tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81802183885568792852024-03-05T22:27:55.489-08:00 pomegranate and seeds Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.comBlogger270125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-13208084992706930532015-01-17T15:07:00.001-08:002015-01-17T15:07:30.746-08:00this year in bits. in parts. 2-7 | 365 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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my whole life is built on bits and in parts. sections of one another.<br />
moments strung like pearls on a string.<br />
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xoxo</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-6509741984485008852015-01-10T10:46:00.000-08:002015-01-10T17:39:52.842-08:002 | 52 . 1 | 365<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am plunging in on the 10th day (though not making this a ten on ten). 365.</div>
(and week 2 of 52)<br />
<br />
I was trying to find a theme as my boys are very fickle when it comes to being in front of the camera. It couldn't just be about them. SO I thought maybe I would focus just on b+w photography.<br />
<br />
However, as I was taking these photos this morning I realized that focusing on composition, using light and shadow, to convey mood and emotion is perhaps even more important to me.<br />
<br />
What creative projects are you working on?<br />
<br />
xoxo<br />
<br />Natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16086622373325286677noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-56240487992704543642015-01-09T07:26:00.000-08:002015-01-09T17:54:40.575-08:00friday | fodder+folly | favorites<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><br /></i>
<i>follies of the week: </i><br />
-facebook <br />
-facebook<br />
-facebook<br />
-canon customer service<br />
-facebook<br />
<br />
<i>fodder for the soul:</i><br />
-rising early<br />
-listening to the traffic and pretending its the wind<br />
-watching the sunset<br />
-laughing with my oldest<br />
-gratitude for the warranty on my big camera<br />
<br />
<i>provender for the days ahead:</i><br />
-an oldest who turns 15<br />
-starting my +365 project tomorrow<br />
-embracing imperfections<br />
-picking up my big camera from canon customer service<br />
(after much needed repairs)<br />
<br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
xoxo</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-53796794139851702432015-01-08T06:28:00.002-08:002015-01-09T17:54:54.460-08:00quiet. early. and morning. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
it is quiet. early. and morning.<br />
<br />
i love it.<br />
<br />
the heater just clicked on.<br />
<br />
the dogs are curled up.<br />
<br />
the dark still cradles the coast.<br />
<br />
as much as i can loathe the darkest days of winter, where nothing feels right and your body feels off, there is something soft and sweet about the light that pours from the january sky. from the first light through dusk, it has a muted yellow to it that brushes my skin sweetly, softly, like the eyelashes of a baby.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
xoxo<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-14354667240295461312015-01-06T06:26:00.001-08:002015-01-09T17:55:14.199-08:00on a +365.photography or otherwise. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-UW02H4aTHRhyphenhyphen6M176M_1MlFdeN8e0ZUmRGNmMn_lUNC8FqwZPpyr3pn4HBZZjZeLVSLW6yG4NqywMEXc84rABzT49Wk2fetDgh4EtYK4T1rU-qG_oowP95zBu-C64DtxoTh1Dd7_6EMz/s1600/DSC_1417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-UW02H4aTHRhyphenhyphen6M176M_1MlFdeN8e0ZUmRGNmMn_lUNC8FqwZPpyr3pn4HBZZjZeLVSLW6yG4NqywMEXc84rABzT49Wk2fetDgh4EtYK4T1rU-qG_oowP95zBu-C64DtxoTh1Dd7_6EMz/s1600/DSC_1417.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Diving into a spectacular project seems like the most exciting and thrilling thing maybe day 1.<br />
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Then comes the reality.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwxJFE_GA5qOonCFmGYAhF2P3bX3DfApNFPqLD1hHGrvCbf_oDZu-hk1rPQ4Gf8D2eRAXHbL6Cas6-ZP-2db4nzsUI7NxQyBDLrmSOhMqDThVHJD9eJkf54sCa4EA229NPOmmcfqMnSSK/s1600/DSC_1420-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwxJFE_GA5qOonCFmGYAhF2P3bX3DfApNFPqLD1hHGrvCbf_oDZu-hk1rPQ4Gf8D2eRAXHbL6Cas6-ZP-2db4nzsUI7NxQyBDLrmSOhMqDThVHJD9eJkf54sCa4EA229NPOmmcfqMnSSK/s1600/DSC_1420-2.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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What special projects do you have for the New Year? What do you think will help you live into them? </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-41434435624870825412015-01-04T22:33:00.003-08:002015-01-04T22:34:49.054-08:001 | 52<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq9EKXuOY7tlbMZH518Cch_eF3xW4jWrDqLmplDx8TghlEM0K3LZM9RH0QZ3V-hsUqCK6uLSKD4PcNvgQyvbNUFQWEAtetY69vbHwrXiqhJYT64cVrRmDnv6sEKMTGZ4m5wMGVIkFilMLR/s1600/DSC_1392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq9EKXuOY7tlbMZH518Cch_eF3xW4jWrDqLmplDx8TghlEM0K3LZM9RH0QZ3V-hsUqCK6uLSKD4PcNvgQyvbNUFQWEAtetY69vbHwrXiqhJYT64cVrRmDnv6sEKMTGZ4m5wMGVIkFilMLR/s1600/DSC_1392.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaRhpllT_tHRpG-6iaXRABiuJQ3tsVMclbR6i53K2Teu6vEE_Gvzp-MXFI7h9f8AHHZmLWbSNWwZx8oIzCrleT4MtuiElMq5pQQFzHI1Nh6TYz35-HFB3kpTmeosBSMQN7rts_jvIiJRdI/s1600/DSC_1425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaRhpllT_tHRpG-6iaXRABiuJQ3tsVMclbR6i53K2Teu6vEE_Gvzp-MXFI7h9f8AHHZmLWbSNWwZx8oIzCrleT4MtuiElMq5pQQFzHI1Nh6TYz35-HFB3kpTmeosBSMQN7rts_jvIiJRdI/s1600/DSC_1425.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
my youngest, bright and blurred.<br />
the imprint of a snow angel on a hillside: <br />
a gift to the snow encrusted mountain side from my middle.<br />
my boys, my loves.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0TvqI0RFvTmno4HKbahe9vwg1HaRpwFTx7QW7bSNWXygvJv98RaTM4FTqf-5WgVx3auEqCfXwcaWFPdgpgvnl1tl0sIWlQ2BhBO-ai6ErSxD-huuPds8HYyqKEn54Bc4jYKryMIBbaG9/s1600/DSC_1384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0TvqI0RFvTmno4HKbahe9vwg1HaRpwFTx7QW7bSNWXygvJv98RaTM4FTqf-5WgVx3auEqCfXwcaWFPdgpgvnl1tl0sIWlQ2BhBO-ai6ErSxD-huuPds8HYyqKEn54Bc4jYKryMIBbaG9/s1600/DSC_1384.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
xoxo<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-26287350402871586242015-01-04T08:05:00.004-08:002015-01-04T08:05:56.164-08:00Devil's Punch Bowl | +365<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpq1gpDuz9KrZj76h2zcgTSucKzDWXqRA0fCIKSL2m3_C1vonIjxiydYcUIbb6m-lJ6Y3cwP_Tp06YICdm3C_0p-sSbQa58RDddpAIF8UFdi1jGjb4eFBayfbmWSh13fOVcEMMrEbRTsMN/s1600/DSC_1388.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpq1gpDuz9KrZj76h2zcgTSucKzDWXqRA0fCIKSL2m3_C1vonIjxiydYcUIbb6m-lJ6Y3cwP_Tp06YICdm3C_0p-sSbQa58RDddpAIF8UFdi1jGjb4eFBayfbmWSh13fOVcEMMrEbRTsMN/s1600/DSC_1388.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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Living in Los Angeles, but having spent the majority of our lives elsewhere, we often long to see real seasons. That aspect has been rough. However, the week of Christmas tide brought rains and colder weather, desperately needed for our parched lands. But the mountains taunted us as we could see snow upon their peaks so the day after the New Year, we stuffed ourselves into our station wagon (and I say stuffed because my oldest is now 6ft -182.88cm) and set out to a mountain trail that we hoped would provide a bit of a winter scene and a needed respite from the city (and also to avoid all the Los Angelenos heading to the ski resorts). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEFRy934iCFGtD-5jiei_C0yzqDX5JkbpJNH5mcvFzrQBqZ5MDzaU6w_NRoAtqWuE4XyUMSxndGSO-ZBzfcdAqK_qHxxzif2X-VhhqEr7usSj7ZLLANZO1QqpCUh_W_i-mRjZ8kdGTK3z/s1600/DSC_1400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEFRy934iCFGtD-5jiei_C0yzqDX5JkbpJNH5mcvFzrQBqZ5MDzaU6w_NRoAtqWuE4XyUMSxndGSO-ZBzfcdAqK_qHxxzif2X-VhhqEr7usSj7ZLLANZO1QqpCUh_W_i-mRjZ8kdGTK3z/s1600/DSC_1400.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju6atxXkxRwykNAcvdTHEcTfTfXeQNNcu5dqmDED-nPXJN9jHGYkzgGbtXsG4rLg6ujdjXRTTLwgY9ODY3FOeYbI7pd08Rc16SjJsUeJI2m5QaLc4LBtBMTLwrCgyOa9_hPKXYKaEFSBWn/s1600/DSC_1408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju6atxXkxRwykNAcvdTHEcTfTfXeQNNcu5dqmDED-nPXJN9jHGYkzgGbtXsG4rLg6ujdjXRTTLwgY9ODY3FOeYbI7pd08Rc16SjJsUeJI2m5QaLc4LBtBMTLwrCgyOa9_hPKXYKaEFSBWn/s1600/DSC_1408.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwi0QozHMfAf7awG-bZFkPhagHXncEsNMoSQy1vP0KVgi-E22zvCksCCxxqyFbwBREmERAWUZnMw-f2dJUUePE2K-fGeg__AdmJ3eJitT_jZecOofTctvXglrPM7fIpUmUE4l9BuEMyK7J/s1600/DSC_1425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwi0QozHMfAf7awG-bZFkPhagHXncEsNMoSQy1vP0KVgi-E22zvCksCCxxqyFbwBREmERAWUZnMw-f2dJUUePE2K-fGeg__AdmJ3eJitT_jZecOofTctvXglrPM7fIpUmUE4l9BuEMyK7J/s1600/DSC_1425.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXInC4KsN7nIoRZ3Q24OWbkPhg3gD6flFh8EeD_vUjOD_b6FWEEDhHdszQtekWVL3GXkg3JfZ9uQr-I1W0H2_VlRl_mYrm1cgWjSBIA4BjNwhyZnq0zMwBLJHr-UcBxDejIhhKLz4_U7YA/s1600/DSC_1440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXInC4KsN7nIoRZ3Q24OWbkPhg3gD6flFh8EeD_vUjOD_b6FWEEDhHdszQtekWVL3GXkg3JfZ9uQr-I1W0H2_VlRl_mYrm1cgWjSBIA4BjNwhyZnq0zMwBLJHr-UcBxDejIhhKLz4_U7YA/s1600/DSC_1440.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTdc1M4JBqVdpVym6OD3ZvjyxHl7vqSMFyNAg9zFOO0g0VJ6klZsl4G7c27t_jDyxSlmj91HYGsR2aTxRvN2DB-wgtO2G6LxJnAjjcPhnpSwEPSFbFCU5OM_z7_8MZvtcrOGtq3HtySB6A/s1600/DSC_1442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTdc1M4JBqVdpVym6OD3ZvjyxHl7vqSMFyNAg9zFOO0g0VJ6klZsl4G7c27t_jDyxSlmj91HYGsR2aTxRvN2DB-wgtO2G6LxJnAjjcPhnpSwEPSFbFCU5OM_z7_8MZvtcrOGtq3HtySB6A/s1600/DSC_1442.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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The Devils's Punch Bowl, as it is called, did not disappoint. It was gorgeous. An hour and a half from Los Angeles, this gem of a park is within the the Angeles National Forest on the northern slopes of the San Gabriel Mountains, near Pearblossom, California. We did the whole hike, all 7.4mi. (11.91km). It was long, but our three billy-goats (a.k.a. my three boys) rocked it, despite the cold and the ice we encountered. My middle and youngest made snow angels (until they got too cold) and even my oldest,felt the tug of nature's childish ways as we spied him writing his name several times in the snow. </div>
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Then, at the end, when we were punch drunk tired and spent, we met two beautiful owls who seemed to make everything feel blessed and perfect. They live at the park's nature center. Both were raised by humans, so they could not be returned to the wild. It was getting dark and my fingers were close to frozen so none of my photos of this sweet barn owl, named Ruth, came out perfect, but I love her sweet majestic beauty. And one thing I have learned in the past year is that sometimes "technically" flawed photos are just as beautiful as clean crisp ones, so I have included her here as well. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaIqkyj52sNhgMMqr7KT9PVe0cO6_6X1VFbcDX0QmCaYxlvUFC_EwRvGbUvsSyVIBkNehzATKN8Sr06Gv_MNmPYksbPlmkxWeDQXD6BMmqmBvxa0apkP13rbnFJUhGbZsChUXBqDTrLXM/s1600/DSC_1452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaIqkyj52sNhgMMqr7KT9PVe0cO6_6X1VFbcDX0QmCaYxlvUFC_EwRvGbUvsSyVIBkNehzATKN8Sr06Gv_MNmPYksbPlmkxWeDQXD6BMmqmBvxa0apkP13rbnFJUhGbZsChUXBqDTrLXM/s1600/DSC_1452.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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And finally, can I start (and finish) a 365 project? Or even a 52 week one? I guess I won't ever know unless I try. xoxoAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-23949680902842479302015-01-02T07:28:00.001-08:002015-01-02T07:28:14.986-08:00a few faves of 2014 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_BjW2YlF8ViKYSFTthJ21crp7-ang6zJQiUde5N_Ok5p8wRUDlgxTG1PH3Jk9bg6ODCXp_nlozN7HzidtEzJCXmjDIYe7NVDFI2Iwh2q0Grw7a8mpckuYXaESu-5Zw25igUltqRf0i-cV/s1600/_E5B1840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_BjW2YlF8ViKYSFTthJ21crp7-ang6zJQiUde5N_Ok5p8wRUDlgxTG1PH3Jk9bg6ODCXp_nlozN7HzidtEzJCXmjDIYe7NVDFI2Iwh2q0Grw7a8mpckuYXaESu-5Zw25igUltqRf0i-cV/s1600/_E5B1840.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtu8rwXANsdkGBIih_82cAWkQUErZ1FF-buVE3jF6Xip01AHxWfWM7cKH0yTtL0LgCy5vHrVsLUyoUNVZJs50yGxBbE1A337wvGLiRj18XvuPqPJLoA_J-CIOgH6TWE00EMP0GRmJte-X/s1600/_E5B1858.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtu8rwXANsdkGBIih_82cAWkQUErZ1FF-buVE3jF6Xip01AHxWfWM7cKH0yTtL0LgCy5vHrVsLUyoUNVZJs50yGxBbE1A337wvGLiRj18XvuPqPJLoA_J-CIOgH6TWE00EMP0GRmJte-X/s1600/_E5B1858.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9exjWXOIYmRp5tlJxFtlaG9rU7zGEmGt9KerPQ3Ap_d5uW9TLPxGACq02SDJyckz0q0yIYy60Sx1llbJMAgpj_Dy__inGtB9dEvFm7nBLSSp0SyWBU0ZUij434dCgSKxfzMwq-fzz2kF/s1600/_U1A4336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9exjWXOIYmRp5tlJxFtlaG9rU7zGEmGt9KerPQ3Ap_d5uW9TLPxGACq02SDJyckz0q0yIYy60Sx1llbJMAgpj_Dy__inGtB9dEvFm7nBLSSp0SyWBU0ZUij434dCgSKxfzMwq-fzz2kF/s1600/_U1A4336.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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In 2014 I did some stuff. I took A LOT of photos. Here is just a random sampling of some of my favorite things. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1160N6CSCBwvN5EY2Xn6TvjJlDiSO3Cii95UsZG8DI15nkc-bWuBlVg8NX9cAE099L7Tc3bGNnKwQ9-zu2kZrFhTO9CUuzN_sorGsrhJYILFoQiT5CDZHkIZrbhjHxR_3YIvEqzHyTQN4/s1600/_U1A4959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1160N6CSCBwvN5EY2Xn6TvjJlDiSO3Cii95UsZG8DI15nkc-bWuBlVg8NX9cAE099L7Tc3bGNnKwQ9-zu2kZrFhTO9CUuzN_sorGsrhJYILFoQiT5CDZHkIZrbhjHxR_3YIvEqzHyTQN4/s1600/_U1A4959.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPq5dUny7Bp25mf0DKAeUXowAcg3lAdZ2bchBJgr1HqxsoqK3kNbbciX_JdNCqEZmNG45ZCsMuKKagqLmozrm8ifhPUmLYBtwlW-6dqmyAiYHCItpd86bn2y5SkhyLTUZ3IXXoU2CXHnyU/s1600/_U1A4962.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPq5dUny7Bp25mf0DKAeUXowAcg3lAdZ2bchBJgr1HqxsoqK3kNbbciX_JdNCqEZmNG45ZCsMuKKagqLmozrm8ifhPUmLYBtwlW-6dqmyAiYHCItpd86bn2y5SkhyLTUZ3IXXoU2CXHnyU/s1600/_U1A4962.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWvYB3gdHxjVG8jvFnEXM2kMhr4mlBhUL789m1nDMLLuRoxys3O5xufC1BBb1yLgs14J0RMjz2mtEM8aKAdIaUUJtUzny8J-MFB_kO-Ob3B1OxBgqCRYDq3_8ohNu14MIj017Ko-w_93X/s1600/_U1A4338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWvYB3gdHxjVG8jvFnEXM2kMhr4mlBhUL789m1nDMLLuRoxys3O5xufC1BBb1yLgs14J0RMjz2mtEM8aKAdIaUUJtUzny8J-MFB_kO-Ob3B1OxBgqCRYDq3_8ohNu14MIj017Ko-w_93X/s1600/_U1A4338.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
I also crashed both my laptop and my husband's laptop multiple times (I now have two external hard drives). I was at 25 births.<br />
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And I met some amazing, amazing, amazing people. xoxo<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-25717447053778234012015-01-01T11:17:00.001-08:002015-01-01T11:17:20.942-08:00hello january! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ha! I was dreaming of getting up early and carving out a time to write/create on this early New Year's morn. However, yesterday I wrecked my blog's template -in my lame attempt to improve upon the design -as the saying goes, pride goeth before the fall.<br />
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Now 24 frantic hours later, I realize I have ignored the coming of this new month in this new year and have instead whittled away my time trying to figure out how to get the blog up and running so I wasn't embarrassed about the state of affairs over here.<br />
<br />
Little lessons learned.<br />
<br />
Lets call upon this new year with glad tidings. I am looking forward to some sort of 365 project (because I have nothing else going on) or 52 project. Something consistent. <i> In 2013, I had over 245 blog entries, in 2014, I had 16. I want to use the excuse that I have been busy -and I have been, very busy (and I am proud of the fledging photog and doula business I have started); but I also have allowed myself to become distracted and a bit off course when it comes to me carving out time to journal and to blog. </i><br />
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Is anyone else out there righting their sails and setting course for a new year/new promises/new dreams? I am toasting all of you this New Years Day. xoxoAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-24769563058863330602014-11-06T13:34:00.002-08:002014-12-31T23:23:27.100-08:00into November<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I can't believe it is November. I haven't posted regularly here in what seems like years, but is perhaps just months.<br />
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I love this space and hold it so near in my heart.<br />
Lets try to get together more often, shall we?<br />
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In the mean time, I will be leaving wee notes on the foot of your blogs more often (I hope). xoxo<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-79698886548627263402014-07-23T12:52:00.001-07:002014-12-31T23:23:09.678-08:00we live loudly, and dream ever on<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We live loudly,<br />
dancing with parachutes,<br />
eyes pressed against the plumes of wind<br />
from the billowing sails.<br />
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xoxoAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-78391472434913646462014-06-23T09:25:00.000-07:002014-12-31T23:24:23.237-08:00places<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Out on the freeway as the dust of night stretches her lonely palms across the Los Angeles horizon.<br />
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The windows in my VW wagon are wide open and my left hand, placed slightly ajar out the window, moves up and down in the racing wind along the highway as my right hand steers. As much as this urban expanse is at times a disruptive blight on a once pristine desert, my heart swells with love for this place I call home. It is a jumbled chaotic mix of heat and humanity: of palm trees, racing cars and soaring aspirations. I breath in the cooling night air, tasting the plumes of passing diesel engines and the song of sweaty broken hearts. </div>
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It makes no sense to love this place, no logic at all, but somehow, I do. </div>
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hope you are well my friends. xo</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-54835016872895775922014-05-05T20:25:00.000-07:002014-12-31T23:24:54.210-08:00International Day of the MidwifeInternational Day of the Midwife<br />
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Women everywhere around the world: remember how amazing you are. Labor is a woman's work.<br />
xxoo<br />
<br />
P.S. to make a long story short, this is how I have been getting out of the house and out of my head. Photographing births and working as a doula. It has been a long time coming. <br />
Love how life works and invites things in.<br />
xxooAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-63785425274921869012014-05-02T06:29:00.001-07:002014-12-31T23:25:03.049-08:00finding things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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as november came and went, i found that while the boys were at school i was spending too much time in bed. missing my mother. wondering what to do. ignoring laundry. watching dust bunnies come to life in the corners of the room. counting the minutes until i went to pick them up.<br />
<br />
as much as i was blue, i knew i wasn't deeply depressed as i craved life too much. but i found myself lonely. and that this loneliness was interfering with my ebb and flow of life; the how of what i wrote, and how i perceived things; i found that my desire for a colorful life was slowly fading into forgotten and flimsy cardboard boxes. and i could see it all unfolding:<br />
<br />
i was alice through the looking glass -an aging alice, and my wrinkles were the dancing lines of the jabberwocky; and it was there i saw that no matter what i did, one day my bones would be dust and the imprints i made on this earth would blow away with the wind.<br />
<br />
so i knew that i needed more human interaction. the face to face kind, the laugh until your belly hurt kind, the talk too much and then sit next to each other in silence kind. but los angeles, with all of its millions of people, can be just as lonely as an empty desert plain, so it became clear to me, i would have to go out, push myself up off the couch, ease myself up out of bed and go find humanity.<br />
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(to be continued on monday, i have boys to wake up and get out of the house for school)<br />
<br />
xxooAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-91457346035107212722014-05-01T17:11:00.000-07:002015-01-01T15:18:26.262-08:00may 1st, blogging flowers, blogging new life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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things have been oh-so-busy, here.<br />
here, as meaning my life outside of this blog.<br />
but the flip side is that i miss being here, in this space, where i have built a small web of friends.<br />
we have all shared so many stories together. we have shared dreams and broken hearts.<br />
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but here in this first day of may, i wanted to share a few photos from the trip i just got back from.<br />
<br />
i was in nyc, helping my sister-in-law, as she and her husband brought their first baby into the world. (more on that later)<br />
<br />
i leave this post, not as a goodbye, but as new "hello's"& the new breath of life.<br />
<br />
so: hello may! hello stories! hello life and hello love. hello friends, i have missed you.<br />
<br />
xxoo<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-5933675506534628392014-02-12T05:26:00.001-08:002014-02-13T16:00:09.846-08:00late night, january 31st, 2014 | a letter to my oldest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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who knew, stumbling upon this life of motherhood, i would love it so fiercely. nothing else has defined me as much and nothing ever will define me more. i am sure of this.<br />
<br />
as i watch you gallop away into the arms of adolescence, i hold back little sobs of joy.<br />
you love. you are fiercely loyal.<br />
you love to argue your points.<br />
you are slowly becoming a man.<br />
<br />
as much as i love this, i would, in an instance, turn back time to walk down the doors of your childhood once more. drink cup after cup after cup of cup of tea made in your pretend kitchen. bake with you, play dinosaur with you. hide out in forts with you and camp again under the stars knowing that all is right with the world.<br />
<br />
in my dreams, i sit on the edge of a long pier. my feet are dangling off the end and as i stare off into the expanse of the mist and layers of fog lifting off the lake, i see that i have worlds of unknown lives to still live, but i don't ever want to take the plunge, i don't want to heave off the end of the pier into the water, i don't want to stop being a mother to your littleness, i don't want you to be big and me to be older. and as much as i don't want it, i know it will still happen, even if i had ten more children, it would never stop you from leaping into the unknown of adulthood, and me watching your ripples slowly slip away as you swim out of sight.<br />
<br />
xxoo<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-45555363559970149962014-01-26T16:05:00.003-08:002015-01-01T15:20:09.790-08:004 | clickety-clack call of the week's end | 52 weekly stills<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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an odd assortment of weekly stills:<br />
-a wall<br />
-a young lad in a foul mood<br />
-books & things next to my bed<br />
-a window<br />
-the youngest<br />
-the middle<br />
-leftover remains of strawberries<br />
-a visit to La Brea Tar PitsAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-22196841132470624052014-01-25T23:19:00.001-08:002015-01-01T15:20:23.869-08:004 | 52<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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this one. wraps his eyes around my heart, even when he doesn't mean too.<br />
<br />
as a matter of fact, all three of them do. xoAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-2975240780941767582014-01-19T17:43:00.000-08:002015-01-01T15:20:00.051-08:003 | 52<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-51492249938405571582014-01-12T06:38:00.002-08:002014-01-12T06:38:59.499-08:00clickety-clack call of the week's end | weekly stills<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>weekly stills</i>.<br />
1. lego obsession<br />
2. much needed coffee<br />
3. craft supplies<br />
4. long neglected christmas cactus<br />
5. neglected homework<br />
6. the oldest, mr. crabby-pants, staring off onto the lacrosse field<br />
7. a fence<br />
8. rainbow loom madness<br />
9. the middle.<br />
10. portraiture of the oldest. <br />
<br />
<i>joining in with<a href="http://www.thebeetleshack.com/2014/01/stills-weekly-collection_12.html"> </a></i><a href="http://www.thebeetleshack.com/2014/01/stills-weekly-collection_12.html">beetle shack</a><i> & </i>angels love red hair<br />
p.s.... <i>i cheated a wee bit. most of theses are from my </i><a href="http://www.awonderedlife.com/recent-musings/2014/1/10/10-on-10">365/ 10 on 10</a><i><a href="http://www.awonderedlife.com/recent-musings/2014/1/10/10-on-10"> </a>project </i><a href="http://www.awonderedlife.com/recent-musings/2014/1/10/10-on-10">here</a><i>. xxoo</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-87996175332960992722014-01-12T06:22:00.001-08:002015-01-01T15:19:37.630-08:002 | 52 portraits<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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the feisty baby, the youngest.<br />
<br />
couldn't resist putting one in this week. this is from my <i><a href="http://www.awonderedlife.com/recent-musings/2014/1/10/10-on-10">10 on 10</a></i> series over <i><a href="http://www.awonderedlife.com/recent-musings/2014/1/10/10-on-10">here</a></i>. xo<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-48245664728462692392014-01-08T06:48:00.000-08:002014-01-08T06:48:05.510-08:00writing january's name | life's work <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
what will be left behind when we go? some of us are very sure of what are imprint will be; others, we cling to small strands, tiny threaded marks, the beat of our child's heart. we are unsure what the legacy of our path will be, unsure that we will have something worthwhile to look back on.<br />
<br />
in the busy rush of the day, i am a hurried soul, running from shower, to dressing, to shoes on, to kisses on boys' heads, to out the door.<br />
<br />
other times, i slow down. and instead of running from my self, from my body, my dreams, i am present. there in that space of slowness, i find space. breathing space.<br />
<br />
i am in the shower. the air fills with the spidery veins of heat and hope, clouding my eyes from seeing clearly, filling up my lungs with steam, so as i turn off the spray, and step out of the shower, i am surrounded by the heavy warm air, thick man-made fog.<br />
<br />
i pause. my skin. bright red from the heat of a too hot shower, my bare body unabashed and briefly free. i lean in close to the mirror, and try to wipe away the clouded mirror pane; and there, ever so briefly, i see all the marks of a life lived so far, the wrinkles and worry lines that now frame my face. i wonder what have i become. but before i despair, i lean in closer, holding up the mirror with my hands, my breath fogging the mirror once again, and in that fraction of a second before the damp closes back in again, i see a glimmer of the deep in my eyes. <br />
<br />
there, i see into the beating of my heart resetting my soul anew. there i see that my life's work is not all unaccounted for and disregarded. there is the brief connection between who i am and what i do.<br />
<br />
there i see that the mark i am making as i tread across the days is not all ugly and scarred, but hope-filled and beautiful.<br />
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<i>excuse the rambling. joining in with </i><a href="https://www.facebook.com/writealm">write alm</a><i> for january prompts. </i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-67582136212533957152014-01-05T07:02:00.002-08:002014-10-06T06:43:19.387-07:00one | 52 | clickety-clack call of the week's end<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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cleaning house. wondering why we have a giraffe on our dining room table. saying goodbye to the christmas decorations. watching, from afar, my youngest building legos (the b+w p.o.v. from the couch). spending time with my middle. capturing our sweet old Bella (dog) up on the couch (where she is not supposed to be, but loves to be). we have been utterly lazy. no news of fabulous journeys over winter break from this house. but as i have said/quoted before, "enough is as good as a feast."<br />
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<i>joining in with BeetleShack for weekly stills + Habit of Being for weekending xxoo</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-30923961940957908512014-01-03T08:47:00.002-08:002014-01-03T08:47:38.657-08:00writing january's name | time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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old man time is as fierce as he ever was. he ravages our bodies and steals our dreams out from under our pillows. he is the never ceasing black hole that tries to stamp out the light that emits from our hearts. older than the world itself, he tries to age us all, blot us out, making our hearts as heavy as stone so that we fall away into the night letting go of the small tendrils that keep us tied to the here and now.<br />
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there are days when i find myself giving into this frenzy that old man time brings. i am convinced he is the true inventor of the internet, the true genius behind the seconds that blend into minutes that blend into hours and days where life is wasted and forgotten. as much as i try to slow down, life keeps spinning forward anyway, and i am left with a threadbare lace that disintegrates as i try to sew it back together. <br />
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annie dilliard wrote in her book, <i><u>The Writing Life</u></i>:<br />
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"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives."<br />
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and i find it so so very true. and timely. and real. and as honest as it gets for me who often sees the fear of age and time staring her in the face when she looks in the mirror. and it is so true for today. for the here and the now and the age of the internet. for those of us ignoring the march of time and for those of us tentatively stepping, or joyfully pouncing forth, into this new year.<br />
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i think, as modern, western cultured humans, we believe that having <i>more</i> of something, <i>more</i> of everything, <i>more</i> of life, that this <i>more </i>will help us leave our imprint; it will help weigh us down and and aid us in leaving our lasting mark on this world. however, as i age, i am ever so convinced that it is the <i>less</i>, the lighter we walk, the <i>less </i>we hold onto, is what truly helps us live into the life we are given. and in this lightness, this is where we make our soft imprint on the world, blotting out the void of old man time and the absence of meaning he threatens us with. <br />
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as i am slowly packing up christmas, tending to the needles scattered on the floor, wrapping up the fragile ornaments and slowly saying goodbye to the green of the tree, i am trying to allow this <i>letting go </i>be my mantra. "how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." i am am trying to make this be the thread of my days. <br />
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i cannot control this old man time. but i can chose how i spend my days that spends my life.<br />
and that leaves me with the lightest, happiest feeling of all. xxoo<br />
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<i>excuse the rambling. joining in with </i><a href="https://www.facebook.com/writealm">write alm</a><i> for january prompts. </i><br />
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<i>"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living."</i></div>
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<i>- annie dilliard, <u>the writing life</u><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></i></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8180218388556879285.post-57479018133474754722014-01-02T09:26:00.002-08:002014-01-02T09:26:40.725-08:00well hello January..... 2014 you are most welcome!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ahh...... the sound of a fresh page. a new sheet of paper. the turning over of a new leaf. discovering a brand new book. i love beginnings, and january is so full of ripe promise and anticipation that i am always sucked down the rabbit hole full of new ideas, projects and dreams. i love this in between moments of calm, the aftermath of the drunk frenzy that christmas can be. here in these last few days of winter break, the boys are sleeping in (as they have stayed up waaaaay too late), we are lounging lazy lizards and i let my mind wander about all the hopes of this new year.... usually by the end of january however, i am bogged down by the mid-winter blues and admonishing myself for all my fanciful dreams -it is like starting heavy weighted book with much joyous vigor, only to find your self wanting to chuck the book out the window come the start of chapter 2.<br />
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but as I stated above, 2014 you are most welcome. i have (or am forcing myself to have) really good feelings about you. 14 was always my lucky number growing up (as i couldn't possibly have 7 be my lucky number....way too common...so I had to pick something different but not entirely random) so I hope this year will be a blessedly abundant one, full of hard work, elbow greased discipline and every day joy. full of more fiction writing. more nature walking. more photography. more connections. more self discipline.<br />
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so i lift my cup of coffee and toast you, 2014, that i am not following my dreams down a rabbit hole of quagmire and disdain, instead i am climbing a mountain full of abundance, hope and hard work; knowing that i may not reach the top by the year's end, but that i keep going forward any way, ever onward into this beautiful world known as Life.<br />
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xxoo</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16496116371040300567noreply@blogger.com4