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Month: September 2012

Working Nine to Five (Gotta make a Living)

I promised some pictures of my new job wardrobe.  The photos of the clothes are less clear than the carpet they are resting on.  Perhaps I prefer to take a nap.  Here’s a few that aren’t too terrible. A pencil skirt that I actually like. (I got it at Costco!!) Shirt is Coldwater Creek and sweater from Dress Barn.)  Can I wear these outfits with these little boots?   Another Costco find: Red Jeans, with butt-bling. (The rest are older things) I really want to wear these jeans with my “Come Get Me Shoes,” but can my feet hold up…

Living in Abundance

I’ve been in mourning.  Mourning the loss of my freedom.  Wishing to have more without giving anything up.  I made a list of all the things that make be cry when I think about leaving my business of free-lance writing and consulting:  long commutes, walking in my yard anytime I want, my office, lunch with Loved-One, fluidity…

I know, I know.  In these economic times, I should be happy that I have this opportunity.  Especially, since I was minding my own business and two, yes, two firms contacted me.  I’m really am sooo lucky.

So why do I feel sad?

Photo Friday: Wake up Mr. Sun. Wake up.

Most days now, Love-one and I start our morning walk in the dark.  This week, the sun greeted us as we turned homeward. My friend Judith, and her husband Bob, invited us to her retreat center one summer.  We chanted in the morning to drum beats:  Wake up Mr. Sun.  Wake up.  Sorta silly, really. Wake up Mr. Sun.  Wake up.  Love-one and I call out to the sun and chant.  Wake up Mr. Sun.  Wake up. The sun has a nourishing effect on me.  Morning is a time of renewal. Anything is possible today. Judith’s life work is nourishing…

Photo Friday: I live in the fen

A beautiful day for a hike, and I can walk to the hiking trail.  Our village is actively restoring the indigenous vegetation, reverting the habitat back to a fen buttressed by an oak savannah.  What does all that mean?  Beauty all around me.  

Feminist? Yes, I am.

I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is:  I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a door mat or a prostitute.  ~Rebecca West, “Mr Chesterton in Hysterics: A Study in Prejudice,” The Clarion, 14 Nov 1913, reprinted in The Young Rebecca, 1982 In the wake of both Democratic and Republican convention, I see more division, nastiness, and vitriolic dredging up of the Roe v Wade decision; a Supreme Court decision made almost 40 years ago.  I am saddened by the rage and hatred of so…

Photo Friday: Birds of a Feather

These parents are anxious to feed their babes.   An early visitor, the Tanager was only here for a day, passing through on his way to somewhere else.  We recognized him by his “churr-burr,” and unusual sound for us.  I hope he visits on his way back from wherever he went.   A dry summer, my water garden is a welcomed respite.  The Blue Jays our the police officer of our feeder.  Indignant with the messy grackles, the Jays keep order and peace.   A pair of hummingbirds are nesting somewhere nearby.  I never knew how agressive these tiny creatures…

Which came first? The Chicken, The Egg, The Salmonella

 I got a disconcerting message in my voice-mail yesterday.  It went something like this: Our records indicate you purchased Brand-named Y’s eggs from Big Warehouse Club sometime between April 5 and August 19, 2010.  These eggs may be tainted with salmonella and have been recalled. You may return them during regular business hours. This is disconcerting to me on at least three distinct levels. I know that little strip on the back of my membership card, which doubles as a credit card, collects all sorts of my purchasing data, and I suppose I should be happy that Big Warehouses Club…

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