, why would anyone else?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Soon after this evening--and only several months after we lost Patrick--I somehow mustered enough energy to make an appointment with a cosmetic dermatologist in Newport Beach. Nagged by the dryness around my eyes and my apathy about my disappearing looks— (shouldn’t I care that people won’t recognize me? Answer: not really)-- I had hopes that this physician would miraculously restore me back to normal. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">While I sat in the waiting room flipping through the pages of beautifully, photoshopped women inside the Vogue magazines, strewn over a glass coffee table, I searched for the dates of each edition. Before September 2018 meant Patrick was still here. And I could close my eyes and pretend I was back in time. After September 2018 signaled tragedy. A shocking turn of events I still couldn’t believe.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Inside the exam room I was pleasantly surprised to meet a fresh-faced dermatologist with little make-up, except for lipstick. When she asked me why I was there, I didn’t see how I could avoid telling her about Patrick, but I dreaded it. In those days my tears would spill out uncontrollably. This was my new normal. One minute I’d be talking mid-sentence—and then crying, then I’d stop, and continue talking.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was always amazed that the person I was talking to at the time, rarely showed a reaction.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I told her my story, I watched her move across the room and grab a box of Kleenex, keeping a few for her own tears before handing me the box.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Next, she held the biggest magnifying mirror I had ever seen up to my face and said, </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Tell me what you see.”</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Boom, just like that, it was the mirror and me under the brash lights.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">And wow. I didn’t expect to feel so exposed. I lifted my eyes to the mirror in slow motion, afraid that all I would see was my broken heart and this made me feel like crying again. My god, I was so fragile.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">She moved the mirror closer to my face, her dark eyes watching me, but once I looked at my reflection it got easier. Focus on the enemy. The puffy lids. The dry patches around my eyes. Oh. What about my lines? Once I got started, I kept going until I finished with a vague accusation of, “I just look so old.” </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">She responded instantly.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No, that’s not what I see. All I see is the natural result of daily tears.” </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">She went on to explain about tear ducts, and composition of tears and the effects on skin but I was only half listening. I was waiting for my miracle cream.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Ok. Now show me where you look so old. What wrinkles are you talking about?” She was waiting.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Whoa. I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. And this second look into the mirror was much harder. All I saw when I looked at my face was skin, brittle from shock and sorrow— in full display. My eyes were deep pools of grief. Whatever beauty I might have had once, was gone. And at that moment I truly believed that I would never look the same again. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">She watched me point to different parts of my face and then she put the mirror down and shook her head. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You don’t even need fillers,” she said, while she opened a white cabinet and began scouring through samples of creams in the drawer. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You just need to heal.” </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">She handed me a prescription for a cream I never used, gave me a hug and walked out of the room.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><span style="font-size: large;">Well. That was seventeen months ago. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">And sometimes you have to look back—to see how far you’ve come. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve learned a lot about healing since that afternoon appointment in Newport Beach. But when I think about that experience, what stands out to me, was how<i> powerful </i>it felt to look into the mirror in the presence of an observer--and have my reality challenged.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">That image of us we see in the mirror? It's <u>always</u> going to be affected by the emotions and thoughts streaming through us at that moment.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">But this is what I know. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">We are all beautiful souls living our lives inside these human bodies. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Aspire to remember this truth when you go looking for yourself inside a one-dimensional mirror.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Surround yourself with people—like this female physician-- who insist on seeing the beautiful and eternal You that’s always there beneath the surface—even during those painful times when you can’t see her.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">It will feel like love.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">xo</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Leslie</span></div><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-25802546489447629952020-07-10T12:25:00.001-07:002020-08-27T13:15:46.239-07:00my guest bathroom reveal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hello there friends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I wish I could hear your voice through this screen because I really would like to know how you're doing. It's been a while since I've been here and to tell you the truth, even though today's post is about my guest bathroom, the real renovation has been taking place inside me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But that's a whole other post.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the meantime it occurred to me that </span><span style="font-size: large;">the last update you got on my guest bathroom was when the plumber accidentally cracked my tub -the second tub to get damaged on this project. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know, after <i>all that delay and work</i> and I forget the REVEAL part. What kind of DIY-blogger does that, right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So today I thought I'd get my act together and show you some photos. I'll start with THE inspiration piece that motivated this entire bathroom renovation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Here it is:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmBU9KumMbLxB5psCdfOBRyQg0AhyTzzJjSFJF48SVPB2ffxmDjnvSDqH68g9Z21bV582IZ1CkWl4i5IKIF8beR0FSzADnc0ItbXTEKhSQhdnUp7lNOkbHoM2a0YIeKGEpCB8vFi-WHpG/s1600/cabinet2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmBU9KumMbLxB5psCdfOBRyQg0AhyTzzJjSFJF48SVPB2ffxmDjnvSDqH68g9Z21bV582IZ1CkWl4i5IKIF8beR0FSzADnc0ItbXTEKhSQhdnUp7lNOkbHoM2a0YIeKGEpCB8vFi-WHpG/s320/cabinet2.jpg" width="240" /></a></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hm13RfvSfaD389CJi_FMrd3yKPU88Jc4Yrw3HL_Jyreqcn2ktU4JVkCAe-Mv7lsE3hdIcmOIB-sGTCVPVCfNJ2QYp165WJrMfNWgg1CEJ1-oolufuYETe9eQTsS0FyJ-QNMlMZModBY-/s1600/cabinet1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hm13RfvSfaD389CJi_FMrd3yKPU88Jc4Yrw3HL_Jyreqcn2ktU4JVkCAe-Mv7lsE3hdIcmOIB-sGTCVPVCfNJ2QYp165WJrMfNWgg1CEJ1-oolufuYETe9eQTsS0FyJ-QNMlMZModBY-/s320/cabinet1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I found this corner cabinet (seen in two pieces here) in an antique store, buried under piles of Indian blankets and dusty magazines. I had no idea if it would fit into my bathroom corner but I lugged it home and spent hours sanding down the black mahogany stain.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCBy0hSL-k5Mbh-lA8hCO8DXxRJp-7SKXdZzbFucG_xqlBTpRAGI3_CJn0ICpUBSwXTxJZMbHviZ16LPMvCD5YMH9HEvpmrkY9GMZK2ZFS00ORLgOyru2eLAWAvxl6FM7rGdgIpjnTVfNZ/s1600/meuse.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1193" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCBy0hSL-k5Mbh-lA8hCO8DXxRJp-7SKXdZzbFucG_xqlBTpRAGI3_CJn0ICpUBSwXTxJZMbHviZ16LPMvCD5YMH9HEvpmrkY9GMZK2ZFS00ORLgOyru2eLAWAvxl6FM7rGdgIpjnTVfNZ/s400/meuse.JPG" width="297" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here I am, in pre-pandemic days already with a mask and my palm sander. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">(I sure miss those glasses, do you lose your glasses a lot too?)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiez1xYANe-wG3cxE2AuG8JdVzh_SxQ9y0MJgYjFWda3dB4zcr5ZAZA8mfCybylEQerUyObNqDSqJwZltCrOVHpZ1whyphenhyphenUaIyER29-Nqrg1_X5iIm568IeodzHbNsNSsSnEu5A17M_K-NEWI/s1600/cabinet3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiez1xYANe-wG3cxE2AuG8JdVzh_SxQ9y0MJgYjFWda3dB4zcr5ZAZA8mfCybylEQerUyObNqDSqJwZltCrOVHpZ1whyphenhyphenUaIyER29-Nqrg1_X5iIm568IeodzHbNsNSsSnEu5A17M_K-NEWI/s640/cabinet3.jpg" width="480" /></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After hours of sanding the outside AND inside, I discovered a really beautiful wood underneath, and I was so excited. Although I still didn't know if it would fit because the bathroom hadn't been demo'd yet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I just "felt" like it would all work out. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0G6Jf_Zun5aQQCXW-wcU8OPspfo3E5bwKDk5CopIKtkQ9NCurHtBu6XIDxpDod0HFFqbq0YYWUtcc1_194xcMoYfUgaCKGasYx5frir2VLc9DTomvMDbY9sIAS0TwaHeFYfjpIhhvrP2H/s1600/beforepic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0G6Jf_Zun5aQQCXW-wcU8OPspfo3E5bwKDk5CopIKtkQ9NCurHtBu6XIDxpDod0HFFqbq0YYWUtcc1_194xcMoYfUgaCKGasYx5frir2VLc9DTomvMDbY9sIAS0TwaHeFYfjpIhhvrP2H/s640/beforepic.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Here's the BEFORE</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">As you can see there's nothing wrong with this bathroom. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> Just dark and dated. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1OM0je1bGXBsLH0zr36-XXA4srgwbb_44e77Es1EqDi3xIqpzclqMEaIDZbt8Rz4TlVmXcQiO_0hKEVKz3J-dRPWpfQsaMfAborBJ4fLwOoiUffV0uMFGdVUhhYC3MJBkhkew_7xYS4q/s1600/tub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1OM0je1bGXBsLH0zr36-XXA4srgwbb_44e77Es1EqDi3xIqpzclqMEaIDZbt8Rz4TlVmXcQiO_0hKEVKz3J-dRPWpfQsaMfAborBJ4fLwOoiUffV0uMFGdVUhhYC3MJBkhkew_7xYS4q/s640/tub.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I kept the floor plan and original window to stay in budget, but I traded the miniature tub for a deep soaker that would fit into the space. I think this was tub no. 3. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you're interested in that whole story-warning, it's long- you can go <a href="http://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2019/11/the-only-control-you-really-have-and.html">HERE</a>.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEx7wGHPVGj4WXJxmkNkzxxnEwO-yhdvRCqwbJU8vzF2H5BVNvZKrva60aHG37a-RSFRxen4dIuVbETSPoEFp_nWSlwq0quD9_RV6pxC3Mgd56K5P0jpwoNuo7_KqZbwwLzlVFK-38MEzY/s1600/IMG_2965beforefaucet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEx7wGHPVGj4WXJxmkNkzxxnEwO-yhdvRCqwbJU8vzF2H5BVNvZKrva60aHG37a-RSFRxen4dIuVbETSPoEFp_nWSlwq0quD9_RV6pxC3Mgd56K5P0jpwoNuo7_KqZbwwLzlVFK-38MEzY/s640/IMG_2965beforefaucet.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">BEFORE</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIpEzX1Cay5VZNTvEX6-AOMUApt87l86z92swjOdeWR1Bs758erNy5U-R50vMAsmF3SDhK6Y0bbl4hn7XQTFNU1TQ9PifFEba5R9osfgyLq1Xaze5Q9JdleTScLrPr4xVjKEZ0AgTdWiy/s1600/DSC_0834use1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIpEzX1Cay5VZNTvEX6-AOMUApt87l86z92swjOdeWR1Bs758erNy5U-R50vMAsmF3SDhK6Y0bbl4hn7XQTFNU1TQ9PifFEba5R9osfgyLq1Xaze5Q9JdleTScLrPr4xVjKEZ0AgTdWiy/s640/DSC_0834use1.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhwKnUlQZi7_HjPWHEsWf8zZUK_VajHE_VbV42EH_afQAl5uFZ2GSaFmU9ql2FnHhcDSJNSrJoUUaeWAOFS-9Kj_WafyOzwvH-slphy543RblWSZsLHyn1P_CaaOpfh6lXKCcb52KJLeC/s1600/white+tile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1269" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhwKnUlQZi7_HjPWHEsWf8zZUK_VajHE_VbV42EH_afQAl5uFZ2GSaFmU9ql2FnHhcDSJNSrJoUUaeWAOFS-9Kj_WafyOzwvH-slphy543RblWSZsLHyn1P_CaaOpfh6lXKCcb52KJLeC/s640/white+tile.jpg" width="506" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the end I went with the classic white subway tile and marble floors. </span><span style="font-size: large;">And I mixed my metals on my lighting fixtures and faucets--a brushed gold and polished chrome</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5fRb2pCdGw59GPj4TfwaNK3m_m1QA_soz91X-vLEoMrr5n0UnMRx8McotZdRZzUpS41snE8cHAvN4F7mHHjZzpmJBxjjU7er5WRiYi0TmzdyAp5bVmNKEbYVOtCQxU0u0KEqh8Ek853hY/s1600/IMG_4251ceiling.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5fRb2pCdGw59GPj4TfwaNK3m_m1QA_soz91X-vLEoMrr5n0UnMRx8McotZdRZzUpS41snE8cHAvN4F7mHHjZzpmJBxjjU7er5WRiYi0TmzdyAp5bVmNKEbYVOtCQxU0u0KEqh8Ek853hY/s640/IMG_4251ceiling.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The only work I did in here was install the wood ceiling, the baseboards, the trim and paint. I found this rustic-looking wood product for the ceiling from Lowe's-- that was so light and easy to work with. And I loved the warmth it brought to all that white.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA9-n1FLQpbZJqjo-3PloPlltmRxv1AR9D7EJDjXkFYU81T1eDbg4NqDtiVZZQI1kcb7qt_tq4sljmYIk42WUhh6IqntenR5pzLuUNoFkzGa9mMeNzFXxM4TBXhyphenhyphenvJC-aXROTy3wDBXILP/s1600/IMG_3939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA9-n1FLQpbZJqjo-3PloPlltmRxv1AR9D7EJDjXkFYU81T1eDbg4NqDtiVZZQI1kcb7qt_tq4sljmYIk42WUhh6IqntenR5pzLuUNoFkzGa9mMeNzFXxM4TBXhyphenhyphenvJC-aXROTy3wDBXILP/s640/IMG_3939.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">How do you like my cut in the baseboard...?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm getting better with my jigsaw.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoiIc2MFPQV8qd21iRjm2ASkz6qTWxaYx9mTdSENwHVoyop_1S9A0IQ-BF5CtSwNvaSWSY-itqQ2j_GLLq0oja0Kde23nDiNlUoa6d2GDhsi3yfaJuDq3mXnxpMjat_5oQYOxaAhrdzvca/s1600/corner+unit+use.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1193" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoiIc2MFPQV8qd21iRjm2ASkz6qTWxaYx9mTdSENwHVoyop_1S9A0IQ-BF5CtSwNvaSWSY-itqQ2j_GLLq0oja0Kde23nDiNlUoa6d2GDhsi3yfaJuDq3mXnxpMjat_5oQYOxaAhrdzvca/s640/corner+unit+use.JPG" width="476" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When Claudio my electrician came by to mark the spots for my lighting he told me the bad news, the light switch I thought could be moved to make some space for my cabinet could NOT be moved. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So here's the bottom part of the cabinet shoved into corner as far as possible. It was going to be tight but.. I still felt positive. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBG3NR1oFGgsF-egMVdYkT-yoh_PPwLhhpJ0_0_dTRvrgSj79d0bv1V4k0d8mKao2KRcqV9C4Qc2b2MQMnLMiP3NlGVcEaq2vn6qOKsNoafk892eJ682Sj4o50cRuzStdy7y20U6iO23r6/s1600/pedestal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1189" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBG3NR1oFGgsF-egMVdYkT-yoh_PPwLhhpJ0_0_dTRvrgSj79d0bv1V4k0d8mKao2KRcqV9C4Qc2b2MQMnLMiP3NlGVcEaq2vn6qOKsNoafk892eJ682Sj4o50cRuzStdy7y20U6iO23r6/s640/pedestal.jpg" width="474" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once the pedestal sink got installed I was finally able to bring the two cabinet pieces into place. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSROfxan5aJUV1H-imhNQVl8HyfkyLuV4WK9vmV6m41Mx5EIZjBCLlte3yh0rBffTxgAOSuyl3_p4lY5-bzvmBHn1Ytnld812zvNx-tDgVFjOfpKCj4t6mouAzWcbfJCJViGmxS5s1-Kqm/s1600/sink+use.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSROfxan5aJUV1H-imhNQVl8HyfkyLuV4WK9vmV6m41Mx5EIZjBCLlte3yh0rBffTxgAOSuyl3_p4lY5-bzvmBHn1Ytnld812zvNx-tDgVFjOfpKCj4t6mouAzWcbfJCJViGmxS5s1-Kqm/s640/sink+use.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6sqZFcYQkrbFIYRo9EbAH8DqAUvE39WwjAjJiX8B9Ogjz_aTw6k6XUsvhFlFIFTv85vfI2vZDa9rXlpMIh1TocHCkXt24KloZ1pFoU9veWIL4am-QPjeUG7oN4KdpqvQxySYcyzpqIlsE/s1600/DSC_0825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6sqZFcYQkrbFIYRo9EbAH8DqAUvE39WwjAjJiX8B9Ogjz_aTw6k6XUsvhFlFIFTv85vfI2vZDa9rXlpMIh1TocHCkXt24KloZ1pFoU9veWIL4am-QPjeUG7oN4KdpqvQxySYcyzpqIlsE/s640/DSC_0825.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And although it was a tight fit, I was happy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I had another problem.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once the cabinet was under the wood ceiling it took me two seconds to realize the shades of wood clashed terribly. I was so bummed. As much as I loved the wood on the ceiling I knew it needed to be white so my cabinet would stand out.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBXh1sB9FMWid8tpyQ7B_A9XZaKCDwyx0ge__70XpvAeyQR09TdJvv_5iX5EydgigY5YYdTwPFZbJQBtbGsKwJdRx62ISClCa_e_vToPlxPmzv1P1DlorvgtRUk5j9MRU5vPhkWb3LEeW/s1600/ceiling1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBXh1sB9FMWid8tpyQ7B_A9XZaKCDwyx0ge__70XpvAeyQR09TdJvv_5iX5EydgigY5YYdTwPFZbJQBtbGsKwJdRx62ISClCa_e_vToPlxPmzv1P1DlorvgtRUk5j9MRU5vPhkWb3LEeW/s640/ceiling1.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Believe me. After all that time installing this ceiling and <i>loving</i> the look, </span><span style="font-size: large;">that first brush of white paint was SO hard. But I've learned the key to that first nervous coat of paint, is <i>don't </i>hesitate. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just do it. That's my painting motto. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphQ_9QWtZCeKxIAF-o0VkSALakUOvM5iY8v7AVxhl1lxYZ1L4Aeuh9JjcTeuK9N_FIVsN9yjsSXjrN6zUgnfad_Ze8NlXd-H89jmVIexOT9nsrSdR5XUx2W7UODljbYbgdg9BVB7w7_cl/s1600/usebath2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphQ_9QWtZCeKxIAF-o0VkSALakUOvM5iY8v7AVxhl1lxYZ1L4Aeuh9JjcTeuK9N_FIVsN9yjsSXjrN6zUgnfad_Ze8NlXd-H89jmVIexOT9nsrSdR5XUx2W7UODljbYbgdg9BVB7w7_cl/s640/usebath2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Afterwards I knew it was the right decision.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAREhg3TTziDWiy4FflW4KenpdERqZT809HCZln96wJppw1j_YDpxYUYVEBXCObPaRIleeK8mCi3bOdZhdHM3tgAYTWo3PYUF9G2gNG9wBTsB3aJjG-WtaJNyfH9AcOtbWXe8XmKqVXR5/s1600/DSC_0845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAREhg3TTziDWiy4FflW4KenpdERqZT809HCZln96wJppw1j_YDpxYUYVEBXCObPaRIleeK8mCi3bOdZhdHM3tgAYTWo3PYUF9G2gNG9wBTsB3aJjG-WtaJNyfH9AcOtbWXe8XmKqVXR5/s640/DSC_0845.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's hard to see in this shot but I ordered and installed a shower tract into the ceiling, I thought it was a cool touch.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-K1z7aemzhJ7SiiRBt9ZbCmPCX7-FXtOklCJh33SeTtVfZa_0IacDmNaRFtI9G_EEShIrZC_8TaKha6sUmiXSy_afjB__1pW6LBlpdf8OpDJygjk756JkI08UjXA-QiaXduTfVxhodMuJ/s1600/sink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-K1z7aemzhJ7SiiRBt9ZbCmPCX7-FXtOklCJh33SeTtVfZa_0IacDmNaRFtI9G_EEShIrZC_8TaKha6sUmiXSy_afjB__1pW6LBlpdf8OpDJygjk756JkI08UjXA-QiaXduTfVxhodMuJ/s640/sink.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I let Jim pick the mirror out for the fun of it and he picked this "rustic" white one from <a href="https://www.houzz.com/">Houzz,</a> which is actually not wood at all. But I like it. There are those rare moments when I do want his opinion, wink. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR1vskUbwXhKpFYdCdBVLgFvL6vU2Dge45vaMaW6vS9SY4Mrc84yJYePcqw5sZVCfb9WbSZK3Xopgp7NX8lSC_EEu78FrZMAWh28DTAT99ktG08d-jZ8yQCjCzOA67nnd3d6adrYt8bgn/s1600/DSC_0824use3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR1vskUbwXhKpFYdCdBVLgFvL6vU2Dge45vaMaW6vS9SY4Mrc84yJYePcqw5sZVCfb9WbSZK3Xopgp7NX8lSC_EEu78FrZMAWh28DTAT99ktG08d-jZ8yQCjCzOA67nnd3d6adrYt8bgn/s640/DSC_0824use3.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNk-Ca5hDGKXX7zdc8miYw2aIaRUTmxXAllANzvBLQz1ORD86J7l8KK-jSNpTfgqC2kgPQila2wRpI7YR19hVvzmuVLmS_FJqSpByzd12BynFOfkjauVWYBZ4YJUvAC4fB9rCZ6w_68d7/s1600/vintagerug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNk-Ca5hDGKXX7zdc8miYw2aIaRUTmxXAllANzvBLQz1ORD86J7l8KK-jSNpTfgqC2kgPQila2wRpI7YR19hVvzmuVLmS_FJqSpByzd12BynFOfkjauVWYBZ4YJUvAC4fB9rCZ6w_68d7/s640/vintagerug.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOYh6geRSnuxm1ysQHJiOAuzdTrgbiQAEhaZF63yDRB6NZJdu7bPVVNBVArgTq7eEbfR09NVEeZlke21wAQ44JN80QGGIyw-crNl2GDv5BwU71xDKQruK1jGFRrE9-o2dVBnH2AZQL6Is/s1600/DSC_0811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOYh6geRSnuxm1ysQHJiOAuzdTrgbiQAEhaZF63yDRB6NZJdu7bPVVNBVArgTq7eEbfR09NVEeZlke21wAQ44JN80QGGIyw-crNl2GDv5BwU71xDKQruK1jGFRrE9-o2dVBnH2AZQL6Is/s640/DSC_0811.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Zuzwbx1EUXBoNyn2it-iRmeE1GMATmHWSbifM5wumlxpRb89gRx6MLW5rWTHlvYjfnxD1nLYixZjO5uT4GnEh1pxDzFeOZdmb-7cRYS2u1MLJiMre2N26YF5ONzz7-WpRkChy1TRpY1B/s1600/face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1358" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Zuzwbx1EUXBoNyn2it-iRmeE1GMATmHWSbifM5wumlxpRb89gRx6MLW5rWTHlvYjfnxD1nLYixZjO5uT4GnEh1pxDzFeOZdmb-7cRYS2u1MLJiMre2N26YF5ONzz7-WpRkChy1TRpY1B/s640/face.jpg" width="542" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYxdjphWD0Z-hIpYG7wW1cKQ9eoBI6-wEu0iKkfFKnGheEsYunlS2cOictbr-FD68uIIsngBBELCNLe93L6lThOvSK-NR_efgznYPH69bTnmZ1qvHlB8Q74HMJwhPTMb1ErzMvzYWtE-u-/s1600/original+hardware.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYxdjphWD0Z-hIpYG7wW1cKQ9eoBI6-wEu0iKkfFKnGheEsYunlS2cOictbr-FD68uIIsngBBELCNLe93L6lThOvSK-NR_efgznYPH69bTnmZ1qvHlB8Q74HMJwhPTMb1ErzMvzYWtE-u-/s640/original+hardware.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is very UN-designer-of me. Because I know the first thing to be replaced on old furniture is the hardware (usually with those trendy, long handles) but I didn't have the heart to remove these primitive little wood thing-ees. They're so cute.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil4ZlQpbZxmaDxmquDvgrtvzA39AGIdKzwFmK9bZV7224B8jDiKBlLznP9YYW3O0004UlmTVjLjm_X6ce9Zy3XjZOfjaxQA8bYZoEsprCeierMrjyy1t4aF29BgzQHrbTIeTHKNXjPCcBF/s1600/IMG_2962before.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil4ZlQpbZxmaDxmquDvgrtvzA39AGIdKzwFmK9bZV7224B8jDiKBlLznP9YYW3O0004UlmTVjLjm_X6ce9Zy3XjZOfjaxQA8bYZoEsprCeierMrjyy1t4aF29BgzQHrbTIeTHKNXjPCcBF/s640/IMG_2962before.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">BEFORE</span><span style="font-size: large;"> shot</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hfCeDW5xrWMiSW4eLVYnO_8tYHb4dGLyzDPC85fIeuTKF_hWRMgNWWNb0UtzXc22uPS1u7c8cqLHpayd4IEMWa-Oms5DfFGAUMpepYDjPG1q95pZjdkeRCR8SNhENFpXOepHA5btPXkD/s1600/sideview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1276" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hfCeDW5xrWMiSW4eLVYnO_8tYHb4dGLyzDPC85fIeuTKF_hWRMgNWWNb0UtzXc22uPS1u7c8cqLHpayd4IEMWa-Oms5DfFGAUMpepYDjPG1q95pZjdkeRCR8SNhENFpXOepHA5btPXkD/s640/sideview.jpg" width="510" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">AFTER</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Honestly, when you're inside the bathroom it looks like it fits perfectly. And there's a remarkable amount of storage.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhllTpEEtSblbnyuxAgwToSaYNzS6ZnSwlwW_3RmoRMr0-lvIMi1sRGyGWkBPL9PHpc5nJHyzgCGNlrhzZoifgvgZd4AH1JCuaJufrwPhOXdN8SucJt6X3qjEBr1fAkWjsixntZzY0qe5oO/s1600/beforepic2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="893" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhllTpEEtSblbnyuxAgwToSaYNzS6ZnSwlwW_3RmoRMr0-lvIMi1sRGyGWkBPL9PHpc5nJHyzgCGNlrhzZoifgvgZd4AH1JCuaJufrwPhOXdN8SucJt6X3qjEBr1fAkWjsixntZzY0qe5oO/s640/beforepic2.jpg" width="356" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">BEFORE</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglg4l3vWBnVFFEqaLDcno7axyg4DD8FUau7B3y4WprTQKiUfU75p-El9jcMaDFqNzXoGJjfoIyHTqAazA6y60_ibT4mpunEk0RJKq-cH6TzEB5QN_NhnY1XIyTyz7TgC2w2ATRt5XO_oNH/s1600/wholeshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglg4l3vWBnVFFEqaLDcno7axyg4DD8FUau7B3y4WprTQKiUfU75p-El9jcMaDFqNzXoGJjfoIyHTqAazA6y60_ibT4mpunEk0RJKq-cH6TzEB5QN_NhnY1XIyTyz7TgC2w2ATRt5XO_oNH/s640/wholeshot.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">AFTER</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I just love seeing before and after pictures and if you do too, we're starting renovations on our Master bath on the 20th and I'll share my pictures with you soon. It's small for a Master bath, so I've made some selections that will make it feel larger. At least that's my hope.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sending blessings of love and health to you,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">(don't forget to wear your mask)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">sharing this post with friends:</span></div>
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<a href="https://myuncommonsliceofsuburbia.com/inspire-me-monday-34/"><span style="font-size: large;">Inspire Me Monday</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.astrollthrulife.net/2020/07/555th-inspire-me-tuesday.html">Inspire Me Tuesday</a></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.commonground-do.com/2020/07/all-about-home-48.html"><span style="font-size: large;">All About Home</span></a></div>
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Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-49080573270410287462020-05-21T11:37:00.000-07:002020-05-21T12:29:33.813-07:00what really matters<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsVBGHWqq_A9OZH3V9Qd0EERvLYI-L7F_qnR-8cfgcaMImTnkzLm-yasoxuSU0bHpSfy0Z9xcIf99exzgcFId5XkQszTX6nxueLCZJWZfN2hK78e4DGUonllfvpY7gBf_4YChz9MLdiBk/s1600/tumblr_n72mdwSkDQ1qfw84lo1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="853" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsVBGHWqq_A9OZH3V9Qd0EERvLYI-L7F_qnR-8cfgcaMImTnkzLm-yasoxuSU0bHpSfy0Z9xcIf99exzgcFId5XkQszTX6nxueLCZJWZfN2hK78e4DGUonllfvpY7gBf_4YChz9MLdiBk/s640/tumblr_n72mdwSkDQ1qfw84lo1_1280.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Can we both just take a few minutes and acknowledge how weirdly surreal life has felt these last few months?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">In the words of <a href="https://onbeing.org/">Krista Tippett</a>, “something has literally happened to all of us at once,” which is astonishing in itself, but once the dust settles, I don’t think it’s this new strain of virus running rampant over the globe—that will be what triggers our most potent memories.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">No, I think what’s been most impactful on our hearts, on our minds, and on our bodies will have been this period of self-isolation</span><span style="font-size: large;">. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Call it what you want. Self-quarantine, lock-down or social distancing, it’s been this experience of shutting ourselves off from human contact <i>at the exact time </i>we’re emotionally reeling from the effects of so many losses happening in our lives, that’s the jarring reality we’ll remember. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Each of us hunkering down into this personal no-man’s land. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Daily routines we took for granted--that had anything to do with others--were gone overnight. Schools and businesses closed. Loss of incomes and jobs dominating the news. And looming in the background was this mysterious Covid-19 with its ever-expanding symptoms and potential targets. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Any one of these changes we could have managed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But they came like pounding waves with no time to grieve. These drastic changes-big and small- each one peeling back those paper-thin layers that protect our core during normal times. And then, having to endure all of it--- without the warmth of human touch. Without the reassurance of a big hug, and the closeness of face to face empathy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is what’s been so bizarre.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Whether you’re physically vulnerable to the virus yourself, or worried about your loved ones who are; whether you’ve got kids at home and you’re tired and stressed; or you’ve been separated from your loved ones and struggling with loneliness. Whether you’ve been touched by the virus personally, or you know others who have.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Whether it’s all of these or a mix of more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My heart is with you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know it's been hard.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Acknowledging our liminal space</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The other day I stumbled on an interesting word that describes my strange new world after losing Patrick. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I think you’ll want to hear it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you’ve ever experienced a catastrophic loss, then you’ll remember that slow-moving avalanche of shock and anguish that dismantles every aspect of your life, and how afterwards, your “future” feels suspended in time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It’s a disorienting period. When the life you thought you were living is gone and you’re staring at a world you longer recognize. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I talk about my experiences with you, mostly because I never believed I could ever survive the loss of one of my kids, and so even I’m amazed. My life now feels like one deep exploratory dive into a new way of being. And whenever I think there’s crossover—some shared struggle we both know—I feel compelled to talk about it here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Obviously Covid-19 is one of those experiences on a global level.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Since this virus, our entire world has been going through a collective chaos that’s triggering a mass reaction of anxiety and fears. And I’m not even addressing the catastrophic human loss and grief that’s in our <b>collective awareness</b>—this means that whether we’re conscious of these deaths or not, these losses are still affecting us because of our interconnectedness as humans. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you’re been noticing how different our lives feel right now it’s because we’re in state of transition referred to as liminal space.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I read <a href="https://cac.org/between-two-worlds-2020-04-26/">Richard Rohr's post</a>, I instantly wanted to share this idea here. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb2A1SxcrzI_nf8ImBFHvRZi7LGFWJa4ITJOsPGME2HmaCIW3ifbLQi3xnzeUpBapKEX62jyzyWM_SD0dxerJUFTwTy-TKEQXJwrLh0uDIc0F14JPAmWIO0mGqtQY5UlKtKjWBftiBpljA/s1600/liminal+space.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1530" data-original-width="1030" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb2A1SxcrzI_nf8ImBFHvRZi7LGFWJa4ITJOsPGME2HmaCIW3ifbLQi3xnzeUpBapKEX62jyzyWM_SD0dxerJUFTwTy-TKEQXJwrLh0uDIc0F14JPAmWIO0mGqtQY5UlKtKjWBftiBpljA/s640/liminal+space.jpg" width="430" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Starting to sound familiar?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because this liminal space describes the world of uncertainty we’ve been living in during this entire global pandemic. Behind us is the life we called ‘normal,’ and in front of us is a way of life that’s still being determined, largely by the science and health research that will guide the process. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Learning to tolerate this feeling of ‘not knowing’ is hard. Our biological wiring makes us quick to react with fear. I think this is why we’re seeing so many people in the news turning to anger, blaming others, and expressing defiance. It’s a knee-jerk reaction to feeling afraid (on a deeper level) and having a loss of control. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When things are falling apart around you—I’ve learned it’s <i>crucial </i>I stay alert to where I put my attention and energy. My biggest lesson has been this: We don’t have to follow every anxious thought down the rabbit hole. (<a href="http://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2020/03/the-wisdom-of-staying-in-now-heart-to.html">more about this here)</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Although the other option takes real effort. It means acknowledging yeah, this in-between place is hard. But if we work to stay conscious--and surrender to our vulnerability-- with the intent to watch the narratives we’re telling ourselves</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Even your most painful feelings will pass </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">if you learn to let them go.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I feel my worries starting to take over, I’ll actually ‘check’ my thoughts.</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-size: x-large;">Am I moving toward my fears?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: x-large;">Am I moving toward the Light?</span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You’ll always know the answer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>When little things become the big things</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On Mother’s Day I wrapped a black and cream French ribbon around a vase of fresh lavender and placed it on the door mat of the young woman who lives across the street from me. On the card I told her she was a wonderful mother and I wished her a beautiful day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She is a radiologist at a local hospital and a few weeks ago, she shared her fears with me of being exposed to Covid-19, especially in the early days when she lacked proper PPE.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In normal times I would have knocked on her door and seen her look of surprise and her happy smile when I handed her the flowers.<b> I miss seeing that reaction.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I would’ve talked a bit and she probably would have told me what she wrote on the thank you card she placed in my mail slot later---that her last few weeks had been hard ones. Most likely she would’ve told me why. <b>I miss that random sharing.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I would’ve listened and most important, I would have seen her vulnerability and responded to it. I like to think I would’ve said something that made her feel a bit lighter and hopefully, appreciated.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><b> I miss that kind of giving.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She happens to be a mother of three active boys, and each morning when I open my wicker blinds, her car is already gone. She leaves at 5:30 each morning and when she comes home, she usually has a load of groceries in her car, because she does all the shopping and cooking in the family, in addition to working full-time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because my living room window looks out to her house, it’s easy to notice her coming home in her hospital garb, but these days when we talk, she stays on her side of the street. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Which means that our conversations right now remain polite and as emotionally hollow as the physical space now separating us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do you know what I mean?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lately when I’m waving at a neighbor on the street or reading a text on my phone, or even after a phone call, I sense there’s so much being left unsaid. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And <i>am I the only one</i> who felt a twinge of disappointment on Zoom after a virtual happy-hour with friends?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, it was filled with smiles and talking that gleaned over the surface. But afterwards, I longed for the warmth and intimacy of a real get-together, the spilling out of words and the talking over each other that typically leads to a deeper stash of feelings. I missed these, and I wondered how hard is it to penetrate a screen full of pixels?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes, during this social isolating I want to yell back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I see you. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I know there’s more. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What’s<i> really </i>going on with you?</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Noticing</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ah. I think we can agree.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This physical separation from others has been taken an emotional toll on all of us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Only now as we begin the next step of re-opening our businesses and our personal lives again, I admit I feel ambivalent.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I’m aware that this <b>liminal space </b>is also a time when personal transformations happen. Yes, everyone loves the analogy of the caterpillar becoming a butterfly. But no one talks about the agonizing experience of the poor caterpillar, how it literally releases enzymes that digest and liquefy it while its alive, a process too painful to imagine that the caterpillar endures for the end result.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anytime we go through tumultuous change and loss, there is space created in that empty void.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What we choose to do with that new spaciousness is our choice and not everyone becomes an awakened butterfly after a dark period in their lives, but the possibilities are there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I don’t want to give up my humble little insights I’ve been having during this isolation. All because of these months of lunacy and sickness and death and anxiety and fears and the lack of being able to give a neighbor a small gift face-to-face.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Those little things that you’ve been missing are telling you about what you value. They’re calling you home, back to your center. </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Here’s a few little things I’ve been missing: </span></b><br />
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<li><span style="font-size: large;">I miss bumping into someone in public and having random conversations without thinking about the virus</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I miss giving hugs when I greet someone</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I miss hearing the low hum of voices inside a crowded restaurant</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I miss being close enough to whisper without a mask</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I miss smiling at people in the grocery store and having them know I’m smiling (behind my face mask)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">I miss cooking for others and having guests over</span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Please tell me in the comments section what you’ve been noticing during your isolation.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I can’t wait to hear.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sending love and light to you,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">sharing this post here: <a href="https://www.impartinggrace.com/2020/05/grace-at-home-no-380.html"> Grace at Home</a></span>Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-78970991115848554352020-04-21T07:16:00.000-07:002020-04-22T11:56:10.165-07:00You're invited to a Virtual Dinner Party!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXZNp72Z1S416DlMy372rsL5HBhj8wILWliAWgxkJ1_r27NqHnoaZ4lJ77Q5aNdO1mI21MUJVdvKPlzJosiiioQgfdsaHLAG2BwKq0ED6xe4dZV5SKR3kLwtD68MgH7K0Dstcufp1eh2P/s1600/roses+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXZNp72Z1S416DlMy372rsL5HBhj8wILWliAWgxkJ1_r27NqHnoaZ4lJ77Q5aNdO1mI21MUJVdvKPlzJosiiioQgfdsaHLAG2BwKq0ED6xe4dZV5SKR3kLwtD68MgH7K0Dstcufp1eh2P/s640/roses+%25281%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hello friends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After all these long weeks sheltering down... can we all just release a big deep exhale, pop those corks off some bottles of wine and have a little pretend break?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't know bout you. But I'm seriously <i>beyond</i> ready for a good old-fashioned dinner party with loud voices and a bright, crowded kitchen and lots of good conversation going on...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh. And-of-course we have to have some delicious food, right? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, this is the fun part. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because You are invited to participate in a Virtual Progressive Dinner Party organized by none other than everyone's favorite blogger-party-planners, Annie of <a href="https://mostlovelythings.com/">Most Lovely Things</a>, Cindy of <a href="https://cindyhattersleydesign.com/blog/">Rough Luxe</a> and MaryAnn of <a href="https://classiccasualhome.com/">Classic Casual Home</a>. And the best part is that you don't need to bring anything! Just yourself. We've got the food handled. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is the menu:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpeXBfp41Ht3QpBCCQC9eXwL6N43fIDb-eegXxB4DvW0RGfWcBQnOf4w6IXemDav55IvkNPgAWAgUVPQATawIjFeRgRJotVX3X3N4Lh8bZNama1BKVjN0oyyrjVxwwO4LkyJwI5ebgHWEZ/s1600/Progressive+Dinner++final.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpeXBfp41Ht3QpBCCQC9eXwL6N43fIDb-eegXxB4DvW0RGfWcBQnOf4w6IXemDav55IvkNPgAWAgUVPQATawIjFeRgRJotVX3X3N4Lh8bZNama1BKVjN0oyyrjVxwwO4LkyJwI5ebgHWEZ/s640/Progressive+Dinner++final.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So welcome-and-please-come-in.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm just finishing up a few more items for my Cheese board. And this is where I should probably tell you that this course is going to be light on the 'charcuterie' because honestly, I'm not really a meat eater and since I like to pretend that everyone likes <i>what I like,</i> I decided at the grocery store to pick up mostly cheese and fruit. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you're curious, this is what I have on my platter:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Fresh Medool Dates</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Goat Cheese</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Croutons</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">organic baby tomatoes</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">fresh basil and garlic</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Fresh fruit: grapes and strawberries, cantaloupe</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Stilton Blue Cheese</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Marinated Fresh Mozzarella Balls-Trader Joes</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">french baquette</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Crackers and Nuts: Roasted and Salted Truffle Marcona Almonds and Walnuts</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Olive Tapenade</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">a few slices of prosciutto</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Fig Jelly & honey</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">And here's what I made for you:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_yymiKXdrvO_3yvUcmE5Cvkg8B32jIDQ5UrK9S1ht1DGpBhQUmC2Dn9ZKKJGrUELGnSFd3uxPRvxiLx1aloE9t-im2xSM_PBtnQYfavYcRk38aqT8WmMis1gcK-wKtVhCMBolzGuKnEWs/s1600/cheeseboard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1274" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_yymiKXdrvO_3yvUcmE5Cvkg8B32jIDQ5UrK9S1ht1DGpBhQUmC2Dn9ZKKJGrUELGnSFd3uxPRvxiLx1aloE9t-im2xSM_PBtnQYfavYcRk38aqT8WmMis1gcK-wKtVhCMBolzGuKnEWs/s640/cheeseboard.jpg" width="508" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's not your typical cheeseboard.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigV1M3rg9zkSjzxmgDr9KdqFwked1AFf_wViFcqr18__28kjawXl-okgfjl73PGr-1q4xnpMddnqEWgYEXd5EGpinVxdWWErZcAMfmmeGXpPCbFpcDYLFmgfxAbeFfVhLFzuzGunEAyEcH/s1600/closeup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigV1M3rg9zkSjzxmgDr9KdqFwked1AFf_wViFcqr18__28kjawXl-okgfjl73PGr-1q4xnpMddnqEWgYEXd5EGpinVxdWWErZcAMfmmeGXpPCbFpcDYLFmgfxAbeFfVhLFzuzGunEAyEcH/s640/closeup.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I decided to make a different version since--to be honest--it's only Jim and I here right now, and let's see--how should I say this nicely...neither of us needs a lot of decadent cheese leftover in the fridge...so here's what I did:</span><strike></strike></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX-OzJQ0eJltHc0E2kBff3FpRoTJITMjQUC67JoAkEfjs2IBejK2a1Twv6bRAMWLqYdx8fUINwCC7n_xhlDynd2_aqiSNlU9JXq5US0Zm-gakt1TqfVdI4crCFs9s_h3UaOrLgn6oDm3FX/s1600/breadslices1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1356" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX-OzJQ0eJltHc0E2kBff3FpRoTJITMjQUC67JoAkEfjs2IBejK2a1Twv6bRAMWLqYdx8fUINwCC7n_xhlDynd2_aqiSNlU9JXq5US0Zm-gakt1TqfVdI4crCFs9s_h3UaOrLgn6oDm3FX/s640/breadslices1.jpg" width="542" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I brought home a fresh baguette with the idea of having brushetta on the board ...because it's a favorite of mine. </span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px;">(Ok, are you starting to see how I made my cheeseboard selections?)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh97q7xv1byJfeZQjXaV6kQhQfWr_LxDAqZv0PnI4dx-nlk0F0TA7RQmSgP3iHoiKvMohut6vo5oWw8j1Qm_IwEGj7zfHg4cQDHoazsKKOQ3Rx2nlSL5J_lK9aAt8SKoLAUf0ZytP1ela3n/s1600/garliccloseup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1551" data-original-width="1600" height="620" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh97q7xv1byJfeZQjXaV6kQhQfWr_LxDAqZv0PnI4dx-nlk0F0TA7RQmSgP3iHoiKvMohut6vo5oWw8j1Qm_IwEGj7zfHg4cQDHoazsKKOQ3Rx2nlSL5J_lK9aAt8SKoLAUf0ZytP1ela3n/s640/garliccloseup.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 24px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I sliced it, rubbed it down with fresh garlic and baked one side in the oven. Turned it over and rubbed other side with garlic and finished baking on this side until it was nice and slightly toasted.</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: 24px;">And that smell! Yum....</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC85FdcbysY0Hw0z2xoZEUA8kcDQZ7OJO_4-4gm9F_cDi4FCrLL7wOkkte-XunZywh_QPXWfzippHFBGeU-urgdXBv0lGUgrbyiljm_Q30v6vwsVyhCxH7rJL6SSuHdEp_nLrYTd8lGSPr/s1600/freshtom1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC85FdcbysY0Hw0z2xoZEUA8kcDQZ7OJO_4-4gm9F_cDi4FCrLL7wOkkte-XunZywh_QPXWfzippHFBGeU-urgdXBv0lGUgrbyiljm_Q30v6vwsVyhCxH7rJL6SSuHdEp_nLrYTd8lGSPr/s640/freshtom1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 24px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">There's a cute little vegetable stand near my house where I buy the sweetest organic tomatoes.</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCIsYQQn2pPBbiw9owl4FvqSu-_Hqfnapo4atUxpCQO_EPKlVo1DwxT5WIEamTgqQJAGqnv5WSuXfJfdzcxodojFVfvOlHiIR2lLzM16pIg91bLl5ho7sGOPLJm-TkHlb0jTcQNomrg4C/s1600/use.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1349" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCIsYQQn2pPBbiw9owl4FvqSu-_Hqfnapo4atUxpCQO_EPKlVo1DwxT5WIEamTgqQJAGqnv5WSuXfJfdzcxodojFVfvOlHiIR2lLzM16pIg91bLl5ho7sGOPLJm-TkHlb0jTcQNomrg4C/s640/use.JPG" width="538" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At the last minute I saw this interesting <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n5KFlEJIM3c">video<span style="color: #b00000;"> </span></a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">on <a href="https://www.halfbakedharvest.com/">Half Baked Harvest </a>and I decided to switch from fresh tomatoes to roasted, so I popped this into the oven.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-f5GXZ2N4aZvPEnY_zLwy7oxeECuOZA-c4oOxVxb3MhyFTMG6YWXdiCrShec5kvBSfjsUcGCJQ3sODO_fj-nsIlY4oufjvE7wqrtaPVzYfE_p2oJ83cJQf2kfdFu-JKrR52bx9GN1UfGI/s1600/use4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #b00000;"></span><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1540" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-f5GXZ2N4aZvPEnY_zLwy7oxeECuOZA-c4oOxVxb3MhyFTMG6YWXdiCrShec5kvBSfjsUcGCJQ3sODO_fj-nsIlY4oufjvE7wqrtaPVzYfE_p2oJ83cJQf2kfdFu-JKrR52bx9GN1UfGI/s640/use4.jpg" width="616" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Roasted tomatoes, fresh garlic and basil drenched in olive oil and served next to marinated mozzarella balls and bread slices.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Olive tapenade on the side because it's so easy and yummy.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3pYXJ6EvB_By-z7zn14KUKL-HMxuFXxhAjAzJDvj3xTY4z7Tn-aw276Xds0mbmkSRCLtbXfEPWWu_5iGD1hhyus-Y5rKFgy8xM8plZ4CniD4nVcGtQ5YRFKbKscWPRJ_tllvwUN515JRr/s1600/mozz+ballsuse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3pYXJ6EvB_By-z7zn14KUKL-HMxuFXxhAjAzJDvj3xTY4z7Tn-aw276Xds0mbmkSRCLtbXfEPWWu_5iGD1hhyus-Y5rKFgy8xM8plZ4CniD4nVcGtQ5YRFKbKscWPRJ_tllvwUN515JRr/s640/mozz+ballsuse.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">These fresh marinated mozzarella balls from Trader Joes, marinated in basil, herbs and olive oil are ranked in PopSugar's <a href="https://www.popsugar.com/food/photo-gallery/42547747/image/42547756/Trader-Joe-Marinated-Fresh-Mozzarella">best cheeses from Trader Joes.</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm a big fan of Caprese salad, made with great olive oil, and I'll often order one for my dinner, nothing better to me--than these flavors together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Is this more of a California thing?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Xxgkzomi79woEyLgXhJoff8rkic-x9p1JnY7Gh4IcGDwRWktatOKG9TJ2B8BiSHANHoRk9jMErxZW1sVhdFQW2O2yRiec27ChAF9kDHuq9bUL8OFZfUpr4l3odUxxfu29SZ3sw88fVg6/s1600/toothpicksuse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Xxgkzomi79woEyLgXhJoff8rkic-x9p1JnY7Gh4IcGDwRWktatOKG9TJ2B8BiSHANHoRk9jMErxZW1sVhdFQW2O2yRiec27ChAF9kDHuq9bUL8OFZfUpr4l3odUxxfu29SZ3sw88fVg6/s640/toothpicksuse.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Side note: If you have to have toothpicks on the table I think putting them inside a vintage cordial glass is a cute touch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Crispy prosciutto and cantaloupe</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">...my touch of charcuterie on the board :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh-here's a delicious old William Sonoma recipe that's always a hit with guests. </span><span style="font-size: large;">And it's so simple to make.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Stuffed Medjool dates with goat cheese.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbf2flTRyOM3XExDWWDbeWbTf2jFJWX9hhwEtqghYOEWxMSiErkFAS35-c0nXMwSEi8Z9gX4PbHNyi4Qcr9gvBnWGn0iANhfNqlYaAGekThTI2aqWqqTooiGEeRKTJY9UjR2i4dUpc3Mzy/s1600/use2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1377" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbf2flTRyOM3XExDWWDbeWbTf2jFJWX9hhwEtqghYOEWxMSiErkFAS35-c0nXMwSEi8Z9gX4PbHNyi4Qcr9gvBnWGn0iANhfNqlYaAGekThTI2aqWqqTooiGEeRKTJY9UjR2i4dUpc3Mzy/s640/use2.JPG" width="550" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Put a slit in each date. Remove pits. Fill with goat cheese.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZlt3_ZBG8s138gHSKsGZKfmKwfPOkSw5Yrv7UBZ-dk1KPedpOkfP6CLrk4qQHgRlv-hLImYbk2Hox6NEXwPwm3OsxxXz5nSrN5VMJTyW2ZGx0XlvdohMCSXKZQFoeGIL0jxKjZI9vv3l/s1600/use3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1447" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZlt3_ZBG8s138gHSKsGZKfmKwfPOkSw5Yrv7UBZ-dk1KPedpOkfP6CLrk4qQHgRlv-hLImYbk2Hox6NEXwPwm3OsxxXz5nSrN5VMJTyW2ZGx0XlvdohMCSXKZQFoeGIL0jxKjZI9vv3l/s640/use3.JPG" width="578" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Heat a small pan with a generous amount of olive oil and brown the bread crumbs. I prefer to use my favorite seasoned croutons (crushed of course) instead of plain bread crumbs for added flavor. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When cool, dip each top of date into crumbs. Pre-heat oven at 375 degrees. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Place dates on lightly oil baking dish, for 10-12 min until warmed through. Soooo decadent!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiFPJeHLpzOVYELGMp_AGB9pVz996voVwb8imsZ3p2fdNET8AKMnQiIvpNE2hmprrBKZXpLE_ugKjstycFWWezuIYyrPtDQJ9DOmGm42E9z_cFoue0pOy_l-YVrPhj9hRXiIKUF3g_2tic/s1600/jellycheeseuse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1456" data-original-width="1600" height="582" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiFPJeHLpzOVYELGMp_AGB9pVz996voVwb8imsZ3p2fdNET8AKMnQiIvpNE2hmprrBKZXpLE_ugKjstycFWWezuIYyrPtDQJ9DOmGm42E9z_cFoue0pOy_l-YVrPhj9hRXiIKUF3g_2tic/s640/jellycheeseuse.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Is there anything better than fig jelly and Stilton blue cheese on warm slices of French bread?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Don't worry if you're not a fan there's some honey too, for a light drizzle.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifnpNgPy9d-5avZfg03TxusW83493olSS2ceRhm0J12rmIRFpJezQio_G4rseS4gjd6yPnBQVU2ZnKJKrA-rmdsu7pJQ1ppTzJJvs0EsDkMSN8wrp9iT2XAR-H_RXWF_0_oOxYYrJEX9T9/s1600/figjamuse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1282" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifnpNgPy9d-5avZfg03TxusW83493olSS2ceRhm0J12rmIRFpJezQio_G4rseS4gjd6yPnBQVU2ZnKJKrA-rmdsu7pJQ1ppTzJJvs0EsDkMSN8wrp9iT2XAR-H_RXWF_0_oOxYYrJEX9T9/s640/figjamuse.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I'm also happy making this my whole dinner. With my glass of wine of course. Are you a sweet and salty person too?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYeB9yMYbB4FRml1aQVv7TaOEw7z51GGIUw2k-p2QQ45Kw1kaqepaf92Shv1BY5r2te9pOS2VkM-22fSY54I_Z33t4W0KESIV6ZGYggS1OhdWMBG9LVNkRPluy9BzlTaOtqMxOp0rCppvJ/s1600/trayuse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1427" data-original-width="1600" height="570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYeB9yMYbB4FRml1aQVv7TaOEw7z51GGIUw2k-p2QQ45Kw1kaqepaf92Shv1BY5r2te9pOS2VkM-22fSY54I_Z33t4W0KESIV6ZGYggS1OhdWMBG9LVNkRPluy9BzlTaOtqMxOp0rCppvJ/s640/trayuse.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, I hope you enjoyed your visit here and I truly wish I could open my front door and have you standing <i>right there</i>. I'd just love to do this in person. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But hopefully, I gave you a few ideas for your own cheese board.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And now it's time to check out all the delicious courses ahead:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://sherisilver.com/2020/04/21/tuna-and-white-bean-salad/">Sheri Silver</a> -White Bean Salad in Radicchio Leaves</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://cindyhattersleydesign.com/progressive-dinner-with-wine-pairings/">Rough Luxe</a> - Kale and Brussel Sprout Salad</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://mostlovelythings.com/a-virtual-progressive-dinner-party/">Most Lovely Things</a>- Caramelized Shallot Pasta</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.stonegableblog.com/asparagus-in-puff-pastry-and-progressive-spring-dinner/">Stone Gable </a>- Asparagus in Puff Pastry with Brie</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://classiccasualhome.com/join-us-for-a-progressive-menu-dinner/">Classic Casual Home</a>- Lemon Tart w/Shortbread Crust and Berries</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you Cindy and MaryAnn and Annie for inviting me to host this party--it was such a fun idea.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And thank you everyone for stopping by today,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">xoxo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Leslie</span></div>
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Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-72716758502439656922020-04-17T09:59:00.003-07:002020-12-14T09:06:07.314-08:00being a witness to your life<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8sioI1PqSa2yTEImuUTKOl2LIVfkSWZg2UHxTbQ6lULg-nwEa7OpS5UfADjMptDpSTPDKzmeMXiOSQtHljjbIuAehZLoEDN5_AUz-QH98h7UGGyKm-fS8QoDqnd34SRs05JzlMwxZEqn7/s1600/maxconrad.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1202" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8sioI1PqSa2yTEImuUTKOl2LIVfkSWZg2UHxTbQ6lULg-nwEa7OpS5UfADjMptDpSTPDKzmeMXiOSQtHljjbIuAehZLoEDN5_AUz-QH98h7UGGyKm-fS8QoDqnd34SRs05JzlMwxZEqn7/s640/maxconrad.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I've been wanting to ask you, "How are you doing?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And no, I don't mean, Hi! how ya doing?---like in the old days. Before Covid-19.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I mean How-are-you...<i>.really</i>? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And specifically,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">How are you handling all this uncertainty?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The other day I heard Bill Gates say that every morning he wakes up, he wonders if this is some kind of nightmare. Yes, Bill Gates, one of the wealthiest men in the world is </span><span style="font-size: large;">watching the same heartbreaking stories unfolding all over the globe, and </span><span style="font-size: large;">experiencing the same isolation from others as we are.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And despite being insulated from the daily worries of the average person, he admits to waking up with the same kind of disbelief we all have, at how swiftly we lost the busy lives we were all living only a few months ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The other day Jim and I walked to the beach and we both felt a bit stunned by the quiet solitude; on a popular SoCal beach during a April weekend that would typically be flooded with tanners and bikers and volleyball players, it was mostly empty. And we were astonished to have this majestic lushness all to ourselves.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But in that same moment, we felt the strangeness of these times.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Suddenly in the blue-green expansiveness of the ocean, we could see for miles, the gray distinct outlines of distant ships and the Catalina Island emerging like a crusty sea creature against a clean blue sky.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And it hit me. Is anyone else seeing the irony in this surprising windfall of glorious pollution-free air, as a result of this deadly virus? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't know why this seems so profound to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">But suddenly, courtesy of Mother Nature, we each have the chance to see what's right in front of us with a renewed clarity --both literally as a result of the lack of toxic pollutants in the atmosphere but also metaphorically--because of the sudden PAUSE we're all experiencing together.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivo2L4_Y5_o9cutDQcx3X0eaGCF3C6o4w4FB4DythhPYrPHGQIVWGc_EYJT6kY6rmPcRSYl0LYQMaIReXgSUAPVFBlkym2Fyyls-G85zbUd8bYC5IrSTgM4gnyFxpuwbcvTO9WyPhzZwoE/s1600/morning+walkmaybe.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivo2L4_Y5_o9cutDQcx3X0eaGCF3C6o4w4FB4DythhPYrPHGQIVWGc_EYJT6kY6rmPcRSYl0LYQMaIReXgSUAPVFBlkym2Fyyls-G85zbUd8bYC5IrSTgM4gnyFxpuwbcvTO9WyPhzZwoE/s640/morning+walkmaybe.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A deep, collective pause. An interruption from our frenetic-paced lives in order to save ourselves and our fellow man. But like the sudden lifting of the smoggy clouds, we've also been offered a clearer, unobstructed view of ourselves too, and this life we've been busy creating.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Are you feeling it too? That layer of uncertainty that's settled over our days like a global fog, connecting us to distant lands. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do you feel that strangeness in the air when you go outside? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I keep thinking it has something to do with living without the skin-to-skin contact with other humans. It's surreal, this kind of detachment. Don't you agree?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, these are unprecedented times. But I also see what appears to be a unifying time in our history--certainly in our own lives--because <b><i>we're all experiencing the same kinds of losses right now. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Think about that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We're all having the same worries and questions about our jobs and finances and our plans for the future. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Can you think of another time when we'll be able to look into the eyes of strangers and recognize our Self?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Recently, I was listening to a spiritual discussion about the layer of fear that is covering the globe right now and I see that fear when I look down the grocery store aisle and find empty shelves where the paper towels, toilet paper and canned goods usually are, and I can feel how afraid people were in that moment, the way they grabbed their goods and turned away, and how having a perspective that sees things in scarcity as opposed to abundance, might intensify these worries even more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And it makes me feel compassion. Being a type-A control person is a common mask for our fears and anxieties and I know both those worlds well. But that's a post for another day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">During this global pandemic I prefer to see </span><span style="font-size: large;">the possibilities for what the inherently-wise grade-schooler calls, a do-over.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuanLW_Kj-Ubj6co2vU-14eg9FHK5PeVhweYdWp2vHNfqp95VyrnfMbEvMAGmGK-KeWqYtZswuNBfaZM2AhyGLZL7zPbmSz1CEZtCyf4Lrb1NAVBC-OIR0rp9cIFEloO8ooGbG8BNN1hXP/s1600/foamy+waves.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuanLW_Kj-Ubj6co2vU-14eg9FHK5PeVhweYdWp2vHNfqp95VyrnfMbEvMAGmGK-KeWqYtZswuNBfaZM2AhyGLZL7zPbmSz1CEZtCyf4Lrb1NAVBC-OIR0rp9cIFEloO8ooGbG8BNN1hXP/s640/foamy+waves.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I like to think of it has Humanity having a chance for a fresh start. Only this time, without so many <strike>fuck-ups</strike> </span><span style="font-size: large;">crazy distractions from what really matters, like how we care for our planet and our animals and people who may look different from us. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Except of course, humanity is Me. And you. And everyone else. And any transformation has to involve all of us collectively becoming more self-aware. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I believe that comes from slowing down. And noticing things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The other evening Jim and I were walking Stella when we saw a big, burly man come out of the dark branches of a tree and cross the street toward us. He was talking but we couldn't hear him, and our first reaction was caution. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then as he moved closer we heard him joke about Stella and the dog barking inside the house we had just passed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah. I gotta go help Mary'" he said, pointing to her house as he walked by us, "she's not getting around too good and her dog might need to go outside." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As we waved and said a few friendly words to him, we heard him yell back from the sidewalk and lift his shoulders, with both palms out, </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> "Hey. Gotta help our neighbors, right?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't know why. Maybe my insides are more raw and exposed after losing Patrick. But I found something so endearing about his clumsy approach to us in the dark and his kindhearted intentions that I got tears in my eyes. It was a moment out of dystopian novel when the bad guy is really the hero all along.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">These are the moments that make me realize, I never want to forget certain parts of this self-quarantine, not because it's a good thing of course-- but because there's truth and love being exposed amid all this fear and sickness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know you're seeing it too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's the reason I flinch at some of the blog posts on my feed lately. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Look, if I'm lucky enough to remain healthy, I'm all about expressing creativity. But one thing I don't want is for this sheltering period to be remembered <i>only</i> as some manic rush to fill up every waking moment </span><span style="font-size: large;">with incessant cleaning projects or organizing every room in my house, or going from one project to another as if there's some deadline to be met. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For me, that feels like a version of distracting myself from <a href="https://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2020/03/the-wisdom-of-staying-in-now-heart-to.html">important feelings.</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But hey, just my opinion. Catastrophic loss has taught me I know nothing. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Although I will say this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The older I get, the one thing I'm learning is that life is a constant balance of Being and Doing. And the only way I know how to get through difficult times in my life is by being fully present. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Which is the opposite of running away from pain, right? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Does it sound crazy? Because since September 2018, I've never experienced more suffering and heartache. But this is my life and I don't want to miss out on any of it, you know what I'm saying? I like to think of it as being a witness to my whole life. And that means--not just the good parts. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Consider this. If <i>we </i>don't care enough to value what we're going through, who else will? Right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Back to you my friend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How are you doing?</span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">How are you handling all of these questions and loss of control?</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">What layers are you shedding lately?</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Have you lost anyone to Covid-19?</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Did you know that losses--even little ones--can bring about mourning?</span></span></li>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Leslie</span></div>
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<br />Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-59356401775500622952020-04-02T07:59:00.001-07:002020-04-02T08:28:48.609-07:00Blue and White Linen Closet: My latest DIY<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bV4V5pc1EBL7rzghT0aZ-Dv2jJ4OYU5EaBXQWCJo9afLjfm4vc_JtTOeDTiPh_ZB1CVGMleNhaq14B3KnVb7G2wHemBTYBXdIGYQpmhx38Cy9jUX7P7kUmZRRETzWfC79WD85ThQLqIK/s1600/linencloset9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1134" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bV4V5pc1EBL7rzghT0aZ-Dv2jJ4OYU5EaBXQWCJo9afLjfm4vc_JtTOeDTiPh_ZB1CVGMleNhaq14B3KnVb7G2wHemBTYBXdIGYQpmhx38Cy9jUX7P7kUmZRRETzWfC79WD85ThQLqIK/s640/linencloset9.jpg" width="452" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hello my friend. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Can I tell you something personal?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had a hard time typing out the title for this post. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I worry that it sounds shallow and that it conveys a staggering insensitivity about all the deaths happening right now around the world. Especially after I got an email from a dear friend in Italy who let me know that Italy has been going through hell.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Can we all agree that there is profound strangeness about life right now?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Even if Covid-19 hasn't reached your life in a personal way yet, I think we all feel connected to this crisis by the ominous drip of daily news that's reminding us of our humanity. Our connection to each other as loving citizens, irregardless of race or political party or any of the other labels that separate us in normal times. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Personally, when I see all these health care professionals on the front lines overworked and risking their lives on our behalf, it's hard. There's a feeling of being stuck on the sidelines, of wanting to <i>help them </i>is some way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And yet--at least right now--the biggest impact we can have is to stay home and isolate ourselves which is the <b>opposite</b> of what we do in times of crisis which is, seek out people who make us feel safe and connected and yes, <u>useful.</u></span><span style="font-size: large;"><u><br /></u></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">See what I mean? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's a strange--but very serious time. As of this morning--- experts are telling us the next few weeks are critical. What we do today will literally have a direct effect on how many people die out there in our community. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's hard to fathom, right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But then I got this email that reminded me of something else that's also important right now. Taking care of our spirit. Making time for those things that replenish us, for the sake our emotional health. And for me--- this means tapping into my creative side to find peaceful distractions. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBP1JX7AGbOHh39XZhV5qqnAYfSl7m9_jWgibo682RFHBOnil_o1nXe4u83e9uMNTAsZbTyJFwm7UFbww_0c4E-ahumsJohizepa8IQEkD_eBChIX42Ora4Y1Ru1c5-fJfZpaaxF-dgsU/s1600/hometalk+email.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1289" data-original-width="1600" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBP1JX7AGbOHh39XZhV5qqnAYfSl7m9_jWgibo682RFHBOnil_o1nXe4u83e9uMNTAsZbTyJFwm7UFbww_0c4E-ahumsJohizepa8IQEkD_eBChIX42Ora4Y1Ru1c5-fJfZpaaxF-dgsU/s640/hometalk+email.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This was from <a href="https://www.hometalk.com/">Hometalk,</a> reminding me of a long ago DIY post that had apparently gotten some views. And I thought--hey, maybe it's time to share another DIY post, you know...as a way of spreading a few cheerful</span><span style="font-size: large;"> vibes out into the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Don't we all love a good Before and After? So here it goes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is a project I started in January when <a href="https://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2020/03/the-wisdom-of-staying-in-now-heart-to.html">I was really struggling </a>and lucky I remembered to take a few pictures for you.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So here's the BEFORE picture of my linen closet.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEER4irU8nkFc6Y6Um-srwYDCg_94qD6glPWAaoYQesioivvV64wj1GXg0-7vHp_KAGAh9YmKNcofoIJYaQipQFCo_fN0agAZ4w9AcS5C8LqVeoST_g-Wj2khmCtdy2K8U1F9oJhrvSt_/s1600/before+pic+linen+closet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEER4irU8nkFc6Y6Um-srwYDCg_94qD6glPWAaoYQesioivvV64wj1GXg0-7vHp_KAGAh9YmKNcofoIJYaQipQFCo_fN0agAZ4w9AcS5C8LqVeoST_g-Wj2khmCtdy2K8U1F9oJhrvSt_/s400/before+pic+linen+closet.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Michael says I should have taken a 'real' BEFORE picture when the floor was full of plastic bins and you could barely get inside </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(ah..maybe because a certain hoarder of unmatched towels and old bed linens was in charge)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">But she's better now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here it is dark and empty.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5Tu4iDWquqx_RxP3J5RaLRNfBAAPMB8n4KpDILlBzBXDkw_06nuA6K1ha5LRegjSLsC-4aAKrwfUgPBBN56S2kCg9yDUWJECTiCqyhGnR28uf0pVwiE8Gu5-R79dW5YNbuqaEzhWDfaB/s1600/linen+closet+before+inside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5Tu4iDWquqx_RxP3J5RaLRNfBAAPMB8n4KpDILlBzBXDkw_06nuA6K1ha5LRegjSLsC-4aAKrwfUgPBBN56S2kCg9yDUWJECTiCqyhGnR28uf0pVwiE8Gu5-R79dW5YNbuqaEzhWDfaB/s320/linen+closet+before+inside.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Odd wires coming from the walls. No baseboards but we did have the wood flooring extended inside here when we moved in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Wallpaper vs. Stencil</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3CsgeSxPFPjq5uWI1iXWMq1TeCI5xVSc35-20oZ3CkM34jcDVuL0GayPEKhnzww4zPcWWtqWgwZ-q4fW9Ax_ZMe4S4VN8pA-5jGu4WvnfpJzCvubYNd_6napDCv7KsmPNYCRwXePO951/s1600/linen+stencil+pattern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3CsgeSxPFPjq5uWI1iXWMq1TeCI5xVSc35-20oZ3CkM34jcDVuL0GayPEKhnzww4zPcWWtqWgwZ-q4fW9Ax_ZMe4S4VN8pA-5jGu4WvnfpJzCvubYNd_6napDCv7KsmPNYCRwXePO951/s640/linen+stencil+pattern.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My first plan was to try a peel and stick wallpaper mostly because I wasn't in the mood to paint, but also because I was seeing some great choices out there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But in the end I was worried about the stucco finish on our walls being a problem. And I didn't want to go through all that work, only to have it drooping in spots.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifXVWj90CdlrHReu46iG1_9qqQ1LkMMdvzbj9F9wJdwi7A-Q4E4ikst1Vyicq138F3EMs9ggGxiOPAXEZ-Oo7SOgL6jupcXlMLjLpvzpFHxT4Ygw5-fapOu92iP3nfcop2CIPIYiRGBc04/s1600/stencil+colors+final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1438" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifXVWj90CdlrHReu46iG1_9qqQ1LkMMdvzbj9F9wJdwi7A-Q4E4ikst1Vyicq138F3EMs9ggGxiOPAXEZ-Oo7SOgL6jupcXlMLjLpvzpFHxT4Ygw5-fapOu92iP3nfcop2CIPIYiRGBc04/s640/stencil+colors+final.jpg" width="574" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I ordered this very cool Batik stencil and decided to use two shades of blue on the pattern, and another shade of blue on the shelves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8tjBmJbhLOdkjKIHmDJtgmAOUPd6SQf2t2TVpKyZcf4khddj_qNpL1kWZGIiDyyemBw2-WsMQKQVR3LLF5pQ0R42qDTIjI6O07zMuiIeCY82owk4zVIQ1jOb5IpMiTyMAefVnZHNiPao/s1600/linen+closet+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8tjBmJbhLOdkjKIHmDJtgmAOUPd6SQf2t2TVpKyZcf4khddj_qNpL1kWZGIiDyyemBw2-WsMQKQVR3LLF5pQ0R42qDTIjI6O07zMuiIeCY82owk4zVIQ1jOb5IpMiTyMAefVnZHNiPao/s640/linen+closet+5.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I repainted the whole space a bright white. Installed baseboards. And painted the shelves this sapphire blue.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> At this point Jim popped his head in and thought I was done.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(Silly man)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnYbe_I97S_9nfkIf8tFapuwh1ixfv7tYqwl72MVnZm4hfBJ5tmFTcfOqzCfyEXg3p3KfGDwtLzrallliNn3zBk-b4JGLMZ1XN1DIoR3Pvv_QIWoRFquIUgILVFPlG4Us_WDrqEOma4OYG/s1600/linen+closet+stencil+shot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1390" data-original-width="1600" height="554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnYbe_I97S_9nfkIf8tFapuwh1ixfv7tYqwl72MVnZm4hfBJ5tmFTcfOqzCfyEXg3p3KfGDwtLzrallliNn3zBk-b4JGLMZ1XN1DIoR3Pvv_QIWoRFquIUgILVFPlG4Us_WDrqEOma4OYG/s640/linen+closet+stencil+shot.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once I got started I didn't want to stop for pictures. But stenciling is pretty basic. Once you line the pattern up, taping it in place is the key. After that you just dab dab dab that paint on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The part of the project when you think,</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b> "it's all in the details"</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I ordered some gold French style upholstery nails from Amazon. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODlHAE_OadhpdpM4dUmx9i3YL4saA_eYwIyqUtBV2FWyL949TbKYd_1sntE-B7hAvSFI5V8y6f729X4rsqMDoS7kGZDJRrbX0yaEwCOVKb2DUl-xbWSyrdxGsaDehG6TzzHpRzapm0QrZ/s1600/drill+bit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1563" data-original-width="1491" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODlHAE_OadhpdpM4dUmx9i3YL4saA_eYwIyqUtBV2FWyL949TbKYd_1sntE-B7hAvSFI5V8y6f729X4rsqMDoS7kGZDJRrbX0yaEwCOVKb2DUl-xbWSyrdxGsaDehG6TzzHpRzapm0QrZ/s640/drill+bit.jpg" width="610" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: large;">Finally on the second trip to Home Depot I found a drill bit that was the right teeny-weeny size for the nail.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you're curious, here's the drill gun I use.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKq0QxHcoUVc4gKAxeGoM1AKMntkrhttpBm_2UCjyZDVgEEUX0WYOGy1ePmUFTrRtpyRjN488q-UBzfX3j0g0vKd314pyySy9_JLbMHrEeOWhBcP0gNhhyphenhyphenyEv9pUD7dxC70Dn8H9Zb0RzV/s1600/drill+hole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKq0QxHcoUVc4gKAxeGoM1AKMntkrhttpBm_2UCjyZDVgEEUX0WYOGy1ePmUFTrRtpyRjN488q-UBzfX3j0g0vKd314pyySy9_JLbMHrEeOWhBcP0gNhhyphenhyphenyEv9pUD7dxC70Dn8H9Zb0RzV/s640/drill+hole.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I drilled holes into the front of the shelves.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 24px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Then I used a hammer to pop them gently into the holes.</span><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></b><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></i><u style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></u><sub style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 11.06px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></sub><sup style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 11.06px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></sup><strike style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: line-through; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></strike><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ta daaaaa</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynJcSAX42jSxRMCSVZ7oMfyzdxnTlEyY7KiB1zNE9DxgVXkzZunWmqD4IfHwJQZ7Kuitu8YyEVgK6_dBtdpfJ9PeY_waoul7olUZCR_1ATlmSoSqrYBQSyowyWNkxDijSiLRkiyXzOAag/s1600/DSC_0666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynJcSAX42jSxRMCSVZ7oMfyzdxnTlEyY7KiB1zNE9DxgVXkzZunWmqD4IfHwJQZ7Kuitu8YyEVgK6_dBtdpfJ9PeY_waoul7olUZCR_1ATlmSoSqrYBQSyowyWNkxDijSiLRkiyXzOAag/s640/DSC_0666.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because the pattern was so busy I stopped at the ceiling.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8fZ92n8BKGeSc4uDOSUZzu00C4vnhZ7uikihcnx7Q1DMXuR4tzAafUxfTEVHGtbhbaTcA3KbwwAflHYvi8CCZQAuZq7ycedL0Xl1MFPiiGjHX7a-Dk97pai3oagcH0u6A57v4z5seK-z/s1600/white+baskets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1147" data-original-width="1600" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8fZ92n8BKGeSc4uDOSUZzu00C4vnhZ7uikihcnx7Q1DMXuR4tzAafUxfTEVHGtbhbaTcA3KbwwAflHYvi8CCZQAuZq7ycedL0Xl1MFPiiGjHX7a-Dk97pai3oagcH0u6A57v4z5seK-z/s640/white+baskets.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> And yes, I decided to purge all my colored towels and go with white from here out.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjnLCo2BfrJBxaGvL3PBseIcGGu3mKJmo_pWjtpKdfxvzo7fHfBIkHSkneM-910ATE8X2jTIwTYUyV8WTgo-SWv0XiKsE8WkeMGgcXuOzLyzkTlmrc7F4q_AYSfyc58LauqMFohLKyfS0q/s1600/final+iron+board.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjnLCo2BfrJBxaGvL3PBseIcGGu3mKJmo_pWjtpKdfxvzo7fHfBIkHSkneM-910ATE8X2jTIwTYUyV8WTgo-SWv0XiKsE8WkeMGgcXuOzLyzkTlmrc7F4q_AYSfyc58LauqMFohLKyfS0q/s640/final+iron+board.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />I ordered this quilted floral ironing board cover from <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/BluebonnetSales?ref=search_shop_redirect">Etsy </a>(#StandWithSmall) and Jim hung it on the wall. </span><span style="font-size: large;">And as you can see, I still haven't repainted the closet doors and put them back on yet. So that's a peek at my bathroom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Drum roll please. One last time...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Before</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEA34HGVLIg368OjUx_1WXRSIIwd8L0WrOGzg-rGrPMtCppE3sBDpoPfyyTBD6KTtW5tlAZx_DqHToiXr663IwfasifAAc6K-nbtf_G7UyomL38HuV2c3C-CSRttjcHFkI7kB50dmG5t-Q/s1600/before+pic+linen+closetfinal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1207" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEA34HGVLIg368OjUx_1WXRSIIwd8L0WrOGzg-rGrPMtCppE3sBDpoPfyyTBD6KTtW5tlAZx_DqHToiXr663IwfasifAAc6K-nbtf_G7UyomL38HuV2c3C-CSRttjcHFkI7kB50dmG5t-Q/s640/before+pic+linen+closetfinal.jpg" width="482" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">After</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4oGJvlbxxKNThxTwtv-ugYAohtjW1CMKexjv7LnVdwRGySyPI0rW9PbAcaBuGcW9xhotvZiWSDAcccafwHIsgrS7kO8up3EXHhm6hNIQwzKP3PIF1Jw4A7CIxJ-WkuySuFYtm7OHiqjs/s1600/linencloset78.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1585" data-original-width="1600" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4oGJvlbxxKNThxTwtv-ugYAohtjW1CMKexjv7LnVdwRGySyPI0rW9PbAcaBuGcW9xhotvZiWSDAcccafwHIsgrS7kO8up3EXHhm6hNIQwzKP3PIF1Jw4A7CIxJ-WkuySuFYtm7OHiqjs/s640/linencloset78.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And that's it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I sure hope you enjoyed seeing my little closet project and most importantly, that it got your mind off the sober reality we're all facing now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We're all in this together friends. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But we have to stay home for awhile. That's all. And it's such an easy sacrifice compared to all those health workers who are risking their lives for us every day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We got this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sending you a virtual <strike>hug</strike> glass of wine right now,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u><span style="color: #000120;"></span></u><br /></span></div>
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sharing this post with these friends:</div>
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<a href="https://www.impartinggrace.com/2020/04/grace-at-home-no.html?showComment=1585840716812#c997111046551301186">Imparting Grace</a><br />
<a href="https://www.astrollthrulife.net/2020/03/541st-inspire-me-tuesday.html">Inspire Me Tuesday</a></div>
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<br />Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-21481242405650102942020-03-23T17:49:00.002-07:002020-03-27T13:10:00.180-07:00The wisdom of staying in the Now: A heart-to-heart talk.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTohKq9ashDh7IcoCLV3Rfs8DrbE9I2Pe_8FuNu4KZgaXiaTGgkrwtldv6QuLO5D6zRDSYqfa-6HT2rZ7RZ3WR2DifBZ5Z4yzQP8cof3uTYZ0cnar8cU2vdmWeXCFYdqjw4B72TRgJwh82/s1600/postpic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1141" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTohKq9ashDh7IcoCLV3Rfs8DrbE9I2Pe_8FuNu4KZgaXiaTGgkrwtldv6QuLO5D6zRDSYqfa-6HT2rZ7RZ3WR2DifBZ5Z4yzQP8cof3uTYZ0cnar8cU2vdmWeXCFYdqjw4B72TRgJwh82/s640/postpic.jpg" width="456" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hello dear friends.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It’s been awhile since I’ve had one of these heart-to-heart talks with you, but here we all are-- in the midst of an unprecedented global pandemic, and it seemed more important than ever to stay connected to all of you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Actually, I’ve been wanting to share an honest update about my grief for a while now. Mostly because so many of you have reached out to me about your own losses, and it’s made me aware that when I open up about my own struggles here, it might be helping someone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But given the drastic changes happening by the minute, and all the chaos and fear affecting everyone, I decided to talk about my grief with the intention of sharing a few lessons that might be helpful to you --as we head into the worst of this crisis. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you’re a regular here, you know how devastated we were when we lost Patrick on September 15, 2018. I’ve shared glimpses of the first year with you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But ever since I entered 2020, it’s felt harder. And yeah, I’ve been reminded of how unpredictable my grief journey really is; one minute I’m on steady ground, then something happens. And <i>boom-</i>- I’m back in that valley again, climbing my way out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I guess that’s why this post has been so long in coming. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I honestly wondered if you could relate to my feeling...that my future is one big-blank-slate now? Or understand that some days feel so hard that the only way to get through them is by staying completely focused on this present moment. This one. Right here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I mean, who-lives-like-that, right?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUcprIKU3uGjWmX3c-ykwRMDLtVs0IQlo8JhJ9qfwI6c8TFAg0rj8uHXpHklrK1eX3vhNQNRnpoBxMHI5Z4mC5HfQVYPDyQbGwODFe05uASiLAWigtCThmMdmZqO3sb10vFX3VT53ib0eK/s1600/morningwalk3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1577" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUcprIKU3uGjWmX3c-ykwRMDLtVs0IQlo8JhJ9qfwI6c8TFAg0rj8uHXpHklrK1eX3vhNQNRnpoBxMHI5Z4mC5HfQVYPDyQbGwODFe05uASiLAWigtCThmMdmZqO3sb10vFX3VT53ib0eK/s640/morningwalk3.jpg" width="630" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">early morning walk</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But fast-forward to today. And suddenly, we’re all being reminded that our stable, safe life can change in a flash. And that uncertainty</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">is a part of Life. Although believe me, I know how scary this truth can feel. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />The other eye-opening lesson I’ve been learning is that we can avoid so much heartache when we realize how much time we spend <i>literally in the Future.</i> And once we learn to catch ourselves in the act of leaving the present moment, it’s a game-changer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is what I wanted to talk about today.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><br />1. When you look for your answer in the future, you miss the wisdom of Now. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><b></b><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It happened at one of the first grief groups that Jim and I ever attended. In October 2018.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We had been sitting at a long, conference table in a brightly lit room, both of us looking freshly haggard and shell-shocked, still trying to grasp that we had anything in common with this room full of bereaved parents.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When a young-looking father at the edge of the crowded room spoke up. I remember how tired and drained he looked. And I could instantly tell, he was one of those fathers. A man of few words, probably here for his wife. And he hadn’t planned on talking about his daughter because he wasn’t the type to show his feelings to the world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Which is probably why I still remember his words.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I watched as he looked around the quiet room, shaking his head. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Then he said, “I don’t care what anyone says… the second year is waaay worse than the first.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, everyone knew what he was talking about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It’s that mysterious path...the one that will lead you out of your suffering. David Brooks wrote <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Second-Mountain-David-Brooks/dp/0812993268">his last book</a> about it, this single topic: How do people get out of the valley? Whatever it is. Depression, fear, anxieties, addiction, sickness, loss. And when you’re in the middle of it and you can’t see the end in sight, you just want to hear from someone who knows. Someone whose-made-it-through so they can tell you that the path ahead is straight and smooth and …well, easy.</span></div>
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But instead, he told us the truth.</div>
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After every flow there will be an ebb. After every Up is a Down. After every spring there’s a winter.</div>
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Only this isn’t just the truth about the cycle of grief—this is the truth <i>about Life, </i>friends.</div>
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Life is the opposite of a linear, straight line. And I don’t know why it took me so long to know this, to stop being surprised by the little and big disruptions and losses and accidents and illnesses and all those terrible things that I thought mostly happened to other people. </div>
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I guess I should’ve been grateful that I lived more than five decades without ever knowing what real suffering was. But on that night, the idea that anguish and sorrow could be mercurial waves that pull you beneath the surface until you’re gasping for air. Release you. Exhausted but alive. Only to come back again. </div>
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Well, that was too much.</div>
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I remember staring at him. And thinking, Oh-my-god-how-can-that-be? The second year <i><b>worse </b></i>than the first? I won’t make it. I won’t survive this.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">But here’s what I know <b>Now</b>. And this is the point of this story.</span></div>
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All that shock and horror, when I tried to image the pain of the second year? Even while I was still in the beginning of the first year? It resulted in whole lot of anticipated agony that I didn’t have to worry about. Period. Anytime you’re anticipating ‘the worst’ thing that could happen or worrying about something that <i><b>hasn’t happened yet</b></i>—you’re literally inventing a future—a bad one too--that DOES NOT EXIST. </div>
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It’s your own mind---simply piling on to the feelings you’re already struggling with.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So Just. Don’t. Go there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>2. Ebb and flow</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The interesting thing is--- it wasn’t until we began to wake up in those early weeks of 2020 inside a cloud of sadness, that I remembered <u>that </u>father.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But when I look back now, I can see the ebb and flow. The holidays had been emotional & exhausting. There was the exhilaration of the Thanksgiving Day Run to Feed the Hungry with Patrick’s team. Seeing all the kids--Patrick and Michael’s friends, our family and friends, and then traveling back for Christmas again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was like being on a roller coaster of beautiful moments that would lift us UP-UP-UP-by the power of sheer love, and then drop us into a breathtaking descent of longing and sorrow for Patrick, so intense, we could barely endure it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This was when I began to understand: the shock of that first year was wearing off.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jim and I both felt it, a strange new depth of sorrow. And while normally, we talk about everything, we didn’t explore this "new low" out-loud, mostly because it felt if we were to bring these words out into the sunlight, it would ignite a despair so powerful, it might topple us from this narrow ledge of normalcy we were trying to walk. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There was so much fragility in those weeks. And it was intensified by being in a New Year, with all the hopeful focus on the future, and the giddy resolutions and goals. All of which we experienced as agonizing reminders of the stunning emptiness Patrick had left behind in our lives.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We sensed the heaviness the minute we opened our eyes in those early hours. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On these mornings I would look over and see Jim’s slouched shoulders as he sat at the edge of the bed, navigating that mental space between drowsy sadness and alertness. And I would know the truth. That this kind of grief has the power to color your entire world with a lens, so dark and forlorn that it might beat you if you gave into it. And what was needed—we both knew instinctively- was a simple return to the present moment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When your heart is heaviest. When you can’t see the end in sight. You come back to the feeling of Being Here. Right Now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Breathe.</span></div>
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What is the very next thing that needs to be done? And you do it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You stand up. You shuffle to the bathroom. And on your way, you notice the sun peeking through the bamboo blinds. Moving down the stairs-lo and behold--you smell the glorious waft of fresh coffee. You turn on an uplifting podcast. You have a satisfying meditation before heading to work. And you make a point to smile at everyone you see that day because you never know what god-awful struggles they’re facing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then you feel it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Love –the most powerful energy that exists-- comes back when you send it out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ebb and flow.</span></div>
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I won’t spend a lot of time talking about those moments of LIGHT that are always there. That’s another post. But I will say that even when it feels like you are at the darkest point of your life, if you come back into the present NOW you will be able to see even the tiniest signs from the Divine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;">...An unexpected conversation with Mackenzie. </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;">...Liz texting me the photo of Patrick she found in Shelby’s car. </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;">...Chris T. texting me on his way to Indonesia to tell me he feels </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Patrick with him.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;">...Nate’s toast to Patrick at his engagement party when I got to hear the sound of Patrick’s name floating over the packed room, amid clicking champagne glasses. “To Pat” “To Pat” “To Pat” “To Pat” “To Pat” “To Pat” “To Pat”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ebb and flow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>3. What's in front of you— the person, place, situation, feeling, energy—is exactly what you are meant to understand.</b></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><b></b><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">For months after Patrick’s accident I would wake up in the morning and instantly feel a sense of dread about the date.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I vividly remember lying there, eyes open at the ceiling. And realizing the day and then the month.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then I’d feel the dense pain in my chest. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What I realize now, was how destructive my view of Time was. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Somehow in my mind I envisioned this image of time moving forward without my son, and I couldn’t bear that sensation. The revolt I felt against this happening, was deep and primal and I was angry about being ‘forced’ to keep heading into each new day. Why me? It should be him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The closest I can come to describing this feeling is imaging a frantic mother departing from a train at a bustling, crowded station. And then her horror, as she realizes that her child has been left behind on the exact train that is NOW hurling past her, and she is helpless. There is nothing she can do but watch the terrifying distance between her child and herself, grow farther and farther apart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For me as a mother, this is my definition of horror. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And it took me months to realize and gradually ‘sit with’ the powerful feelings that were at the heart of this image.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There were other post-traumatic scenes too that popped into my head. For instance, each time I heard a siren I would instantly think of his accident site. And as you can imagine it was excruciating. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But one of the most helpful comments I heard was when I was working with an EMDR therapist and she casually reminded me that the accident scene in my mind, was actually “made up” by me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Because you weren’t there, right?” she had said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And of course, she was correct. But I felt jolted by her remark.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I <i>hadn’t</i> been there that night. And this was helpful to hear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Gradually, I came to understand that this siren-triggering image was serving a purpose in those months; it was actually helping me wrap my head-mind-brain around the enormity of this catastrophic event. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because emotionally I was still in disbelief. And as I’m learning about trauma and the effects it has on our mind-body-spirt, I now can actually feel self-compassion. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Grief takes time. When you suffer loss and it happens unexpectedly and suddenly, realize that it will take time for you to emotionally absorb it all, even while your intellect and logical mind might be spouting out facts about it. And sounding rational. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The inner work that I did in therapy helped me become aware that on a deeper level, this siren-triggering image of the accident site was ultimately about my lack of control, which tormented me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Why? Because I hadn’t been there. Because I never woke up at that exact moment. Because I never ever-ever saw it coming. As a mother I had many regrets that I needed to work through so that I could let go of this traumatic scene in my head that I never actually witnessed. </span></div>
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So, what’s the point of this story?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The reason I’m sharing this is because <i>we all create narratives</i> in our heads. In my case it was related to grief. But we also do this when we’re worried or imaging the worst. And these kind of-runaway-negative thoughts are powerful. They can affect our nervous system by evoking a flight or fight response that can send us into a panic about something that <i>hasn’t actually happened.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Becoming aware of the stories that we’re telling ourselves is the perfect example of how far away we can travel from the present moment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Is your anxiety rising? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Are your fears taking over? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Stop. Come back to your breath. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Put your hand on your heart and focus on being back inside your body. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Can you see how important it is during these turbulent times to learn to live in the NOW?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Before I go, here’s a few things that are helping me heal:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">1. “You don’t have to follow your thoughts down the rabbit hole.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This one line from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/EckhartTeachings">Eckhart Tolle</a> has been a life saver for me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> It’s so simple. And maybe I just heard this line at the right time, but I love it. And I’ll literally say this out-loud whenever I feel myself headed into that dark emotional spiral. It does require however, that you catch yourself in the act of engaging in painful thinking. That’s because you need to identify the exact thoughts/storyline you were telling yourself that was causing you to leap from one worrisome situation to the next. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />I'm not suggesting that you ignore those deeper feelings; the feelings that are underneath all this mind-clutter must be addressed because they <i>will </i>keep surfacing until you face them honestly. No, this is more about recognizing when you’re getting obsessive with your fears or worries, or whatever the emotion. And it’s overwhelming you in that moment. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">2. Sit in stillness/Mediation</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I meditate each day. Sometimes twice a day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For me--mediation became another life-saver when I discovered I had absolutely NO control over the torrent of painful images and thoughts that overwhelmed me after we lost Patrick. I’ve never known such unbearable heartache. I describe my grief as the closest you can come to dying without actually taking that final breath. If you can imagine this, then you’ll understand the need to get relief from the incessant thinking that ushers in the anguish. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As a cradle Catholic I’ve prayed all my life, but meditation is different. It teaches you—over time--the ability to create space between YOU and all those intense thoughts and feelings in your head—something like 60K a day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I can’t describe the relief you’ll feel when you begin to experience that tiny, microscopic space between YOU and your crazy-rapid-firing mind. Believe me. it’s the path toward inner peace.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">3. Thoughts/emotions carry energy</span></span></div>
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I don’t want to get too Albert Einsteiny on you, but did you know everything you see with your eyes is actually composed of pure energy?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Quantum physics confirms this: what we perceive as our physical world is all comprised of energy—waves and particles, and this includes our thoughts and emotions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But maybe you already know this if you’re an empath or an intuitive person. Because have you ever walked into a room after an intense argument and instantly knew that ‘something just happened’?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or have you noticed how certain people can lift you up (or bring you down), simply by being around them? </span></div>
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You’re not imaging it. You’re picking up on the energy that each person radiates, and even the energy of emotions.</div>
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Positive feelings like love and gratitude carry the highest vibrational levels, while “negative” thoughts that produce anxiety, worry, anger and grief have much lower energy frequencies, that can actually be felt in the physical body as heaviness or a feeling of being low or ‘down’.</div>
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The reason I share this is so you can be aware that too much exposure to crisis news can have a powerful effect on you. It does me. </div>
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And while it’s crucial to stay informed right now. Our self-care should include limiting our exposure to too much negative energy—whether it’s certain people, situations or places. You know what those are.</div>
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We are all facing the unknown together friends. Let’s lead with kindness and compassion.</div>
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In the meantime, please stay in touch. I read every single comment and it means so much to me. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Aren't we so lucky to have the technology that keeps us connected. </span></div>
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*a surprise in the mail from Anastasia<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />Sending love from my heart to yours,<br />Leslie</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">***I'm sharing this post with these friends:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.impartinggrace.com/2020/03/grace-at-home-372.html?showComment=1585253397390#c4789964229051950998">Grace at Home</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://katherinescorner.com/2020/03/26/create-and-tft-party/">Katherine's Corner</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.kathleenaherne.com/bloggers-pit-stop-214/">Blogger's Pit Stop</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.create-with-joy.com/2020/03/friendship-friday-blog-hop-424.html">Friendship Friday Blog</a></span></div>
Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-42603477888410154042020-02-06T06:04:00.000-08:002020-02-06T12:56:14.206-08:005 Ways to Refresh your Living Room<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hello Friends, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And welcome to my blog. If you're new here I'm SO happy to have you visit! Welcome. Welcome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And if you're one of my returning friends... well, you probably know I've been completely off the grid for awhile. No Instagram. No blogging. Just a total break. And maybe you figured it out already because we do talk about real-life things here. But the truth is, it's been a difficult time as I navigated my way through January. As you can imagine, facing a new year with all the energetic focus on the future feels completely different to a grieving parent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I'll share more about that later.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the meantime--- I've got company!! Yes, YOU!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You're here. And so many others because there's a house tour going on and I have to admit, I'm pretty awe-struck by the bloggers Cindy has assembled here for this living room project. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">If I was my normal nerdy self I would be downright intimidated because I'm such an long-time admirer of these gals, I just love their distinct styles. And whenever I see them participating in things like this ---I can't wait to see their homes.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i>Also</i>, because I love funny stories (especially at my expense) I have to ask you this personal question. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Have you ever been home in your jammies, with not a drop of make-up on, just drinking coffee in your messy house and in my case, holding a wet paint brush---when you get a call from some out-to-town friends who are nearby and want to stop by RIGHT NOW and say Hi?</span></div>
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I'm laughing as I write this because that's exactly ME. And this project. The back story is that apparently I had said yes to Cindy some fuzzy months ago about a 'refresh project' and of course I felt honored to be included because...well, who doesn't love hanging out with Cindy and MaryAnn?</div>
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Only I guess I didn't hear the words, LIVING ROOM and so I was just humming along, finishing up my bathroom and my new linen closet. And feeling relieved I could at least share these parts of my house when the time came.</div>
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Of course. Right? </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The guests ALWAYS gotta hang out in that <i>one </i>room you didn't get to. HA!. But no worries, in real life if this happens--I hope you've learned to do what I do, shrug and say WTF and pull out a good bottle of wine. Cause that's my attitude.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The good news is that it really did force me to keep it simple, and I actually challenged myself NOT to buy anything new for this room. You know how we always talk about shopping our own house? Well I actually did it (besides buying flowers and plants). And here's the hard part---not getting all crazy and trying to pretend I'm a designer, which of course I'm not. I did some easy stuff. Dusting for one. And I hope you like it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Seriously, don't you love finding pillow covers you washed and then forgot about? It helps that I'd just cleared out my (hoarder-looking) linen closet.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 32px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since I was using a jewel-colored Batik cloth for my throw, I brought these Mudcloth pillows back out for my white chairs.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 32px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">4. Shop your home</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Walk around your house with a fresh eye and<br /> relocate prints and art from other rooms..</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here's another example. I spied this vintage print in my kitchen </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">and I moved it into the laundry room ..</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">so I could bring this modern print into the living room.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></span><span style="font-size: large;">The biggest change in this room happened when I moved all these deep gray botanical prints from an overlooked wall in my dining room, and hung them in here. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hard to get a good pic because of the glare from the window.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I found this basket at Target last Fall. <br />So I balanced this long wall out with this new plant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">5. Clear clutter from bookshelves, and dust everything!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large; margin: 0px;">Oh, hi honey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This vintage piece weighs a ton so it's been in the garage for months. See what happens when company is coming? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You hang things up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />Well, that's it for now my friends. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thank you so much for visiting, and please do head straight over to see what these talented bloggers have been doing in their living rooms:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1d2228; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><a href="https://cindyhattersleydesign.com/simple-ways-to-refresh-your-living-room-for-spring/">Rough Luxe Lifestyle</a>- Cindy</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></span></div>
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<a href="https://classiccasualhome.com/ten-quick-ways-to-refresh-your-living-room/" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Classic Casual Home</a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Mary Ann</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.edbdesignssb.com/spring-living-room/">EDB Designs</a>- Elizabeth</span><br />
<a href="https://5thandstate.blogspot.com/2020/02/simple-ways-to-refresh-your-living-room.html" style="font-size: x-large;">5th and State</a><span style="font-size: large;">- Debra</span></div>
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<a href="https://kelleyandco.com/top-5-stratigies-for-a/" style="font-size: x-large;">Kelley and Co</a><span style="font-size: large;">- Kelley</span></div>
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<a href="https://mostlovelythings.com/black-painted-stone-fireplace/">Most Lovely Things</a>- Anne</div>
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<a href="https://www.shineyourlightblog.com/ideas-spring-living-room-refresh/">Shine DIY and Design</a>-Lisa</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-79046911577839703532019-12-19T10:35:00.001-08:002019-12-19T12:11:20.859-08:00 A Christmas tour with an update<u><span style="color: #000120;"></span></u><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgchvELslCIqyBNrRtZN8rYPkge-QLLeWQG-WwsqLkECHWqbNSw3lUHmOS_7IWG8xHLX-raDKkD1lM9nVhBvEuuXqFT7z3DKS3cuZE-bGWrh8cbErulcgq-f_WreUbNyrbaXrO-CUPrEESm/s1600/DSC_0239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1118" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgchvELslCIqyBNrRtZN8rYPkge-QLLeWQG-WwsqLkECHWqbNSw3lUHmOS_7IWG8xHLX-raDKkD1lM9nVhBvEuuXqFT7z3DKS3cuZE-bGWrh8cbErulcgq-f_WreUbNyrbaXrO-CUPrEESm/s640/DSC_0239.jpg" width="446" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's hard to believe that I haven't posted anything this month because holidays were always my thing, such a joyful time. I was always bursting at the seams, so excited to decorate. Blasting Christmas tunes in my car the minute Thanksgiving was over. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This Christmas season it's been so tough and I notice how I disappear from social media when I get like this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I remember hearing a father at a Compassionate Friends group say in a voice whacked with grief, that the second year following his devastating loss was far worse than the first year. And I was startled to hear this. But now, I think I get it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last December at this time I was still basically numb. I was going through all the motions of life but according to trauma specialists, I was still being protected from the full emotional brunt of Patrick's loss because of the way my brain and nervous system went into survival mode. Now that the numbness is lifting...it's like having the scab ripped off your wounds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I describe it like being in the middle of heart surgery when everything seems to be manageable and then BOOM! Without warning the anesthesia wears off and you slowly begin to experience the raw, withering pain that was always there, but muffled by the wooziness of your shock. The worst thing about it--is that there's no where to go to escape this unbearable condition. The physician and nurses are gone. The hospital room is dim and silent. And there's no action left that can ever change the outcome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's just you and the truth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is how it feels when you begin to face the reality of your child being gone. As you can imagine, this kind of grief transcends words.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But please realize. I'm not sharing this because I want anyone to feel bad for me, I share it because I believe that telling the truth is the only way towards the light. And I want women who come to my blog to know that if you're feeling down or depressed for whatever your reasons, it's OK. You're not alone. Although during the holidays it's easy to feel this way.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Going into shopping malls this Christmas has been like torture and I literally hunker down with my shoulders up, praying that I don't hear certain Christmas songs overhead as I hurry through the stores, especially the men's department at Macys. I try to avoid the stores I browsed with Patrick, the racks with those jeans he bought (and usually left at a friend's house (wink). But shopping anywhere is dangerous territory because of the unexpected memories that pop up in front of me like a deadly intruder. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It doesn't take much to remind me of Patrick. A dark stubble on the face of a passing young man. A black beanie being worn by an athletic looking guy. Cute shot glasses in HomeGoods that reminds me of that night at the Long Beach comedy club when he was laughing so loud, in the seat next to me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How many visual images can remind you of one of your kids? You'd be surprised. I'm learning that when you're missing your child so much it physically hurts, there are literally a hundred different moments during your day that can trigger a mother's memory of them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you happen to be going through a rough time emotionally, what I hope you realize is that there are things you can do that can help you. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Its-That-Youre-Not-Understand/dp/1622039076">Megan Devine </a>talks about this idea of wellness vs worseness, and how important it is for us to recognize when we're making things worse for ourselves with our thoughts. She calls it mentally tormenting ourselves, with those repeated mind-loops where we play things back in our head and wonder what we could have done differently.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Besides meditation, which I do daily, one of the most nourishing things on my wellness list is being creative. Whether it's my DIY projects, or writing or painting. Recently I've found it soothing to put some Christmas decorations up around the house. And I know a lot of bereaved mothers can't decorate for the holidays and I totally understand. But if you're someone who enjoys being creative, you can probably relate to the sense of being happily transported for a bit by one of your projects. The pain is still there, but I notice the tiniest sense of peace that comes from creating beauty in whatever form.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You know how bloggers often have a theme for their Christmas décor?</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This year I started with the question, "What's the <i>opposite</i> of <a href="http://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2013/12/merry-bright-holiday-tour-2013.html">Merry and Bright?"</a> And I decided that Breathing and Grateful was the idea that kept me moving. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />So a big welcome to you. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I hope you enjoy looking around. Oh-and something I just learned, if you're viewing these photos from your phone, for a clearer view you can click on each photo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sending you the blessings of love and faith and hope this Christmas and beyond. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support. I only hope you realize how precious and loved you truly are.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm sharing this post with friends:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.impartinggrace.com/2019/12/grace-at-home-no-361.html">Imparting Grace</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.adelightsomelife.com/home-and-garden-thursday-26/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ADelightsomeLife+%28A+Delightsome+Life%29">Home and Garden Thursday</a></span>Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-39029795888688649252019-11-17T16:04:00.002-08:002019-11-17T20:46:52.413-08:00the only control you really have (and the bathtub that taught me a lesson)<u><span style="color: #000120;"></span></u><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">poem by Rainer Maria Rilke</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Friday was the 15th of the month.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">November 2019. A date that leaves me stunned and breathless when I see it on my computer screen. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">As a mother, it’s a staggering mystery to me that I have been on this earth for 427 days without Patrick. Honestly my brain has no explanation for it. I do know there have been mystical changes inside my mother’s body that aren’t visible from the outside, and that the best cardiologist in the world can’t detect. But I know it. That my mother’s heart is no longer at home in my chest— and that it stopped beating normally once Patrick’s heartbeat could no longer be detected on this earth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It’s just a fact. I base it on the mysterious alchemy of a mother’s love. We feel it the instant we hold our infant to our chest. When we are flooded by a love as tender as the translucent wings of a butterfly and yet so powerful and steely, that it will smash through the boundaries of life and death.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">These days I’ve made it my goal to understand the effects of trauma on our mind-body experience, mostly because I don’t think I was meant to survive the loss of my child and if I ever get through this, it seems important to figure out how I did it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now that the initial shock-trauma has been worn down by the starkness of Patrick’s absence, I do see that I’ve become that person <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/rainer-maria-rilke">Rilke </a>described. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I’m just trying to live my way into the answers of my unsolved questions.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Only <i>my </i>unsolved questions are not clouded in mystery like books written in a foreign tongue, because I am a mother who has lost a child and therefore my single question is as clear as the bluest sky.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How am I ever going to live the rest of my life without my son? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Without Patrick here? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And why the f--- am I still here when he had so much more to offer the world? Oh it’s not hyperbole. Believe me when I say that Patrick was so much more than Jim and I can ever hope to be. And we both feel the outrageousness of his loss on this world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Welcoming-Unwelcome-Wholehearted-Living-Brokenhearted/dp/1611805651/ref=sr_1_1?hvadid=78546473796222&hvbmt=be&hvdev=c&hvqmt=e&keywords=pema+chodron+welcoming+the+unwelcome&qid=1574025311&sr=8-1">Pema Chodron</a> says that whether we realize it or not, we all live in a little bubble where we try to keep everything intact and predictable so things make sense to us. It makes us feel in control and god knows our ego loves that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She says that nothing can prepare you for that shocking moment when your “life-as-you-know-it, suddenly ends.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I know what she means.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I remember right after the accident, surviving seemed impossible. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It wasn’t exactly that I <i>wanted</i> to die, it was more like I couldn’t imagine waking up every day with this agonizing pain pulsating through my body like hot waves of anguish. It was a despair I had never experienced before. And I was stunned by it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I think I mumbled out loud to whomever was near me at the time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because this is another thing you do in the wake of devastating loss; you walk around blurting things out under your breath like, “I just can’t believe it.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Only this time I said, “All those years I worked inside a session room.... And I never knew.” </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And what I was thinking about, was how I never realized when I heard someone tittering on the edge of suicide what they were actually feeling. I had empathy, oh yes. But not the shared kind, when you KNOW what someone’s going through because you’ve been inside that dark abyss yourself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But now I get it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoKvdRM3KrfTsz48jMpl2HdgK87iKGuBvMcMjUp9tqHDSETuUzyC2U9yaJd7AP5Yi_vZKtNYgAYN1OITQV6QOzHK-tqSRGlk7X_HRmKdZxoWiyNBGN4KN_ASJNdYC7pQ3D3Dva3ZaIEqZI/s1600/DSC_0149.jpg+leaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoKvdRM3KrfTsz48jMpl2HdgK87iKGuBvMcMjUp9tqHDSETuUzyC2U9yaJd7AP5Yi_vZKtNYgAYN1OITQV6QOzHK-tqSRGlk7X_HRmKdZxoWiyNBGN4KN_ASJNdYC7pQ3D3Dva3ZaIEqZI/s640/DSC_0149.jpg+leaves.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now I understand the magnitude of brokenness that obliterates you from the inside out; a pain so relentless that it can actually drive someone to consider death as an option. It’s not that someone wants to die. No. No. <i>No. </i>It’s not death they’re after. It’s that life can feel so unbearable that death actually appears in the distance as mirage of relief. Think about that for a moment. The next time you hear about someone taking their own life. It will instantly soften your heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />I share these insights because they seem like little shifts of light on my grief journey. It’s a path that I’ve decided requires work if I’m going to survive it, so I journal and read books like <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Widen-Window-Training-Thrive-Recover/dp/0735216592">THIS </a>one and I’ve embraced the world of meditation and energetic healing which I believe is the path toward mind-body recovery.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I notice it helps me to share some of my ah-ha moments here in the hopes that maybe you can relate a bit. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Like the story about my plumber cracking my new bathtub.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you’re kind enough to still be reading along. I’ll tell you the craziest story because it has a good ending. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1f9xFefNmsLcnWY1tG0bGiCB1qcn4T_K9bQjeYRTTIYKakcVqhDyaM1pGLgGXPh239wIcGWZzl-UBFLxarXqRqiQ3ZjvrEs1KClKxeThZuCU783Jd4hfkqRCs_peboDovxLSJDi193AG/s1600/IMG_3201use+this.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1f9xFefNmsLcnWY1tG0bGiCB1qcn4T_K9bQjeYRTTIYKakcVqhDyaM1pGLgGXPh239wIcGWZzl-UBFLxarXqRqiQ3ZjvrEs1KClKxeThZuCU783Jd4hfkqRCs_peboDovxLSJDi193AG/s640/IMG_3201use+this.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you’re a regular here you know that I’m tackling my first home project after Patrick’s loss, a bathroom renovation that I’m leaving mostly to the professionals. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Although I’ll do a few things like putting wood on the ceiling. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But really, I’m just coordinating it all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had ordered a soaker tub from Wayfair after a lot of deliberation, measurements and reading those reviews. The bummer was that this particular tub was going to take 2-3 weeks so I had to reschedule with my tile guy. And although I felt that old twinge of tenseness about letting go of my finish date, it’s getting easier since my life felt apart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So t<span style="font-size: medium;">wo weeks pass.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, I receive the tub earlier than planned so I quickly juggled my installation date with the plumber who was about to go on vacation. Okay. I would wait until the Tub-Guru returned. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another week. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then my plumber returns from his vacation and comes to install the tub and discovers that the tub’s two holes aren’t lined up, a finding he says is “bizarre” but now he can’t guarantee his work and advises me to send it back. Which I did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fast forward through all the calls to Wayfair who ended up being great about trying to get the new tub on the freight truck before the typical 2-3 weeks. At this point my tile guy had to remove me indefinitely from his schedule because the tub had to be installed first.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finally my second tub arrives! Wooohooo! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And when we examine it everything looks good. My over-booked plumber is at my house with his co-worker and everything seems to be going well (fingers crossed) when my plumber calls me to the bathroom.</span></div>
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He has something to show me, he says. Mind you, this is supposed to be the head plumber at a reputable company, the Tub Installation-Guru. Right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I kneel down at the side of the tub which is now inside my bathroom, in the right location (hallelujah) my plumber points to a crack at the edge of this tub that he accidently caused because he didn’t see a nail jutting out of the floor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I admit. I was speechless. Tub #2 was unusable.</span></div>
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Of course, he apologized.</div>
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He would talk to his boss and arrange a new tub. But in my head, I was thinking about the 2-3 weeks delay again. The sheer headache of it all. And for the next 20 minutes I could feel the heavy silence as the plumbers removed the bathtub and all their tools. Up and down our stairs.</div>
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The entire time I could sense that this plumber felt really bad. </div>
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At this point it was one of those moments when the question becomes, are my feelings of sheer frustration going to override this plumber’s feelings of guilt?<br /><div>
Suddenly, I took a deep breath and I stopped him at the front door and I told him a few things. I said that I knew he was good at his job and that I knew this was a rare fluke and that in the scheme of things it really wasn’t a big thing. I told him about Patrick and how it puts everything in perspective and I reassured him, </div>
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“Hey, it will all work out. “</div>
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And he looked so relieved. </div>
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In the next few days Kayla from his plumbing company found out they couldn’t get another Wayfair tub in less than 2 weeks. Bad news. But they found a new tub that could be rushed the next day. Good news. So, after more reviews and homework, I approved it, letting go of the Wayfair tub. Although I actually found out that the new tub was a better quality one, which felt like a little wink from the Universe. </div>
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OK. Finally. After all the typical re-scheduling issues to get this plumber back we set a date for my tub #3 to be installed.</div>
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I called the tile guy back. My tile was rescheduled. Yayyy.<br />Drum-roll please.<br />Friday comes. And I stay home and work from my living room waiting for my plumber to arrive when I look down at my cell phone and see the plumbing company calling me. Gulp.<br />I pick up the call and I hear Kayla—the sweet office rep—on the other end. And the first thing I notice is that her voice is shaking and she immediately blurts out how sorry she was but the Tub-Guru had called in sick, something that apparently “never happens.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I won’t go into the details of our conversation because my entire focus was on her voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />In that split second I realized how much this young woman had dreaded calling me. I thought about her morning in the office when she realized my plumber had called in sick. And how uncomfortable she must have been calling me to deliver this latest bad news. I even remembered on a prior call, her joking that she knew my phone number by heart and how everyone at their small company felt so bad about my situation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But all this happened inside my head in a flick of second and the next thing I heard was my voice interrupting her awkward apologies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I said it louder than usual because she was still talking.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> “Kayla. Everyone is doing the best they can. It's ok. Let’s just re-schedule it for Monday.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Right then I could hear a pin drop. And then her long exhale of relief.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Elizabeth Gilbert<a href="https://www.inbound.com/2019/speakers/elizabeth-gilbert"> said on a podcast</a> recently that there’s nothing more we hate than feeling powerlessness. But there’s THAT point when you have done all you can and you reach the end of your power. And at that instant, there’s something sacred and beautiful about surrendering. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That’s when you realize that all you can be is Love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That’s what happened to me in this three-minute conversation with this young, nervous receptionist. Once again I was being taught a lesson about letting go of my attachments….in this case, to some vision in my head about time and scheduling and my version of what I wanted to happen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Only I’m not a quick learner friends. Because my first reaction is to hold on tight to what I want. Insist on my way. And when I don’t get it, my ego can’t stop asking why. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Why? Why? <i>Why?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Why am I still here when my big, beautiful, spirited son Patrick is not?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don’t know. Maybe Rilke is correct and someday I’ll live my way into the answers I want. </span></div>
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In the meantime, I’ve learned that when your life gets cracked wide open from traumatic loss, you begin to see things as they really are. And when things are falling apart around you, or when life isn’t unfolding as you plan, and you look at God from down on your knees and yell, </div>
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“Really Lord? How much more can I give up and still survive? <br />
You get your answers in the little stories that happen in your day.</div>
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It’s a silly incident with my bathtub. But there was life-lesson in it that felt oddly empowering. </div>
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As a woman who has spent her life as a self-confessed control freak, a take-charger and a worrier. And as a mother who is suffering from the worst loss you can ever experience, this is what the shaky voice of a young receptionist reminded me:</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The only control we ever really have, is how we choose to react in each situation.</span></div>
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And we all get the chance to choose Kindness.</div>
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Everything else is just an illusion.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PRIYvuRAmL5VIQEF-E-t4eNN3uKmefGul-orj6WZ6w3qNe6vMRIlaEVypxLoYVcURw0ZG3ZnWWHXiORhlQUFDaehpNqgl6LFKy7ICnojkjPh3D1GzRGnEkCKRsNMf0uzQJSMhUs4Y5XF/s1600/IMG_3363usethis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PRIYvuRAmL5VIQEF-E-t4eNN3uKmefGul-orj6WZ6w3qNe6vMRIlaEVypxLoYVcURw0ZG3ZnWWHXiORhlQUFDaehpNqgl6LFKy7ICnojkjPh3D1GzRGnEkCKRsNMf0uzQJSMhUs4Y5XF/s640/IMG_3363usethis.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">P.S the tub finally got installed!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></div>
Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-38221577904036480152019-11-08T14:19:00.000-08:002019-11-08T14:21:08.351-08:00Well, it finally happened!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">My dear amazing readers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because you've been with me from the beginning... </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Of course </i>I would include you all. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also want to take a minute to tell you that I read each and every comment you leave here and some days I'm convinced I'm only standing because of all the prayers and love you have so kindly sent my way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you friends, from the bottom of my heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZdWat2pYnlNsyLq8PUNd23GrT5aAhmVpfWeQM5lgR8XC4_wUPCkLP700R88bU22mqPUr7x01OJRP0twrsL-rkbfK0_zpGUe3RI_478dIXTHEYTa7ol0HeBi47QS7TnRDWasPNq3ZXmjq/s1600/269644_10150238983498805_576263804_7079793_2264053_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="540" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZdWat2pYnlNsyLq8PUNd23GrT5aAhmVpfWeQM5lgR8XC4_wUPCkLP700R88bU22mqPUr7x01OJRP0twrsL-rkbfK0_zpGUe3RI_478dIXTHEYTa7ol0HeBi47QS7TnRDWasPNq3ZXmjq/s400/269644_10150238983498805_576263804_7079793_2264053_n.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="300" /></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">And I also want to express a <b>special </b>thank you to Chanel (pictured here with Patrick) who has been such an incredible help for Jim and me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Thank-goodness she took over the <b>Live Like Patrick </b>FB page and made sure it finally got published.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">xoxo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Leslie</span></div>
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<br />Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-34038061382904796782019-11-07T03:00:00.000-08:002019-11-09T12:37:04.944-08:00Setting a Thanksgiving table with beauty and meaning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji5YqjfGh9uiYD8at8-es5AhCnrWlrW4IjQ7ozJ1vnW92IZ0775IvkuJwBscLqW2vESCtIcxHmgWOLVUqp1RU65s0XFc7bYMegp42w93tNvCegyxWLCYJQnUt3FBab7ktIPdl41G4Z9Qdp/s1600/DSC_0048+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1209" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji5YqjfGh9uiYD8at8-es5AhCnrWlrW4IjQ7ozJ1vnW92IZ0775IvkuJwBscLqW2vESCtIcxHmgWOLVUqp1RU65s0XFc7bYMegp42w93tNvCegyxWLCYJQnUt3FBab7ktIPdl41G4Z9Qdp/s640/DSC_0048+%25281%2529.jpg" width="482" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This past weekend Jim and I worked on the welcome message for Patrick's memorial Facebook page and I don't need to tell you how emotionally draining that was. I used to think that the most surreal and gut-wrenching thing I would ever do in my life was writing my child's obituary but it turns out when you're a grieving parent, that single pain-crazed obituary experience is only the beginning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The thing is, even though I felt on the edge of tears that entire day I kept my feelings under tight control. Something that's not easy for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But we had dinner plans later in Long Beach with our dearest friends John and Kirsten and their son John, who went to kindergarten with Patrick. And I've figured out that if I can go three days without crying than my eyes look normal and I can dress up and at least feel sorta normal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Which is actually what happened. It ended up being such a beautiful night and afterwards I felt replenished for a bit. Do you have people in your life that you've known for so long, that you can't remember a time when you didn't know them? Well that's how it is with them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ok. So you're probably wondering. <i>Why</i> am I telling you all this when you just stopped by to see a damn Thanksgiving table? </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsi6slT2OsdcQUDufGOZLmRyjyrZh-4_I7xwQK2r5h4gW4V65dFUBF-TZE-Z0X-V8K_txH1y2DfukX6pcdnuDBQRUgHApeWjUPQJMoOxySea2ZSlSz8pIJioj5UhZD9-fQg7Vi7g8ljvWK/s1600/DSC_0046+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsi6slT2OsdcQUDufGOZLmRyjyrZh-4_I7xwQK2r5h4gW4V65dFUBF-TZE-Z0X-V8K_txH1y2DfukX6pcdnuDBQRUgHApeWjUPQJMoOxySea2ZSlSz8pIJioj5UhZD9-fQg7Vi7g8ljvWK/s640/DSC_0046+%25282%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well. I wanted you to know that even though my heart is miles away from being able to host a Thanksgiving dinner anytime soon, I said "Yes" to <a href="http://celebrateanddecorate.com/">Chloe</a> when she asked me to join a group of bloggers showing Thanksgiving tablescapes, because if there's one thing you should do when you're going through a difficult time, it's find those moments that give you relief. And for me, that happens when I'm being creative. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBrs-RB7W8x5tfz7hRea4DxoK-FWjSRL2t0GauzNzR5PzJb-WIJnJ8WdShJY7ulGcsAwI79zcMfFvFgE4WyJYxiX4CY2qIUdrmp7eb-2udwdUkhgQ2q_Uh5WK-a1282EfdtsPD1pOwRr8/s1600/DSC_0047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBrs-RB7W8x5tfz7hRea4DxoK-FWjSRL2t0GauzNzR5PzJb-WIJnJ8WdShJY7ulGcsAwI79zcMfFvFgE4WyJYxiX4CY2qIUdrmp7eb-2udwdUkhgQ2q_Uh5WK-a1282EfdtsPD1pOwRr8/s640/DSC_0047.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">By the way, I'm showing you the world's easiest centerpiece. Mums stuck in-between pumpkins</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69uZ3-dvSFgggeCUPt2_5AjlkpBhtKLJXRaPJNx6PMKflvyAuee3msVSjg8aDxXhJh55thIwbXifexexjV_FW2M8jhOeRE1ed5EsctiAl_b0y_jwYVfgG_ivSh1vX1D8j_J58E2DCei2Z/s1600/DSC_0090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69uZ3-dvSFgggeCUPt2_5AjlkpBhtKLJXRaPJNx6PMKflvyAuee3msVSjg8aDxXhJh55thIwbXifexexjV_FW2M8jhOeRE1ed5EsctiAl_b0y_jwYVfgG_ivSh1vX1D8j_J58E2DCei2Z/s640/DSC_0090.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This one took more time. First I filled this entire urn with green floral foam that I soaked. Then I started filling it up white roses, white hydrangeas, a few white chrysanthemums and pink berries. All courtesy of Trader Joes. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNNdBj0bptGAc3clAG19qa88Ey3TNErUdtGMSxjoyShkFiFn_pIXSe1VJeW_QDTTnUFKSTDXE793nRZhPwyk24uAx7S2mu5tv6keB2sVYI0IsjOG9O-ntbYRKFEqRzLwkdDFK2lOdYqDTC/s1600/final2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNNdBj0bptGAc3clAG19qa88Ey3TNErUdtGMSxjoyShkFiFn_pIXSe1VJeW_QDTTnUFKSTDXE793nRZhPwyk24uAx7S2mu5tv6keB2sVYI0IsjOG9O-ntbYRKFEqRzLwkdDFK2lOdYqDTC/s640/final2.JPG" width="424" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After it was almost full, I clipped some ivy from the front yard and plugged the empty spaces with it. Added some cream and chocolate feathers into a few more gaps for some texture and tucked moss along the edge of the urn for a more finished look. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know this doesn't look like a typical Thanksgiving centerpiece, but I kept coming back to white, even when I tried to put those red Mums into it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I wish you could see this in person. It really is pretty. And when outside, the white roses have a buttery hue.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMX5f0GqvrNLKRxGvsrt3P9_sXARQStBQpvVpjo1km3Gm6MdUVcYnqhm9WLrfLvBAAxOTmDrnQO-AaqTbeNHO6eoPNnPv8fPB8lnZ2dAFlBrPO9GxqIA44VrW8YGEEDpysCgniPONeBP6c/s1600/DSC_0105better.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMX5f0GqvrNLKRxGvsrt3P9_sXARQStBQpvVpjo1km3Gm6MdUVcYnqhm9WLrfLvBAAxOTmDrnQO-AaqTbeNHO6eoPNnPv8fPB8lnZ2dAFlBrPO9GxqIA44VrW8YGEEDpysCgniPONeBP6c/s640/DSC_0105better.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To be perfectly honest I've never-ever had a Thanksgiving dinner outside but since today was 74 degrees in Huntington Beach and since my dining room only gets natural light for short slivers of time during Fall, and since I didn't want to worry about taking photos in a dark dining room...well,</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> welcome to my outdoor Thanksgiving dinner party.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl0c8yqA42zqV9E33wCU4RptPnWmBj_titS_cx9w5YtPh1E01fLIFqFQLTuFO88ZpzVH8GM4DbJctVUHzdPgeEGwo-o4-NSFqYlcq2Ldu4jJUdP3XBd0UBi8X9PznUbYml86-iP5UFttTu/s1600/DSC_0077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl0c8yqA42zqV9E33wCU4RptPnWmBj_titS_cx9w5YtPh1E01fLIFqFQLTuFO88ZpzVH8GM4DbJctVUHzdPgeEGwo-o4-NSFqYlcq2Ldu4jJUdP3XBd0UBi8X9PznUbYml86-iP5UFttTu/s640/DSC_0077.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">These napkins are actually tan and white check but outdoors they look lighter. From Pottery Barn last season.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvzq0KpQa9Y_hZpLMoP5CYWiJ71-Cy_owsck7WEnyoc9OgJtZteeKuiVF3WGLpTsiYh2fGS1PfiGVoshcgRxgR0eXVU35QBlbVBWh2yDqOdfyjFepRqDMeSONVt2Ed5WrYRGrRGQjxPS5/s1600/DSC_0116maybe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvzq0KpQa9Y_hZpLMoP5CYWiJ71-Cy_owsck7WEnyoc9OgJtZteeKuiVF3WGLpTsiYh2fGS1PfiGVoshcgRxgR0eXVU35QBlbVBWh2yDqOdfyjFepRqDMeSONVt2Ed5WrYRGrRGQjxPS5/s640/DSC_0116maybe.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have Thanksgiving dinnerware with the turkey on the plates but I prefer white plates these days. Maybe it's the memories that hurt and one day I'll feel different about bringing those dishes back out. Hard to know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Instead of name cards which I've always enjoyed making, I thought I would try to do something different for this post and show you a sweet little gift for guests at each setting. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0LsmyQxX4Xwq4zi17UstYd7ScFia_-6uWyoho7jgoF3YSt5H0bAe-8fb7rg-cUUCsjQEXzp-pjZpILWMDv2nE6M5jACIEgGkzl2SXG-C2IZWZnglzu7vWmBrOExcYSfZDZ7_JgeR3Ok0m/s1600/DSC_0351+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0LsmyQxX4Xwq4zi17UstYd7ScFia_-6uWyoho7jgoF3YSt5H0bAe-8fb7rg-cUUCsjQEXzp-pjZpILWMDv2nE6M5jACIEgGkzl2SXG-C2IZWZnglzu7vWmBrOExcYSfZDZ7_JgeR3Ok0m/s640/DSC_0351+%25281%2529.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">thanksgiving a few years ago </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Rather than the typical "gratitude" or "gathering" word that is so often attached with Thanksgiving I decided to fill up jars with fresh thyme wrapped in parchment paper. And on each jar is the message I think we all need to remember: "Time is a gift" which is of course a play on the word thyme. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I used both words to show you.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ3bB4Bo_TgGaCxYBpANK8_bTYOGSHK4jdc-brl0DdhiNk7wn5yMqwlQEKtobNL9e03zwtm7AKQg2dTauHwS-pruE4voUZ-NzgAUUngpP_DNTfDJPn3EtbJMnT_uf_tazrqLFQLONgP1t_/s1600/DSC_0077+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ3bB4Bo_TgGaCxYBpANK8_bTYOGSHK4jdc-brl0DdhiNk7wn5yMqwlQEKtobNL9e03zwtm7AKQg2dTauHwS-pruE4voUZ-NzgAUUngpP_DNTfDJPn3EtbJMnT_uf_tazrqLFQLONgP1t_/s640/DSC_0077+%25281%2529.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">When you really think about it, isn't this the real meaning behind all the popular gathering signs and gratitude place cards? It's bringing awareness to this simple truth.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXyLXYB8dWtiOTfM9ysilSNlHYR-cd_ObIK9l0lxe2ccE5NIIznlmYE99J6RMcZ_X0VHP-yaCLMgxqsuPdy4zqXGNo1aIpK6AOh_nqca-eS90jaaj1ITN8PlVxedkPfLBRIrmBVFiYJ9i/s1600/DSC_0063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1145" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXyLXYB8dWtiOTfM9ysilSNlHYR-cd_ObIK9l0lxe2ccE5NIIznlmYE99J6RMcZ_X0VHP-yaCLMgxqsuPdy4zqXGNo1aIpK6AOh_nqca-eS90jaaj1ITN8PlVxedkPfLBRIrmBVFiYJ9i/s640/DSC_0063.jpg" width="458" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzA_USd4SVx7hwZktBaDC__bd8t2pv7FJaWuwo3_9aqiSf5Xf1A9c_AZU8hHo9n4iBIq2_HhwIxTu0zfrIx43f_UzUem0nBRIBPOeby0Od8LoH4Jqgur0816aWWrz9TPKaxP43DAsNclB/s1600/DSC_0093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1126" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzA_USd4SVx7hwZktBaDC__bd8t2pv7FJaWuwo3_9aqiSf5Xf1A9c_AZU8hHo9n4iBIq2_HhwIxTu0zfrIx43f_UzUem0nBRIBPOeby0Od8LoH4Jqgur0816aWWrz9TPKaxP43DAsNclB/s640/DSC_0093.jpg" width="450" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_RxNXb5sqK5UlUoHIcdNZ2HTpldhyIOqD4M2jKZHiDR7dmCP1cJbPERpEzYooP0xaqVkqJeEeiAil06QMvVA6lPo8tR4ye7hKJA8wvNMPBFl_ihdhzGBHDwckhCJDxGy8hJsv6LedNkio/s1600/DSC_0051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_RxNXb5sqK5UlUoHIcdNZ2HTpldhyIOqD4M2jKZHiDR7dmCP1cJbPERpEzYooP0xaqVkqJeEeiAil06QMvVA6lPo8tR4ye7hKJA8wvNMPBFl_ihdhzGBHDwckhCJDxGy8hJsv6LedNkio/s640/DSC_0051.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: x-large; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> Not only are these so sweet looking with that parchment paper but they smell delicious. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I used vintage glasses with pretty etching for my votive candles, courtesy of a thrift store. But if I'd used something larger I would have added coffee beans at the bottom. Maybe a caramel flavored coffee bean would smell delish.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWX_uWkxUW8dq-dgNsyDWwJKcpBm6vvifbm0EAXLaMD3MrmdiWWfWQleZMfU3n-YPQavfUOCk0lTPRdgXXdShq0R7DcvBVGzTm-f53CX92gcEdLjLV8JDGqsjG-HgxqE5AiONuKc11GekV/s1600/DSC_0103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWX_uWkxUW8dq-dgNsyDWwJKcpBm6vvifbm0EAXLaMD3MrmdiWWfWQleZMfU3n-YPQavfUOCk0lTPRdgXXdShq0R7DcvBVGzTm-f53CX92gcEdLjLV8JDGqsjG-HgxqE5AiONuKc11GekV/s640/DSC_0103.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's my latest little addition to my tables. Miniature succulents...just spray the plastic containers metallic gold and place them around your cheese platter and they're guaranteed to make you smile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you for visiting today. Hopefully there's a few ideas you can use except the one about stuffing your feelings. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I do want you to know this one truth. After trying to ignore my achy sadness that day, I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, even after a wonderful dinner with friends. And this made total sense to me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Did you know Gestalt therapists believe headaches are actually pent-up tears? It's the idea that our bodies will always express what we're not saying. <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 24px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I've found this to be true for me,</span> so please don't minimize your feelings. Whatever you're feeling, --<i>especially</i> if it's uncomfortable---it absolutely matters. And it's important for our entire health that we prioritize our inner life even more than all this external stuff. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Good-bye for now friends. Be sure to check out my friends below for some more beautiful inspiration for your Thanksgiving table.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">love to you all,</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Leslie</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Monday</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.redcottagechronicles.com/home-decor/tablescapes/thanksgiving-table-decor/">Red Cottage Chronicles</a>/ <a href="https://wvpanoply.blogspot.com/2019/11/forest-walk-thanksgiving-tablescape.html">Panoply</a>/ <a href="https://mythriftstoreaddiction.blogspot.com/2019/11/herb-y-thanksgiving-garden-tea-for-two.html">My Thrift Store Addiction</a>/ <a href="http://thelittleyellowcornerstore.blogspot.com/2019/11/turkeys-turkeyseverywhere.html">The little Yellow Corner House</a>/ <a href="https://acasadibianca.com/2019/11/04/arte-della-tavola-semplicemente-grazie/">A casa of Bianca</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tuesday</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.lifeandlinda.com/2019/11/golden-autumnal-table.html">Life and Linda</a>/ <a href="https://homeiswheretheboatis.net/2019/11/05/giving-thanks-table-with-mix-and-match-turkeys-plaid-and-an-easy-centerpiece/">Home is Where the Boat is</a>/ <a href="https://www.cornerofplaidandpaisley.com/2019/11/thanksgiving-tablescape-gather-together.html">Corner of Plaid and Paisley</a>/ <a href="http://everydayliving.me/2019/11/05/thanksgiving-at-home/">Everyone Living</a>/ <a href="https://www.calypsointhecountry.com/2019/11/casual-thanksgiving-table-setting.html">Calypso in the Country</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wednesday</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://katherinescorner.com/2019/11/06/thanksgiving-gold-tablescape-and-tablescape-blog-hop/">Katherine's Corner</a>/ <a href="https://thepaintedapron.com/2019/11/06/tablescapes-pilgrims-pumpkins/">The Painter Apron</a>/ <a href="https://intelligentdomestications.com/2019/11/rustic-thanksgiving-tablescape.html">Intelligent Domestications</a>/ <a href="http://celebrateanddecorate.com/small-thanksgiving-tablescape-for-six/">Celebrate and Decorate</a>/ <a href="https://blueskyathome.com/my-simple-diyinspired-thanksgiving-tablescape/">Bluesky at Home</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thursday</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.whitearrowshome.com/">White Arrows Home</a>/ <a href="https://createwithcynthia.com/">Create with Cynthia</a>/ Gwen Moss Blog</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Friday</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://debbeesbuzz.com/pumpkin-patch-table-thanksgiving-brunch/">Debbee's Buzz</a>/ <a href="https://www.thesweetsensations.com/2019/11/creating-a-stylish-and-comfortable-thanksgiving-tablescape/">The Sweet Sensations</a>/ <a href="https://myfamilythyme.com/welcome-fall-nature-inspired-tablescape/">My Family Thyme</a>/ <a href="https://followtheyellowbrickhome.com/a-thanksgiving-tablescape-sneak-peek-by-cozy-candlelight/">Follow the Yellow Brick Home</a> <a href="https://www.zucchinisisters.com/traditional-and-colorful-thanksgiving-tablescape/">Zucchini Sisters</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://ourcraftymom.com/a-simple-thanksgiving-tablescape-with-thrift-store-finds/">Our Crafty Mom</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm also<span style="font-size: medium;"> sharing this post with the friends at </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.impartinggrace.com/2019/11/grace-at-home-no.html">Imparting Grace.</a></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-46839243064956019702019-10-20T17:32:00.002-07:002019-10-22T08:39:47.760-07:00a Halloween tablescape with a mystery book theme<u><span style="color: #000120;"></span></u><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm78qhJA5AC7b9NcK3XwjY1lkoWOIoRiGjLfGyTtDQjrLUx-p-_wP67etJhLxKTDDerXnb8uHoXR1xWQKs2JnrmJ3_8SOOH_lZvi0bdxiYHF-4Jw1pIskiGKNdtAiMnUzD1f04O2pP2GD3/s1600/hallotable2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1154" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm78qhJA5AC7b9NcK3XwjY1lkoWOIoRiGjLfGyTtDQjrLUx-p-_wP67etJhLxKTDDerXnb8uHoXR1xWQKs2JnrmJ3_8SOOH_lZvi0bdxiYHF-4Jw1pIskiGKNdtAiMnUzD1f04O2pP2GD3/s640/hallotable2.jpg" width="460" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I couldn't resist tackling at least one Halloween post this year, especially when Liz Vice gave me a sweet shout-out on Facebook, about all my old Halloween parties of yesteryear. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And it made me smile. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once upon a time I used to be a Halloween maniac during this season. And since I woke up one day recently-- with<a href="https://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2019/10/how-to-take-care-of-yourself-from.html"> a rare feeling </a>of normalness in my chest, I decided to let my creative juices get going. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One little post that only took some simple grocery store flowers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope you enjoy it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A mystery-book themed dinner party with a library card invitation :</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimo4YPi75kWoORFFwDjtxgMOzgJgAzYkYX4ZzNrped_KkDmlwP2mO_wtDk-1JOedi8ujiPdNhQdDpywQDXhgjIcImXgR_GjSGFuo7V5ObE3jF0EJ9aXNzWmr2PlBtEE1JT3eF-Nw2fgxAY/s1600/card-c6892207-07b1-4ead-bb56-6578c02666fa.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #b00000;"></span><img border="0" data-original-height="218" data-original-width="362" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimo4YPi75kWoORFFwDjtxgMOzgJgAzYkYX4ZzNrped_KkDmlwP2mO_wtDk-1JOedi8ujiPdNhQdDpywQDXhgjIcImXgR_GjSGFuo7V5ObE3jF0EJ9aXNzWmr2PlBtEE1JT3eF-Nw2fgxAY/s400/card-c6892207-07b1-4ead-bb56-6578c02666fa.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">made<a href="https://blyberg.net/card-generator"> here</a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKioQ3ZbsD38qtnxCc8zeYkm6a7IgM2nNxB7nrYF415rgjwps_Pvi4CODqAtKLB2r-CzduJzhs3__3voKzDVzPwrFI1gaFQqIxMIFZfeLPFgLrfbcypZ8wkP_adeUzOHJH01cjGE896rIW/s1600/hallotable5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKioQ3ZbsD38qtnxCc8zeYkm6a7IgM2nNxB7nrYF415rgjwps_Pvi4CODqAtKLB2r-CzduJzhs3__3voKzDVzPwrFI1gaFQqIxMIFZfeLPFgLrfbcypZ8wkP_adeUzOHJH01cjGE896rIW/s640/hallotable5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">With books being the center of attention at this table, I envision wonderful conversations about the latest books being read by fellow guests. And the best part of book conversations is how a simple topic about someone's favorite author or book can result in so many surprising facts about fellow readers.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKCX2B7ccvX_qcH-jY8IajJQXee_C0JDKQPdZIAFxHOY8_hdGAXzJRIztIQ_ENsu7OZrDaxPZFfdxThNtrYjw8JG3wFJpSqK12_v1YN7oKu9TBsBfG_5uXR8ZGc4R5TK4b1KDykG6JNLrz/s1600/DSC_1379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKCX2B7ccvX_qcH-jY8IajJQXee_C0JDKQPdZIAFxHOY8_hdGAXzJRIztIQ_ENsu7OZrDaxPZFfdxThNtrYjw8JG3wFJpSqK12_v1YN7oKu9TBsBfG_5uXR8ZGc4R5TK4b1KDykG6JNLrz/s640/DSC_1379.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of my most sentimental buys I've ever gotten from a used bookstore was a big box filled with old Nancy Drew books for twenty bucks. I was so excited. As a little girl I loved these mysteries and I still remember that first book I carried to the librarian to check out: The Secret of the Old Clock.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">oooooohh I couldn't wait!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2R9NdQqJUWSJZzsCAI7PHJOE0VG7cqNjXIFUtlzpmRJ4ICWZIMfMxS0SnPJdpJz5fXhrnJfIOceZK2FWBUNk7U5dPpPmho7Q8uS5b4g3wLOu3920SkGfI2SVWRoBdmTs8LARVipauMC8T/s1600/overheadshot.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2R9NdQqJUWSJZzsCAI7PHJOE0VG7cqNjXIFUtlzpmRJ4ICWZIMfMxS0SnPJdpJz5fXhrnJfIOceZK2FWBUNk7U5dPpPmho7Q8uS5b4g3wLOu3920SkGfI2SVWRoBdmTs8LARVipauMC8T/s640/overheadshot.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Personally I love the idea of incorporating books into a table setting and <i>especially for Halloween</i>, mystery books are perfect choice. I've seen <a href="https://magnolia.com/blog/">Joanna </a>set tables with books opened and placed underneath each dinner plate for a creative touch, but I prefer opening them up on top the plate so the words can be seen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One creative idea for a place card is to write each name on a bookmark and display it inside the open book.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or since it's a mystery theme you might place a magnifying glass over each name card.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLtyGSyWwOZmQqwSiJMj298xuRceTcqqalHrJL2UDFuUCgXQouPmOwOrT4_xtli0c_6SOup6fRA_Ei12joj1UwAuruVNBnOMkBTahqztA27HcFjFNGDaCVAhY8WFXgF0SWvA15oUZrhzj/s1600/DSC_1368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLtyGSyWwOZmQqwSiJMj298xuRceTcqqalHrJL2UDFuUCgXQouPmOwOrT4_xtli0c_6SOup6fRA_Ei12joj1UwAuruVNBnOMkBTahqztA27HcFjFNGDaCVAhY8WFXgF0SWvA15oUZrhzj/s640/DSC_1368.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Over time I've collected brass candlesticks and vases from my thrift store visits and there's nothing better for a Halloween table than old, scruffy-looking brass contrasted with black candles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I'm also a believer that you can never have too many candles when it comes to creating atmosphere. And whenever I buy the lemon curd from Trader Joes I save the jars to use for my votive candles. I recommend adding a layer of sand or water at the bottom of the jar if I plan on letting them burn for hours, so you don't end up with dried, thick wax on the glass</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTR8gWFSLEDblt9MnFIxQ_WIL_L1Udfh2G4ATDs_IxVWEzGb0oQ5trQFurRQ7UDsaK3NvxXsfNh4DP8urA2OuaaAfdGl2WONK91SA-xqz4nu68zSIEXMp5guhhb2tGclO-CbVfnau7DY_a/s1600/DSC_0003copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1218" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTR8gWFSLEDblt9MnFIxQ_WIL_L1Udfh2G4ATDs_IxVWEzGb0oQ5trQFurRQ7UDsaK3NvxXsfNh4DP8urA2OuaaAfdGl2WONK91SA-xqz4nu68zSIEXMp5guhhb2tGclO-CbVfnau7DY_a/s640/DSC_0003copy.jpg" width="486" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span>For this centerpiece I used a piece of green floral foam wedged inside and just filled it with red roses, carnations, fresh eucalyptus, and lime green hydrangeas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Olive branches from my tree and fresh eucalyptus are down the middle of the table. For continuity I use the same hydrangeas from the garden to tuck into the arrangement in the vase and around the candles..</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">These mix and match napkins came from TJMaxx.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I really like this gold silverware set from Target.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRmQo6vH0ZwInH5ti3BlNrDtHZ-QDrDS8JqUa88lVpR5kuqWW9M-_XjO6zfEQ52_dWG3QyAdzAxnGPjee44bTDCK5wd2Dv8j5AMRP_W9b1yj7WLWy0P5FdmHSdxLw12aT7Xj22zPcrYYB/s1600/hallotable4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRmQo6vH0ZwInH5ti3BlNrDtHZ-QDrDS8JqUa88lVpR5kuqWW9M-_XjO6zfEQ52_dWG3QyAdzAxnGPjee44bTDCK5wd2Dv8j5AMRP_W9b1yj7WLWy0P5FdmHSdxLw12aT7Xj22zPcrYYB/s640/hallotable4.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Roses from an old arrangement I finally threw out found a perfect home.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGbWtijMZit2RT-eqwFFH4blLu-VjnN3_qj610IYcQFMzlFCJ6BRl0g-05KtbdpXZRaSsI-IS_yFcfADYyDsOzJ2ylROeCrmTnJUxnLlLa2rf7CCiQzkYTbXwyOlxHvss7qTPo9uWCqWXP/s1600/hallowtable8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGbWtijMZit2RT-eqwFFH4blLu-VjnN3_qj610IYcQFMzlFCJ6BRl0g-05KtbdpXZRaSsI-IS_yFcfADYyDsOzJ2ylROeCrmTnJUxnLlLa2rf7CCiQzkYTbXwyOlxHvss7qTPo9uWCqWXP/s640/hallowtable8.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Living in Southern California means you can still have dinners outside in October...which is nice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Who knows?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe one of these days I'll throw a big mystery book dinner party and when I do, you'll be on my guest list!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">xo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Leslie</span></div>
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I'm sharing this post with friends:</div>
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<a href="https://www.commonground-do.com/2019/10/all-about-home-link-party-11.html">All About Home Link Party</a></div>
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<a href="https://myuncommonsliceofsuburbia.com/crafty-pumpkin-ideas-at-inspire-me-monday/">Inspire Me Monday</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.astrollthrulife.net/2019/10/521st-inspire-me-tuesday.html">Inspire Me Tuesday</a></div>
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<br />Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-86350031040538016412019-10-15T13:06:00.000-07:002019-10-17T08:52:04.066-07:00How to take care of yourself from the inside out; 3 things<div>
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photo: unsplash</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Author <a href="https://www.refugeingrief.com/">Megan Devine </a>says that whenever she meets a bereaved person within the first two years of their loss, she considers their pain as fresh as if it just happened. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Which felt so amazing to read because it's exactly how I feel. All around me the normal world seems to be hurling along but in my mother’s heart, I am only moments away from that shocking day. Researchers tell us that this is what traumatic loss does, it distorts ordinary Time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One moment I’m driving down a sunny, neighborhood street on my way to our office. And BAM. The next second I'm being flooded with loud, crushing emotions. And there's Patrick. Crystal-clear and smiling right in front of me, so close I can reach out and touch his dark, wavy hair. He’s so real. And then I hear his voice--deep and teasing -when he came through the front door yesterday calling, “Hey Mama, what’s <i>up</i>?” Only yesterday was really 13 months ago on the actual calendar and suddenly the past is happening right in front of me while I'm blinking in the white sunlight, and my confusion is blurring into shock while my entire future vanishes in one explosive second. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If this sounds like some scene out of The Matrix when Neo gets yanked into some parallel world he never knew existed, well...that's how grieving feels. It's so <i>f--king</i> surreal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/rethinking-mental-health/201602/robert-stolorow-emotional-trauma-and-psychoanalysis">Robert Stolorow,</a> a psychoanalyst who himself woke up to find his young wife dead in their bed only four months after her cancer diagnosis, calls these moments that blur the past with the present-- "port-keys" a term he borrowed from Harry Potter. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And like Harry Potter, a grieving mother is never far away from her original traumatic loss. I was once standing in the men's department holding socks when I felt a wave of memories and feelings so powerful that I literally had to sit down inside a Target dressing room, I was so disoriented. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Our Public Face</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But here's my point. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Whatever our emotional struggles are, we learn to carry our painful wounds through our busy lives because no matter how much we're hurting, we can't stop living. And this means that there's so much happening behind our public face that others just can't see.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is why I can’t blame my neighbor for her insensitivity. Maybe that’s why that entire bizarre conversation happened, because I waved and smiled and looked perfectly fine on the outside, which is the whole point of putting on your public face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's helpful to know that there are some people who have no ability to see things unless it’s with their eyes. And since I didn't show my pain on my face, my neighbor didn't consider that my heart had been broken into a million jagged pieces only months ago and that anytime I think of Patrick I still feel a stab into my chest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">She didn’t know that my cardiologist told me there really is something called broken-hearted syndrome that can cause a heart attack and in rare cases, even death. “That’s why your doctor wanted these tests,” he had said on that Spring day when I cried in his office.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is the paradox of being really good at masking your feelings. No one can be faulted for not ‘seeing’ your sadness or anger or whatever feelings you have tucked inside. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I realize this. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That when you see me arranging white pumpkins around my front door or hear me laughing with the boy scouts in front of the grocery store, who are selling me coupons that I’ll never use, you would never suspect that it's been 13 agonizing months since we lost Patrick--- and <i>I'm still</i> trying to figure out how I'm ever going to survive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">how our public face helps and hurts us</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had just taken the garbage out and was walking to my front door when the sweet, soft-spoken woman pulled over on the side of the street to ask me how Patrick’s one-year "angel-versary" had gone. She knew that <a href="https://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2019/09/overwhelming-gratitude.html">his friends had come into town</a> and although she was being pleasant, I kept my reply simple, not wanting to dive into a heavy conversation on the edge of my lawn. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Over the summer I had become aware of an inner tiredness that happens when I have to put on my public face too much. It takes enormous energy when you’re grieving and it’s important to recognize the triggers that deplete you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">By late summer I began to notice myself pulling away from Instagram and blogging as a way of reserving my energy. Mostly because these first-time-without-Patrick birthdays, anniversaries and holidays have felt like I'm balancing in midair on a shaky wire, knowing a windstorm is coming.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prior to losing Patrick, sharing was never an issue to me. I’ve always had nice, clear boundaries about knowing who and when to share my private life. But now the littlest things can take so much energy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think most of us have gut instincts about who we want to entrust with our most fragile feelings. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I<span style="font-size: medium;"> wanted to keep this conversation short.</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> And it actually felt finished when the topic shifted and I was suddenly listening to a long, elaborate story about a woman I had never met. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I won’t go into the details, but for you to understand my reaction I do need to mention that the entire story I was hearing had to do with another mother who also had two sons and who also lost her eldest son unexpectedly and suddenly, like me. The only difference was that her son had died as a result of “some rare complication from pneumonia.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As you can imagine, I was feeling queasy about where this story was headed and I was confused about the bizarre detour our brief talk had taken.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I didn’t know this mother and it felt like gossip.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yet there was no break in my neighbor's speech. She was so engrossed in her story-telling she couldn't pick-up on my discomfort.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">“</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And my friend. When she lost her son, she couldn’t even get out of bed. And we were all so worried about her! And then we heard she was taking pills because she couldn’t sleep and the next thing we heard she wasn’t getting up-at-all!! And then she was getting upset at her husband. Because her husband wasn’t… you know, expressing his grief like her, But he had to keep working. You know. He has a really stressful job. And they had another son who was a lot younger…</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">”</span></span></div>
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And the details kept coming about this poor devastated mother.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know what you’re thinking.</span></div>
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You’re wondering why I didn’t just end the conversation. But have you ever been listening politely and trying to find that ‘right’ moment to end a conversation that is going at full-blown speed?</div>
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As the words spilled out of her mouth, I caught myself thinking of my own struggle. Mornings are the hardest, especially in that blurry state between sleep and waking when I open my eyes, and instantly feel a fifty pound weight on my heart. Sometimes I’ll wake up because my chest is hurting so much and I know it’s time to meditate and regain control of my thoughts.</div>
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Jim tells me he sometimes hears me whisper in my sleep. “Oh my god. Oh my god...” Or sometimes when I’m waking up, he hears me say, “Oh-my-heart, it hurts so much.” </div>
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Occasionally, when I'm like this, I’ll feel Jim place his hand on my back and I know he’s trying to connect me with reality. Maybe he thinks I’m having a nightmare. But in those moments when I concentrate on his hand, it does help. At least it gives me a distraction to focus on. </div>
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As I was standing on my driveway hearing about this other broken-hearted mother who needed medication for sleep and couldn’t get out of bed, I did wonder. Why is this neighbor—who I know as a sweet woman-- telling me this story? </div>
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Not only that, but the longer I stood there the more this entire story was sounding like second-hand account from a second hand account. </div>
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Seconds later, she delivered her crescendo ending:</div>
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“And then. One morning. She just never wakes up.” </div>
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Silence.</div>
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And because my neighbor must have seen my face, she explains,<br /><div>
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“Yep. Her youngest son went to go see her in her room and she was dead. Died of a broken heart!”</div>
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Honestly, I was flabbergasted. I think I even said, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“<i>This</i> is the end of your story?!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Taking care of yourself from the inside out:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>1. Don't run away your hard feelings</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />That evening, on the way to our monthly grief group I cried for a bit when I told Jim about this conversation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe I'll die too. I had blurted out. And when he tried to comfort me with kindness and logic I answered back. Why not me? After all, I feel that same excruciating pain in my heart. I have the same longing to be with my son. How do you know one morning you won't find me dead?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And there it was. Maybe the most gut-wrenching part of losing a child is the way it shatters your view of the world. Your cozy belief that everything will work out. That you can rely on the odds. Feel relief in your heart because of all those prayers you said on your Rosary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When something so shockingly unimaginable happens, all those guardrails vanish. There is Nothing that can’t happen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That's why this conversation stayed with me for so long and evoked all kinds of uncomfortable feelings. Fears and sorrow for this stranger, a woman--whom I felt oddly connected to--and for my own pain that I needed to examine and allow myself to feel. It doesn't happen instantly, but making sense of your emotions delivers an ocean of relief.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2. Have others you can be Real with</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Years ago when I worked inside a session room, a beautiful young woman who happened to be seriously bulimic burst into the room in tears. I had never seen her so agitated. She explained that one of her co-workers had complimented her, asking if she had lost weight recently. Although her looks were an important source of her self-worth, her personal life at that time was in utter chaos, with her binging and purging dominating her life. But no one at her office would’ve suspected this high functioning law student was by night, in crisis. It turns out it was the timing of this single compliment – when her shame was torturing her, that felt like a fatal jab in her smiley façade. A pivotal moment in her recovery.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Why does this session stand out in my memory after all these years?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The answer is simple. Even back then I realized I was watching my patient discover a basic truth that<i> I had struggled with</i> in my own life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Living out the best version of ourselves means living a life that expresses our truest self. This means knowing ourselves deeply---including all our messy, uncomfortable feelings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was luck that I had my monthly grief group after that conversation with my neighbor and though I didn’t plan it, this topic was part of a larger discussion about the dumb things others say to grieving people. And yes, I felt touched by the outrage being expressed. And later I had a session with my therapist which also made me feel good. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Having your feelings acknowledged by a supportive person feels like a deep sigh of letting go. You stop clenching that anger almost immediately.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And you realize that this is how to take care of your inner self, the part of you that’s the source of all your joy and wisdom. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope you see that this post isn’t about criticizing anyone. My neighbor is like the nice person in your life who occasionally says something insensitive, even rude without realizing it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It’s going to happen, friends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The key is how we take care of ourselves.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>3. Beware of the smiley façade</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Honestly. I encourage you to drop your “mask” as much as possible. In my private life I aspire to have as little gap as possible between what I show the world and what I’m really feeling because at my age I finally <i>get it.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">No one can make you feel anything without <span style="font-size: x-large;">your </span>consent. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Think about this. Because once you start living out this truth, you stop being so focused on what other people are thinking of you. Whether you feel embarrassed or inferior is really your choice. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don’t know... friends. But maybe experiencing the worst devastation of my life has helped me see this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I’m not saying it’s easy, believe me. When I hit the ‘publish’ button for this post I’ll feel that surge of queasiness. It's SO uncomfortable. I know there are people wondering how I can share so many intimate details about my grieving. And maybe I’ll be whispered about. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I try to focus on the One Person who might feel less alone because I’m sharing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And that makes it all bearable</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">xo</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Leslie</span></div>
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Sharing this post with friends:</div>
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<a href="https://www.astrollthrulife.net/2019/10/520th-inspire-me-tuesday.html">inspire me tuesday</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.impartinggrace.com/2019/10/grace-at-home-no-354.html">imparting grace</a></div>
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Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-15469569456832159472019-10-01T15:07:00.000-07:002019-10-02T18:30:44.375-07:00My love-hate relationship with Pinterest and why I'm avoiding it while I design my bathroom<u><span style="color: #000120;"></span></u><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_LJ_tfmbiHLlDFM5EmIzRknqGk_aemu2NbnXvyj125wPECjZTLzwmDtSRowd2pyCGDNuXqtiQQ3SQp8S-y9-tfMv9mqTDNST7vcy-NNLswJeGVAeF_a2YBcCm_XQN58UX2ByzuDYrqGS/s1600/IMG_3203+%25281%2529use.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1522" data-original-width="1242" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_LJ_tfmbiHLlDFM5EmIzRknqGk_aemu2NbnXvyj125wPECjZTLzwmDtSRowd2pyCGDNuXqtiQQ3SQp8S-y9-tfMv9mqTDNST7vcy-NNLswJeGVAeF_a2YBcCm_XQN58UX2ByzuDYrqGS/s640/IMG_3203+%25281%2529use.jpg" width="522" /></a></div>
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inspiration photo</div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hello friends. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well</span><span style="font-size: large;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm finally renovating my upstairs bathroom and I'm noticing that it's actually been a good distraction for me. Any activity or person or place that provides some temporary relief for the <a href="https://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2019/08/when-you-think-you-cant-survive-but-you.html">heaviness in my chest</a>--is something I'm grateful for, and while I'm at it, I want to thank you too for being SO supportive after <a href="https://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2019/09/overwhelming-gratitude.html">my last post.</a> It's astonishing to me that so many of you have chosen to follow along with me as I move through <a href="https://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-first-post-after-patricks-accident_8.html">this dark tunnel. </a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I really do feel blessed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ok. So how bout a purely light topic for today? I thought I'd tell you about my bathroom project and share some thoughts about Pinterest with you and I'd love to hear what you think too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's been a while since I've done any renovations around here and I've been pining all kinds of bathroom inspiration off Pinterest for awhile now, trying to make up my mind about the final look I want for this guest bathroom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I typically begin each home project with some kind of inspiration piece that forms the basis of my design look. And this time it's an old corner cabinet that I found in an antique booth, hidden underneath piles of dusty blankets, wooden signs and dishes. It was dark and pretty gloomy looking but because it was a corner unit I thought it would fit (of course I didn't measure anything).</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_baNKwP3oRahy0koVtaIuZCuuRKiJrFAv8wEb78RTwEKkougu_CQMvSEdrJM78QqSjFBCUcihFTZMoDtkZv8yYftckWqqeWCXj4kAIZJI8APES6EWCuyDLzqaqTOur8HgIdglIDJMK7yX/s1600/IMG_2244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_baNKwP3oRahy0koVtaIuZCuuRKiJrFAv8wEb78RTwEKkougu_CQMvSEdrJM78QqSjFBCUcihFTZMoDtkZv8yYftckWqqeWCXj4kAIZJI8APES6EWCuyDLzqaqTOur8HgIdglIDJMK7yX/s400/IMG_2244.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YCk9pjTyA-6NTKTJRzdfbIejs7y6V42gpe1zivle_GS24Ja3Sl1A0aZp7D_aCAl2zpnOR5JTXkVSLqOsbwl9tqoUr7RSkr_FdIahT6vSxxQ_MZEkpkTBlfiHkBf331ST3M2Gdqdx2K6s/s1600/IMG_2243+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YCk9pjTyA-6NTKTJRzdfbIejs7y6V42gpe1zivle_GS24Ja3Sl1A0aZp7D_aCAl2zpnOR5JTXkVSLqOsbwl9tqoUr7RSkr_FdIahT6vSxxQ_MZEkpkTBlfiHkBf331ST3M2Gdqdx2K6s/s400/IMG_2243+%25282%2529.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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shown in two pieces; glass section on top.</div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Plus--- I couldn't resist the $80 price so I bought it with the hope that it would work in this bathroom someday. Personally I've always wanted to use a piece of furniture in the bathroom for storage, and so with this purchase I felt like this project was off and running. And as of today it's official. I found out this corner cabinet will fit (hooraaay) and I'll be sharing some pictures soon --because of course I ended up stripping it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fast forward a few months. Because once I got father along in the planning stages of this bathroom, I started to notice this weird love-hate-thing happening between Me and my Pinterest app; it mostly happened when the time came to make decisions about what tile and lighting and shower fixtures to buy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I wonder if you can relate.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">First of all. I have to say this upfront. I can't overstate the value of seeing home design ideas and products and trends with your own eyes, as presented by so many talented designers and homeowners on Pinterest. And as a visual person I'm so grateful for the ability to see certain looks that I'm interested in, in real homes. Pinterest is an endless source of inspiration. And the best part is how easy it is to click on and have instant access to unique design details and beautifully coordinated rooms that most of us would never see otherwise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So you see?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love Pinterest.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">However-- when it was time for me to start making decisions about my little ol' bathroom, I began to stay away from it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And it's because I started to feel like it was messing with my mind. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Do you remember a time when we weren't all so acutely aware of what styles and products were trending in the interior design world? A time when we didn't know what 'everyone' was loving except maybe our neighbor down the street who just re-did her bathroom according to her own taste.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For the first time I noticed that Pinterest actually made me second-guess my decision. And I didn't like it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I started to ask myself some creative questions like,</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Is Pinterest turning us all into scared conformists when it comes to decorating our own homes?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Is Pinterest turning Diy-Home-Decorators into the equivalent of Stepford-Wife Design Clones?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here's why I'm asking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As a lifestyle blogger of ten years, I'm been noticing that so many Blogger Home Tours are starting to look a lot alike. And while I love aspects of the hip, mid-modern rooms and I love the farmhouse style that seems to be everywhere now--(gosh knows I put planks in my own beach home)--I do notice that I click over a lot more blogger homes on these tours than I visit now. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe it's just me. But I find myself searching for a home tour that has that 'something different' feel, a home that doesn't look so sleek and "designer" and rooms that aren't so perfectly staged. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I realize that blogging has changed dramatically since I started, and it's a thriving business for some which might explain so much similarity out there. Also I feel uncomfortable when I see children stiffly posing in some of these blogger shots. So much time and energy and focus on showcasing "perfection"makes me uncomfortable. A perfect looking family in a perfect looking room just seems like a bit much.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But that's a whole other subject.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My simple point was that too much Pinterest-gazing through homes and rooms leaves me craving that warm-worn-enough- lived-in look. A house that doesn't look like everyone else's. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Remember good old Kitty Bartholomew on HGTV in the pre-Magnolia Farm days? At least she had the nerve to wrap an entire dining room with plastic bubble wrap. I know, I know. But what a Anti-Pinterest thing to do right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Decorator "group-think"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">If you visit my Pinterest Bathroom board you can see my impulsive brain at work, pining random pictures of rooms I like. Reacting on pure creative instinct, which is good. But afterwards, I try to decide how much of what I'm pinning actually "feels" like Me. As opposed to creating a room that's just a safe copy of a popular design look.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's what I do when I'm working on a house project and I want to detach from the power of decorator "group-think."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I give myself the luxury of time. I'll take a break from Pinterest and allow my different choices to ruminate in my head, sometimes for days. I think it's important not to rush the thinking process that's involved when making your creative decisions. And when I pull away from all the visual stimulation on Pinterest or from my online research ideas I notice a creative quietness comes, and I'll begin to tap into my gut feelings. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Later I'll notice. I'll literally be walking down the stairs and I'll feel myself leaning toward a certain direction or choice that suddenly seems obvious and 'right' to me. And it's based on me getting in touch with ME--as opposed to feeling influenced by others.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Next time I'll show you what I'm planning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Those are a few of my random thoughts lately. I'd love to hear yours.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In the meantime I thought I would amuse myself by taking some pictures around my home and showing you my absurd sense of humor. It helps that my personal motto whenever I'm stressing about a decorating decision is, "it's only a house." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here you go:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">13 quirky signs that your home is probably NOT on a Pinterest board</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xIxOPOdA_KVTQn_FfRxWC9YtzHeOqhH2BtHdKdU3t0eH_Zfx8xsVy5YPgL_j0aueJ71DyyGSopdQWCDzX6nXOJ_ay7aTDgrF0CClV_sVXBmyUEIrGAsd62A3CZWiTHoWUbMnQejG_DfG/s1600/hatsuse%252833%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xIxOPOdA_KVTQn_FfRxWC9YtzHeOqhH2BtHdKdU3t0eH_Zfx8xsVy5YPgL_j0aueJ71DyyGSopdQWCDzX6nXOJ_ay7aTDgrF0CClV_sVXBmyUEIrGAsd62A3CZWiTHoWUbMnQejG_DfG/s640/hatsuse%252833%2529.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">you pin thrift store hats to the wall with cheap tacks that can be seen by other human beings</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1sGcOfVwXmUnUmRghpBUifUeuDSkKZKUiGaXbys-OENssdmAHKIpiLpvuxiGVIiqrIRayW220T43isjgtUWTLLdGqQIchtW5yzip8cO3JPPtNyAgWgVuGQpYrAEncddDLG3_yBkz5gvE/s1600/kitchen2%252831%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: &quot; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1086" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1sGcOfVwXmUnUmRghpBUifUeuDSkKZKUiGaXbys-OENssdmAHKIpiLpvuxiGVIiqrIRayW220T43isjgtUWTLLdGqQIchtW5yzip8cO3JPPtNyAgWgVuGQpYrAEncddDLG3_yBkz5gvE/s640/kitchen2%252831%2529.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="434" /></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">you have plants that remain mysteriously alive</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3zVyC5bZsngIw10R8X7j8NhIz-tO-HUibe-F65DnbhJHq0sWG8yrCDbnnpJ9uKLfUtnOFSmqHBmc6Vg5R0ucp1OFm6NO_EMlrIaiHfTeK82IvIcU8Ngle1tCBBHfVyXu2e4RvLxJ-5CN7/s1600/livingroomfinal+%252844%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1429" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3zVyC5bZsngIw10R8X7j8NhIz-tO-HUibe-F65DnbhJHq0sWG8yrCDbnnpJ9uKLfUtnOFSmqHBmc6Vg5R0ucp1OFm6NO_EMlrIaiHfTeK82IvIcU8Ngle1tCBBHfVyXu2e4RvLxJ-5CN7/s640/livingroomfinal+%252844%2529.jpg" width="570" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">your pillows always have that perfect 'someone just sat on me' look</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTT3YHmPuoO8UABUetJjntl0jx2hP7dEqmdPobMwwE6oqfojHN0klhMD-FSBVzSbRkcPCyjdxVJlbRhQ4UtQBHcqqaT_o7wXLOLqEzM_-UtmuLh282J3wXH-bCXswGjvGl3kB7sZPgn0lA/s1600/kitchen%252830%2529use.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1088" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTT3YHmPuoO8UABUetJjntl0jx2hP7dEqmdPobMwwE6oqfojHN0klhMD-FSBVzSbRkcPCyjdxVJlbRhQ4UtQBHcqqaT_o7wXLOLqEzM_-UtmuLh282J3wXH-bCXswGjvGl3kB7sZPgn0lA/s640/kitchen%252830%2529use.jpg" width="434" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">you collect old things that you forget to use</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwwGHd5-S46A4lkrc7T0pnWeNEepCxVJ7g0quSDRjzYeJBfPhpT6nx_9UQhqzuTebiwPIcobR_y_fnaZBdjQN9fl7_gnI7fbWbMaE1Vkvi_Zi1_iQWQ0uccquSuWCXzB1TjiRhWDEsJOD3/s1600/picmonkey_image+%252837%2529use.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1124" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwwGHd5-S46A4lkrc7T0pnWeNEepCxVJ7g0quSDRjzYeJBfPhpT6nx_9UQhqzuTebiwPIcobR_y_fnaZBdjQN9fl7_gnI7fbWbMaE1Vkvi_Zi1_iQWQ0uccquSuWCXzB1TjiRhWDEsJOD3/s640/picmonkey_image+%252837%2529use.jpg" width="448" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">you prefer instant floral arrangements</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRLYQHNr0-_D5Izj5Hx627q1bNMEegmmievqrHXxfk6_0og1Ue6y65y3102tNpsoLb8CcxUv3wCQSqc_oVEf92caDHUzxbYNXAkQzBRCIGGEIw4-9t_1Kk_oZ6h3I4EGpEMlmHtgBKUKm/s1600/picmonkey_image+%252835%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRLYQHNr0-_D5Izj5Hx627q1bNMEegmmievqrHXxfk6_0og1Ue6y65y3102tNpsoLb8CcxUv3wCQSqc_oVEf92caDHUzxbYNXAkQzBRCIGGEIw4-9t_1Kk_oZ6h3I4EGpEMlmHtgBKUKm/s640/picmonkey_image+%252835%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">your vintage crystal sparkles with a magical layer of dust.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">you avoid buying trendy things for your home</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> You find the idea of covering your Winston Churchill books (p. 1949) because they don't 'match' your décor, sacrilegious </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">you stopped caring if things go together and it feels good</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">your chandelier resembles an upside down laundry basket</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You accept that your dog's black fur balls are always on the white stair treads</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qvqysCFoyXbQpN347oat-QMcGRla3NRzBaG0DQxizDYqryf2epwIHiJBdyQzUZV4whlU3JTPlfiBj-ltjlwAT8Uk4B2be1z02VTd_x0JpWLw7FvJxoL_nIwurodSsPRdnJseM_2cvIZo/s1600/DF9321A9-D644-4355-A783-DD1AAF0E4403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1585" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qvqysCFoyXbQpN347oat-QMcGRla3NRzBaG0DQxizDYqryf2epwIHiJBdyQzUZV4whlU3JTPlfiBj-ltjlwAT8Uk4B2be1z02VTd_x0JpWLw7FvJxoL_nIwurodSsPRdnJseM_2cvIZo/s640/DF9321A9-D644-4355-A783-DD1AAF0E4403.JPG" width="632" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You painted your bathroom without first testing the color because you were in a hurry</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhQj1CC1kzujeOtlE73hyphenhyphenW1C7UPL3dDPN9Ltpj96Z2ZBjNkpZrGtMaFgfMVe2u6A_7BTBcdMCxED3LKRZG0yQM1UU2-qpbMC-1w2WXWXCuUJWXKZq1wWSGXjEpIM4p1TVVAL7YFEeK4-e/s1600/picmonkey_image+%252844%2529use.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1192" data-original-width="1600" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhQj1CC1kzujeOtlE73hyphenhyphenW1C7UPL3dDPN9Ltpj96Z2ZBjNkpZrGtMaFgfMVe2u6A_7BTBcdMCxED3LKRZG0yQM1UU2-qpbMC-1w2WXWXCuUJWXKZq1wWSGXjEpIM4p1TVVAL7YFEeK4-e/s640/picmonkey_image+%252844%2529use.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You once asked a stranger standing next to you in the upholstery shop to help you pick our the nail heads on your chairs</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ok, enough already. <span style="font-size: medium;">I could keep adding to this but I better go get some things done. I'd love to hear if you can relate to this post.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">xoxo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">love-love-love to you,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></div>
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<br />
sharing this post with these friends<br />
<a href="https://www.adelightsomelife.com/home-and-garden-thursday-16/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ADelightsomeLife+%28A+Delightsome+Life%29"></a><br />
<a href="https://www.adelightsomelife.com/home-and-garden-thursday-16/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ADelightsomeLife+%28A+Delightsome+Life%29">Home and Garden Thursday</a><br />
<a href="https://www.commonground-do.com/2019/09/all-about-home-link-party-8.html">All About Home Linky Party</a><br />
<u><span style="color: #000120;"></span></u><br />Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-28440269281174182472019-09-24T18:18:00.001-07:002019-09-24T19:36:40.221-07:00overwhelming gratitude<u><span style="color: #000120;"></span></u><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg471bbe6tluQ8biwCUFBQeQS45q3lDOYSQAW33IYwU8QOniDfxDfUCvtpRVg9bksDLDcPgUlzoE2cOTPtQzpRIXgEvYCQwlje6BhurxVeQ-VeUjDxLZMXWXIAcloE_vFaNkFQyehfl2pVI/s1600/bikeride2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1569" data-original-width="1600" height="626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg471bbe6tluQ8biwCUFBQeQS45q3lDOYSQAW33IYwU8QOniDfxDfUCvtpRVg9bksDLDcPgUlzoE2cOTPtQzpRIXgEvYCQwlje6BhurxVeQ-VeUjDxLZMXWXIAcloE_vFaNkFQyehfl2pVI/s640/bikeride2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">These days, so much of my life seems to be about living out the question, <i>“How am I going to survive without Patrick?”</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i></i><i></i><i></i><i></i><i></i><i></i><i></i><i></i><i></i><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> “How am I going to go on living without my son?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And the answers keep coming in the form of Love.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">If you're here from my <a href="https://www.instagram.com/gwenmossblog/">Instagram</a> account you already know this, but the one year anniversary of Patrick's tragic accident--referred to in the aching grief world as an "angel-versary," has come and gone. And it's taken me these last several days to let all the intense emotions seep in and be fully felt by me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheq5zCT5EHnqBf0B5rJK8MKlOj8XKxxFTRRJw_7tojPCSxxQWlfMKDhT0RG1QQsVHGjTX5pXb_4I9KhlOJlEW1nXTZ-HhNBRFn1VFLdDLqNGJiobHqVbEkXfVptkFbGieTCmQduMEsc8Q-/s1600/patrickoneyearuse+%252846%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheq5zCT5EHnqBf0B5rJK8MKlOj8XKxxFTRRJw_7tojPCSxxQWlfMKDhT0RG1QQsVHGjTX5pXb_4I9KhlOJlEW1nXTZ-HhNBRFn1VFLdDLqNGJiobHqVbEkXfVptkFbGieTCmQduMEsc8Q-/s640/patrickoneyearuse+%252846%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To our surprise and delight, sixteen of Patrick's close friends decided to rent a beach house nearby--coming from as faraway as Texas-- (thank you James) to be together again and to spend this powerful date with us. It was in retrospect, a chance to love and support each other through a mind-boggling experience we're all still navigating.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And because everyone is living in different cities and have real jobs now, it took some work to make this healing experience happen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Matt G. had called us in the weeks before to tell us their plans and to coordinate a few details. He was so achingly sensitive to our feelings. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<li><span style="font-size: large;">What would we like to do? </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">What would we like for food? </span></li>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzHJi4GJ4w2LQZE7Z_iqW20MZX1eey0CeFcgGQG9kFj1V7m7fy-Pnji-5Hadq9_tIKjIj55BF6vnKaiqNB8E68N9z5DPqNmwm4iLFNpfOvqQ6-NKYlKeQsJzn4QbGyJ749qBwxSa4q2ih6/s1600/beachhouse3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: "times new roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="649" data-original-width="559" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzHJi4GJ4w2LQZE7Z_iqW20MZX1eey0CeFcgGQG9kFj1V7m7fy-Pnji-5Hadq9_tIKjIj55BF6vnKaiqNB8E68N9z5DPqNmwm4iLFNpfOvqQ6-NKYlKeQsJzn4QbGyJ749qBwxSa4q2ih6/s640/beachhouse3.JPG" width="550" /></a></span></div>
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So much overflowing "Patrick energy" on this weekend.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Later during that Saturday evening when everyone was back from a raucous volleyball game and alcohol was flowing, he would come up to me in the loud kitchen and ask,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Are you Ok? Are you having a good time? Because Leslie this-is-for-you-guys. I'm serious." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Patrick loved Matt so much and I know why.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajmy11RnU674zS0Lc03DpD-bLPGgtlRDTzMfvWXKeysM4oaBhoWyqsxKIOLE-i-ZpeS34rou5B218RUI82KLPPzZhiH8XzjHbmIdM5Iwrr-v0TSZGrtD40EXephO8ngtBeePs8n1sAB-x/s1600/beachouseuse+%252847%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1211" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajmy11RnU674zS0Lc03DpD-bLPGgtlRDTzMfvWXKeysM4oaBhoWyqsxKIOLE-i-ZpeS34rou5B218RUI82KLPPzZhiH8XzjHbmIdM5Iwrr-v0TSZGrtD40EXephO8ngtBeePs8n1sAB-x/s400/beachouseuse+%252847%2529.jpg" width="302" /></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcL6NCwqBUWpLBLSO-A8nx2d9izBc3JW4MTL8vcMpoJxbEp02pMCIjlP-THzx-PZeRwQ0u60w8cwFlIsYDOdXXD1RkNiGrjS4ScG13uxmovXrcN9uRVR_4gzLMlMe3_rbj8vCrRlr_F3tf/s1600/beachhouse2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1167" data-original-width="1084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcL6NCwqBUWpLBLSO-A8nx2d9izBc3JW4MTL8vcMpoJxbEp02pMCIjlP-THzx-PZeRwQ0u60w8cwFlIsYDOdXXD1RkNiGrjS4ScG13uxmovXrcN9uRVR_4gzLMlMe3_rbj8vCrRlr_F3tf/s400/beachhouse2.JPG" width="371" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course Jim and I were beyond touched. Over the summer, I had been quietly dreading the idea of re-living that agonizing Friday night and Saturday morning. Afraid of being pounded by the traumatic images that I still have trouble controlling when they pop into my mind.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So this idea--that so many of Patrick's friends were coming into town to join us felt like an astonishing gift from the Universe. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Even now it's hard to express the range of emotions, but gratitude is the one that floods me when I think of what I imagined that day would be like and what actually happened.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I don't usually write posts like this, but it feels important to record the love that has been helping us get through a tough summer that included my birthday, Patrick's birthday, Jim's birthday and finally the September 15th date, when our world changed forever. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">to everyone – friends and family from my life and my friends from my blog world--who sent me such incredibly, thoughtful text messages on September 15th. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpM7peruddyAdpYvAWhHFtu93h8urPMeYJ72uimMFTa-x5f-QYF7x6fwLspb79Dly6tEb9_JYdlQ940qtc4I1DVKzmR1lmpoPCFs1yZYBaeINJwx8jAysAT1FkKJphV98JVbBw-6pmizpP/s1600/blurryimage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1229" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpM7peruddyAdpYvAWhHFtu93h8urPMeYJ72uimMFTa-x5f-QYF7x6fwLspb79Dly6tEb9_JYdlQ940qtc4I1DVKzmR1lmpoPCFs1yZYBaeINJwx8jAysAT1FkKJphV98JVbBw-6pmizpP/s400/blurryimage.jpg" width="306" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you for sending me emails and cards of encouragement. And please know that every card I opened felt like an energetic light that kept me moving one step at a time on those heavy days.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you to all those who have been receiving Patrick's tribute card and have been sharing their Random Acts of Kindness with me. I'm over the moon whenever I hear about these. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you especially to Patrick’s friends. My god, they’ve been so amazing, I get weepy when I think of how kind they've been to us. Reaching out to Jim and I with phone calls and visits. Like Nate, who recently called with news from New York that made me cry happy tears. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or when Maddy and Chris stopped by on my-first-birthday-without Patrick, when my heart was hurting so much. And they surprised me with flowers and chocolates and a beautiful card. And even stayed for a visit.</span><br />
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Patrick was always with these four. This is Matt M., Chanel, Matt G. and Chloe after Patrick's services. Both Matts gave amazing eulogies.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We're so thankful to Matt G., Matt M., Chanel, and Chloe, --who continue to show us -with their loving actions- the special love and connection they felt with Patrick. I couldn't have gotten Patrick's tribute cards out without Chanel and Chloe's help with the addresses.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you for the long, deep conversations (love you Emily, Matt G., Matt M. and Chanel) over drinks at the beach house --where I learned that there are friends who still talk to Patrick, just like me. Friends who have his photo plastered on computer screens at their job or stuck in their car visor so they can see him when they need to.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you to the friends who have showed me their unique tattoos--(Mike G, Devin and Maddy)--in Patrick’s honor. Thank you to those who got teary and vulnerable with me when they acknowledged the gaping hole Patrick left behind, and reminded me of how young Patrick's friends are to be dealing with such an impactful loss. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you Alyssa for your beautiful, hand-written letter and the pink roses that you left on my doorstep, a repeat from a year ago on this god-awful date. Thank you Alex D. for your text telling me that you could “feel” Patrick’s positive vibes and energy in the days leading up to the one year mark. Thank you Cameron and Shohana for reaching out about our future dinner date.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you Sophia for your photos and prayers from that special spot in Greece and for being so encouraging with my intuition work. </span><br />
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Devin sent me this olive tree on Patrick's birthday. So amazing.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you Devin- for sending me the baby olive tree to plant in memory of Patrick, for the tiny, glass guardian angel on my bookshelf and most of all, for sending me the college videos of Patrick laughing and being his loud, funny self that I play whenever his absence gets unbearable.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And of course. A special thank you to Heidi and Rob for showing up to be with us through yet another unexplored “first." Your family's love of Patrick has connected us forever. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Before heading out of town Patrick's former roommates along with Tommy and Maddy stopped by to visit. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZM4b099SARWVAJHzuw5pG5w5Tl7i0LlQKojpJn5WCM4vSxYo1gMFA4bLM74h3jxYQXjfbtWmCvDL_hwG9rASW8zh49RgcSpcBwRThWNkk2z6pKWZTcFq81y1DIELIvVjs19spV9CHaBY/s1600/CD739932-8301-4484-AE47-33E740CA878F.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1153" data-original-width="1600" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZM4b099SARWVAJHzuw5pG5w5Tl7i0LlQKojpJn5WCM4vSxYo1gMFA4bLM74h3jxYQXjfbtWmCvDL_hwG9rASW8zh49RgcSpcBwRThWNkk2z6pKWZTcFq81y1DIELIvVjs19spV9CHaBY/s400/CD739932-8301-4484-AE47-33E740CA878F.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">On Patrick's August 6th birthday some of them got together to remember him and they had a picture taken. And Maddy gave it to me when they came. So sweet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">While they were at our house they reminisced in front of some photo boards and later we took them to the accident site, because Matt, Spence and Tommy had never been there yet.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdU8EltU-GNQ7l5lUwDMRS-gZOqyz0OqDron2Ezq00fO_auuTCaMzFOBF9Zn-mDdv-saNisd-uGDgB7Hw3eLAFEWz-Sz1CGBySxkalIW9Z8vVx1ATg0PPk0RyEvwJKREDzggoqNGzNPav/s1600/flowersite.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1462" data-original-width="1600" height="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdU8EltU-GNQ7l5lUwDMRS-gZOqyz0OqDron2Ezq00fO_auuTCaMzFOBF9Zn-mDdv-saNisd-uGDgB7Hw3eLAFEWz-Sz1CGBySxkalIW9Z8vVx1ATg0PPk0RyEvwJKREDzggoqNGzNPav/s640/flowersite.JPG" width="640" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
Matt (standing next to Jim) was so cute. He asked me the name of the flowers I had planted.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When we were there Lauren, (one of the three women that stayed next to Patrick in the moments after the accident), happened to be getting home. She came up and met everyone and chatted for a few minutes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Afterwards I thought about the odds of that happening. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Some day I'll tell you about the amazing synchronicities that have happened at that accident site.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzp85I9uexzSTD1_xmVueEO8YzMZdBHLHQj6xdzMMjjobeSxj7pP9D1buH4Cb8WW5S4gkSI9f6QB9dcoWt9c8DonXJljqlwabJ5pKsYTNwHBRR_iYhaDjmlLXqo5VDboEJzT5zfxM8wMDI/s1600/flowersite2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #b00000;"></span><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzp85I9uexzSTD1_xmVueEO8YzMZdBHLHQj6xdzMMjjobeSxj7pP9D1buH4Cb8WW5S4gkSI9f6QB9dcoWt9c8DonXJljqlwabJ5pKsYTNwHBRR_iYhaDjmlLXqo5VDboEJzT5zfxM8wMDI/s640/flowersite2.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As I read over this post, I do feel a bit self conscious mentioning all these blessings. I'm aware that someone might be seeing these photos and mistakenly believe I'm using them to say something about myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Look how loved I am. That kinda thing. And it couldn't be farther from the truth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What I want you to know is that really and truly all this love is because of Patrick. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jim and I used to joke about the "Patrick effect" whenever he would walk into a room. As parents we couldn't help but notice it. I would watch people literally light up, because you could feel <i>it </i>in the room, his buoyant energy that made you instantly look up and nudge closer to hear him. He had a naturally loud voice and he always had a story to tell in his animated way using his arms and hands. Lord knows he had the loudest laugh, <span style="font-size: small;">(inherited from his Dad) </span>especially when he was debating you. But even these things can't explain why people were drawn to him.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Emily and Patrick during college</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Personally I think it was his heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Emily told me that when she shares pictures and talks about Patrick it's hard for people to believe that someone who looks like him could be so deep. And so kind</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think his friends would say it was a blend of these qualities that in the end made you want to be on the receiving end of his green eyes and his warm smile. To be talking with him and to notice him nodding his head while you spoke, as if you were the most important person in the room. </span><br />
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My neighborhood sky<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank You for your visit today. I typically don't share many personal photos here, but so many of you have been there from the beginning. Reaching out to me from across the miles to let me know you're there. And I've been so touched. I wanted you to know how the one year anniversary went for us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sending you love and light,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span>Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-35972561776741241162019-08-29T13:09:00.001-07:002019-09-05T20:32:29.414-07:00When you think you can't survive but you do<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The tiny lady with the elderly black and white bulldog on a leash was peeking over the bush when Jim saw her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was in the middle of watering the flowers at the accident site when Jim pointed her out to me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Les," he nodded, 'I think she wants to talk to you." </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I looked up and smiled. Then I stepped through the tall, dry stalks of Bird of Paradise plants that lined the sidewalk. When I got close, I could hear her thin, soft voice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Did you know him?" she asked nodding at the flowers.</span><br />
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</span>
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<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">"He was my son." I said. Then I repeated it because apparently, she was hard of hearing. </span></div>
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</span>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">She shook her head from side to side and asked me if they ever found the man who ran the red light and I said no.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
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<div>
"I'm from Sweden. I have a son too. We were looking at the pictures on the pole over there....and we saw the balloon. Was it his birthday?"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
I told her yes, Patrick's birthday was August 6th. And that Jim -his Dad--is the one who rotates the pictures of Patrick up on the pole.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
"Oh, it's so terrible." And I knew she was talking about the accident. The horrific randomness of a lone driver running the light at the exact second that Patrick was there. But I can't think about that now. I know I will succumb to those dark thoughts if I go there.</div>
<div>
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<div>
The woman keeps talking. "And he was so handsome too! He looks like Mr. Huntington Beach, that's what my son said. My son, he said what a terrible loss. He looks like one of those guys who-had-it-all, you know?" </div>
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<div>
I just smile and nod. Then she asks me if I have other children and we talk for a few more minutes.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Suddenly she looks at the ground and says, "Terrible things happen. I don't know why. But you gotta keep living. You know?</div>
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<div>
I nod. I've learned that people always struggle to know what to say to the mother. So, I just smile and turn back toward the flowers and I hear her call my name from the sidewalk.</div>
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<div>
"Leslie, right?" she pronounces my name with her Swedish accent. </div>
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'll keep praying for you dear. I will. I just don't know how you survive that."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Later, I decide that this might be the most honest statement ever. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I just don't know how you survive that."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How am I surviving? To-be-honest. Even I'm amazed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I do know that if you'd asked me on September 16th 2018, the day after Patrick's fatal accident I couldn't have envisioned any of the experiences that have happened in these last nine-plus months. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The mere idea of breathing in a world without one of my children was simply unfathomable. My kids have always been my life. And I say this without a hint of hesitation. As a woman who happily waited for motherhood, who was star-struck with the idea of grad school and obsessively absorbed in a profession that I loved, I can honestly say that everything came to a gushing halt--the moment that Dr. Jeffery Graham placed Patrick's infant body into my arms. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know how it sounds. But from that second on, nothing else mattered more to me. Ever.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Did I ever consider a catastrophic loss like this? Never. Especially to Patrick. He was just …well, too special. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Like most mothers, I actually felt protected by a deep spiritual faith. A hidden logic that was fueled by a love so feverish and wild for my kids that in the end, it was irrational. Surely God will know this one thing about me after all these years. I can survive anything dear Lord. Except something happening to one of my kids. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You learn so much about yourself when something traumatic happens to you. When your entire world comes crashing down around you when you least expect it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This is what grief does. Grief asks you, “Who are you…really?”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Who are you when you’re stripped down to your barest soul? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Who are you when your entire body is flooded with the most gut-wrenching anguish you've ever experienced... and there’s absolutely no where to go to get away from it? Nowhere to escape what is the unbearable truth that will always be there now. That my son is really gone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Recently I was listening to a podcast with Dr. Gabor Mate--when I heard him mention the Japanese word, I-k-i-g-a-I, (pronounced A-kee-go) and I was instantly intrigued.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">According to<a href="https://drgabormate.com/"> Dr. Mate</a>, Ikigal is a word that describes that certain feeling when you wake up in the morning and think, </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">“What do I get to do today?!” It's a word that describes that bounce in your step, that feeling of purposeful energy that propels you out of bed in the morning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I mention this because the minute I heard this concept, I instantly remembered what a basically happy person I had always been. Funny how I never realized that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dr. Mate says that the Western Model of Illness asks 'What's wrong with you' instead of 'What happened to you?' And that's an important distinction. He explains that trauma is not simply an outside event that happens to you, trauma is something that happens <i><b>within</b></i> you. A wounding, a pain and a loss of functioning.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Although according to Dr. Mate, the absolute worst thing about trauma and emotional pain is the disconnection it causes with your Self. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I recently wrote a post about this sense of alienation I noticed from my physical body in, <a href="https://gwenmossblog.blogspot.com/2019/07/what-ive-been-learning-how-trauma-and.html">What I’ve been learning. How trauma and loss effects your body.</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Afterwards I began to feel the heaviness of Patrick's birthday looming in the distance, like ominous clouds gathering at the edge of a blue sky. And each day I grew more aware of the date. The mere thought of waking up on his birthday without him seemed too unbearable to imagine. By end of July I could feel myself turning inward. My personal way to retreat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do you know that feeling when life feels so loud and overwhelming that all you want to do is go back to bed and pull the covers over your head? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />During these weeks I felt keenly aware of a rawness about my emotions. And this hyper-vulnerability was the reason I began to avoid social media, especially Instagram where a random glance at a photo could trigger a memory that sent me spiraling into an aching pain for Patrick. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Later Jim reminded me of the way I behaved during my labor and childbirth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He said that whenever an excruciatingly painful contraction was coming, he would watch me get intensely focused and very, very quiet. No talking. Nothing. It was if I wasn't there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And so I’ve learned this now. That I get through my intense grief in the same way that I got through those moments of being fully dilated and in a state of simply enduring.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32926208-bearing-the-unbearable">Joanne Cacciatore</a> says that grief is a process of contraction and expansion. Which, I believe is the way we all get through our darkest times. Those days spent in the middle of the proverbial tunnel when you can't see the light yet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We hunker down. We hold on with clenched fists. We contract and tighten emotionally and conserve our energy and attention focusing intensely on the grief and on self.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> During these times it feels like our very survival is at risk. And at its worse, we feel desperate, breakable and fearful. Then, right at the moment of excruciating and indescribable pain, there is relief. Inexplicable, when it comes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is the expansion that Cacciatore describes as that tiny post-contraction period of relief. It’s when your exhausted panting turns into a long inhale and exhale. A moment that offers you a glimpse of openness. A chance to regain a sense of trust and growth and connectedness and maybe even hope.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is what my grief process has felt like during these past eleven-plus months. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />I suppose it's the ebb and flow of life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">According to Cacciatore you can't have one without the other. A contraction allows expansion. It's a process she notes is found throughout the natural sciences from astrophysics and cellular biology to thermodynamics and chemistry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We are at our core--no different than the aging, massive star that runs out of fuel and then withers and contracts. Gradually making way for the dramatic expansion of a Supernova.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Based on this analogy, I guess there is hope for me and the dying stars of the universe.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, this means Me surviving the overwhelming contractions of anguish that flood me whenever I remember that I am still here and my child is not. It is sheer horror, believe me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And Cacciatore warns us. There will be times during an intense contraction when we'll be afraid that this painful time is permanent. We worry that we're doomed to feel this way forever. Until we feel it pass. And this simple relief can keep us going.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Even though we may wish for expansion only, she reminds us that it's a phantom idea, and a path toward self-delusion that will only leave us worn-out from the persistent pretense of a life that doesn't exist.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But anyone who has spent time in their winter garden knows this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh- And I did get through Patrick's birthday. And even though I fantasized about sleeping through the day, I knew I couldn't.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Instead, I spent most of the month creating and sending out a special tribute card in his honor. And I was so grateful for the periods of relief I felt when I was tapping into my creativity.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Elizabeth Gilbert says that an artist is someone who makes something so much more beautiful than it needs to be.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I love that definition. All we need is intention dear friends, for beauty to happen.<br /><br />Thank you for checking in with me today. You are such a blessing to me. If you would like to receive Patrick's card just leave your address on mizgmoss@yahoo.com</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'd be happy to share him with you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Wishing you a beautiful and nourishing weekend.<br />Namaste,<br />Leslie</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">sharing this post at:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.impartinggrace.com/2019/09/grace-at-home-on-special-day.html">Grace at Home</a></span><br />
<br />Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5028673509424034947.post-4114494248465682972019-07-22T13:07:00.000-07:002019-07-25T08:00:51.717-07:00What I've been learning. How trauma and loss effects your body<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I first noticed it in those blurry months following Patrick’s fatal accident.Still in a haggard state of shock and trauma, I tried to go back to my yoga mat, desperate for some moments of relief. But each time I rolled out my mat and lowered myself into a simple child’s pose, allowing my forehead to sink into the floor, an eruption of sobs would rise from deep within my chest. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Each time I would sit in meditation and focus on breathing in and breathing out, my body would react by releasing a torrent of grief that I eventually realized, had now permeated every muscle and ligament in my stiff body.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The idea that our emotions can be pent up within our bodies is nothing new.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As a practicing clinician I had spent years working with eating disordered women, and I know the effects of unexpressed feelings on our psyche, and in certain situation how experiencing trauma can dislodge the natural connection we feel with our body. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Honestly. I’ve lost count of the number of tragic stories I’ve listened to from women who suffered molestation at young ages, and who vividly describe feeling strangely detached from their physical body while it’s happening.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I’ve heard hundreds of women describe the odd sensation of watching their abuse from above—of feeling outside their own bodies as if they were watching a movie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But you don’t have to experience physical or sexual abuse to have experienced something that felt traumatic. Or to understand how it feels to have heavy, uncomfortable feelings stuck in your throat, unable to be expressed comfortably to others. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Each of these experiences is evidence of the powerful connection that exists between our emotions and our physical body.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Pent up feelings</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the grief group I recently finished, one of the wisest messages we heard was that there are 40 kinds of losses in addition to death-- that we all experience in our daily lives, yet most of us don’t take the time to acknowledge our wispy feelings of sadness, let alone feel them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In this same group, we were asked to plot our life losses on a graph line. This was to help us identify how we treat our losses, and whether we allow ourselves to fully grieve as we move through our lives.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I saw so many members of our group who were shocked to learn that they had joined the group because they were motivated by their most recent loss, only to discover another more powerful loss from their past that felt even more urgent; a loss they had never dealt with, that was still having rippling effects in their lives. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The other night I was reading <a href="https://www.yogaforgriefrelief.com/">Yoga for Grief Relief,</a> by Antonio Sausys, a somatic psychotherapist and leading teacher in understanding the Body/Mind connection. And he was talking about the Western world’s stoic approach to our emotions, how we believe we can plow through our pain by being ‘strong.’ But it’s this very approach that leaves us in what he calls, “a perpetual state of unacknowledged grief.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We minimize our own feelings. And we (unknowingly) bury our feelings of loss deep inside us, where they stay trapped in both body and mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Body never lies</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I found his personal story especially fascinating.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When he was twenty years old, Antonio lost his mother from a sudden stroke. But for the next two and a half years he lived in total denial. He simply couldn’t deal with the sudden trauma of losing her and he completely disconnected from his feelings. When he was finally able to be fully present for his emotional pain, to his astonishment he discovered that his body had created an additional calcium deposit between his ribs and breastbone. This is what the body can do in response to a fracture. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And for him, it was the clearest proof, that what the mind insists on hiding, the physical body will show. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He had suffered a broken heart, and his body had confirmed it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I do need to clarify though, not all losses are traumatic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Grief specialists consider losing a child always a trauma. And dealing with any sudden and unexpected death (like Antonio’s mother) is also considered traumatic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But as all of us move through transitions or big changes in our lives, it’s natural for anyone to notice feelings of loss. The main point is simply to allow our feelings—whatever they are—to be expressed freely and honestly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But this is easier said than done, as Antonio’s story illustrates.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Personally, it was my years inside the world of eating disorders that helped me see first-hand, that even when we think we’re avoiding our most difficult feelings, our emotions will make themselves known through our bodies. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Either we begin to notice physical symptoms or our pent-up feelings can go ‘underground’ and show up as apathy or body dissatisfaction. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have you ever noticed when you’re feeling down or depressed and you look in the mirror, and suddenly all you notice are your flaws? It’s as if the more unhappy you are, the more you suddenly notice your weight or that facial feature that bugs you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://manhattanpsychoanalysis.com/wp-content/uploads/Sands_Subjugation.pdf"></a><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://manhattanpsychoanalysis.com/wp-content/uploads/Sands_Subjugation.pdf">Susan Sands Ph.D,</a> is a wonderful eating disorder specialist who coined the phrase, “distorted mirroring,” to explain how we look in the mirror and instead of seeing our whole self, we instantly zero in on our body parts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Working with bulimics taught me that if we keep ignoring our emotions, eventually we’ll lose our ability to recognize why and what we’re specifically feeling. A bulimic only knows she’s upset. But instead of addressing a person or a problem situation that caused her reactions, she uses food. Binging, throwing up and feeling temporary relief. But sadly, her original feelings remain unresolved. So her destructive cycle continues. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">“Trauma causes a disconnection from our self. And our body.”</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> --Dr. Gabor Mate</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What I've learned-- is to be curious about a prolonged disconnect with our bodies, which can show up as a feeling of ‘just not caring’ about our body’s needs for movement and better nutrition, and consider it an invitation to look deeper.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Recognize there may be important feelings that are inside you needing to be fully expressed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Listening to my body</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Some months after Patrick’s accident, I was talking to a yoga friend when I mentioned the distinct feeling that I had trauma stuck inside my body. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I knew it sounded odd, but I just blurted it out, relying on my instincts and my curious observations of my body. I knew one thing; I had never felt such a deep paralyzing fatigue in my life. It was a profound heaviness that seemed to affect every muscle in my body that made the mere thought of exercising out of the question. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I didn’t realize at that moment—how grief expresses itself in the body. But I noticed little things. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I couldn’t sleep without help. <br />I no longer had access to any dreams. <br />And my body felt so different.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I missed having strong arms. I missed seeing the muscles in my legs. And I missed slipping on my pants and feeling that looseness around my bottom. </span></div>
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But here’s the important part. I watched it all happening and I couldn’t care less. </div>
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I felt like a <b>detached observer</b> with a total disregard for my physical conditioning and muscular strength. Stripped of my ego and in a state of profound pain I didn’t care one bit about my looks, my skin, my makeup. </div>
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I even detected a quiet resentment towards my body.</div>
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It was as if my mother’s mind was saying,</div>
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I never got a chance to trade places with Patrick. To exchange my living-breathing, healthy body for his beautiful one, because he’s the one who deserves to be here. </div>
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And I was heartsick and bewildered by this horrific loss of control.</div>
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Taking care of my body?</div>
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All I knew is that the mere idea of going back to the gym or back to the yoga classes that I once loved, would bring me face-to-face with this mother’s internal conflict I felt simmering inside me that always began with…why???? </div>
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Why am I still here when my beautiful son is not?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Time is not the healer; it’s what we do with our Time</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, what’s changed?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Only in these last several weeks—10 long months after the accident--do I feel myself emerging from the hazy fog of disbelief and numbness that I now realize had been insulating me from feeling the full effects of Patrick’s loss in our lives.</span></div>
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Trauma specialists explain that the mind will do this. The mind will try to protect us from near lethal shock by erecting a numbing veil around us--a type of emotional anesthesia—that we don’t even realize is there.<br />
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I understand it now. Because that’s what happened to me in those early morning hours of September 15, 2018 when I felt my world collapse around me.<br />
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But lately I’m noticing tiny, incremental changes.<br />
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These days I am finally able to breath for longer periods so I can meditate without being interrupted by instant sobbing, or overcome by aching thoughts of Patrick.<br />
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I am back to slow, deep stretching on my yoga mat. And I’m beginning to integrate the grief yoga practice established by Antonio Sausys.<br />
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But it takes time.<br />
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I still wake up every morning feeling unbearable aching in my heart. And still stunned that Patrick’s not with us.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I’m working through the remnants of my trauma. Trauma still evident when my heartbeat starts racing and the mental flashbacks pop up: </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-size: large;">at the first sound of sirens in the distance </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">or when I’m in a fast-moving car on the freeway</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">or when I’m in my bed and I notice the clock ticking toward midnight.</span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Each of these experiences can easily flood me with heartache and unwanted images but I’m now slowing facing the harrowing moments of Patrick’s accident so that my grieving body and soul can heal.<br />
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Losing a child—who happened to be the most astonishing light in the world—is literally hell on earth. It's pretty much horrendous.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I don’t want to waste all this pain. I want to use it. I want to share what I’m learning along the way in case you’re ever struggling with your own heavy heart. Or you find yourself in your own dark night of the Soul. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I want you know that there’s only one way through your pain, and that’s to face it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">These are some of the things I’m doing that help me: </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Think: one hour at a time. <br />Being present for my feelings. (Eckhart Tolle has some great podcasts on this)<br />Returning to my breath. (a skill that comes with yoga)<br />Meditation every day. <br />Going to my <a href="https://www.compassionatefriends.org/">Compassionate Friends Group. </a><br />Being real with my therapist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Oh-</i>--and writing about this insane journey that I never expected to be on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But here I am.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">xo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Leslie</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I can't say this enough. I am surviving by Love.<br style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" />Thank you dear ones for all your prayers and kindness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">*if you have private reactions to this post or questions that you don't want to post in a comment, feel free to email me mizgmoss@yahoo.com. </span></div>
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<br />Leslie Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06367872267145012395noreply@blogger.com16